Page 26 of Reclaiming Izabel

“What the fuck?” I repeated. “And what man are you lookin’ for now, huh, baby? Someone like your damn architect?” And this was exactly why I didn’t tell her the other reason, not until I was sure she understood—if I’d abandoned the mission to hunt down Hamza, it would’ve eaten at me for the rest of my life and cast a shadow on our marriage. Even destroyed it.

“Maybe?” Her chin lifted mutinously.

“You’re my goddamn wife!” I growled and prowled around the counter, advancing on Izabel. Her eyes widened as I plucked her from the chair. “And I’ll be damned before I let another man take what’s mine.”

I was going to kiss her, but the fear in her eyes shocked and stopped me.

I let her go and pivoted away from her, my chest seizing in remorse. I wasn’t clueless to how rough and scary I looked. I didn’t need to add aggressive jealousy to it too. I exited the kitchen and dragged a hand down my face.Chill the fuck out, asshole.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” I said quietly.

“I’m not scared,” she whispered. “Not really. It’s just that…”

I turned to look at her.

“I’m not used to this new you,” she said.

“Am I so different?” My hand automatically went to my beard. “I do need a beard trim.”

“And a haircut,” she added, biting her bottom lip. “But there’s something else. You seem harder. More rough.”

The right word is savage, I thought grimly. Working under Deadly Spear, I’d lived in the skin of a hunter for three long years without a chance for respite. It wasgo. Go. Go.

I took a couple of seconds to rein in the anger that surged when she said she didn’t want a “man like me” anymore. I was beginning to the see the arena I had to compete in. This wasn’t going to be a simple courtship—I had to go full-court press. No way was Kyle the architect stealing my wife. It’d be a problem when she was at work. I was still operating under an assumed identity and Harrelson worked at her office.

So consumed was I in my spiraling thoughts, it took a moment to realize Izabel was speaking to me.

“Did you hear me?” she asked, frowning.

“Sorry, I was thinking about something. What was that?”

“I don’t think these waffles are enough breakfast for you.”

I could use a big meal right now like a bacon cheeseburger.

“The fridge is empty,” she added apologetically. “I usually get my groceries on the weekends. Should we go out?”

“Any place around here that has a good breakfast?” I asked.

Izabel eyed me dubiously. “Can you be seen in public?”

“I’ve gotten better at sneaking around.”

“Who are you? James Bond?” Izabel smiled. It was the first real smile I’d seen on her face and it was dazzling.

“Something like that.” I chuckled. “I’m gonna grab a shirt. Think I want a good cheeseburger.”

“I know just the place.”

chapter

seven

Izabel

I poured the rest of the coffee into my travel mug just as the microwave chimed with my leftover tostada from lunch the day before. It was Monday, two days after Drake returned to my life. After the scene in the kitchen, both of us pulled back into a cautious companionship. Tension was thick. As if we weren’t sure whether we were enemies or lovers. Familiar with unfamiliar. Our dynamics had irrevocably changed. Our reality altered by the tragedy of the past three years. After lunch at the neighborhood diner, I helped Drake sort out his stuff in the attic. Our chats were on neutral topics like my job. Drake was curious about Marcus, and I told him about his problem with alcohol. Drake kept a stoic face as I updated him on his former commander’s life.

Since Drake had been awake for almost forty-eight hours, he retired to his bedroom early Saturday night.

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