Page 36 of Reclaiming Izabel

This was what my betrayal had done to our marriage.

Izabel possessed her mother’s fiery temper, but she’d never physically hurt me. Although I’d seen her rant on more than one occasion, both of us treasured our time together, and we kept our drama to a minimum. I found her annoyed outbursts at me cute, which infuriated her more. That was when I’d woo with sweetness.

This was not the same.

This was anger and grief and deep-rooted trauma all rolled into one.

I’d noticed the changes in her. A hardness about her and I couldn’t decide whether it was a good or a bad thing.

She’d become this way because of me.

Tim glanced up from his computer and winced. “We’ve got a cot behind those dividers.”

“Thanks.” I prowled to the area where the analyst had pointed.

“Where’s Harrelson?”

“They’re prepping him upstairs for interrogation.” I lowered Izabel carefully to the bed, making sure she was in a comfortable position. I crouched beside her, already having removed the hood, and took in her peaceful face. Between us, I was the early riser and my favorite morning activity besides sex was watching her sleep. My hand reached out to stroke her forehead. “I’m sorry, Iza.”

I stayed with her for a few more minutes until the unwelcome buzz of my phone let me know they needed me in the interrogation room. I hated leaving Izabel in a strange place, but she was secure here. Her trust in our marriage had evaporated, but I hope she still trusted me to keep her safe.

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Tim offered.

I glanced at the bespectacled analyst who looked more like Clark Kent than the typical SF operator. It was probably best my wife didn’t wake up to one of my rough-looking teammates. Three years chasing terrorists across the Middle East, Europe, and Africa had left an indelible mark on all our faces. It wasn’t just the beard or the unkempt hair; it was an overall stamp—almost visceral, yet the sharp edges were there…a feral glint in a hunter’s eye.

“Thanks.” Rising from my crouch, I headed to the elevator and took the car to the first floor. I exited the elevator room and crossed the hallway to the room diagonally across from it. It was the only other area in the building that Viktor had extensively renovated. I entered the darkened space, lit by a lone light bulb strung out from the ceiling. The windowless room was reinforced with soundproofed gray walls.

At that moment, Marcus Harrelson sat in a chair in front of a simple desk. His wet hair indicated he had a rude awakening. Brick stood in front of him while Edmunds was busy prepping the sensory dissonance equipment. A tall form stood in the shadows.

Marcus’s eyes tracked my arrival.

“Drake…? You’re alive?” he asked hoarsely. “Where’s Izabel?”

Fury scalded my insides. “Don’t ever mention her name, you motherfucker.”

His eyes flashed, equally furious. “Is this a game, Lieutenant? Why are you here? You’re fucking dead. Explain to me what the fuck is going on.”

I exchanged a glance with Brick, signaling that I was taking over the interrogation.

“I survived the massacre, but Izabel was in danger and I couldn’t return.”

“Dianne…the kids…” Marcus’s face crumpled. “It was because of Fire Team, wasn’t it? It wasn’t an accident.”

Though I believed Marcus wouldn’t put his family in jeopardy, it didn’t excuse his betrayal. “You should have known better than to make deals with terrorists!”

Harrelson struggled in his chair. “Would someone tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“Days before Fire Team shipped out, where were you?”

“I…I was in a hotel.”

“Dianne kicked you out.”

“We’d been separated for months,” Marcus gritted. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“There were calls between Hamza and a number in Virginia Beach. Cell cloud algorithms showed an intersection over the Marquis Hotel.”

“What—Are you saying I betrayed my own men?”

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