Page 66 of Reclaiming Izabel

He was shot. I didn’t even hear gunfire.

In my daze, I clawed at Coop’s back, still trying to fight back. Lightning fried me with unbearable pain until my vision dimmed.

chapter

seventeen

Drake

Traffic on Interstate64 was a clusterfuck. I was going to end up an hour late. She hadn’t responded to the last text I’d sent fifteen minutes earlier.

Iza?

After five more minutes, my irritation at the traffic turned into concern for Izabel. I mounted the phone on the dock and called her.

Her phone went to voicemail.

I called Gordy, but that also went to voicemail.

A tendril of fear licked down my spine. Viktor mentioned in our briefing that five private military contractors had met with Exetron CEO Mitchell three days before. There was nothing unusual about the meeting because Mitchell hired PMCs all the time, especially for their oil refinery companies in Africa.

Just when I was about to swipe call again, my phone rang.

Harrelson calling.

Dread burned in my gut like battery acid. “Maddox.”

“They got her.”

Crushing fear weighed heavy on my lungs, but I couldn’t afford to lose my shit now. With dead calm, I replied, “Be there in ten.”

The exit was about a quarter of a mile away. I surveyed the sea of red taillights. “Fuck this.” I yanked the steering wheel and pulled to the right lane, barely missing a collision with an RV. Angry blasts from car horns slid off my consciousness as I switched to SEAL mode. Despite all my training, my fingers shook when I brought up the BloodTrak app and registered her signal. The bastards were skirting the interstate and taking Izabel heading west.

Glancing ahead, the shoulder was free. I could go after her and go in guns blazing. Or I could take seven minutes to get to Marcus, get the info I needed with what we were up against, and touch base with Viktor to see whether the AGS boss was aware and had already formed a plan.

Without another thought, I wrenched the SUV into the emergency lane on the verge of the interstate and sped past stopped traffic.

At the swerve for the exit, a siren sounded behind me, but I wasn’t stopping, even for a cop.

I had one mission: Get Izabel back.

Two police cruisersscreeched behind me as I made a sharp turn on the street leading to Izabel’s building. I slammed to a stop beside a sedan, careful not to block any emergency vehicles already parked.

Marcus was accompanying a backboard down the steps.

Ignoring the shouts from the cops at my flank, I sprinted toward Harrelson.

“Looks like you brought the cavalry,” Marcus muttered.

I recognized Gordy. “How is he?”

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” my friend said grimly.

“Did he say anything about Izabel?”

“No.”

Someone tapped my shoulder. I spun around and glared at the cop, who was interrupting my conversation with Marcus.

---