Page 5 of Taking What's Mine

As I head toward the highway, I let out a shaky breath. My gut churns with a mix of exhilaration and nerves. I don’t know exactly who’s threatening me, and I have no idea how dangerous they really are, but I do know one thing: I’m not going to live in fear.

My phone buzzes again, and I glance at it. Five missed calls from Lincoln. One from Dean. That’s enough to make my pulse spike a little higher. Still, I press down on the gas, turning onto the open road.

I let the tension loosen from my shoulders as the cityscape slides by. For better or worse, I’m doing this my way. If I have to face Lincoln’s wrath later, so be it. Right now, I have a lead to chase…and a strong desire to prove that I’m more than just Dean Maddox’s little sister.

And maybe somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m hoping that by the time Lincoln catches up with me, he’ll realize I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a Maddox. We don’t go down without a fight.

Chapter 3

Lincoln

Five minutes. That’s exactly how long it’s been since Isabel disappeared behind the bathroom door. Five minutes that feel like an hour. I’ve been pacing the hallway outside, ignoring the curious stares of people passing by, tapping my foot against the tile and pretending everything is perfectly under control. Except it’s not.

I knock firmly on the door. “Isabel?” No answer. “Isabel, if you don’t open this door in ten seconds, I’m coming in.” My voice echoes in the hallway, but there’s nothing on the other side but silence.

Ten seconds pass. Then fifteen.

I mutter a curse under my breath and push open the door. It isn’t locked. Inside, the bathroom is empty. Empty and silent. My eyes skim the stalls—nobody’s in them. No sign of Isabel. Instead, the window on the far wall is wide open, and a cold draftbreezes in, rustling the edge of the paper towel dispenser. My stomach twists.

“Dammit, Isabel,” I growl. That stubborn, impulsive woman just escaped out of a bathroom window while I was standing guard outside. I check the corners, just in case there’s some bizarre explanation, but there’s nothing. She’s gone.

My first instinct is to whip out my phone and call Dean. Tell him his sister’s gone AWOL and it’s on me. But I hesitate, my pride warring with my sense of responsibility. Five minutes into my assignment, and I’ve already lost the woman I’m supposed to protect. That’s unacceptable.

I can’t let Dean down. More importantly, I can’t let Isabel wander into danger because she thinks she can handle everything on her own. She has a lead on the person threatening her—fine, so be it. But I’m not about to let her chase that lead by herself.

I sprint out of the bathroom, down the hallway, and through the front lobby. A few people glance up from their desks—employees, clients, I don’t know—but I ignore them, heart pounding in my ears. Bursting through the main doors, I hurry across the parking lot, scanning for my SUV. There it is, parked at the far end. I make a beeline for it.

Once inside, I fire up the engine. The tires squeal against the asphalt as I tear out of the lot. I start checking every row of cars as I maneuver onto the main road, hoping to spot her little white sedan. Nothing. My pulse is jackhammering. Think, Lincoln. Which direction would she go? She’s probably heading for that lead she mentioned, or maybe trying to get lost in the city traffic.

At the first red light, I glance around with increasing desperation—then my gaze snags on a familiar shape up ahead. Isabel’s car is three lanes over, waiting for the same light. She’s hunched over the steering wheel, likely trying to avoid being noticed.

“Oh, I see you,” I mutter under my breath. Relief floods me, but it’s quickly replaced by adrenaline. The light switches to green, and she guns it. So do I.

She tries to weave in and out of the midday traffic. I do the same, horn blaring as I swerve around a slow-moving SUV. This is no time to be gentle—she’s essentially a high-value target, and every second she’s on the open road is another opportunity for whoever’s threatening her to make a move.

We hit a stretch of open road, and she floors it. My car roars as I give chase. I’m leaning forward, knuckles white on the steering wheel, eyes flicking between her vehicle and the road ahead. If she thinks I’m letting her slip away, she’s underestimating me.

We blow through one more light just as it turns red. My stomach tightens—I hate being this reckless, but I’ve got no choice. I nearly clip the back of a truck changing lanes, but I manage to glide around it, adrenaline spiking. Up ahead, Isabel’s brake lights flash, and her car swerves onto the shoulder. She’s pulling over. Finally.

I slam on my own brakes and yank the wheel, grinding to a stop behind her. The engine’s still rumbling when I throw the door open and stomp to her window. My blood is still racing through my veins, part fury, part relief. Relief that she’s safe—furious that she pulled this stunt in the first place.

She rolls down the window just enough for me to see her glaring face. “Lincoln, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What am I—?” I choke back a bitter laugh. “You disappeared out a bathroom window and tore off like you’re in some Hollywood heist. I’m doing my damn job and bringing you back in.”

She has the audacity to look offended, like I’m the one at fault. “I told you, I have a lead. We could catch the person threatening me if we just?—”

“Stop,” I cut her off, voice vibrating with anger. “I don’t care if you’ve got the entire FBI on speed dial. My job is to keep you safe. That means no car chases through the city while you play detective. Understand?”

Her eyes blaze. “I am not playing detective. This is my life we’re talking about.”

“And Dean hired me to protect that life.” My frustration is at a boiling point. I lean my forearm on the car’s roof, trying to calm the roar in my ears. “Get out of the car. We’re doing this my way.”

She shakes her head defiantly, lips pressed into a thin line. “You can’t just boss me around.”

“Actually,” I snap back, “I can, because that’s what your brother is paying me for. Now either you follow me back to the office and drop off this car, or I’ll park my SUV right behind you, and we can sit here all day if that’s what you want.”

She slumps against her seat, scowling. “I don’t believe this.”

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