Reclaiming Izabel (Special Forces: Operation Alpha)

by Victoria Paige

  “What’s going on?” Izabel’s hand grabbed Drake’s and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her. “Am I missing something?”

  “It’s nothing, baby. Viktor and the others were just leaving.”

  The man in question made no move to leave.

  “Tierney and Mitchell may not have directed the attack on our operators,” Viktor said. “But as far as we know, Tierney breached operational security that wiped out an entire JSOC team. The buck doesn’t stop with her. She’s the chief-of-staff of a presidential candidate and I’ll be damned before I put any more of our military in this kind of danger.”

  “Are you sure the Veep isn’t involved?”

  “VP is a boy scout,” Viktor muttered. “He checked out and there’s no reason to suspect he’s involved.”

  “You think I can help?” his wife asked.

  “Iza,” Drake frowned. The last thing they needed was to give Viktor an inch. “I don’t want this to touch you.”

  “Just be prepared for them to find your weakness, Maddox.”

  Drake bristled when the other man’s ice-blue eyes rested on Izabel. “Your return will raise questions from every corner of the government. If the Navy or JSOC gives you problems, let me know. My people will handle your release from the military. You work for me. We’ve got Exetron communications and Mitchell and Tierney under close surveillance. We’ll handle them. Just do your part.”

  “Back the fuck up,” Drake growled. “I didn’t spend three years separated from my wife only to turn around and put her in danger. No fucking way.”

  “Drake—” Izabel started.

  “No!” he roared at her with more force than he intended and she jumped. But her eyes flashed and Drake knew she was about to unleash her temper.

  “You”—she gritted through her teeth—“unilaterally decided to fake your death in order to keep me safe. I want this to be over. I want every single one of them brought to justice and if I can help in anyway, I will. Got it?”

  “Mitchell is a cutthroat bastard,” Drake argued.

  “You can be too,” Izabel said. “Be cutthroat, I mean. Not a bastard.”

  Brick coughed. “Ohh … don’t know about that.”

  Izabel smiled at his teammate whose face grew as red as his hair.

  Jesus. Drake was irritated as hell. The situation was spiraling out of his control.

  “We need to talk about this,” Drake told his wife even as it was a struggle not to clench his jaw, yell at everyone, and kick the guys out of the house.

  Viktor slipped a memory stick from his pocket. “Details are here. We’re not sure when, where, or how Tierney and Mitchell will handle this, so we’ll play it by ear.”

  “Oooh …” Izabel looked excited as she stared at the flash drive. “Is this one of those that will self-destruct after you look through it?” she asked, deadpan.

  Drake rolled his eyes as everyone chuckled.

  “You guys gotta leave.” He scowled at the lot of them. “I’d like to spend some time alone with Iza before all this shit goes down.”

  He ignored his team’s knowing look and herded them to the exit. There was no question he was kicking them out.

  When the door closed behind the guys, Drake took Izabel by her shoulders. “Don’t ever give Viktor an opening. For anything.”

  “I was trying to be helpful.”

  “Guess what, Iza, you’re not,” he snapped. “Can’t concentrate on my fucking job if I’m worried for your safety.”

  Izabel shrugged his hands off her shoulders and backed away. “You’re such a hypocrite.” She pointed between them. “This is what we get when we sleep together and haven’t sorted out our problems.”

  “Not seeing a problem here. Seeing a problem when my wife wants to put herself in the crosshairs of the enemy.”

  “Well, it’s done,” she countered.

  “I just want to keep you safe,” he rasped in growing frustration.

  Izabel’s face shadowed. “Think about what happened the last time you did that.”

  Fuck, he walked right into that one.

  She smiled sadly. “I’ve made my point.” She spun around and headed toward the stairs.

  “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I’ve lost my appetite.” She continued up the steps.

  “Can I sleep in your room?” he called after her.

  Izabel flung out an arm without looking at him and flipped him off.

  Drake grinned. Yeah, he was sleeping with her.

