Page 14 of Marked for Danger

Izzy’s heels clicked across the hardwood floor as she walked toward Sergeant Riedell’s office. The man in charge of Denver’s Major Crimes Unit—and Grady’s boss—had reached out earlier, asking if she would meet with him at her earliest convenience.

When he’d first contacted her, Izzy had been about to complete a psych assessment for a juvenile offender being treated at a hospital across town. She hated making Riedell wait, especially given the kinds of cases Grady’s team worked, but deep down she’d welcomed the unavoidable delay.

It had been two full days since that painfully awkward conversation with Grady in the parking garage. Since then, she hadn’t seen or heard from him, and was unsure of how she’d react if she did.

Normally when Izzy ended things with a lover, a full-stop closure was exactly what she wanted. But with Grady…

I miss him.

She didn’t usually miss anyone other than her parents and brother. But there was just something about the sexy detective that stirred up all sorts of unwanted feelings.

Not that it mattered.

Sure, he’d appeared disappointed by her decision to break things off. At first. But it hadn’t taken long for him to become agreeable, allowing the moment to pass cordially.

The unexpected disappointment Izzy had felt in that moment was a crushing blow she hadn’t seen coming. She wasn’t supposed to want more or look for him everywhere she went. She wasn’t supposed to lay awake at night replaying their most sensual moments together in her head.

And she absolutely wasnotsupposed to care.

So when she arrived at Grady’s place of work, Izzy couldn’t help but feel relieved to find him nowhere in sight. Luckily—from what she’d overheard while walking through the bullpen—he and his partner were running down a possible lead across town.

Avoidance much?

Ignoring the tugging at her heart, Izzy raised a fist and knocked on Sergeant Riedell’s door. Through the frosted window she could see the formidable man waiving for her, so she turned the knob and stepped inside. Her steps faltered when she realized they weren’t alone.

“SAC Hunt,” she greeted the special agent in charge of Denver’s lead FBI team with a firm handshake and a smile. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you and your team.”

Though Izzy hadn’t personally worked with them, it was common knowledge around the local law enforcement family that Hunt’s unit was the best in the Bureau.

“Likewise, Dr. Garcia.” Hunt returned the handshake.

Turning to her left, Izzy held out her hand to a stunning woman she’d never seen before. “Dr. Isobel Garcia. I’m the department’s forensic psychiatrist.”

“Assistant District Attorney Camille Umbridge.” The thirty-something redhead smiled as she took Izzy’s hand in hers. “It’s a pleasure, Dr. Garcia. And please, call me Cam.”

“Izzy.”

The two women shared a nod before Izzy returned her focus to the man who’d summoned her here. “I apologize for making you all wait.”

“I just appreciate you working us into your schedule.” Riedell pulled his chair out so he could sit. “Please.”

He motioned toward one of two empty chairs facing him. When Izzy sat in the one closest to where she stood, Cam followed her lead and took a seat in the remaining chair.

Turning his voice serious, the man in charge of the room rested his forearms on the smooth surface in front of him, linking his fingers together. “We’ve all got jobs to do, so I’ll get straight to the point.” His wise eyes lasered in on hers. “Dr. Garcia, we have a delicate situation on our hands, and we believe you can help us.”

She arched a brow, her curiosity piqued. “Of course, Sergeant. How can I assist?”

SAC Hunt approached from Izzy’s right. Placing a manila folder on the desk directly in front of her, he flipped it open for her to see.

Izzy leaned forward to get a closer look at what appeared to be a surveillance photo paperclipped to a small stack of papers and notes. She studied the printed image closely, her breath catching in her throat as she realized what—or more accurately who—she was looking at.

“Olly.”

She hadn’t uttered her estranged brother’s name aloud in over two years. Hadn’t seen him or spoken to him since he called one morning to tell her he was leaving town…again.

Olly—short for Oliver—did that. He’d pop in town, stay for a while, and either get into trouble and get arrested, or split before that could happen.

Either way, Izzy lived every day with the knowledge thatshewas the reason his life was so screwed up. And it killed her.

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