Page 55 of Reclaiming Izabel

“Iza!” I hollered from the kitchen. “Food’s almost ready.” My wife and her beauty routine. She mentioned something about putting on a face mask. I guessed having had a mother whose business dealt with beauty ingrained in her certain habits. Not that I was complaining. I remembered how ridiculously unreal her skin felt whenever she did one of her “sandpaper spas” as I teased her about it. Although Izabel insisted it was called exfoliation.

My spine tensed when the sound of a vehicle reached me before its headlights swept over the window. I dropped everything I was doing and opened the cabinet beneath the sink where I hid my Sig.

I headed for the door and peeked behind the curtains. I wasn’t alarmed. I had an inkling of who our midnight visitor was. But I was far from complacent or relaxed. The porch lights illuminated two familiar black SUVs.

Viktor stepped down from the driver’s side of one vehicle. I could feel his eyes lock on to where I stood. The legend of Viktor Baran transcended all special ops circles. Some say the man wasn’t human and maybe a closet superhero. I was inclined to believe it. I’d seen the man in action more than once. But every superhero had his kryptonite, and if Viktor ever had one, it was his wife. She made him human. Which was why I suspected that in his gruff way, Viktor had a stake in me winning Izabel back.

The woman in question chose that moment to make an appearance.

Footsteps scraped on the porch steps, followed by a rap on the door.

“Who is it?” Izabel stayed at the bottom of the staircase, looking apprehensive.

“It’s Viktor.”

I opened the door. Edmunds, Brick, and Marcus were with him.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked.

“Marcus!” Izabel gasped as she rushed forward. I blocked my wife before she could get past me and out the door. She was wearing damn sleeping shorts, for Christ’s sake.

Brick gave Izabel an appreciative once-over.

“Hey, eyes to me,” I growled at my friend, who gave me a lecherous smile.

Motherfucker.

“Overprotective much?” Brick teased.

“Fuck off.”

Traces of amusement flashed across everyone’s faces.

“Shit’s gonna hit the fan tomorrow,” Viktor informed me. “Wanna invite us in?”

I glanced over my shoulder at Izabel. “Throw on a robe.”

Izabel nodded, her face scarlet. She wasn’t wearing a bra either.

My team and Marcus entered the house.

“Man, your wife is a looker…uhm…wow…that…” Brick’s gaze followed Izabel’s hourglass figure up the staircase.

“Brick, if you say another fucking word…” I started menacingly.

“What? Just saying…know where you’re coming from, bro,” the ginger-haired operator said. “Why you fought so hard to get back to her.”

“Okay, so let’s cut the bullshit and tell me why this can’t wait ’til tomorrow,” I muttered.

“Because tomorrow, the world will know that you survived your team’s massacre,” Viktor said. “The public will not be privy to classified information, but your return will certainly cause controversy, and I imagine your relationship with Izabel will be under scrutiny.”

I crossed my arms. “I get to be Drake Maddox again in public? No more sneaking around?”

Viktor nodded.

My mouth thinned. “Wouldn’t that put Tierney and whoever she’s working with on alert?”

“That’s the idea. We’re sure Tierney is involved, but someone’s holding the leash.”

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