Page 24 of Stealthy Seduction
The night air hit him like a slap. Suddenly, the security lights snapped on. He blinked but rushed faster over the harsh shadows cast across the pavement.
When he spotted her, adrenaline flooded his veins. In heartbeats, he closed the distance between them. Izzy stood before the call box still with that lost look that made his chest tighten from something he didn’t want to name.
“Izzy!”
She spun toward his voice, and he saw her usually calm façade crack completely. The mask of strength she wore so well shattered, revealing the fear underneath. Her thumb was tucked inside her palm in the gesture he knew she used to soothe herself when she was nervous.
“Hudson?” Her voice was smaller than he’d ever heard it, threaded with relief and something that might have been tears.
He reached the gate controls and punched in his access code, the heavy steel barriers beginning their slow creep open. The moment there was enough space, Izzy slipped through, and he caught her against his chest without thinking.
She melted into him, her body trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline. Then she seemed to remember herself and pulled back, but not before he felt the rapid flutter of her pulse against his throat.
The gates swung shut behind them as his teammates took over.
“What the hell happened?” He pulled her toward the building, scanning the darkness beyond the gates for any sign of pursuit. The street was as dark and still as ever in this wealthy neighborhood. “How did you even find this place? The blackout hood—”
“I’ll explain inside.” Her voice sounded steadier now but still carried that edge of barely controlled panic.
“You’re safe.” The words came out with more conviction than he’d felt about anything in years. “I’ve got you.”
When they reached the front door, one of his teammates whipped it open for them. Steele heard the low undercurrent of questions no one asked him as he ushered her down the corridor toward the interrogation room—not because he suspected her of anything, but because it was the closest private space where they could talk.
He wanted to yank her back into his arms, but he only let his hand hover over her shoulder, not quite touching it, as he catalogued every detail of her appearance.
No obvious injuries. No blood. Her beige blouse was wrinkled like she’d been running, and her hands shook slightly when she reached up to push hair away from her face.
Mason attempted to follow them into the interrogation room, so Steele whipped out an arm to slam it in his face. As soon as it was closed, Steele turned to her.
“Izzy, what happened? You were supposed to be at the restaurant.”
She looked around the sparse room—the plain white walls, metal table, chairs that had seen better days—and fear flickered in her amber eyes.
He took a step toward her, as much to assure himself that she was real as to offer her comfort. “It’s okay, honey. This is just somewhere we can talk privately. You’re not—”
The door opened with a pronounced bang, and Con swept into the room like an avenging angel. His expression was all business, but Steele knew his leader. Concern caused the brackets around his mouth.
“How did you know the way here?” Con demanded without preamble. “Could you see through the hood we used on you before?”
“No.” Izzy’s response was immediate, automatic.
“How then?”
“Con—” Steele stepped forward, his protective instincts firing on all cylinders.
His leader rifled another question at her. “Did Alyssa tell you how to get here?”
“Definitely not.” Izzy’s voice carried absolute certainty. “She’d never compromise all of you, not even for a friend. I know that much about her.”
She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing the slightly frizzy strands away from her face, and Steele caught the slight tremor in her hands. She was more shaken than she was letting on, and the sight of her trying to hold it together when she was clearly falling apart made something protective surge through his chest.
“Then how?” Con pressed.
Izzy’s shoulders shook. “I heard the changes in the road.”
Steele and Con went still. “What do you mean?” Steele asked.
“When I was taken hostage, they blindfolded me for the first two days.” Her voice was clinical now, detached in the way people got when they were discussing profound trauma. “All I had was my sense of hearing, and that sense has been heightened ever since. I can hear the tires on different roadsurfaces. Feel which way we turn. I heard the bridge we crossed, felt the bump in the road right before we stopped at the gates...”
