by Caila Jaynes
Who was King exchanging gunfire with? Eli and the team? It had to be.
He darted into the cover of some pine trees, doing the best he could to widen his lead despite his bound wrists. A few minutes later, he looked behind him. Cooley was nowhere in sight. It was time to free himself.
Taking cover behind a boulder, he used the crag of the rock to saw at the ropes binding his wrists. He’d been working frantically for nearly a minute when a low-pitched female voice hissed, “Grayson!”
He jerked his head up. Ice-cold fear gripped him as he spotted Claire, but there was no time to ask what she was doing there. “Untie me!”
Claire fell to her knees and began working at the ropes.
“Who’s with you?”
“Eli.” Whispering, she quickly recounted how they’d come down with Alex and then split up to look for the tent. “Alex is on his way over with the deputy.”
She freed Grayson several seconds later, yanking the ropes off.
Grayson flexed his numb wrists and fingers as he rubbed them, trying to decide what to do now that he had Claire to worry about. The fire was affecting more than just the sky now. Even the air in front of them was hazy.
He turned his head and his adrenaline spiked when he spotted Cooley standing fifty feet away. Cooley’s gun was raised, pointed at them.
Grayson grabbed Claire’s hand. “Run!”
Shots ricocheted off the rocks near them as they took off.
They raced through trees and reached a clearing a moment later. Grayson scanned their surroundings. Although the clearing offered no cover, it was the best way forward. The terrain on both sides was too rough to traverse safely, especially with any speed.
“Ahead of me!”
He pulled on Claire’s arm, moving her in front of him and covering her as they ran. Another gunshot went off. Then another.
Pain sliced through Grayson’s thigh, but he kept moving. No matter what happened, Claire was coming out of this alive.
Claire looked over her shoulder and terror spread across her face. “You’re hit!”
“Keep running!”
She obeyed, turning back around and continuing her sprint until the toe of her boot caught on a root. Grayson’s pulse rate soared as her ankle twisted and she fell to the ground, her arms flailing.
Yet another shot rang out and Grayson cursed, knowing Cooley was almost upon them. Wincing in pain, Grayson dove onto Claire to shield her with his body.
After seconds had ticked by in silence, Grayson lifted his head in confusion. Why had Cooley stopped shooting?
He sucked in a surprised breath as he spotted Cooley lying on the ground. Alex ran up to Cooley with his gun trained on him.
“Cooley’s down,” Grayson told Claire. “Alex shot him.”
The words didn’t seem to appease Claire, who began squirming beneath him. “You’re dripping blood!”
“I’m fine,” he said as he climbed to his feet and tugged Claire up with him.
Clutching her arm, Grayson looked down at her worried face. There was so much he wanted to say, but first he needed to make sure the danger was truly over.
He turned his gaze back to Alex. “Is he dead?”
Claire stiffened in his grip, and Grayson shifted to block her view.
Alex reached down to pull the gun from Cooley’s limp hand. “Yeah. He is.”
“We need to get you help,” Claire said as she frowned at Grayson’s jeans, one pants leg ripped and bloody.
Grayson cupped her cheek, drawing her gaze to his. “The wound’s superficial. What about your ankle?”
“It’s fine,” she said softly, tilting her head into his palm. “I didn’t sprain it.”
Relief filled him as he drew her into his arms. “Everything’s okay now.”
“Eli just radioed,” Alex said. “He and the deputy have Roy King in custody.”
Grayson pulled Claire closer, a riot of emotions overwhelming him. It had been his job to protect her, but in the end, she’d saved him. And despite everything he’d done to mess things up between them, she seemed to still have feelings for him.
Tension drained from his body as gratitude filled him. He wouldn’t waste a moment of the second chance he’d been given.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Claire’s energy waned as hours crawled by at the crime scene. The coroner came to pick up Peter Cooley’s body, the deputy arrested Roy King and took him into custody, and everyone involved repeated their statements to both local law enforcement and the Phoenix team that Eli had called in. In the midst of all the chaos, Claire had fussed over Grayson, insisting on binding up his thigh temporarily with gauze she’d found in a first aid kit in Eli’s Explorer.
It was after midnight by the time everyone was released to go home. Eli took the Explorer, and Alex drove Claire and Grayson back to DC in Grayson’s Suburban. On the entire ninety-minute drive, Grayson had fought Claire’s demand that he be treated for the gunshot wound, insisting that he’d just been grazed.
In the end, though, she’d won. Alex had ignored the arguments on the drive, but made the command decision to take the exit to the nearest hospital when they entered DC and pulled into its emergency entrance. He forced Grayson out of the vehicle with Claire, and came back to wait with them in the reception area after he’d parked.
As they’d waited in the ER’s waiting room before being taken to an exam room, Claire and Grayson leaned forward and listened as Alex lowered his voice and filled them in on what the team had learned. Eli had briefed him at the scene as the others had given their statements.
Alex caught Claire’s eye. “The call Eli got while we were on the way was to let him know that we got a facial recognition hit.”
When she frowned in confusion, Grayson explained. “Whoever hired the kidnappers used a burner phone, and we were trying to pin down who’d bought it and then see if there was any link to you. I’d found surveillance footage of a likely buyer and forwarded it to the lab last night to run through the databases.”
