Page 9 of Marked for Danger

And to find the bastard responsible for creating that pain in the first place.

In the months he and Izzy had been seeing each other, they’d kept the depth of their conversations to a minimum. Sure, they’d talked about all the typical get-to-know-you things.

How they got started in their respective fields. Where they grew up. What their childhoods were like.

He’d shared with her a few short stories about the trouble he and his younger brother had gotten into when they were kids. But Izzy had never given him specifics on what things were like for her as a child.

And every time Grady had pushed for more, she was always quick to change the subject. Usually distracting him with her talented mouth.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t find the answers he craved. A quick look into her background would do the trick. But every time he’d started to, Grady talked himself out of it.

Sleeping together or not, Izzy’s private life was just that. Private. And her past was her own story to tell.

As tempting as it was, he’d never violate her privacy by running her like a common criminal. For several reasons. Mainly it was because he’d hoped to hear it straight from her.

I wanted her to trust me.

Unfortunately for him, it didn’t really matter what he wanted. And it wasn’t like he even had the right to be upset. Like she’d reminded him, keeping things casual between them was originally his idea.

Brilliant, Thorne. Fucking brilliant.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Dec, but what I said is true.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the passenger door. “There’s nothing between Izzy and me. Now can we please focus on why we’re here?”

Rather than waiting on a response, Grady stepped out onto the cracked and broken curb. On reflex, he slid the dark sunglasses from the top of his smooth head as he shut the door behind him.

“Fine.” Declan shut the driver’s door and walked around the front bumper. “I’ll drop it.”

About damn time.“Thank you.”

Minutes later, the two men were standing in the dimly lit hallway just outside their suspect’s door. Weathered and worn, its once vibrant color had been reduced to a mere memory under the weight of time. Its peeling paint bore witness to the squalor and desperation of the neighborhood they found themselves in.

Grady raised his fist and pounded against the paint-chipped surface, the rising pulse and slight rush of adrenaline coursing through him all-too familiar. His voice authoritative as he announced their presence to those who might be inside.

“Denver Police Department! Open up!”

Silence greeted his demand, stretching the tension hanging thick in the musty air. But just as doubt of Torres’ presence began creeping into Grady’s mind, a crashing sound shattered the stillness.

Instinctively, Grady and Declan exchanged a knowing look, their hands tightening around the grips of their drawn weapons. Though they’d been partners less than a full year, the two seasoned detectives already shared an unspoken connection honed by months of working side by side.

Without hesitation, Grady lifted his booted foot and kicked in the door. The frame shattered as it swung open with a bang.

They stormed into the apartment, eyes scanning the scene with hawk-like intensity. But their suspect was one step ahead, already climbing out of a window aand onto the fire escape.

“Go!” Declan’s urgent voice cut through the chaos. “I’ll catch up!” He dashed toward the window, his trained eyes locked on their fleeing perp.

Trusting his partner to handle the pursuit, Grady nodded and swiftly turned on his heels. He sprinted down the apartment’s narrow, creaking staircase. Each step echoing with his determination as he made his swift descent.

The world blurred around him as he burst through the building’s exit, his boots pounding on the pavement as he ran. Grady pushed himself to his limits, the wind whipping against his face as he raced down the block and plunged into the alley.

As he rounded the corner, his eyes caught a glimpse of the suspect who was mere steps away from freedom. There was no time for doubts or second guesses.

Grady moved on instinct, his muscles coiling with lethal precision. Like a force of nature, he launched himself forward with his non-weapon arm stretched horizontally to his side. In an efforts to stop Torres, Grady used his powerful forearm to strike the fleeing man in the chest.

The powerful blow sent both men spinning, the world around them swirling momentarily as the criminal’s momentum faltered. With a guttural grunt, Torres crashed to the ground.

“What did I do?” The suspect’s voice sounded strained as his arms were pulled behind his back. “Man, I didn’t do nothin’!”

“No?” Grady secured the final cuff, his breath labored as he yanked a pistol from Torres’ back waistband. “Then why’d you run?”

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