The moment the woman finished describing the turn-off past the mill road, Isabel pushed back from the table. “We have to get to that cabin. Now.”
Victoria was already halfway there, her voice crisp and sharp as she turned toward the mirrored glass. “Collins — we’re heading up there. You wrap this up. Get her statement on record, get her to sign it. Hell, tell her attorney we’ll give her a good deal if the cabin turns out to be something.”
“Yes, Captain,” Collins’ voice crackled through the speaker.
Victoria’s focus didn’t waver. Watching her like this — issuing orders, fully in control — was maddening. Isabel couldn’t help admiring the way she commanded a room, but it was tangled with the same frustration that had been gnawing at her all morning. Even now, when the air between them practically vibrated with tension, there was that cold wall — polished, impenetrable, and firmly in place.
As they stepped into the hall, Isabel asked, “Your car or mine?”
“My car,” Victoria said without missing a beat. “Obviously.”
The snap of it sent a flicker of heat and irritation through Isabel’s chest. She followed her out to the precinct garage without another word.
When they slid into Victoria’s black sedan, the space between them seemed impossibly small — not just in distance, but in how aware she was of every single thing about her. The faint scent of her perfume, the controlled precision of her movements as she adjusted the mirrors, the quiet power in her posture even in the driver’s seat.
They’d been closer than this — much closer — just last night. But somehow, this felt further away than ever.
The sexual tension still undeniably hummed between them, but Victoria’s wall was so firmly in place that Isabel felt as if she was sitting next to a fortress. She wanted to reach across theconsole, to force that mask to crack, but she kept her arms folded instead, staring out the windshield.
So close.
And yet so far.
9
VICTORIA
The tires hummed against the asphalt, the steady rhythm almost loud in the absence of conversation.
Victoria kept her eyes on the road, both hands locked at ten and two. Out of the corner of her vision, she could see Isabel sitting rigid in the passenger seat, her arms crossed and her gaze fixed out the side window.
Neither of them was going to speak first.
The comment from the interrogation room was still lodged in her head like a splinter.Everything from the captain tastes good.She’d brushed it off in the moment, buried it under the work at hand, but now — with only the sound of the engine and the white blur of the lines on the road — it rose back to the surface.
She could still remember the exact curl of Isabel’s lips when she’d said it, the heat in her eyes, like it had been a private message meant only for Victoria. And of course, her mind went further — to the way Isabel’s mouth had felt on hers last night. Hot, demanding, tasting of whiskey and something darker.
Victoria’s jaw tightened. She pressed harder on the gas, the engine growling in response.
It was ridiculous. She had no business thinking about any of that right now — not with the cabin coming up, not with a suspect and possibly a victim inside. But the memory kept bleeding in, the way Isabel’s tongue had slid against hers, the low sound she’d made when Victoria finally gave in.
She gripped the steering wheel tighter, leather creaking under her hands.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Isabel shifting in her seat. The movement made the sleeve of her leather jacket stretch just enough for the tear to show — a small, ragged hole where the bullet had grazed her.
The pang that hit her was sharp and unwelcome. She shoved it down immediately. She could not afford to think about what it would have meant if the angle had been different. If the shot had landed a few inches over.
Her eyes flicked back to the road. Focus.
Still, her thoughts looped back to the interrogation. The way Isabel had cracked the suspect open with just a few jokes and an easy smile. Victoria had to admit — grudgingly — that it had been effective. More effective, maybe, than anything she’d said. That smirk of hers could do a lot of damage in the right place.
And just like that, she was thinking about that smirk again — not in the interrogation room, but from last night. The glint in Isabel’s eyes when she’d pressed Victoria back into the mattress. The way her mouth had curved right before she’d leaned in, her voice low and sure.
Victoria felt heat coil low in her stomach. Dammit.
She swore under her breath and reached for the climate controls, twisting the AC down and cranking the fan up until the vents roared with cold air.
Beside her, Isabel didn’t even look over. “Of course you like it cold,” she said, the edge of a smirk in her voice.
