“Cal was a gentleman,” Izzy said, looking Grant directly in the eye. “Until his father and Vance Varga showed up unannounced. Cal was as blindsided as I was. He was embarrassed, Grant.”
Grant’s hands fisted in his pockets. “Blindsided? Izzy… you were sitting in a house with Varga.”
“He told me he doesn’t get involved in that side of things,” Izzy shot back. “He has his own life, his own ranch. He said the Varga family had worked with his grandfather for years, and he just stays out of it. He seemed sincere.”
“He’s a Hollis, Izzy,” Grant stepped into her space, the smell of the barn and suppressed rage clashing with her perfume. “They don’t ‘stay out’ of the family business. They have better manners while they’re doing it.”
“At least he has manners!” Izzy snapped, her eyes bright with the sting of the day. “At least he isn’t afraid to look at me without treating me like a security risk. He was kind to me today, Grant. He made me feel like a person. Not a problem.”
Grant flinched as if she’d struck him.
Burke stepped between them. “It doesn’t matter if he’s a sweetheart or a shark, Izzy. You were sitting across the table from a man who cleans up messes for the Varga cartel. If they suspect what you saw at that warehouse, being a ‘guest’ isn’t going to save you.”
He turned to the laptop, where the manifest photo was glowing. “You got the link we needed. But you’ve also put a target on your back. From here on out, you don’t leave this farm. Not for a ride, not for a ‘quiet evening,’ and definitely not in a Hollis car.”
Izzy looked at Grant, but all she saw was the rigid, territorial wall.
“Fine,” she said, her voice turning cold. “I’m a prisoner. I get it.”
Grant opened his mouth to fire back, his frustration boiling over, and Burke was already shifting to a new line of questioning about Varga’s specific arrival time. It was a sensory overload of testosterone and interrogation.
Caitlin, who had been watching the color drain from Izzy’s face, finally had enough. She knew the exact set of Izzy’s jaw—the “Denver Armor” was holding- but the cracks underneath were jagged. She knew what being cornered and told what to do did to her best friend.
Caitlin raised a hand, a sharp, silent command that cut through the tension.
“Hold it,” Caitlin said, her voice quiet but carrying a weight that made Burke stop mid-sentence.
Burke turned to her, surprised by the interruption. Grant’s eyes flickered toward her, but his hands stayed fisted in his pockets.
“Okay, I think the point has been made,” Caitlin said, standing up from the table. She walked over to Izzy, placing a protective hand on her shoulder. “Let’s give her a moment. She has been through a terrifying ordeal here, and you two are acting like she’s the criminal instead of the one who just got you the most valuable evidence you’ve had in twenty-seven years.”
She looked Burke directly in the eye—the look that reminded him she wasn’t just his girlfriend, but a woman with her own iron will.
“You’re barking at her like she’s a suspect. Back off.”
Burke exhaled a long, heavy breath, the Sheriff’s mask slipping enough to show the exhaustion underneath. He looked at Izzy, then at Caitlin, and finally nodded.
“You’re right,” Burke said quietly. He looked at Grant. “Let’s take it to the porch. We need to plan the morning anyway.”
Grant didn’t move at first. He stared at Izzy, his gaze lingering on her smeared lipstick and the defiant light in her eyes. He looked like he wanted to say a thousand things—apologize, scream, or pull her into his arms—but instead, he followed Burke out into the cool night air.
The screen door clicked shut behind them.
Caitlin immediately turned Izzy toward her, searching her face. “Are you okay?”
Izzy let out a breath she felt like she’d been holding since she stepped into Cal’s house. She sank into a kitchen chair, her legs finally giving out.
“It was terrifying, Cate,” Izzy whispered, her voice trembling now that the brothers were gone. “Sitting across from that man... knowing what I’d seen. Every time he looked at me, I felt like he was seeing right through the lipstick and the wine.”
Caitlin squeezed her hand. “And Cal?”
Izzy looked at the laptop, then back at Caitlin. “I know what they think. I know the Hollis name is poison here. But I believe him, Cate. He seemed genuine. He was so aggravated that they ruined our night. Yeah, he got a little upset later because he didn’t get his way—he’s a Hollis, he’s never been told ‘no’—but overall? I don’t believe he’s involved in that business with the plane. I don’t. He wants to be his own man.”
Caitlin studied her. “He has a way of making people believe that.”
“It’s more than that,” Izzy said, wiping a stray tear she refused to let fall. “He was kind to me today. He treated me like I mattered. Grant treats me like a liability he’s forced to manage.”
“Grant gets bossy when he’s worried,” Caitlin said dryly. “And right now he’s about three seconds from chaining you to the porch.”