Alex nodded. “Our cyber guys didn’t find anything in the criminal database, but when they ran it through the government-employee database, they got a hit. They’d been trying to reach Grayson all morning to let him know, so they left a message with Joanne for him.”
“Was it Peter?” Claire asked.
“No, it was an intern, but he reports directly to Peter Cooley. Our team wanted to cover the bases to be sure the intern wasn’t buying the burner for someone else, so they did some quick digging on your father’s senior staffers. One stood out. Cooley had the most money invested with Gabe Rogers, and his home is about to go into foreclosure.”
Claire gasped, jerking her head back. “Wh-what?” Peter had always seemed so in control, so on top of everything.
“Did you know he was in debt?” Alex asked.
“No, but it might be something he shared with my father.”
Grayson shifted in his seat, wincing as he did. “Not likely if he planned to have your father pay a ransom.”
A nurse carrying a clipboard stepped into the waiting room. “Grayson Matthews?”
“He’s here.” Alex stood up and waved to her, then gave Grayson a hand to help him up.
Chapter Sixty-Five
As it turned out, the wound was more of a deep gouge along the outside of Grayson’s left thigh, although it needed a good many stitches. Luckily, it hadn’t damaged the muscle much, which he was thankful for.
Just like he’d told Claire, it was only a graze, not a life-threatening wound that needed emergency attention. So, annoyed with the fuss everyone was making, he had grumbled through it all.
When they had to wait in the ER waiting room for him to be seen, he complained. When they sent him to radiology for an X-ray to make sure there were no fragments, he balked. And when he was returned to the ER exam room and the nurse came in to poke him with lidocaine before she stitched him up, he cursed under his breath, thinking it was all so ridiculous.
Finall
y, Claire lost her temper. Grayson had never seen her this angry. Pulling back her shoulders, she went toe to toe with him, glaring up at him with enough intensity that would shrivel a lesser man.
Poking an accusatory finger at him, she let him have it. “Grayson Matthews, you let the nurse do her job. Quit being such a baby!”
Grayson froze and stared at her, his eyes wide with surprise. Then he started laughing.
Furious, Claire folded her arms over her chest and glared at him until his laughter died away. Realizing he needed to turn this around and fast, he grasped her upper arms for a second, then yanked her against his chest.
Holding her close, he said, “I have no idea if I’m blessed or cursed, but somehow you’re in my life. And I’ll be damned if I ever let you go.”
She threw her arms around his neck and pulled his face to hers. After giving him a hard, fast kiss that nearly made him forget where they were, she released him abruptly and turned to the nurse.
Thumbing at Grayson over her shoulder, she said, “He’ll behave now.”
Chapter Sixty-Six
Once Grayson was stitched up around two a.m., Alex drove them all to Claire’s condo, which was fine by her. When her adrenaline rush had finally worn off, and she’d nearly fallen asleep in the ER until Alex had plied her with vending-machine coffee.
Grayson leaned on her as she led them upstairs to her condo, limping slightly. She was a bundle of nerves at the thought of being alone with him again, and truth be told, she was probably leaning more on him than he was on her.
When she opened the front door, Charlie came skidding to the foyer, dancing around them and woofing out a greeting.
“Shhh!” she hissed. “Charlie! Don’t wake up the neighbors.”
Alex retrieved his backpack from the guest room, and when he returned to the living room, his gaze bounced between Claire and Grayson.
“Guess I’ll take off then. You two have fun.” Grinning, he hoisted his backpack over his shoulder and slipped out the front door.
Charlie danced back and forth in front of the door after Alex left, and Grayson insisted on going back down with Claire as she took Charlie outside. Silence hung between them as the dog pulled Claire down the dark sidewalk, halting here and there to sniff at various bushes until he found the perfect spot.
While they waited, Claire asked, “Will you stay with me tonight?” When Grayson didn’t reply right away, she looked up and caught his eye. “I guess I don’t need a bodyguard anymore, but I don’t want to be alone tonight. Not after all that happened.”
Grayson studied her for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. “I’ll stay as long as you want . . . as long as you’ll have me.”
So much had happened in the last twelve hours that she hadn’t wanted to think about yet. Learning that Peter had arranged to have her kidnapped—and ultimately been responsible for Jeremy’s death—was a lot to process. And seeing a man she’d once called uncle being shot and killed . . . it was too much.
They went back upstairs and Claire sped through her nightly routine with Charlie, rinsing out his food and water bowls and then filling them again. As the dog made quick work of his dinner, snuffling in the bowl as he snatched another bite of kibble, Claire found her eyes burning with the threat of unwanted tears.
I won’t cry for Peter. Not after what he did. I won’t.
Peter Cooley had been Claire’s father’s right hand for so many years, the possibility of betrayal from him seemed hard to believe. Although a gruff taskmaster at the office, Peter had always been kind to Claire, ensuring she was kept in the loop and taken care of when her parents were too busy to call. On the days her father had taken her to the office when she was a little girl, Uncle Peter had been the one to take her to the break room for a doughnut, and find something to entertain her with while she waited. She’d truly believed that he’d been a good man, that he’d cared for her, but how could that be true after what he’d done?
