8. GRAYSON
8
GRAYSON
“There’s the building,” Hunter said.
I squinted, my muscles becoming a sea of anger as I tried to confirm what I was seeing. To the untrained eye, it was just an abandoned Laundromat, but I knew better. The proximity to the interstate—it was a carefully chosen location for extensive interrogations.
That’s not what I was staring at though; it was the familiar car parked off to the side that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“I think my boss, Daniel, is here.”
At the safe house, he acted helpless, unable to stop Ivy’s death, presumably unaware of where they were taking her. Yet he drove straight here after I left. Did he know her location all along?
After talking with Seth, I knew something felt off, but I’d been hoping I could give Daniel the benefit of the doubt. Just as “facts” were manufactured to make Ivy look guilty, I thought that perhaps Daniel could be a victim of something similar.
But why didn’t he tell me he was coming here?
Maybe he discovered her location after I left.
Maybe he followed through with my desperate plea to stop this and he raced here to prevent it.
But Daniel was quick to dismiss my proof of Ivy’s innocence, and that was after he’d tricked me into leaving Hunter’s house so that Ivy’s termination could be carried out. And yet Ivy wasn’t immediately killed. She was taken alive and was currently being held captive.
Why? And what role did Daniel have in it?
None of this was aligning with any other operation we’d ever carried out. In fact, my instincts were raising alarms. Even if I couldn’t fully understand why, my biggest asset in staying alive all these years as an operative was to listen to my gut.
But what do you do when those instincts go against the foundation of everything you know about someone?
I clenched my eyes shut, my fingers tightening around my gun. The cold metal against my palm did little to steady my racing heart. I couldn’t dwell on this right now; I needed to make a plan, and two options lay before me.
One that trusted Daniel as an ally.
Or one that did not.
When Hunter killed his headlights and parked the car two blocks from the target, I forced my mind to snap back to the tactical situation in front of us.
“I see no men outside,” Jace said. As if he’d been on countless missions like this.
“There were at least five at my house,” Hunter mused. “The three that took Ivy and the two we eventually overpowered.”
Speaking of which, that might make this situation even more pressured; if those agents hadn’t returned as expected, whoever was running this might be on edge.
Was that person Daniel?
“There’s at least one other that joined them,” I cautioned. “A top-level CIA agent. So, that’s at least four highly trained operatives against us three.”
And no disrespect to Jace or Hunter, but their skills were no match for what they were about to face.
“How long until security gets here?” Jace asked.
Hunter glanced at the time. “Should be any minute.”
“Will your security engage the CIA?” I guess they already were, considering they were holding those operatives at Hunter’s house as we spoke.
“My security team is paid handsomely to protect me from any threat.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You two wait here and watch that door,” I advised. “I’m going inside to see what I can find.”
“We go in together,” Hunter insisted.
“We need someone manning both doors. That one”—I pointed to the main door adjacent to the parking lot—“and the back exit.” The smaller door in the corner of the building. “If they hear us coming, they might take Ivy out, and we can’t let that happen.”
“You can’t go in alone. Hunter shook his head.
“Every second I’m sitting here is another second they could be hurting her or worse…”
I cocked my gun, and as Jace did the same, Hunter leaned forward and retrieved some things from his glove box. He tossed a black fabric at Jace, who shot him a questioning look.
“I’m a criminal attorney.” Hunter pointed to a streetlight. “Street cameras. Prosecution.”
Hunter slipped a black ski mask of his own on.
“And you just happen to keep these in the glove box?” Jace challenged.
“Long story.” Hunter shot me a look. Maybe he’d put them in there after the night I’d asked for help with holding a hostage.
“And your car?” Jace challenged.
“Might get picked up on street cameras, but circumstantial evidence is easier to combat than video of you walking into whatever the hell this is.”
After a second, Jace pulled his ski mask on, too, but when Hunter offered me one, I shook my head.
“I know these people.” I assume I should, at least . “If they see my face, they’re less likely to shoot.”
In theory…
Just as I was about to open the door, a car careened past us into the building’s parking lot so quickly, it clipped the vehicle it parked next to—sending a shower of sparks into the dark night. The car lurched to a stop with a crunch, steam pummeling out of its hood.
“What the…” Jace muttered, leaning closer to the windshield for a better look.
The driver’s door slammed open, right into the car next to it, and a figure stumbled out, falling to their knees.
“Who the hell is that ?” Hunter barked over the rain.