62. GRAYSON
62
GRAYSON
“He was probably just justifying it to himself,” Hunter assured. “Probably didn’t mean anything.”
That’s what I’d been trying to tell myself, too. After all, Daniel was the one with everything to gain by coming after Ivy. With Ivy’s father dead, what motive would Vosch have to come after her?
“They didn’t find anyone else in the building?” Hunter asked.
I shook my head.
“So, Daniel went there alone?” Jace asked.
“It seems so,” I sighed.
I looked down at the scotch swirling around the ice cubes, a light fog snaking through the glass. Somehow, it tasted different now that Daniel was dead, like the liquor itself was mourning his loss.
“But why? Why not go on the run or turn himself in? Or commit suicide in the first place?” Jace pressed.
I gazed over the cobalt expanse of Lake Michigan, the water feeling freer than it had a mere twenty-four hours ago, like the world was an endless sea of possibilities now that Daniel was no longer hunting Ivy. This was why I wanted to be in the backyard, no matter how chilly it was out here. The fresh air biting at my cheeks and lungs was a reminder that I was still alive.
More importantly, so was everyone I loved.
After everything we had been through, it almost felt too good to be true. Too easy, especially after everything we’d survived to get here. Maybe that’s why my thoughts were haunted by Daniel’s words. Maybe this unsettling feeling was an aftershock of stress, like my muscles couldn’t let go of the tension from a prolonged life-or-death battle.
“For all of his transgressions, Daniel loved his family,” I said. “I think he wanted to stay the honorable man they knew, and an honorable man wouldn’t kill himself if he had nothing to hide. So, maybe, in his death, his family would cling to the belief that he was innocent of any accusations that came out against him. But when it was obvious I wasn’t going to kill him and the cops were going to arrest him, he took the coward’s way out. He didn’t want to spend his life in prison, and he didn’t want to worry that, someday, Vosch might come after him.”
Maybe that’s why this didn’t feel settled, because the catalyst to all of this—Vosch’s attempted termination—had never been resolved. The CIA was still working it, of course, but Vosch was still out there, and I wasn’t accustomed to moving on from a job undone.
Funny how, not that long ago, the thing I wanted more than anything else was to kill Vosch, but now, his relevance to me faded like fog dissipating after a storm. The CIA would get him eventually, but I no longer craved killing; I craved the warmth and comfort of Ivy.
“But why lure you there?” Hunter wondered aloud.
My chest panged.
“After everything he had done to me, he knew I would thirst for his blood.”
If I hadn’t found something greater to live for, I would’ve ended him the second I walked into the room. Because that’s what I was trained to do—to eliminate men like Daniel. But I had grown and found a different purpose in life. I wanted to be the man that Ivy deserved.
That’s why I chose to hand him over to the authorities. That’s why the one call I made on my way to that building was to Detective Mitchell and why I’d recorded Daniel’s confession on my phone.
“So, what happens now?” Hunter asked.
I took a long sip of my scotch, the faint vanilla lingering on my tongue.
“Now, I take Ivy on the trip of a lifetime.”
And then we’d build a life together.