34. IVY
34
IVY
The car’s engine hummed as Grayson navigated along the dark, winding road. His attention darted to the rearview mirror and side mirrors, a nervous habit he couldn’t shake since we left the gas station turned crime scene. With a sigh, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.
“Seth,” Grayson said, his voice low and urgent. “I need you to wipe all surveillance cameras in our area immediately. There can’t be any trace of me or Ivy here.”
My eyebrows shot up. Some man had the power to wipe proof of our existence from the earth? Why didn’t Grayson mention this sooner?
I stared at him with a gaping mouth as Grayson disclosed our location to Seth, without revealing the details of what had transpired.
When he ended the call, I wasted no time pressing him.
“If he has the ability to do that, why don’t we just have him do that everywhere we go?”
“If I get any indication from Seth or Barry’s team that Daniel’s tapping into camera feeds, looking for us, I will. But for right now, I’m keeping our location on a need-to-know basis,” Grayson explained, his focus never leaving the road. “I trust Seth. But I don’t trust him, or anyone, enough to tell them every place we’ve been; it’ll make detecting our next location too easy. If I need him to wipe something, he’s one phone call away. Meanwhile, the plan is to keep our head low and inconspicuous .”
He took the time to shoot me an accusing look.
I cocked my head. “Then, don’t take me to a gas station with a standard-issue rapist waiting in the shadows.” I arched my eyebrows, ignoring the whitening of his knuckles at the word rapist . Based on the tension in his neck, I wondered if Grayson wished he could’ve killed the guy slowly. “And for the record, if you think I’ll get attacked and not defend myself, your expectations of me need realignment.”
To be “safe,” Grayson skipped the original motel he had planned on, opting instead for one in the next town, and as we drove, I couldn’t muster the energy to interrogate him further about his covert tactics. Oddly, I realized I did trust Grayson to keep our locations safe. Or as safe as he could keep it, given the circumstances.
What troubled me more was how natural it felt back in that bathroom, when Grayson flashed an amused smirk at the damage I’d caused that guy. And I’d stood by and had a conversation with him after seeing him shoot a man in the head, as if we’d been discussing a blown tire on the interstate, not attempted rape and homicide. The whole thing was the oddest level of intimacy I’d ever had with another human, leaving me feeling…well, very unsettled.
After Grayson paid for the motel room, unlocked the door, and set my go-bag on the floor, he swept the inside to ensure it was secure. I stood there for a few seconds—the room smelling like cheap cleaning products—before twisting my fingers together in a knot of anxiety.
“This doesn’t change anything,” I announced.
Grayson stepped close to me, his hands slung casually at his sides—apparently less bothered by what happened between us than I was.
“What doesn’t, Kitten?” His deep voice caused the butterflies in my stomach to betray me by taking flight.
“Stop calling me that.”
Grayson stepped even closer to me, sliding his hands into his pockets as he stared down at me beneath his baseball cap. The shadows played across his chiseled features, his jade-hued gaze intense and unwavering.
Tousled strands of dark hair peeked out, tempting my fingers to reach up and tangle in them. I fought the urge to press my palms against his firm chest, cursing the undeniable chemistry between us.
“You killing that guy. It doesn’t change anything,” I claimed. “I will never stop hating you for what you did to my father.”
Keep telling yourself that, Ivy. Maybe if you say it enough, it’ll finally stick.
Grayson’s head gave the slightest hint of a nod as he ran a thumb over his lower lip—distracting me by the simple yet sensual move, by the way—and when he spoke, his voice was dangerously raw, igniting a fire within me.
“Ivy, I have no hope of you not hating me. In fact, it’s the opposite.” He took another step toward me, the heat radiating from his body making my pulse quicken, my skin tingling with anticipation.
Desperate to maintain my resolve, I matched his step, only to find my back pressed against the wall, trapped between the cool surface and the intoxicating warmth of his chest. Meanwhile, the faint scent of his cologne decided to antagonize me even more, clouding my senses and weakening my defenses.
Grayson, looking like a Greek god carved from marble, placed his palm on the wall next to my head, his serious expression doing little to mask the raw desire in his eyes.
“I need you to hate me,” he said, his grainy voice laced with authority, sending a delicious shiver down my back.
Could he hear how loud my heart was banging in my ears? My throat was instantly dry, his proximity making it hard to breathe, let alone think straight.
“Because I hate myself for what I did to you.” He paused. “But I don’t trust myself if you ever opened the door to me.” He stepped back, the sudden absence of his warmth leaving me cold and aching for his touch. “I don’t deserve you. But I will never stop wanting you, so listen carefully. Hold on to that hate.”