Reclaiming Izabel (Special Forces: Operation Alpha)

by Victoria Paige

  “I feel so bad for him,” Cindy mumbled. Her assistant had a soft spot for Marcus. “I wished Veteran’s Affairs would devote more budget to mental health.”

  “Good luck with that,” Izabel muttered. She wasn’t much into politics but had heard enough from Drake about every slash in budget for military veterans.

  “Maybe I should make him a casserole this weekend,” her friend said.

  “Cindy,” she warned. “Leave the man alone. He’s fine.”

  A resigned sigh sounded in her ear. “Well, I’ll let you go so you can get ready.”

  When their call ended, Izabel’s mood for her date soured a little. She glanced at the time. She had an hour and a half before Kyle picked her up at seven. She had time to psyche herself back into looking forward to dinner instead of dreading it.

  Izabel found her happy nine years ago. Drake pursued her relentlessly between deployments. They Skyped often when he was down range. He’d scheduled delivery of flowers and chocolates when he wasn’t around so she’d always think of him. And when he returned, he tried as much as possible to see her, flying up to New York from Virginia Beach, even when it was simply to hang around her apartment while she studied for her finals. Within eight months of knowing each other, they were married. Izabel moved to Virginia Beach and interned with Stockman and Bose Builders and had stayed in the area since.

  Three months before that fated mission, Drake mentioned building a house. He had a sizable inheritance from his grandmother’s side. He had no close family to take care of since his parents died when he was young. He told her he was quitting the SEALs and had contacts in the private security business who were offering good money at more than triple his salary as a SEAL.

  As if in a trance, Izabel walked over to her home office and pulled out the bottom drawer of her stacking flat-file cabinet. She gently lifted the sheets of vellum paper. The beautiful two-story house she’d lovingly drawn was smeared in several places. She didn’t care if more tears fell and splattered the ink on the design to the point of ruin.

  This house would never be built.

  “You’re so beautiful tonight.”

  Izabel lifted the wine glass to her lips and looked at Kyle beneath her lashes before staring at her drink. “Thank you.” What her date didn’t know was she spent fifteen minutes with a cold compress to her swollen eyes after her ugly cry earlier.

  “Do I make you uncomfortable?” Kyle asked gently.

  She looked up from her goblet and smiled at him. “I haven’t been on a date for years. Ah … it’s a bit awkward.”

  “Fair enough.” His blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “I hope you’re enjoying your dinner at least.”

  They were at a French restaurant. He’d asked her about her favorite food. If she were honest, it would be Drake’s grilled steaks—his MadDog special—but that was hardly an appropriate answer, so she answered the next best thing … anything cooked with a lot of butter. Izabel wasn’t picky with food. She’d known what it was like to go without, having almost become homeless in her teens when her mother had not been able to work because of an injury.

  “Oh, yes,” she replied with enthusiasm and to prove her point, she dug her spoon into the Sole Muenière and forked a delicate morsel of the fish into her mouth. The track of Kyle’s eyes from her plate to her mouth almost made her choke, especially when she saw the spark of desire in them.

  Drake often teased her about how just the sight of her bow-shaped lips made him hard.

  She mentally berated herself for thinking of her dead husband while on a date with another man. Feeling rebellious at her inability to move on, she shot Kyle a sultry gaze. “Do you want to try my dish?”

  Startled, color rushed up his cheeks. He was really handsome in that all-American golden-boy way. As opposed to Drake’s dark hair and rugged build, Kyle had a lean runner’s frame. And … there she went comparing the two again.

  “Sure,” Kyle replied and shot her a goofy grin.

  A nervous giggle escaped her mouth and she cringed at the sound, but she dutifully lifted a piece of fish and sweetly offered it to him to try. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly as she relaxed into conversation and their meal. It helped that they could talk about architectural trends and their projects.

  “Congratulations convincing the board to offer our services for free to the Solace affordable-housing project,” Kyle said.

  “It wasn’t my accomplishment alone. My team helped and so did the Solace Foundation.”