  Chapter 15

  Izabel slowly came awake to an unfamiliar ceiling and she felt eyes on her. Her heart jumped to her throat and her muscles tensed only to quickly relax when she saw Drake’s slate-blue eyes on her. She was immediately transported to happier times and she was afraid that she was dreaming.

  “Tell me I’m not dreaming,” she whispered.

  “I’m real, baby.”

  Her hand came up and traced his jaw. “I remember this.”

  “My creeper tendencies?”

  She laughed lightly and switched to her side so they were facing each other. “I wouldn’t call you a creeper, but you do get this intense look in the morning.”

  “How intense?”

  “Like I’m your world,” she said softly.

  “You are, Iza.”

  They stared at each other for long moments, eyes yearning for each other, but there was still an underlying fear of failing to return to what they once were.

  “I’m sorry I brought up what you did again last night,” she murmured.

  “I understand.”

  “No. I need to make an effort not to hold on to my anger. I swear, I understand you more now, but the hurt is just hard to escape.”

  “It’s only been a week, I’m prepared to wait it out.” He hitched his shoulders. “Weeks. Months. Years.”

  “Years?”

  Drake gave a small smile. “There’s never gonna be anyone else.”

  Izabel sat up in bed, hugging her knees. “You sure about that?”

  “Yup.” He narrowed his eyes. “And if you think there’s going to be someone else for you, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  She huffed. “Because Tex was watching me.”

  “Yup.”

  “Did you send Matt and Sam, too?”

  “Tex’s boys, right?”

  “Yes. Did they know you were alive?”

  “No. Only Tex did. He knew how critical it was that no one else did.”

  Izabel nodded. “Yes, because they were the ones who delivered the news that day.” And just like that, the pain came back. Although muted, it was still the worst day of her life and would be forever etched in her soul.

  “Iza …”

  “I need to get ready for work.”

  She scrambled off the bed and made it as far as the bathroom door before she was spun around and hauled into Drake’s arms.

  Tears spilled down her cheeks, wetting his chest. A silent cry, one borne from the sad memory, shook her body.

  “I’ll make it up to you, baby. Just give me this chance.”

  All she could do was nod. There was fear, but that fear had been overshadowed by a deep resolve to make their marriage to work.

  It was, and always had been, Drake.

  Reporters lined the front of the Stockman and Bose building.

  “Oh my God, Viktor wasn’t kidding,” Izabel mumbled. Marcus had called and given them a status report of what to expect when they got in. Luckily the underground parking was closely monitored and only employees and clients were allowed through.

  Marcus said their security department wasn’t happy, but Virginia Beach was a SEAL community and a back-from-the-dead story was sure to make big news.

  “…a Navy SEAL who was thought to have died in the Syria JSOC massacre is alive. Details are still emerging, but rumor has it that he’s become a real-life James Bond and tracked down and destroyed the terrorist responsible for wiping out his team. We’re here in front of his wife’s
workplace to get a statement on this reunion that can only be made for movies. Izabel Maddox has been in the news lately for her philanthropic work with the Solace Foundation …”

  Drake switched off the radio as he drove the SUV into the underground parking. “Tired of hearing the same news over and over.”

  Izabel was apprehensive about facing her co-workers. Would they treat her any differently? He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’s gonna be okay.”

  When the elevator door opened, Marcus was already waiting for them. He was dressed in a suit instead of his usual cargo pants and tee. He had on an earpiece with the wire disappearing behind his neck.

  “Very secret-service like,” Drake drawled.

  “Fuck off, Maddox.”

  They greeted each other with a man hug.

  “Izabel, you okay?”

  “Yes. I thought you were exaggerating when you said there was a couple of news vans out front.”

  “Izabel!”

  Everyone turned to the blonde barreling toward them. Cindy plowed into her and held her tight. “We were so worried about you!”

  Her PA took in Drake with a critical eye. Then turning back to Izabel, she mouthed, “He’s hot.”

