Page 46 of Can You Take It?

With a sensuous sway of her hips, she walks away. She doesn’t look back, but she knows I’m watching her every move. As Izel walks away, my eyes land on that scar again. It’s like a neon sign,and I can’t ignore it. My curiosity about that mark hasn’t faded, but now it’s mixed with something deeper - a protective instinct that’s screaming at me from within.

My mind spins, wondering what the hell caused that scar, and suddenly, I’m overwhelmed with the need to shield her from any kind of harm. It’s like a primal desire to keep her safe, to make sure she never has to go through the shit that scar represents.

While I stand there, like a dumbass, watching her go back to her room, I’m just left questioning everything. What the hell is it about her that’s messing me up like this? I mean, seriously, it’s like Izel’s got me wrapped around her little finger. What’s she doing to me? One minute, I’m this tough guy, and the next, I’m standing here, feeling this overpowering need to watch outforher. I’m supposed to protect the innocent from her, yet all I want is to protect her from everything.

I’m back in my room, dealing with a raging hard-on that my fist just won’t cut it for. So, I decide to drown myself in work, hoping that the distraction will do the trick.

I grab my phone and dial up Noah, who’s been helping me on this Slasher case. I need an update, but it’s not just about the case. It’s a way to distract myself.

Noah picks up, and I can tell he’s been busy, probably pulling an all-nighter. He gives me the rundown on the Slasher case, and it’s not looking great. There’s no update on who killed Charles or anyone who might have information about the knife used in the Slasher case. Apparently, Charles was the only one dealing in snakewood; nobody else had their hands on it.

As I listen to Noah’s updates, my mind starts to wander. This case has me thinking back to the one I've been obsessing over—the Ghostface Striker. Both cases involve young women in their mid to early to late twenties, and the cities may be different, but that’s one hell of a common thread.

The Slasher had nearly a dozen victims before he just mysteriously stopped. And what’s even more disturbing is that just a few months later, the Ghostface Striker case kicks off. It’s like one sick, twisted serial killer passed the torch to another.

I lean back in my chair and wonder if there’s a connection between these two cases. It’s a thought that’s been nagging at the back of my mind for a while. Is there some kind of network of these psychos? Are they passing on their traditions to each other?

I know I should be concentrating on one case at a time, but this connection can’t be a coincidence.

Izel and I are walking into the Bureau, and she’s still being as difficult as ever. It’s like dealing with a goddamn wildcat, but for some reason, I’m finding it more entertaining than irritating.

She doesn’t want to be here, and she’s not shy about letting the whole world know it. She’s been stubborn from the moment we stepped foot in this place. But I couldn’t just leave her alone, not with all the crazies that seem to be lurking around.

As we’re heading inside, I ponder what it is about this place that rubs her the wrong way. I mean, sure, it’s not the most pleasant spot in town, but it’s where the bad guys get what’s coming to them. Luna and Colton are out at Hollowbrook, dealing with Izel’s medical records and background check.

We’re not saying much as we walk through the halls of the bureau. The tension between us is thicker than a motherfucker, but it’s not entirely unwelcome. It’s like we’re testing the waters, gauging where we stand after last night’s charged encounter.

Finally, I can’t take the silence anymore. I turn to her and say, “You know, you don’t have to be such a hard-ass all the time.”

“What do you want, Richard? A smile and a thank you for bringing me here?”

I chuckle, unable to help myself. “Nah, that’s not your style, is it? But a little cooperation wouldn’t hurt.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a smirk on her lips. “Is that your way of saying you want me to play nice?”

I nod, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Fine. I’ll try not to bite anyone’s head off today,” she huffs.

I let out a sigh, realizing I can’t exactly have Izel snooping around my office, as much as I’d like to see the chaos that would ensue.

“Alright, I’d let you in my office, but it’s restricted access, so you’ll have to wait in the waiting room.”

She rolls her eyes at me, but at least she doesn’t curse me out this time. I call that progress. I start to head out, but before I get too far, she calls out, “Hey, Richard!”

I turn around, and she’s holding something out for me. “This came in the mail for you yesterday.”

I take the envelope from her, and it is that same fucking familiar letter. I curse under my breath as I tear it open, scanning the contents. Yep, it’s exactly what I thought—another one of those twisted love letters.

“Everything okay?”

I force a tight smile. “Yeah, just some freak fangirling over me.”

“You sure it’s nothing serious?”

I huff, shoving the letter into my pocket. “I’m sure. It’s probably just some asshole with too much time on their hands. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Izel’s eyes linger on me, like she’s trying to gauge how much of this I’m really brushing off. “Alright, if you say so. Just keep an eye out, okay?”

---