by Caila Jaynes
Ready for a change in subject, he said, “I can stay longer this time, Mom.” Eli had the drug case handled, and Alex would be filling in to help Jeremy guard Claire.
He cringed as he thought again of that morning. Claire had to be thrilled he was gone. She wouldn’t want him back anyway, not after the way he’d been treating her. Hell, she and Jeremy were probably eating popcorn and watching a movie right now, having a grand old time with him out of the house.
“And what will you do here, Gray? Watch me wither away?” His mother turned her head and stared at the ceiling. “No, thanks. I’d rather you go work that job of yours.”
It was the first time her words had indicated the gravity of her situation, and they shot straight to Grayson’s heart. “Please, Mom. Don’t talk that way.”
Ignoring his comment, she glanced out into the hallway. “Has Mary gone out? I heard the front door shut.”
Grayson nodded. “She went to the store. I think I was annoying her.”
“Why would she be annoyed with you?”
“She thinks I should be here permanently, and she’s right.”
Eleanor waved a hand, dismissing his words. “Don’t worry. We’re doing fine. My sister just likes drama.”
The corners of Grayson’s mouth lifted, this time in a genuine smile. His aunt did enjoy stirring things up.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t you want me to at least stay the night? I could go back in the morning.”
“No, Gray.” Eleanor’s eyes glistened as she smiled at him. “I’m so happy you came and spent a few hours with me, but I want you to head back as soon as Mary gets home.”
Reaching out, she took his hand in hers and squeezed. “I’m fine. I promise.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
A couple of hours after Eli left, Claire jerked upright in bed, awakened by a loud noise.
What was that?
Sleepiness fled her mind as she shoved back her covers. It had been banging of some sort—nothing that was normal for this time of night. Grayson and Jeremy always kept noise to a minimum when they were on guard duty overnight, something she appreciated.
Concerned, she slipped out of bed wearing the T-shirt and shorts she’d been sleeping in the past few nights, and slipped on her running shoes as an afterthought. Holding her breath, she opened the bedroom door and eased silently into the hallway. Downstairs, light from the kitchen bathed the living room in a dim glow as she peered over the landing, far enough to see the living room curtains fluttering on a gust of wind.
Claire took a few steps down and peeked over the banister, her gaze drawn to the sliding glass door that led from the kitchen to the patio. Why was it open? Had Jeremy gone outside, maybe to check the perimeter?
Her instincts screamed that she should stay quiet rather than call out to him, but logic told her she was probably just being paranoid.
A shadowy figure moved into the house through the open slider, and Claire ducked back into the stairwell. Keeping herself hidden, she sucked in a breath as the person entered, dressed in dark clothing and wearing a ski mask. Someone else followed on his heels, dressed the same way.
A scream bubbled up her throat, but she bit it back. Her heart pounded so hard she could barely hear herself think. Silently, she crept back into her bedroom and eased the door closed. On tiptoe, she darted across the room and opened the balcony door.
Eli had left just before bedtime, saying another team member would be there first thing in the morning. It was only Jeremy downstairs now. Had the men hurt him?
I’ve got to get him help!
Claire stepped onto the dark balcony and leaned over the railing. It was at least a ten-foot drop to the ground, but she had no choice. The intruders would be upstairs any second. She was their target . . . there was no doubt about that.
Trembling with fear, she leaned over the railing and swung one leg to the other side. With a death grip on the railing, she pulled her other leg over and lowered herself as far as she could go. She dangled in the air for a second, holding on for dear life, and sent up a silent prayer before she let go.
The force of the impact on the front lawn jolted Claire’s feet and ankles. She tumbled to the dewy grass and rolled. Nothing felt broken as she scrambled to her feet, looking wildly around her.
The neighborhood was dark except for the streetlights’ dim glow. Panting with fear, she thought quickly. The men came in through the back of the house, so that wasn’t an option. There might be more of them in the backyard. If she ran to a neighboring house for help, the men would surely see, and she didn’t want to put anyone else in danger.
What should I do?
A hundred yards or so down the street was a wooded area, a green space of several acres that also included a small park. Claire remembered passing by it as they’d first driven to the safe house. Lights from a neighboring development were visible through the trees. It would be safer to get help there.
That was her best bet, so she bent low and sprinted diagonally across the street toward the park. Her running shoes slapped on the concrete sidewalk as she followed the curve of the road and raced for the trees.
She’d just entered the park when headlights brightened the street. Over her shoulder, Claire glimpsed a familiar SUV as it passed under a streetlight, headed toward the safe house.
Grayson!
She stumbled to a halt and looked back at the house. He would be in trouble if the men surprised him. Without a phone, she had no way of warning him or calling for help. And where was Jeremy?
Her heart thrashed like a wild beast in her chest as she whirled and ran after the SUV. His taillights disappeared around a bend just as she heard the squeal of tires from another vehicle approaching from the direction of the safe house.
Claire froze. She was on the street now, vulnerable and exposed. Terror filled her as a car came around the bend. Headlights beamed her way, bathing her in light, and the car screeched to a stop.
