Page 30 of Reclaiming Izabel

“Stop drooling.”

“Hey, I know he’s not interested, okay? I just want to take care of him.”

“He’s a forty-four-year-old man. And how old are you?”

She scowled at me. “You know what I mean, and don’t tell me you were never worried about him.”

“He’s been sober for six months. I’m very hopeful this time.” Cindy was more concerned for Marcus as a friend, just as most in the company were rallying around him. It sucked to be the poster boy for a tragic past, and I wished Marcus was blessed with anonymity. But his story was too big, and an overzealousreporter exposed Drake’s commander, compromising his identity as a SEAL. But Marcus was too broken to even be considered for active duty. He hadn’t eaten his gun. He’d battled his demons. Apprehension rose inside me. How would Marcus react once he found out Drake was alive and confirmed that terrorists murdered his family?

A knock on the open door drew our eyes. Kyle stood there looking clean-cut and handsome in his expensive suit. The company brought him on as a senior manager for our commercial development department and had all the interns swooning at his feet with his golden-boy good looks.

The little spark that I’d felt for him last Friday had fizzled with the return of the dangerously sexy version of my husband. A stubborn part of me was mad at myself, but a larger part of me was relieved.

“Am I interrupting something?” Kyle asked uncertainly. Concern drew his brows together.

Cindy winced. “Uh, I’m out of here.”

I shot her a some-friend-you-are look. I hadn’t prepared my breakup speech.Wait, was there even something to break up? We’d been on one date.

As if reading my mind, Kyle’s shoulders drooped and disappointment washed over his features. “You’re backing out on our date Wednesday.”

“Something’s come up.”

Kyle gave a tight nod. “Tell me honestly. Did I come on too strong?”

“Friday night was perfect,” I said huskily. “I can’t explain right now, but it’s nothing you did.”

He was quiet for a while, looking at a spot on the carpet, as if contemplating his words carefully, then he raised his gaze. “Did I imagine our connection at dinner?”

I gave a slight shake of my head. “No, you didn’t.”

Another tight nod, followed by a long exhale. “I think I know why, but I’m not going to push you on it. You’ll have to open up your heart in your own time, Izabel. I’m willing to wait.”

He walked to the door, but paused right by the frame, turning back to me. “Your husband would want you to be happy. Think of that. In the meantime, I can be patient.” He smiled, his face brightening with determination. “You’re worth it.”

When he left, I buried my face in my hands. Aggravation stretched my already high-strung nerves.

The universe must be laughing.

chapter

eight

Drake

I parkedthe Escalade along the sidewalk of a small stretch of commercial buildings. Exiting the vehicle, I walked up to a nondescript gray building a few blocks from where I’d parked. From the outside, it looked abandoned and a big sign on several entrances stated that the building was condemned by the city.

It was a front, because I’d been here the night before. A rust-colored iron door sealed the back exit, and a metal mailbox was mounted on the wall at around chest level. The contraption was not used for mail.

I inserted a security card through the fake slot. Rotors whirred, and a shield slid down to expose a one-inch by six-inch display with a keypad beneath it. I entered a nine-digit code and bent down for a retinal scan. The shield slid closed, followed by gears and tumblers moving. The tight seal slackened and spit out my security card. The mechanism would have destroyed the access card if the retinal scan and code hadn’t matched up.

I pushed down on a lever and pulled open the door. Motion sensors triggered the lights, illuminating a drab hallway. The ancient interior was spotless. Vinyl tiles covered the floors andfluorescent fixtures hanging from equally clinical ceiling tiles gave the illusion of an underground operation. Camera spheres mounted at every corner recorded my arrival.

My footsteps were conspicuous echoes in the hallway's silence. I turned and entered the last room. A collapsible table and several folding chairs littered an otherwise empty space. A huge cabinet sat near the wall. Except it wasn’t a cabinet. Hidden buttons along a side panel activated rollers to move the fixture enough for a man of my size to move into a space in the wall and enter the car of a hidden elevator.

With the scissor gates closed, the lights along the edges of the interior activated. Flipping open an access panel, I entered a code and the floor below me moved as the elevator descended below ground.

The basement had been a bomb shelter in the sixties. Unlike the rest of the building, it was completely renovated and tricked out with the latest technology, including a holographic map and glass projector screen at the center of the room. A stack of servers hummed in the corner with a direct link to the CIA, NSA, and other federal databases. Wi-Fi connection was highly encrypted.

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