Page 25 of Stealthy Seduction
She broke off, her throat working convulsively. Steele took an involuntary step toward her, but stopped himself when she held up a hand.
“I heard the same sounds when my captor was coming to...” She didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t need to.
Steele felt his hands clench into fists. The idea of her lying in darkness, listening for footsteps that meant pain was coming—it made him want to hunt down every bastard who’d ever touched her and show them whatrealfucking fear looked like.
“I made an educated guess after the fourth time I visited Alyssa,” she continued. “Then I followed some logical inferences and looked it up on a satellite map. I saw the pool and the patio and the gazebo.”
Of course. He thought back to when he brought her home and how she’d argued about putting on the hood. Now he saw it for what it truly was—she was almost amused by their security precautions. The blindfold wasn’t doing any good for anyone. She’d already memorized the route.
Con’s radio crackled to life, and Chase’s voice filled the room with staticky urgency.
“Base, this is Charlie 3. We’ve got a situation at the restaurant. It took us a while to cut through the red tape with the local authorities, but there was a man down. Looks like our guy—the POA for the donor. Shot outside the building about an hour ago. Multiple witnesses, but the shooters are gone.”
Steele felt the blood drain from his face. Slowly, he turned to look at Izzy.
Her expression confirmed what he already knew.
Con stepped toward the door, his voice grim. “Copy that. Steele, bring her to the war room.”
“War room?” Her voice broke, and she lifted her hands as if to bury her face in them, but dropped them abruptly.
He caught her hands and stepped closer. “It’s all right. You’re not in any trouble. We just need to discuss what happened.”
Con walked out of the room, his voice carrying from other parts of the house as he barked orders to the team.
The moment they were alone, Steele gently stroked her fingers. They were ice cold. The wind on the East Coast at this time of year could be harsh, but he recognized her cold skin for what it was—shock.
“Izzy, what happened at the restaurant? You were there.”
“He was killed right in front of me. Shot.” Her voice was steady, but he could see the horror in her eyes. “It wasn’t a mugging—it was professional. Clean. I didn’t use my phone after. Turned it off. I didn’t know if I could be tracked.”
The woman didn’t know the half of it. For now, that was good. For now, it had to be this way.
Con returned then, his expression grim. “Team’s back. We need to debrief, figure out our next move. Take Izzy to the kitchen. Alyssa and Sophie are there.”
Steele nodded, but his attention remained on Izzy. She looked fragile in a way that had nothing to do with physical strength and everything to do with someone who’d been pushed too far, too fast.
“I’ll make you some tea,” he said quietly. “Then we’ll figure this out.”
Her smile was small but genuine. “Thank you.”
Minutes later, the team had reconvened in the war room. Izzy sat at the counter, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug, while Alyssa hovered protectively nearby and Sophie cut her a slice of lemon cake.
Izzy looked steadier now, but Steele caught the way her eyes tracked every movement, every sound.
She was on high alert. Waiting for the next threat.
* * * * *
As the warmth of the tea seeped into Izzy’s system, a tremor rolled through her despite the kitchen’s cozy atmosphere. This space felt familiar. Safe. Filled with happier memories than her desperate trek through the darkness that reminded her far too much of Syria…of being left alone in the dark.
Alyssa sat across from her at the bar, concern etched in the furrow between her dark brows as she cradled her own mug. Sophie hovered nearby, sliding a plate of cake toward Izzy with the kind of gentle care that made her throat tighten with unexpected emotion.
“Thank you,” Izzy whispered, managing a soft smile as she reached for the fork.
It slipped from her trembling fingers, clattering against the plate with a sound that seemed to echo through the quiet kitchen.
“Oh no! I’m so sorry.” The words tumbled out in a rush as the carefully constructed walls she’d built around her composure finally cracked. “I messed everything up! I never should have come here. I didn’t even think—what if I was followed?”
