He also had deep brown eyes, light brown skin and an infectious grin, even in the middle of a grueling SWAT workout. In short, exactly her type. If only he wasn’t a teammate, making him...
—Elizabeth Heiter
The instant Isabella Cortez left the safety of the FBI building, goose bumps skittered across her skin and her senses went on high alert.
Nine people had died today. And it didn’t matter what the FBI had thought of her actions. Her career as a negotiator had ended before it had even begun.
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