His voice carried the particular tone he'd perfected over years of defusing bar fights and domestic disputes—calm, professional, with steel underneath. He positioned himself partially between them, not quite blocking Andrew's view but making his presence felt.
"Who's this? Your boyfriend?" Andrew's sneer widened. "Yeah, judge is gonna love this. My kid around strange men while her daddy's trying to make things right."
Complete idiot,Cory thought. But an idiot with some kind of backing, which made him dangerous in a different way.
"You need to leave. Now." Cory dropped the temperature in his voice to arctic.
"It's a free country, right?" Andrew tried to puff up again, but something in Cory's expression made him take a half-step back.
Cory made eye contact with José, who was clutching a hefty-looking serving spoon, face grim. José nodded.
"It's also private property,” Cory said. “The owner wants you gone. I can make this official if you prefer."
Andrew's bravado cracked slightly. He must have realized he'd pushed as far as he could without crossing legal lines. "See you in court, Iz. Better get used to sharing."
He made a point of bumping Cory's shoulder on his way past—or trying to. Cory shifted slightly, and Andrew stumbled, catching himself gracelessly.
"My little girl's gonna love Florida," Andrew tossed over his shoulder. "Beaches and everything."
The door slammed behind him with enough force to rattle the bell. Through the window, Cory spotted Andrew climbing into a current-year Lexus rental.
The café remained frozen for a heartbeat, then erupted in whispers. Cory turned back to Izzy, who hadn't moved. Her control was magnificent and terrible—the kind that came from too much practice holding herself together.
"He always does this." Her words were quiet, meant just for him. "Makes scenes."
She finally looked up, and the pain in her dark eyes hit him unexpectedly. "He left when Chantal was a couple months old. He’s barely seen her since." A bitter smile. "He doesn't want her. He wants to hurt me."
Exactly the way Cory had figured things. This wasn't custody. This was warfare.
"Let's get you out of here." He kept his voice gentle but moved with purpose, creating a path through the packed tables.
The whispers followed them—he caught fragments about "poor little girl" and "fathers have rights too" that made his jaw clench. They didn't know. They saw Andrew's performance, not the truth underneath.
He snagged Izzy's forgotten coffee from the counter as they passed. She noticed, and something flickered in her expression—surprise that anyone was looking out for her.
They'd almost reached the door when his radio crackled to life.
"Chief, they need you back at the hangar." Graceline's voice carried an edge of urgency. "They found something. They're asking for you specifically. Said it's important."
Duty called, but Izzy stood there with that envelope in her hand and shock still written across her features. He couldn't leave her vulnerable, not with Andrew potentially waiting around the corner for round two.
"Walk you back to Knight Tactical?" The offer surprised him as much as her.
Her spine straightened, steel showing through. "I'm fine. I don't need?—"
"I know you don't need help." He held the door open. "Offer stands anyway."
She studied him for a long moment. Finally, she nodded once, sharp and decisive.
They stepped out into the brilliant morning, away from the gossiping crowd and her exe’s toxic performance. The Lexus was gone, but Cory knew this wasn't over. Someone with deep pockets had aimed Andrew like a weapon at Izzy, and the timing—right when aircraft were falling from the sky—was no coincidence.
He glanced at her profile as they walked toward the line of hangars. She moved like a soldier even after the hit she'd just taken, protecting her daughter by not giving Andrew the reaction he wanted.
Most people would have crumbled under that kind of public ambush. Or exploded. Izzy had done neither—she'd endured it with a grace that stirred something unexpected in his chest.
Whatever was happening with the helicopters, whatever had brought Andrew crawling out from under his rock, Cory was beginning to understand one thing: Izzy Reyes was tougher than anyone in that café could possibly imagine.
11