  Rolling her eyes, Izabel made the introductions. “Drake, this is Cindy Lake. Cindy, my husband—”

  “Drake Maddox,” Cindy finished. “Can you be any more caveman by abducting Izabel and Marcus? You gave us quite a scare! Initial reports said it was the Fuego gang and they’d probably beheaded Marcus and sold Izabel to human traffickers.”

  “Wow,” Izabel chuckled. “I didn’t know the news was that bad.”

  Both Marcus and Drake were nodding their heads.

  She frowned. “It was that bad?”

  “Yes,” Cindy said, linking their arms and together they walked toward her office.

  “I want to talk to Marcus about building security … you gonna be okay?” Drake called after her.

  “Yes …” Izabel waved him off. “It seems our floor is covered.” She pointed to a man sitting near a planter who she recognized as one of Marcus’s crew.

  She was then mobbed by her other co-workers and she had to answer the same questions several times over.

  Twenty minutes later, she made it to her desk and Cindy went back to hers so they could actually do some work. Izabel was behind on emails because her husband had only returned her phone this morning. She quickly put in her appointment with Doc G for the next day. She and Drake were making progress, especially after visiting Angelise’s grave, but there was still that lingering fear on her part of losing him again.

  Her door opened and she expected to see Drake telling her he was leaving.

  It was Kyle.

  He closed the door behind him as he entered.

  “Kyle.”

  She eyed the closed door.

  Kyle stalking toward her.

  Drake somewhere in the building.

  This was a disaster on so many levels.

  “God, Izzy. Are you okay?” He hauled her to her feet and cleaved her to his chest. His breath fanned her hair. “I was so worried about you.”

  “Kyle …”

  He pulled away slightly, staring intently into her eyes. “Is he holding you against your will?”

  “Drake? Of course not.” Izabel was indignant. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard.”

  “Are you saying you and Marcus went willingly with him?”

  “Uhm…”

  “I had the incident investigated,” Kyle stated grimly. “People talk given the right price. The news got it wrong.”

  Oh shit.

  “There was a misunderstanding. Let me go, Kyle,” she implored, stealing a nervous glance at the door which Kyle noticed.

  “He’s with Marcus,” he assured her. “Are you afraid of him?”

  “No, I’m afraid for you!” Izabel said, frustrated.

  Kyle chuckled bitterly. “I can take care of myself.”

  He held her tighter. “I’m here, Izzy. You know that, right? I’ll help you get away from him—”

  The door slammed open.

  The forbidding shape of her husband darkened the entryway while Cindy peeked worriedly behind him.

  “Did you say you were going to take my wife away from me, you motherfucker?”

  The softly spoken words were delivered with enough menace that Kyle finally let her go, but he stubbornly refused to leave her side.

  Izabel looked at Cindy. “Get Marcus.” She tried to catch Drake’s attention, but his eyes were glued to where Kyle stood beside her. “Drake …”

  She tried to step around Kyle, but he clasped her arm.

  Big mistake.

  “You don’t have to do this, Izabel,” Kyle said.

  Big fucking mistake.

  “What is wrong with you?” she said shrilly to Kyle. The blast of rage from Drake slammed into her even before she saw him stalking toward them. “He’s my husband.”

  “You got that right, baby,” Drake said in a casual tone. “Maybe I won’t kill him.”

  Drake gripped Kyle’s wrist in a way that made the man release her. She was pushed to the side and she saw a blur of motion, heard a grunt and the sound of smacking flesh before Kyle went flying into her chair. Drake yanked him right up and threw him over the desk.

  Izabel was speechless.

  Kyle ended up on the floor a pile of groaning pain.

  Snapped out of her trance, she screamed, “Stop!”

  Drake hauled Kyle to his feet, fisted him by the collar, and snarled, “Stay away from her, or I swear to God, if I find you anywhere near her … I. Will. End. You.”

  Kyle chuckled derisively. “Go ahead. Beat me up. Show Izzy what a savage you are.”

