46. GRAYSON
46
GRAYSON
Normally, I would put more bullets in his skull to be safe, but with the threat of more gunshots drawing unwanted attention, I settled for pressing my fingers against his artery.
No pulse.
I shot up to my feet and glared down at the asshole, a torrent of rage searing through my veins. My hands clenched, itching to unleash more violence, to make him pay for what he almost did. That shot he’d fired had been inches from Ivy’s head. Inches. The realization hit me like a freight train, fracturing any semblance of control. If she had been standing a little closer to the tree, if she had moved, or if the fog hadn’t clouded his vision, Ivy would be the one lying on the ground right now, her lifeless eyes staring into oblivion.
I almost lost her.
I almost failed her.
I am failing her.
I clenched my hand into a fist.
How could I have let this happen?
When had this guy found us? Had he been trailing us for days, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike? The fact that I hadn’t noticed anything out of sorts only fueled my anger, burning in my chest like fiery coals. If I had been more vigilant, more cautious, I never would have taken Ivy for a leisurely stroll outside.
And what if he’d gotten to her mother while we were out here, ambling through the goddamned forest? How could I ever have faced Ivy again if I had allowed that to happen?
My failure felt like an anchor, dragging me down into a sea of despair.
Goddammit!
This was taking too long. We needed to take Daniel down now.
How dare he? I trusted him like a father, and the coward sent this lowlife to find us. He couldn’t even face me himself. Somewhere, deep down, my heart cracked at his latest betrayal, but I swallowed the pain; Daniel didn’t deserve to hurt me.
Instead of surrendering to the hurt, I clenched my jaw and kicked the scumbag in the ribs over and over, the thumps echoing through the fog. A lone bird took flight above my head as I kicked him repeatedly until I was panting from the effort, my foot throbbing.
Chest heaving, I screwed my eyes shut.
Get it together, Grayson. You need to make sure this guy is alone, and then you need to get Ivy out of here.
Methodically, I swept the surrounding forest, my muscles coiled and ready to spring into action, my ears a satellite dish, straining to detect any sound.
A light drizzle tapered through the trees and onto the fallen leaves as I performed a grid search—leaving Ivy where she was hiding. The cold moisture of the fog seeped through my clothes as I moved, chilling me to the bone, while mud squelched underfoot in areas of pooled water.
With the adrenaline slowly dissipating, the pain in my bicep flared to life, hot and frustrated. I gritted my teeth and finished my search with the motel and parking lot.
As I headed back toward the forest’s entrance, a high-pitched voice called out from the other side of the parking lot.
“Sir?”
I spun, hand going for my weapon, only to find a woman towing a suitcase.
“I wouldn’t go into the woods.” She nodded her chin toward the forest wall behind me. “Heard some hunters a bit ago. You shouldn’t go in there without an orange vest.”
“Hunters.”
She nodded. “Not sure if you’re from around here, but hunting is big here in Wisconsin.”
Right. At least it was less likely someone would call the cops based on the gunshots, then, which gave us a little more time to flee.
“They’re supposed to end thirty minutes after sunset, but I’d be careful if I was you,” she advised.
“Thank you.” I nodded. “I will be.”
She smiled politely, got into her car, and drove away.
I needed to retrieve Ivy, get her out of here, and go meet with Barry. We might have bought ourselves a little time by killing this guy, but if this tracker found us, another could, too.