She could still feel the warmth of Isabel’s gaze from last night. The way she hadwaited, letting Victoria decide.
And shehaddecided. She’d walked away.
So why the hell was she still thinking about it?
The precinct felt suffocating. Victoria grabbed her coat and walked out into the bullpen, needing air, space—anythingto shake this off.
She made it halfway to the doors when she spottedher.
Torres.
Isabel was leaning against Collins’ desk, mid-conversation, her body language easy and unbothered. She looked every bit like she belonged there, like she’d settled into this job, this city, as if she hadn’t spent the night getting under Victoria’s skin and staying there.
And the worst part?
She saw Victoria. Andsmirked.
Like sheknew.
Victoria turned sharply, heading straight for the exit. She needed control back. She just wasn’t sure she’d ever had it to begin with.
Back in her office, Victoria closed the door and leaned against it, closing her eyes. She had two choices.
She could shut this down.Now.Push Isabel away. Rebuild the wall she never should have let crack in the first place.
Or—
She could let this keep happening. Allow Torres to get closer, let whatever was simmering between them boil over into something neither of them could take back.
The idea sent heat curling low in her stomach. She clenched her jaw.No.She was better than this. Shehadto be.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, she snatched it up immediately.
Collins.The stakeout was happening tonight.
Victoria exhaled slowly. Good. Work. She needed work. She neededanything but this.
Her hands were steady as she replied.I’ll be there. Torres is with me.
She didn’t let herself think about why she typed that. Didn’t let herself question why she wasn’t pushing Isabel away at all.
Victoria had done stakeouts before.
Countless hours spent in surveillance vans waiting, watching, listening. They were predictable. Long. Boring. The kind of assignment that required patience and discipline—both of which she prided herself on.
This one was different.
Because Isabel Torres was in the van with her. And Victoria waslosing her goddamned mind.
She sat rigid in the driver’s seat, one hand resting near the radio, her eyes fixed on the abandoned lot ahead. The ransom drop was scheduled for sometime after midnight according to their informant, but so far nothing. Just a cracked concrete expanse, a few distant streetlights, and an occasional gust of wind kicking up dust.
Beside her, Isabel stretched her arms above her head, letting out a low, satisfied hum as she leaned back against the seat. The motion pulled her leather jacket tight against her frame, and Victoriadid notlook.
She stared straight ahead. Didnotlook.
“I hope whoever set this up appreciates us sitting in a freezing metal box all night,” Isabel muttered, rubbing her hands together for warmth. “Really hope they send us a thank-you card.”
Victoria exhaled slowly. “It’s not that cold.”
