Chapter 39 Grayson
GRAYSON
Eight weeks. That’s how long it’s been since I almost lost Macy. Eight weeks since she fought with everything she had to find a way back to me—back to us. Eight weeks since I thought the weight of Cameron’s lies would swallow us whole.
I ought to have known better. Macy is too strong to let someone as immorally barren as Cameron pull her down.
She took what we learned from the thousands of lies our team unraveled about Cameron’s new life while I maintained a candlelight vigil at her bedside and rewrote the procedural manual all agents refer to while working this deeply undercover.
She had every right to be angry, to be bitter, but instead of letting the ugliness of the hateful world that almost claimed her life twist her into someone who trusted no one and cared about nothing, she did the opposite.
She refused to let evil win, and her strength and determination over the past eight weeks have encouraged me to do the same.
When Cameron refused to speak to anyone but me, still of the belief she could play my guilt like a fiddle, I could have built walls so high that nothing could ever reach me. I didn’t, because Macy was there, anchoring me through the storm.
She told me it is okay to be angry, that there’s no shame in admitting that Cameron’s betrayal hurt me. But not once was I allowed to let her choices change who I am.
I always knew Macy was strong, but that day, in a county jail a few miles out of San Diego, it hit me like a bolt of lightning.
I’m not just in love with this beautifully smart and stubborn woman.
I am obsessed with her. She is the entirety of my universe, and I will die before I will ever allow an emotion like regret or guilt stop me from ensuring she knows that.
I tune back in to the briefing on an upcoming undercover operative when a techie asks Macy to sound check the listening device woven into the underwire of her bra.
We’ve run stings like this a hundred times already, but this is different since it isn’t officially under the bureau’s umbrella.
We’re twenty clicks over the Mexican border.
The air smells different here. It’s dirtier and full of possibilities.
It smells like controversy—the exact scent we chase while hunting trafficking syndicates.
Although Macy will never admit it, I can tell she’s nervous. This is her first undercover sting since one almost irrevocably changed her life. She didn’t sustain long-term side effects from her assault, but she’s a mother and a partner now. That changes everything.
She’s also juggling a ton of balls. Even the most seasoned agent would be a little on edge.
Don’t misconstrue what I’m saying. Despite the files we were gifted weeks ago not holding the name we seek, Macy will still give this case her all. Every woman we bring home puts us one step closer to finding Kendall.
It isn’t like she hasn’t snuck a handful of hours into Kendall’s case each day. I’ve done the same thing, so I won’t criticize her for it. We wouldn’t be us if we acted like we were the only important people in each other’s lives.
I don’t mind sharing Macy’s time with Kendall.
Her fierce work ethic gives me plenty of time to bond with Mason, our son.
A smile hikes my cheeks when I recall how firmly that kid has me wrapped around his finger.
I wouldn’t have it any other way. When we were at Kailany’s birthday party last month, I couldn’t stop praising his achievements.
Mason was born early, but his development has occurred in leaps and bounds.
He’s no longer the skinned rabbit I was afraid would break the first time I changed his dirty diaper under the watchful eye of a nursery nurse.
His cheeks are chubby, and he slams down his bottles like he’s chugging a beer.
I love that little guy, and I love his mother too.
They are it for me.
Although I can imagine how blissful our life would be if we worked standard hours and didn’t have the weight of thousands of missing women on our shoulders, that isn’t our reality.
This is us. We’re the change the world needs to get better, and I’m honored to be a part of something bigger.
As Macy prepares for her first undercover sting since becoming a mother, I hover, feeling as useless as tits on a bull. I made sure Macy was mic’d up correctly and that her comms were clear, but that was the only task on my agenda. This is Macy’s baby.
Despite the trawler’s net being too far south, the bureau’s finest are working on tonight’s sting. We’re family. When one of our own needs help, we band together.
The remembrance won’t stop me from issuing a final warning, though. “If anything goes wrong tonight, you’ll answer to me. Understood?”
A chorus of “Yes, Agent Rogers” bellows out of the comms system on the desk in the suite. Only one person is brave enough to refer to me by my first name.
“Yes, Grayson.”
