Page 14 of Beneath the Surface

“I didn’t,” he said simply. “Inside, your safety was my priority.”

“The text.” She nodded slowly, processing everything. “I think I understand now. And… I’m glad I was with you tonight.”

Brad’s eyes softened, and for a moment, they simply looked at each other, the room filled with unspoken words and possibilities. A warmth settled over her, the kind of warmth that comes with discovering something you didn’t know you were looking for.

He broke the silence, his voice low. “Belle, if you ever want to know more… about any of this… you can ask me. I’d be happy to show you what it really means.”

She met his gaze, her heart pounding, and a faint smile touched her lips. “I’d like that, Brad,” she said with a tinge of excitement—and maybe, just maybe, a hint of anticipation.

Six

Brad gripped the steering wheel as the open road stretched out before him, the familiar landscape of Whispering Springs fading in the rearview mirror. Usually, this drive was his time to think, to map out his day with methodical precision. But this morning, his thoughts weren’t on work or cases. They were consumed by Isobel.

Her image lingered in his mind like a photograph burned into his memory—those moments that had somehow become more vivid, more significant in hindsight. First, there was the hollowness in her eyes when she’d read the note left with the bodies at the lake, her usually steady demeanor cracking under its menace. He’d watched her fight to keep her composure, but he’d also seen how deeply it shook her. That vulnerability had stayed with him, a reminder that she wasn’t as untouchable as she pretended to be.

Then there was the scene with John Larson. Brad’s jaw tightened at the memory. Larson’s questioning was less an inquiry and more an interrogation. The way she’d squared her shoulders, trying to steel herself against the onslaught of probing questions, had only highlighted the fear rippling beneath the surface. She’d handled it with grace, but Brad sawthe strain in her eyes, the faint tremor in her voice. It took everything in him to keep his own anger in check.

And then there was the family dinner. He smirked slightly, recalling her curious expression as her sisters teased her about him. She’d been embarrassed but intrigued, and it had been clear she wasn’t entirely immune to their suggestions—or to him. The spark in her eyes during those moments had been hard to ignore, and he found himself wondering just how much of her curiosity extended beyond the superficial.

But last night… last night was different. Hot Shots overwhelmed her, and he knew it would. He’d prepared himself for her fear, for her shock. What he hadn’t prepared for was how much it would affect him. Seeing her in that chaotic, lawless space—so far removed from what the lifestyle was truly meant to be—stirred something protective in him. He wanted to shield her from the worst of it, to pull her back into the safety of his arms and remind her she didn’t have to face it alone.

What stayed with him most, though, was the moment they sat in her living room, the night between them. She was anxious, yes, but also curious. And when he offered to show her what the lifestyle really meant, he saw something else in her eyes—anticipation. It was subtle, just a flicker, but it was there, and it shook him to his core.

He kissed her goodnight on the cheek before leaving, a gesture that felt both intimate and restrained. He didn’t want to push her, to overwhelm her any further. But he also left the door open for her to take the next step. As he drove now, he couldn’t stop replaying that moment, wondering what she was thinking, whether she’d spend the day trying to understand her feelings—or bury them altogether.

The road curved as he neared the outskirts of Pierre, the city coming into view. Brad tightened his grip on the wheel, his mind still tangled in thoughts of Isobel. She wasn’t like anyonehe’d ever met—strong, intelligent, with a quiet vulnerability that drew him in more than he cared to admit. He wasn’t sure where this was heading, but one thing was certain: Isobel had gotten under his skin.

Now, as he pulled into his office parking lot, things sat heavy on his chest. He walked in, greeted by the familiar buzz of the office, but everything felt distant.

His secretary glanced up, her eyes full of questions, but Brad waved her off. “Hold my calls,” he muttered, heading into his office and closing the door behind him.

Once inside, the click of the latch brought a fleeting sense of control. He needed answers, and he needed them fast. Sitting down, he called one of the department’s investigators, barking orders as soon as the line picked up. “I need everything you can dig up on Detective John Larson, formerly LAPD, now with Waverly County PD. And get me the case file on the double drowning at Old Mill Lake four years ago. It was a Waverly County case.”

The investigator confirmed the request, but Brad’s mind already moved back to Isobel. He couldn’t shake the fear he saw in her eyes. He knew her long enough to recognize it. And even though she was strong, capable, and brilliant, he always sensed something else in her. A need for safety, for someone to take control when everything else was slipping through her fingers. It was a quiet submission, something she likely didn’t even know she had, but he noticed it. And now, with this new double murder, his protective instincts were roaring to life.

The buzzing of his intercom pulled him from his thoughts. “Brad, the commander is on the line,” his secretary said.

Brad picked up the call, already bracing himself. “Boss?”

“Killian,” the commander’s voice greeted him, not with anger but with something else, concern, maybe even amusement.“Detective John Larson filed a complaint against you. What happened?”

Brad’s pulse quickened, but he kept his voice steady. “The double murder at Old Mill Lake. Waverly County PD made the jurisdictional error and called us in. The northeast side of the lake is ours. The southwest is theirs. A note was left on scene for Dr. Isobel Everhart. The case bears a resemblance to a case she worked on four years ago. Larson was questioning her, and I stood by as support. He said he was allowing me to stay as a courtesy. Ruth Everhart, her lawyer, came in and stayed with her for the interview too. I didn’t interfere with his investigation. I wasn’t poaching his case.”

The commander let out a snort, almost an amused laugh. “So, being there pissed him off, huh? You and Dr. Everhart friends?”

“Family friend, yes,” Brad admitted.

“Larson transferred out of LAPD to Waverly County. We didn’t have an opening when he interviewed with us. I wondered what his angle was when I read his file. And now this complaint—something about this guy’s behavior rubs me the wrong way.”

Brad exhaled. “Yeah, I got that same feeling. He’s acting territorial about this case, and I don’t know why the apparent killer has involved Isobel Everhart.”

The commander paused as if weighing his next words. “Listen, Brad, do you think Larson might have more than a passing interest in Isobel Everhart? I’ve met the young psychologist. She’s an attractive woman. Do you think Larson is jealous of what he perceives as more than friendship?”

Brad stiffened, though the question wasn’t entirely unexpected. “Possibly,” he replied cautiously. “And you know I’m careful about showing my cards. This isn’t about that.”

“Maybe not,” the commander said, his tone friendlier now. “But if I know you, Killian, you’re more protective of her thanyou’re letting on. In your day-to-day, you’ve got a dominant streak, and if Isobel’s anything like I think she is, that dynamic’s already there, whether you’ve acknowledged it or not.”

Brad clenched his jaw. He’d thought about it. Hell, he’d thought about it more than once.

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