"Fine. But if they arrest me, you're bailing me out."
"They're not going to arrest you."
"You sound very sure."
"Because whoever's behind this is getting desperate. The bomb was sloppy, emotional. They're making mistakes." He turned to face her fully. "We just have to be smart enough to catch them."
We. When had they become a we?
"Your legal methods," she said slowly, "got us FBI cooperation and federal intelligence sharing."
"And your observation skills caught the servo pattern that proves we're dealing with an amateur who's learning." He tilted his head. "Almost like we make a good team."
The words hung between them, loaded with more meaning than either wanted to acknowledge.
"I should check the perimeter," he said finally.
"I should review the servo photos again."
They fled in opposite directions, both pretending the air hadn't just shifted between them. But Izzy was hyperaware of his movement through the building, the sound of doors being checked, windows tested.
She pulled up the servo images on her laptop, trying to focus on tool marks instead of how Cory Fraser looked in civilianclothes. Or how he'd taken personal leave to protect her. Or how naturally he'd said "we."
Focus, Reyes. Someone's trying to kill you.
But as she heard him moving through the building, securing their position, she couldn't shake the feeling that the saboteur wasn't the only danger she needed to worry about.
The bigger threat might be the one making her coffee and alphabetizing her soup.
19
Five AM felt right.Normal. Even if nothing else about this situation was.
Cory sat at the kitchen island, second cup of coffee steaming in front of him, listening to the sounds of Knight Tactical headquarters coming alive. Well, one sound specifically—Izzy moving around in her suite down the hall. Shower running. Drawers opening and closing.
He tried not to think too hard about the fact that he was hyperaware of her morning routine after only one night of protective custody.
She emerged a few minutes later in workout gear—black leggings, loose tank, hair pulled back in a ponytail that swayed as she walked. She headed straight down the stairs for the gym area without a word, just a brief nod in his direction.
He followed. For security purposes, obviously. Someone had tried to kill her yesterday. She shouldn't be alone anywhere, even in a secure building.
The gym was…amazing. Like Disneyland, only for Crossfit freaks. Like everything else Knight Tactical did, it was top-of-the-line. Izzy went straight for the heavy bag, not bothering with wraps or gloves. Just started hitting.
Cory forced himself to focus on his own workout, but his eyes kept drifting back. She moved like a fighter—channeling emotion into every strike. No wasted motion, no wild swings. Just controlled power that spoke of training and discipline.
An hour later, they reconvened in the kitchen. Post-shower, she looked more awake, less like she wanted to punch the world. He started making eggs. She puttered around making toast, both of them moving in the space with careful awareness of the other.
"Sleep okay?" he asked, sliding eggs onto two plates.
"Like a baby." Her tone said otherwise. "You?"
"Fine."
They ate in companionable silence. Cory found himself thinking about the last time they'd shared breakfast—unicorn sprinkles and Chantal's delighted laughter. Luz making sure everyone had enough to eat. That warm, chaotic family moment that felt like a lifetime ago instead of just days.
"What?" Izzy asked.
He realized he'd been smiling. "Just thinking about pancakes."