Adeline is working decoy tonight. Should Macy appear uncomfortable, Adeline will do whatever is necessary to get her out. A spilled drink, an irate ex-girlfriend. She will play any role required to ensure the safe evacuation of the lead agent.
I have confidence in our team and the woman leading them, but there’s no harm in making sure Macy knows she can change her mind at any time. She’s still technically on medical leave, so no one would bat an eye at her sitting this one out.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take point on this, Mace? You can stay here with Mason and order room service. It will be on Crew’s dime, and we both know he doesn’t work doubles because he needs the money.”
Macy shoots me a look that shows love, but also that she thinks I’m an idiot.
“We agreed that our son needs one parent with him at all times. We didn’t become parents at our age to hand his care over to someone else.
” As I dip my chin in complete agreement, her smoky eyes rake my body.
“And as sexy as you’d look in a dress, I remember how loudly you whined the last time I strapped a makeshift extender to your midsection. ”
A splutter vibrates my lips as I waggle my brows. “I think I could pull it off.”
She grins before she presses her red-painted lips to my mouth. Her fake stomach folds when it digs into my belt buckle. “You’re a lot of things, Malfoy, but an undercover presenting as a soon-to-be single mother isn’t one of them.”
The briefest glimpse of determination in her eyes ends my campaign. “Fine. But if anything feels off, pull out. No heroics.”
She agrees, already in agent mode. “Understood.”
I scoop up Mason, who’s fussing in his travel bassinet. Even though he doesn’t have my blood, I tell anyone who will listen the origin of his name. It’s half of Macy’s name and half of mine—because that is precisely what he is. Ours.
While Macy straps her gun to her specially ordered thigh holster, I settle into an oversized armchair in the living room to feed Mason.
Even though he doesn’t drink every hour now, his greedy gulps make you think he hasn’t been fed for days.
He drinks hungrily, his tiny fingers curling around my index finger more than his bottle.
Macy’s admiring glance shifts to shock when he slams down half a bottle in a matter of minutes, barely coming up for air. I burp him as taught by the nurses during the two weeks I took care of him when Macy couldn’t.
Chuckles boom through comms when his burp rattles through Macy’s listening device, and then he rewards my efforts with a sleepy smile. Macy says his grins are wind smiles, but his enormous burp before it reveals what it’s really about.
He loves me almost as much as I love him and his mother.
As I offer Mason more of his bottle, Macy’s phone rings. She glances at the screen, frowns, and then enters the primary bedroom to take her call in private. I only catch fragments of her conversation since Mason’s gulps are loud, but the parts I hear disclose a snippet of worry in her words.
Though the urge to fret over her hasn’t weakened a smidge since the minute we reached the hospital, I keep my ass planted in my seat.
Macy is a damn good agent, but she is an even better mother and partner.
I trust that she’d never put herself in a situation that would risk her losing those titles, which means I also trust that she’ll ask for help if she needs it.
I play it cool when Macy returns to the living room. It is a fucking hard feat. Though her face is composed, her eyes show trouble.
She bobs down to kiss Mason’s milk-dotted cheek before she brushes her mouth against mine. “Love you, boys. See you soon.”
“Be careful,” I plead before demanding another sample of her lip gloss with an arrogant grunt.
She rolls her eyes, faking annoyance of my arrogance. It is all a lie. She loves my cockiness. It is on par with my admiration of her strength.
Only two months ago, she was on her deathbed. Now, she’s about to lead an undercover operative.
Fuck, my girl is strong.
The reminder drags our kiss up the scale from child approved to an X rating.
Once my mouth is sticky with enough cherry sheen to last me a few hours, I inch back. Macy groans like she’s seconds from tossing in the towel on this assignment. She won’t, but it’s nice to know she gets as caught up in our kisses as I do.
I conceal my smirk and nod toward the entryway. “I love you. Now scoot. The sooner you get out there, the quicker you’ll be home.”
She smiles like she’s not heard my first three words a trillion times over the past six weeks, returns my declaration, then heads for the door.
I wait for the latch to click into place before I put Mason back into his bassinet. He’s not sleeping through the night yet, but he’ll be out cold for a solid two to four hours. That gives me plenty of time to assist Macy.