  “Yes, but you spearheaded the program. You should be proud of what you’ve done.”

  “It’s the right thing to do,” Izabel said. “When my mother broke her wrist and couldn’t work at the salon, we couldn’t afford our mortgage and almost ended up on the streets.”

  “But it didn’t happen, right?” Kyle frowned.

  “No. Ma had an ace in her pocket,” Izabel sighed. “She had to swallow a lot of her pride, but she got our heads above water. But I’ll never forget what that felt like.” Eating canned food for days, selling their television, her boombox. Her mother almost sold her treasured scissors—a hairstylist’s lifeblood.

  “I’m confused. You did your undergrad and masters at Cornell.”

  “I had a scholarship,” Izabel smiled. “And Ma …”

  “The ace in her pocket?” Kyle raised a brow.

  “Nothing devious,” she replied. “Let’s just say I was given a fair chance to qualify.” Izabel sipped her wine. “Hey, this is our first date. You’re not expecting me to tell you my life story, are you?”

  Kyle grinned sheepishly and changed the subject.

  After they ordered dessert, Izabel let her gaze wander around the restaurant. That was when she noticed two men at the corner of the nickel-plated bar.

  “Kyle?” she said tentatively.

  “Yes, my sweet?”

  She paused at the endearment, but decided to roll with it. “I see a couple of friends at the bar. Do you mind if I say hello?”

  “Not at all,” Kyle replied as his gaze automatically pulled to the bar. “Go ahead.”

  Izabel pushed back from her chair and got up. She approached the men steadily and with purpose.

  Sam was facing the dining room and he lowered his head to his friend.

  “Matt? Sam?”

  Both SEALs did a poor job of acting surprised to see her.

  “Hey, girl!” Sam hugged her first, followed by Matt. They were part of the notification team who delivered the heartbreaking news that day. Coincidentally, it turned out Tex was a mutual friend and they’d kept in touch with her since that fateful day.

  “What are you guys doing in Virginia?”

  “Training,” Sam answered quickly.

  “And you’re at a French Bistro instead of hanging out with your team?”

  Matt blew out a breath. “We worry about you, sweetheart.”

  Izabel rolled her eyes. “I’m a thirty-five-year-old woman and you guys are treating me like I’m on my first date with a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

  Matt gave a shit-eating grin. His nickname was “Wolf.”

  “Honestly, we’re all for you getting back in the game,” Sam said.

  Her brows furrowed. “The game?”

  “Uh … dating,” Sam amended. “Even Summer keeps pestering me that we should lure you out to California so she can fix you up with some good guys.”

  She glanced at her date who was watching them curiously. “Kyle’s a good guy.”

  Both of them looked past her shoulder at the man in question.

  Matt exhaled heavily and shook his head. “You know what Mozart means.”

  Izabel did. She was avoiding heartbreak again and looking for a man that was nothing like Drake. A safe guy.

  “I’m trying,” she whispered.

  “Sweetie,” Sam muttered and put an arm around her. “Wolf and I are assholes. Don’t mind us. We should have shut that shit down with Tex and told him to mind his own business. We’ll catch up with
you later.” He gave her a squeeze. “Go back and enjoy your evening with Romeo.”

  Izabel gave a small snort of laughter. Sam had a way of making an awkward moment turn around.

  “We need to catch up,” she told them.

  “We’d love to, but we’ve got training all day tomorrow that’s gonna run until late evening and then we fly back to San Diego early.”

  “Bummer,” Izabel mumbled.

  After giving the two SEALs another hug, she made her way back to the table.

  “Friends of your husband?” Kyle asked when she sat down.

  “Not really,” Izabel said. “But we have a common friend.” After what had happened to Drake’s team, she thought twice about pointing out a SEAL. In his drunken ramblings, Marcus Harrelson insisted that there was a cover-up in his wife and kids’ deaths. Rumors abounded that it was a hit by the same terrorist who masterminded the massacre of Fire Team. But because the Navy refused to spend money on protecting the remaining SEAL widows, they didn’t investigate further. No sense discovering a problem they didn’t plan to fix.

