Dr. Vermillion—a woman who looked like she'd been assembled by scientists—slipped back in and began examining Izzy's face with a lighted magnifying glass. "Your T-zone shows significant oxidative stress. And these pores..." The doctor tsked. "When was your last professional extraction?"
"Extraction?" Cory's voice held barely contained mirth. "Need backup for that extraction?"
Izzy coughed to cover her laugh. "It's been a while."
"I see." The doctor made notes. "I recommend starting with our signature HydraGlow facial, followed by LED therapy. We should also discuss a custom serum protocol for home care."
"Copy all that?" Izzy muttered when the doctor turned away.
"Axel's going to love this."
"Don't you dare."
Forty-five minutes of torture later, Dr. Vermillion finally had to see an actual client. Izzy escaped with an armload of pamphlets and product samples.
"Heading out," she subvocalized. "No sign of SBN." Probably enduring who knew what sorts of facial torture. Izzy shuddered. The woman actually scheduledhoursof this into her week?
"Copy that,” Cory responded. “I'm at the north exit."
She found him exactly where promised, SUV idling. She yanked open the door and collapsed inside, tossing the spa materials in the back.
"Don't." She held up a hand. "Not one word."
"Your pores look very... examined." His voice still came through the comm and in person, creating an odd echo.
She yanked out her earbud. "I hate you."
He removed his as well, lips twitching as he nodded down at the gold-embossed shopping bag. "Free samples. That's nice."
"Apparently my T-zone is crying for help." She slumped in the seat.
He lost it. The controlled, composed police chief completely cracked up over her spa humiliation.
"Wait until your team hears?—"
"You wouldn't dare."
"Oh, I'm definitely telling this story." He started the engine, still chuckling. "Tactical operative defeated by facial consultation."
"Actually..." She sat up straighter. "This could work. SBN thinks I'm having some kind of crisis. Desperate single mom prettying herself up for court."
"That's brilliant. Play into her assumptions."
They drove in thoughtful silence before Cory spoke again. "For what it's worth, you don't need any of that stuff."
She looked at him, surprised by the quiet sincerity.
"Your pores are perfect," he added, deadpan.
She slugged his arm, but gently. "Shut up and drive, Fraser."
While he headed back to headquarters, she texted Zara and Kenji.
Tracker in place.
The December sky had turned sullen while they'd been inside, heavy clouds pressing down like a gray wool blanket. Fresh snow dusted the windshield, and through the gaps in the pines, Izzy could see the ski runs carved into the mountainside—tiny puffs of powder marking each skier's turn, white against white in the fading afternoon light.
Such a peaceful Sunday scene. Normal people living normal lives. Chantal loved skiing. Kid was a natural. Izzy’s jaw clenched. When would she get to take her baby out again?
