Page 27 of Stealthy Seduction
Hudson sat at the far end of the table, his intense gray eyes already locked on hers. In that look, she found something that steadied her—not pity or concern, but belief that she had a right to be here, to have a voice in decisions about her own life.
Con’s expression remained carefully neutral, but she could see the calculation happening behind his eyes. “Ms. Cruz, this is for your protection—”
“There is no safehouse,” Izzy interrupted. She stepped farther into the room. Her gaze flickered to Hudson again, drawing strength from the slight nod he gave her. “Don’t you see? Alyssa says they found Kennedy, even in a safehouse!”
“We need to move you to a new location.” Con’s tone brooked no argument.
“This is the most secure location you have.” Izzy’s voice grew stronger, more certain with each word. “This is the safest house there is.” She met Hudson’s eyes again, seeing something there that made her pulse quicken. “Ifeel safe here.”
Mason shifted in his seat, his expression skeptical. “But if you led them here—”
“I didn’t.” Her quiet confidence surprised even her. “I’ve developed skills that most people never have to use.”
Her hand moved unconsciously toward her throat, fingers brushing the crystal that hung there. The gesture was automatic now, something that grounded her when memories threatened to surface.
“Two days blindfolded in captivity teaches you things.”
Everyone silenced at her painful admission.
“Things about awareness, about listening, about knowing when you’re being watched or followed. I would have known if someone was tailing me tonight.”
Hudson leaned forward slightly, his intense gaze focused entirely on her. “You’re certain?”
The question carried weight. They couldn’t make life-or-death decisions based on incomplete information.
“I’m certain.” She met his stare without flinching. “I took precautions. Multiple precautions. Changed routes, used a taxi for part of the distance, walked the rest through well-lit areas, backtracked. I checked every reflection in shop windows, every shadow, every sound behind me.” She paused, her throatworking slightly. “I’ve been doing it for three years. It’s second nature now.”
“Dante, check all the cameras.”
He gave a nod and got to work.
Con’s expression was a mix of caution and something else—like he might just be impressed by what she said. “Even so, having you here puts the entire operation at risk. If a connection is made between you and this location—”
“Half the people on this base are targets. We aren’t moving them,” Hudson interrupted, rising from his chair with fluid grace.
All eyes turned to him as he stepped around the table, and Izzy felt her heart stop as he positioned himself at her side. The move wasn’t what she’d call protective, but it was an unmistakable show of support.
“And splitting up the team right now would be a terrible idea,” he continued with confidence. “We know more about…” He paused before going on in a vague fashion, “Our target than we ever have before. We’re close—closer than we’ve been to any major breakthrough since this whole thing started. What happened to Izzy tonight was terrible, yet it provides even more clues.”
Dante nodded slowly from his position at the tech station. “He’s got a point. The pattern of those donations, the Syria connection—it’s all starting to come together.”
“We should be pressing our advantage,” Hudson added, his gaze moving between Con and the rest of the team before settling back on Izzy’s face.
Her breath caught in her throat. He looked at her like…
Like she belonged here.
“Besides,” Hudson continued, “if we send Izzy away now, we lose our primary source of information about tonight’s events.”
A murmur rippled around the table as the special operatives agreed with him.
“What did you see?” Dante asked, his fingers already hovering over his keyboard. “We need descriptions, timeframes, anything you can remember.”
Izzy took a shaky breath, forcing herself to relive those horrible moments. Before she spoke a word, Hudson took her hand and drew her to a seat.
She knit her fingers together under the table and began. “Two men approached Drysdale as we were leaving the restaurant. They looked like they were in their thirties, both wearing dark hoodies.” The scene played out in her mind’s eye, and she tried not to cringe away from the details. “One was taller—maybe six feet.”
“Skinny? Can you guess his weight?” Dante typed in what she was saying.