When a tear dared slip free, leaving a warm trail down her cheek, she swiped it away. A small sob escaped before she could stop it.
Strong arms came around her, pulling Claire into a hard chest. Her knees weak, she fell limp against Grayson, grateful for the comfort he offered. She turned around and lifted her hands to his face, pulling him close for a kiss.
He kissed her hard, taking her mouth in a hungry onslaught that left her gasping. When she pressed her hips against him, needing more, Grayson slid his hands down her arms and took her hands, twining his fingers with hers as he gentled his kiss.
Leaning his forehead against hers, Grayson groaned. “I want you so much, but I can’t do this.”
Stunned, Claire sucked in a breath and pulled back. “Are you serious? You’re going to do this to me again?”
He chuckled and pulled her close, pressing her face against his chest. “No, you don’t understand. I intend to spend as many nights as you’ll let me, and make love to you until you beg me to stop. But tonight . . .” He leaned back and caught her gaze. “Tonight, I just want to sleep. I need it so badly, I can’t even think straight. And to do that, I need you in my arms.”
Relief filled Claire and she smiled up at him. “On one condition.”
He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “And that is?”
“That you stay for the whole weekend. No running out of here, no emergency calls, no work of any kind. Just you and me.”
Grayson’s lips widened into a huge smile. “Deal.”
“And one more thing. You’ve got some explaining to do about running off the next morning after we—”
Grayson pressed a finger to her lips. “I’ll tell you everything in the morning, Claire. I swear. You have no idea how shitty I feel about that, but there was a good reason.”
He leaned close and pressed his lips to hers, making her dizzy as he deepened the kiss. Claire was breathless as he pulled away, but she wasn’t about to let him off that easily.
“Trying to change the subject?”
“No, but if you don’t want me to fall asleep on my feet,” he said softly, “you’ll take me to bed.”
And so she did.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
“How’s the leg?” Eli asked, his voice rumbling through the phone.
“It was just a scratch,” Grayson said, and his boss laughed.
“I’ll bet. Are you on your way to the office?”
Grayson tapped on his brakes, easing his Suburban to a stop in Monday morning rush-hour traffic. “Trying, but there are about fifty thousand cars in my way.”
Eli chuckled. “Meet me at the jail instead. Rex Gibson is ready to talk.”
“You’re kidding.”
Grayson’s heart raced. Following his arrest four weeks ago, Gibson had lawyered up and refused to cooperate. After the invasion of the safe house and Jeremy’s death, more charges had been added. Now that his arraignment and preliminary hearing had passed and his court date was coming up, he’d obviously had time to think. The litany of charges against him at his arraignment included possession, drug-dealing, kidnapping, criminal conspiracy, and accessory to murder, just to name a few. He got a glimpse of the prosecution’s case against him at the prelim, and probably realized he’d be a very old man when, and if, he ever got out of jail.
Cursing as he tried to find a parking spot near the DC Jail, Grayson circled the block until a spot opened up. He pulled in and parked quickly, then hurried to the second-floor meeting room he was directed to by a corrections officer.
Alone in the room, Eli stood up from the table when Grayson entered. “Lucky for you, Gibson’s attorney is late.”
Grayson shook his head and took a seat next to his boss. “Between the traffic and the parking situation, I’m starting to hate coming over here. Let’s hope it’s worth it.”
A few minutes later, the door opened and Rex Gibson was led in by a corrections officer. Handcuffed and shackled, Gibson didn’t look quite as intimidating as the last time Grayson had seen him. His beefy
face was pale and his hair had started to grow out, revealing a receding hairline that hadn’t been visible when his head was shaved.
Gibson scowled at the officer who put a hand on his shoulder and shoved him into his seat, then stepped back and stood nearby, his arms crossed over his chest. The dark-skinned, rail-thin woman who followed and sat next to Gibson was apparently his attorney.
Grayson suppressed a smile as Gibson finally looked his way, his eyes widening with recognition and then realization.
“You son of a bitch!” he growled. “You set me up!”
Grayson shrugged, enjoying himself. “Maybe you should’ve given me that territory I asked for from the start.”
Before Gibson could answer, the door opened again and the assistant US attorney in charge of the case entered. Grayson raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Michael Alvarez, the prosecutor in Chris Jones’s case. Small world.
Alvarez took a seat at the head of the table and opened a thick file folder. Glancing down at it, he said, “I understand Mr. Gibson has a statement he wants to make and would like to make a deal.” Addressing the prisoner, he asked, “And you have a new attorney?”
Gibson nodded, and the woman seated next to him spoke.
“Yolanda Jackson for the defense, sir.”
Leaning back in his chair, Alvarez motioned for her to proceed.
“My client has information that he believes will prove valuable,” she said. “He’s willing to reveal the names of higher-ups in the organization he works for in exchange for witness protection.”
“Witness protection?” Eli scoffed. “That’s a big ask.”
Grayson stiffened at the smile that made Gibson’s lips twitch. The drug dealer knew something—something big—and was pretty damn sure of himself.