58. GRAYSON
58
GRAYSON
The nondescript building on the west side of Chicago was the perfect location for a hit—its weathered facade blending seamlessly into the industrial landscape, far enough from the city to not draw unwanted attention.
My gaze swept around the streets for the millionth time, darting from shadow to shadow. The steady hum of distant traffic provided an eerie backdrop to the oppressive silence surrounding me. I had completed my first pass of recon already—meticulously scanning nearby buildings and vehicles for telltale signs of snipers or hidden operatives. My trained eyes searched for the slightest glint of a scope, an out-of-place silhouette, or any hint of movement. Did I expect to see them? No, Daniel wouldn’t be that stupid, but years of experience had taught me the subtle clues to look for, and I refused to enter unprepared. After all, I’d promised Ivy I’d return to her, and I intended to keep that promise.
Two elements worked against me. First, the element of surprise. I had no idea what, or who, was waiting for me inside this building. Daniel had the upper hand there. Second, I was going inside alone.
At first, at least. After I’d hung up with Daniel, I’d made a crucial call of my own. It was terrifying to risk going against Daniel’s orders when Ivy’s and my family’s lives were on the line, but this might be the last time we’d know of Daniel’s location.
Meanwhile, Seth and Barry had another mission to complete while I carried out this one. They needed to get back to Ivy and my family and warn Hunter that one of his security guards was compromised.
I held my Glock up at shoulder height and slowly approached the front door. By the looks of it, this place was once a commercial office of some sort, now abandoned with an oversize red For Lease sign blanketing the front window. The sign offered concealment to someone who might be inside, watching my approach.
Preparing their attack.
As I pulled out my phone with my free hand, a storm of unhelpful emotions surged through me.
Rage, of course, was front and center. Fear, if I’m being honest, that I might fail Ivy and my family. But right behind that was the emotion I least expected right now—hurt.
Deep down, I knew Daniel would not be alone inside this building, like he claimed. He wouldn’t take the chance to confront his top operative head-on; instead, he probably dispatched a team to take me down as soon as I walked through that door. Worse, he might not even be here at all—and if that was the case, I had a bigger problem on my hands.
Because the plan I had come up with required Daniel to be here.
And, God, I prayed he was. Not just to carry out my plan, but because I clung to the hope that he’d be man enough to have a conversation with me, explaining everything. While there was nothing he could ever say to earn my forgiveness, I didn’t appreciate how badly I needed closure until this very moment.
Until it was all about to end.
When someone that you love does something so reprehensible—shows a side of them you never knew existed, destroying you in the process—it’s difficult to reconcile the person you thought they were with the person they actually are. Had they been a wolf in sheep’s clothing all along? Had they preyed on your vulnerabilities, manipulating you from day one?
Was any of it real?
I swallowed against the lump in my throat and forced myself to focus on my senses, to assess danger one final time.
A bitter breeze that stung my cheeks carried the faint scent of motor oil, warning me that flammables might be present. The absence of pedestrians and vehicles also whispered threats of an explosion—perhaps this location was chosen to reduce or eliminate collateral damage.
It was settled, then. I’d go around back, but first, it was time to set my plan into motion.
I dialed the number Daniel had called me from.
“You’re here,” Daniel answered.
“I’m not coming inside unless I know you’re there.”
Daniel chuckled darkly, a sadness echoing through the notes. “You think I’m lying to you?”
“You think I believe that you just want to talk?”
“You think I’m going to kill you.” He was good, making his tone sound surprised and almost hurt.
“Crossed my mind.”
“I’m not.”
“Scout’s honor?” I replied, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
“I know I’ve given you plenty of reasons not to trust me, but I really do just want to talk.”
“Then, come outside. Here I am.”
“So someone can blow my head off? I think not.”
“Surely, you have eyes on me,” I said. “So you’d know I came alone. Try again. Come outside.”
“Grayson, perhaps you’re forgetting that I’m the one with the upper hand here. If you care about the safety of your family, you will come inside.”
My shoulders tensed.
“I’m not coming in there unless I know that you’re here. So, either confirm your presence or I walk away now.” I wasn’t going to risk my life even more than I already had unless my plan had a shot at working.
Daniel’s sigh was so loud, it almost vibrated my damn phone. After a few seconds, a flash of movement behind the For Lease sign sent a shot of adrenaline through my fingers. Daniel’s face peeked out from behind it, vanishing into the darkness after we’d locked eyes for just a split second.
“Satisfied?” he asked.
A knot tightened in my gut, an inexplicable unease settling over me. Something about this felt off, a subtle wrongness I couldn’t quite pin down. My instincts, honed by years in the field, whispered warnings, urging me to reconsider, to turn and flee.
But the stakes were too high. Daniel could have a gun to Ivy’s head, to my family’s heads, with just one text. The only way to keep them safe was by taking Daniel down once and for all.
As I gripped the front door once more, a mental image of Ivy flashed through my mind. A nightmare, if you will, of her crying—hearing the news that I had been killed. I could see her hugging her mother, and I could feel her pain as if we were tethered together, sharing one heart.
Maybe it was the front door itself that was firing off my sixth sense. After all, Daniel had flashed his face so quickly, retreating into the shadows, probably to avoid getting shot, but what if it was to put distance between himself and an explosive?
I dropped the handle, a muscle ticcing in my jaw as I walked around the building, my gun at shoulder height, sweeping the space. My steps echoed in the alley, the night somehow growing even more silent as I finally approached the back door and prayed it was unlocked.
Its metal handle was ice cold as I slowly pulled it, the door opening with a loud creak that gave away my location. My muscles tensed, waiting for any evidence of a trigger—a wire, a thread, something to indicate this door might be attached to an explosive—but when I saw none, I swallowed one final time.
And slipped inside.