No!
Hardly able to breathe, she turned and ran. It wasn’t until she was fifty feet or so into the woods that she heard branches snapping behind her. Claire risked a glance over her shoulder. Two dark figures dodged trees and trampled underbrush, racing toward her in the darkness.
Too close. She wouldn’t be able to outrun them; Grayson had proven that at the gas station. Time to stand her ground and fight back.
Adrenaline flooded her system. She slowed and stooped to grab hold of a stout fallen branch. Turning, she slammed the branch as hard as she could into the face of the man who was closest.
“Bitch!”
His hands flew up to his ski mask as he cursed hard. Claire looked up to see the second man hurtling toward her, only a few feet away.
She dropped the branch and took off again, making it only a few yards before she was caught by the hair and yanked against a brawny chest. Screaming, Claire struggled, kicking her legs and clawing at the man’s arms even as she was shoved to the leaf-covered ground. He grunted and swung his fist, connecting with the side of her face.
Oh my God . . .
Desperate to get away, she flipped onto her hands and knees and tried to scramble out of the man’s grip. Another blow came from behind and caught her temple. Her vision tunneled, and she was too stunned to react when he shoved her facedown on the ground and stuffed a rag into her mouth.
The last thing Claire felt before everything went black was her arms being tugged behind her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
With a total of eight hours on the road today, Grayson was exhausted by the time he made it back to Springfield. As he turned into the development and neared the safe house, he noticed something odd and glanced in his rearview mirror.
What the hell is with that car? The driver he’d just passed had braked to a sudden stop in the middle of the road. Now the driver and passenger were fleeing, leaving their doors wide open.
Grayson slowed and looked toward the safe house. When he spied the open balcony door, the o
ne leading from Claire’s room, he cursed and slammed on his brakes.
Snatching up his cell phone, he texted a quick distress code to his team’s twenty-four-hour dispatch. Then he dropped his phone in the passenger seat and yanked his gun from his shoulder holster before jumping from his car. He ran for the abandoned vehicle, training his weapon on it. Ducking his head, he got a good look inside.
Empty.
He whirled toward the trees and sprinted in the direction the men had gone. His boots pounded the dirt, matching the quick pace of his heart.
Just inside the woods, he spotted moving figures in the darkness and raced toward them. “Federal agents! Show me your hands!”
Instead of obeying, the men turned and one opened fire.
Cursing, Grayson ducked behind a tree. Not wanting to risk a gunfight in a residential neighborhood, he held his fire. He waited a second, then left the cover of the tree to run behind a closer one. When he had a target in plain sight, he squeezed off one careful shot, then another.
One of the men went down with a yelp. The other took off running.
Grayson ran toward the man who was lying on the ground, groaning as he gripped his side. “Where’s your weapon?”
“Shit! You shot me!”
Grayson raised his voice and repeated, “Where’s your weapon?”
Ignoring his question, the man continued to curse him loudly.
Grayson yanked a zip tie from his pocket and knelt to secure the man’s wrists, then did the same with his ankles.
At the sound of a low moan nearby, Grayson spun around. Several yards away, a woman’s body lay huddled on the ground. Tangled auburn hair obscured her face, but he’d know that shapely form anywhere.
He hurried toward Claire, cursing at the sight of the cord binding her wrists and the gag in her mouth. Fear stole his breath as he tugged the cloth from between her lips. Had she been shot?
He checked for blood. There wasn’t any, but her eyes were still closed. He went to work on the cords, loosening them enough to yank them off her wrists, and gathered Claire into his arms.
“Claire, wake up.” He patted her cheek, noting the painful-looking swelling there as he tried to wake her up.
They’d hit her; that was why she’d lost consciousness. Furious, Grayson looked back at his prisoner, wishing he’d shot him again. Claire might be a major pain in the ass, but she didn’t deserve this.
The sirens growing closer made little impression as he continued to coax Claire awake. He let out the breath he’d been holding as she finally blinked her eyes open. The dazed expression on her face made him want to reassure her, keep her safe.
He cupped her cheek with his palm, keeping his voice soft to calm her. “You’re safe now.”
“Jeremy,” Claire whispered. “I think he’s hurt.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“Something woke me. The door to the patio was open when I looked downstairs. Two men came inside.”
“You escaped from the balcony?”
Wincing, she nodded.
“We’ll find Jeremy.”
But Grayson’s heart was heavy as he thought about his teammate. He wouldn’t have left Claire to fend for herself—not unless something catastrophic had happened.
Branches snapped, flashlight beams bobbing as two officers came crashing through the woods. Grayson identified himself, explaining that the other man had run, and pointed out the direction.
One of the officers took off. The other stayed put and at Grayson’s request radioed in, asking backup to look inside the house for Jeremy.
“She all right?” the officer asked as he lowered his radio.
“Yes.” Grayson squeezed Claire’s hand. “Think you can walk?”
When she nodded, he grabbed her arm to steady her as she rose.