  Their server returned with dessert. Izabel’s was the lavender crème brûlée while Kyle ordered a chocolate ganache layered bar.

  “That looks scrumptious,” she remarked at the multilayered chocolate extravaganza.

  Kyle chuckled. “Do I detect regret in your tone?”

  Izabel cracked the sugary shell of her custard and scooped a creamy spoonful into her mouth. “Hmm … this is good, but I bet yours is better.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Do you want to exchange?”

  Her eyes widened. “You’d do that?”

  His chuckle deepened and Izabel felt the walls around her heart crack as laughter bubbled up her throat. This was good. Laughter was good.

  “It’s just dessert, Izabel,” Kyle stopped laughing and grinned.

  “I mean, lavender crème brûlée isn’t exactly something I thought a man would be caught ordering.”

  “Izabel Maddox,” Kyle’s voice held a tinge of mock censure. “Do I detect some form of sexist remark from your last statement?”

  “Well, have a taste.” She held out her spoon.

  He screwed up his face. “Uh, no.”

  “See?” She laughed harder.

  “What I meant was—you can have mine and I can order another one.”

  Izabel raised a brow. “Well, I don’t want to waste food,” she replied pertly and dipped into her crème brûlée again as if to emphasize a point.

  It was Kyle’s turn to raise a brow. He dug into the tempting layers of sinful chocolate and then held it out to her. “Well, would you settle for a bite?”

  She smiled impishly. “I would love to.”

  When Kyle took her home, Izabel marveled at how differently she felt before and after her date. It had been cathartic to laugh and flirt again with a man. Kyle was good company, charming, and he wisely didn’t pry into her past with Drake. She’d been having such a wonderful time with him during dessert that she didn’t notice Sam and Matt leaving. Of course being SEALs they were stealthy that way.

  As Kyle’s Porsche pulled up her driveway, she turned in her seat to face him. “Thank you for a lovely dinner.”

  His face was shadowed, but Izabel could feel the heat in his eyes. Her breathing stuttered nervously as he leaned toward her until their faces were inches apart.

  “I’m going to kiss you,” he murmured. “Okay?”

  Izabel swallowed hard and nodded.

  The first press of his mouth felt totally wrong. Izabel opened her mouth to protest, but Kyle took that as an invitation to delve deeper. His tongue swept into her mouth and he pulled her closer. His kiss was gentle and coaxing, making her want to explore and give in to the moment. His hand slid down her back to her hips before settling on top of her thigh, just at the hem of her skirt. Kyle’s breathing grew ragged and, although a spark had started low in her belly, she knew she had to stop this.

  A car alarm went off in the neighborhood and they both jumped back into their seats.

  Izabel ran awkward fingers through her hair. “Um …”

  Kyle gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  She nodded and got out of the car.

  He waited until she rounded the front of his vehicle and held out his hand. She took it and he tugged her close and together they walked up her pathway.

  “I hate to see this evening end,” Kyle said as they turned toward each other at her door. The car alarm in the neighborhood was still blaring. “I really like you, Izabel. I know I should wait a couple of days before I call you and ask you for another date, but why waste time?”

  “Are you asking me for another date?”

  “Would Wednesday be too soon?”

  Izabel shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Let’s discuss details at the office.” He glanced around the neighborhood, a look of irritation crossing his face. “Someone needs to take care of that alarm.”

  She unlocked the door and pushed it open. “I agree. So,” she said, peering up at him. “See you at the office?”

  He paused as if wanting to say something but changed his mind and lowered his head to press a chaste kiss on her lips. “Until Monday then.”

  Izabel stepped into the foyer. Seconds after she closed the door, the annoying car alarm stopped.

  Thank God for that.

  Chapter 5

  The next morning, Izabel woke before the sun came up. The relative success of her date with Kyle gave her hope that she could finally find happiness again. It might not be with Kyle; it might be with someone else. But this weekend would be about starting over—beginning by getting rid of Drake’s things.