  “Drake, enough. Please?” She walked over to him now and laid a pleading hand on his arm. Hard muscles bunched up with tension beneath her palm.

  “What the fuck?” Marcus growled, stalking into the room.

  Stalking, it seemed, was common as testosterone levels clotted the air she was breathing, but she dared not leave the room.

  “Let him, go, Maddox. What the fuck?” Marcus repeated, standing beside the fused men like a referee in a match.

  Drake finally released Kyle, who tried to maintain his dignity by huffing and straightening his collar.

  “Mr. Collins, can I ask you to return to your office?” Marcus asked.

  Kyle tried to look around Drake, but the brick wall that was her husband stepped between them and blocked his view. “I’d take Marcus’s advice if I were you.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “You bet the fuck I am.”

  “Goddammit, Lieutenant. Stand down.”

  Izabel gently touched Drake’s torso and his arm came around her and tucked her possessively to his side.

  Kyle winced at their united front but continued to glower at Drake.

  Izabel cleared her throat. “Please, Kyle.”

  Kyle’s gaze softened when he looked at her. Her husband tensed.

  “Mr. Collins,” Marcus repeated in a much harsher tone.

  “This isn’t over …” Kyle said in parting.

  “You son of a bitch …” Drake growled and lunged forward.

  Thankfully, she and Marcus held him back, giving Cindy a chance to drag Kyle out the door.

  “Dammit, Maddox. Do you know he could press charges?”

  “He had his fucking hands all over my wife!”

  “Kyle was out of line,” Izabel said. “But did you have to beat him up?”

  Drake’s nostrils flared, his eyes flinty with controlled rage. “Yeah. I did.”

  Marcus touched his earpiece and listened. “I’ll be right there,” he spoke into the mic clipped to his suit. “Mr. Bose wants to see me.” He glared at Drake. “Try not to cause any more trouble.”

  When Marcus left, Drake closed the door and locked it. Izabel watched him warily. He was still vibrating with aggression.

  “Drak
e …” she gulped. “You need to chill.”

  “You’re telling me to chill …” The words rolled on his tongue as if he was testing their meaning.

  “Well, yeah.” She emitted a nervous laugh.

  “That asshole had his arms around what is mine—” he took a step forward; she took a step back.

  “He was concerned.”

  “Concerned that I would hurt you?”

  A step forward.

  Another step back.

  “Just generally …” her voice faltered.

  “Apparently he thinks he can take you away from me.” Drake’s arm shot out, caught her wrist, and yanked her against his chest. His eyes glinted with predatory hunger and she squirmed as he added, “Now why would he think that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What happened on that date?”

  This time Izabel got fed up and shoved away from him.

  He let her go easily.

  Hands on her hips, she glared at him. “You have no right to ask me what happened on that date.”

  A dark brow shot up mockingly. “I don’t?”

  His derision annoyed her more. “No. You do not. As far as I’m concerned I was free and clear to date and kiss anyone I wanted to.”

  “You kissed him?”

  “You know I did.”

  Drake erased the distance between them and stood in front of her, toe-to-toe. Izabel didn’t quail and raised her head in challenge, chest heaving.

  Slate-blue eyes dropped to her breasts. She was wearing a scooped-neck sweater that revealed her cleavage.

  “Stop staring at my boobs!” she snapped.

  Drake slowly raised his eyes and their predatory glint morphed into heated appraisal. An answering heat bloomed between her legs and she felt the gush of her arousal.

  His lids lowered a fraction. “Did he turn you on?”

  “Not answering that.”

  “Did he make you wet, baby?”

  “Go fuck …” His lips crashed against hers, his hands shoved up her skirt and ripped away her panties. Excitement warred with indignation, but Izabel’s heart raced as he swept her up and planted her bare ass on the cool wooden surface.

  Dragging her lips from his, she hissed. “Not here!”

  “Yes, here,” he growled. Yanking her legs apart, he buried his face between her thighs.