“What about me?” The cuffed man groaned as he sat up, clutching awkwardly at his side. “I’m bleeding to death here!”
The officer tugged off the man’s mask, then pulled him to his feet before shining a flashlight in his direction. The man was Grayson’s height with a muscular build and brown hair, but his face wasn’t familiar. The officer propelled the man through the trees toward the street, and Grayson and Claire followed.
A chill ran through Grayson as he thought of what would have happened to Claire had he arrived any later. Those men had been about to drag her to their vehicle.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tightening his hold on her as they moved forward. They’d reached the street and were under a streetlight when he finally got a good look at her. Claire’s eyes were wide with fear, her face deathly pale.
“It’s going to be okay,” he told her as they returned to the house.
But as an officer came out of the safe house, walking slowly toward them with a grim expression on his face, Grayson knew the words he’d just spoken were a lie.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
A bone-chilling numbness seeped through Claire as she lay on top of the covers in bed at the safe house, a blanket covering her.
First-responders had been swarming the first floor when she and Grayson had walked inside. A serious-looking man wearing a dark jacket with a phoenix logo had walked past carrying a clear plastic bag containing what looked to be a baseball cap. Splotches darkened the blue fabric, and Claire’s knees had given way when her brain processed what she’d just seen.
Jeremy’s baseball cap, drenched in blood.
Grayson had held her close, keeping her from falling, and steered her upstairs, his intent to shield her from further trauma obvious. But the scene had still registered clearly; whatever had happened to Jeremy was grave.
Grayson had been gone for several minutes before he reentered the room.
“Is he dead?” she whispered.
Grayson opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it again. He studied her for another few seconds before nodding, his expression bleak. “He was knifed. The bastards must have taken him by surprise and didn’t want to risk waking the whole neighborhood with a gunshot. He fought them, apparently, but had bled out by the time the medics arrived.”
Claire clutched the blanket around her and tried to suck in a breath. With the shock compressing her chest, it was nearly impossible.
“Easy, Claire.” Grayson’s strong arms came around her as he took a seat on the bed. “Breathe. You need to breathe.”
“His family,” she choked out. “His poor mother. She’ll be devastated.”
Grayson looked grim as he gave her a nod. “Eli will notify them. And he’ll escort Jeremy’s body home for the funeral. It’s what we do.”
Tears filled her eyes. “But how did they find us?”
“They tracked us somehow.” His gaze went to her suitcase in the corner of the room. “We’re going to have the lab see what they can find. Maybe we missed something.”
Nausea unfurled alongside Claire’s misery. “You think they tracked us through something I have?”
He winced as if he regretted what he’d just said. “It’s only one possible explanation.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Even if they hadn’t been tracked through her things, Jeremy’s death still had everything to do with her. Had he not been guarding her, he’d still be alive.
Grayson’s voice firmed as he said, “We’re going to be leaving here.”
Her eyes flew open. “Where will we go?”
“Until another safe house opens up? My place in DC. My apartment is leased through an LLC I set up. No one will be able to find us there.”
Claire fisted a hand until her nails dug into her palm. “You have to tell me who you think is behind this. I deserve to know.”
When Grayson didn’t answer, her stomach rolled. Then rolled again. She shoved off the bed and ran, making it to the bathroom just in time.
Grayson was behind her as she threw up into the toilet. His touch gentle, he pulled her tangled hair back with one hand, rubbing soothing circles on her back with the other. When she was do
ne, he stood up to retrieve a washcloth from the cabinet and wet it under the faucet.
Claire slumped against the tub, using the cloth he’d handed her to wipe at her mouth. “I just can’t believe he’s dead.”
Grayson sat on the floor beside her and frowned when he touched her hand. “You’re freezing.”
Shocked by his compassion, she didn’t object as he drew her against his warm chest. With a tenderness she never would have expected from him, Grayson simply held her and rocked gently as she cried, weeping for a good man gone too soon.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Seeing Claire like this gutted Grayson, compounding the shock and fury swirling inside him over Jeremy’s murder. Her grief and terror made his insides seize up. He didn’t want to let her go, but forced himself back to study her face. She looked slightly calmer now.
On impulse, he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. “It’s going to be okay.”
He ignored the look of surprise that flitted across her face. This had nothing to do with desire; he was just trying to comfort her. It had been a horrific night for them both.
“We’ll leave in a few hours, once I’ve wrapped things up here. You should get some rest.” Helping her up, Grayson kept an arm around her as he walked her back to the bed.
Once she was lying down, he pulled up the covers and tucked them around her, much like his mother had done for him when he was a boy.
“I’m right here if you need me,” he told her. “I’ll send a paramedic up to check you out in a few minutes. Being knocked out isn’t something to ignore.”
As Claire’s eyes closed, he fought the urge to hold her again. Get a grip on yourself. Be professional.
Her grief for Jeremy had been sincere; he had no doubt about that. And when he thought back to how she’d behaved over the last few days—her attempts to befriend him, her concern for her client, her easy friendship with Jeremy—Grayson realized that his partner had been right. Grayson had totally underestimated her.