  When she’d sold their house, she hadn’t given away his stuff. She couldn’t bring herself to part with pieces of him. His gun safe was in her office. The guns were an extension of Drake. He took utmost care of each and every one of them.

  Some of Drake’s work tools she’d given to Tex. Others she’d given to Marcus.

  Izabel sighed as she thought of Drake’s commander. Now there was a man who needed help more than she did. She’d tried dragging him to some grief counseling sessions, but it wasn’t only grief that was eating at Marcus. Guilt was involved too. If only he could talk to someone. Izabel felt guilty for talking Cindy out of visiting the commander. It was just that her friend was fond of her conspiracy theories and the last thing Marcus needed was to obsess about losing his team and his family within days of each other.

  She headed to the attic where the boxes were kept. Standing at the entrance, she flicked on the switch, illuminating the room in a ghastly incandescent glow. Her nose twitched at the smell of stale air, mildew, and old books. Boxes labeled clothes, garage, and library were stacked on top of each other.

  Izabel walked over to the window and stared outside. The first rays of the sun peeked through the horizon. It was a bit late to start her morning run, but she’d wanted to wait for more sunlight. The cold air passing over the warm waters of the James River created foggy mornings. She loved running at this time of the year and reminded herself to get started because it was going to be a long day. She took one last look at the boxes and turned off the light.

  She would take care of it later.

  Definitely today.

  By the time Izabel reached the kitchen, her pot of coffee was ready. She poured herself a cup and checked emails.

  Fully caffeinated, she changed into her running gear and put on her reflectors. She checked the thermostat for the outside temperature. It was a cool forty-nine degrees, but she’d warm up after the first mile. Before leaving the house, she made sure she had everything on, especially her racing belt with her electrolyte water. She turned on the GPS on her Garmin and did her stretches on the driveway, surveying her surroundings. The fog was coming in low, the sun’s golden rays fighting to break through it and her excitement grew. It was going to be a gorgeous morning with the patches of fog hovering over the wetlan
ds along the trail behind her house. She’d catch the serene view of the sunrise on the arch bridge over the James River if she left now.

  Her Garmin beeped, alerting her it had connected to the satellite, so she started on a brisk jog, inserting her ear buds and picking a playlist. She waved to her neighbor who’d just come off the trail. There were several routes around the park, and since she planned to run five miles today, she’d probably do two passes by the river, where the bridge allowed her to cross over the water to make her loop. She came upon the bridge and decided to take in the foggy scenery. The park was unusually empty this Saturday morning.

  Movement caught her peripheral vision and she turned. The contour of a man broke through the swirling fog rising from under the bridge. An achingly familiar form clad in track pants and a hoodie that shadowed the top half of his face. A long beard hid the rest. Izabel forced herself to look away. Her heart pushed up in her throat and her breathing quickened. The ache in her heart turned to alarm when the man didn’t pass behind her but, instead, stopped a couple of feet away from her.

  He was looking at the sunrise just like she was.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” the man’s gravelly voice came to her.

  That voice.

  She slanted her gaze to him, her face still forward and raised her hand slowly to rest on her pepper spray. The park was generally safe, but one couldn’t be too sure, and neither was she letting any sicko frighten her into avoiding what she loved.

  “Baby, you attack me with that pepper spray, I guarantee we won’t be spending time talking in the pickup.”

  Izabel gasped at the sound of his voice and she spun to face the stranger.

  The man slowly pulled the hood from his face.

  Drake.

  He looked a lot like Drake. Broader in shoulders, arms a bit more muscular. She’d seen her husband with a beard but never one this long. And yet the eyes, the slash of brows, and the slightly crooked nose were unmistakably Drake’s.

  “Iza …”

  Her mouth fell open, but no sound came. Thoughts in her head clashed. Was this a dream or a sick joke? Was she losing her mind? None of this was real and yet he uttered her name in the special way he did. In the only way that had ever touched her soul.