Chapter One #2
Beck sat back, the name echoing in his head, the memory of their last mission with Elena overlaying the sight of Grace bleeding in his bathroom. If Grace was right, the past they had both tried to bury had just risen from the dead.
“Why didn’t you go to the cops?” Beck asked.
Grace leaned against the tiled wall, her face pale but her eyes sharp. “Because I’ve heard the rumors that Elena’s in cahoots with the locals. I couldn’t risk walking into the sheriff’s office and finding her waiting for me.”
Beck felt his jaw tighten. He shook his head. “I know the sheriff. I trust her.”
Grace gave him a look that said trust was a luxury she could not afford.
His gut knotted. He wanted to believe the sheriff’s office was clean, but Grace was not wrong to be cautious.
It was possible someone inside had ties to Elena.
Hell, just about everyone at Crossfire Ops had some kind of connection with her.
Most of them had worked for Strike Force before Crossfire Ops had been formed.
Beck gave the bandages a final check while his thoughts churned. Grace was sitting in his bathroom bleeding because someone from their past had decided she was a target. Someone they had once called family.
And if Grace was right, Elena Voss had gone dark.
“Your injuries aren’t life-threatening,” he let Grace know, “but they’re more than mere flesh wounds. The medical skin glue should hold, but you’ll need to keep the bandages clean and wear them for a while.”
Grace exhaled and gave a faint nod. “Thank you.” She pushed herself to her feet, unsteady for a second before she straightened.
Beck rose with her, close enough that he caught the faint scent of her shampoo under the coppery tang of blood. For a heartbeat, neither moved. Her eyes lifted to his, and the air between them shifted, heavier, charged with the ghost of something that had once burned hot and bright.
Then she broke it. “I need to get to Crossfire Ops headquarters. I have to talk to your boss, Noah Riggs. Jonah needs to be found.”
Beck’s jaw tightened. “Why the urgency about Jonah? Why not deal with Elena first?”
Grace’s voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed the fear beneath. “Because Jonah was convinced someone was out to kill him. And now he’s disappeared. I believe he’s in danger, Beck.”
The words dropped between them, sharp as glass. Beck’s pulse kicked hard, the weight of the past pressing down.
Jonah, gone. And Grace standing in front of him, hurt and hunted, asking for his help. Not with words. But she was here, so she was asking.
“I’ll drive you to headquarters,” Beck said finally.
“Thank you.” Grace reached for her discarded top, but when she pulled it over her arm, the fabric stuck and he saw how dark the blood had soaked through.
“That’s not going to work,” Beck muttered. “Hang on. I’ll get you one of mine.”
He stepped into the bedroom, pulled a clean T-shirt from the dresser and brought it back. It was massive on her, but she tugged it over her head and managed a faint smile.
“Thanks.” Her gaze slid down to his own shirt, the blood splattered across the front. “That yours?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “One of the guys got injured on an ops. I stitched him up before the EMTs arrived to take him to the hospital.” He stripped the shirt off, reached for another from the dresser, and pulled it on, the fresh cotton clinging to his shoulders.
When he turned back, Grace was seated on the edge of the tub again, pale but holding herself together. He took out a bottle of ibuprofen and handed her two of the capsules along with a cup of water. She downed them in one gulp and muttered another thank you.
“Why does Jonah think someone is trying to kill him?” Beck asked.
Grace’s expression tightened. “Because he saw something he shouldn’t have.
He told me he was being followed, that there were eyes on him everywhere.
He didn’t trust anyone at Strike Force anymore.
Not the people who carried over to Crossfire Ops either.
Not even his own contacts. He was scared.
He said it was only a matter of time before someone took him out. ”
Beck’s jaw locked. The words carried the weight of truth. Grace would not have dragged herself to his doorstep, bleeding, unless she believed it.
And now Jonah was missing.
“Did Jonah have any idea who wanted him dead, or why?” Beck asked.
Grace shook her head. “He didn’t give me specifics. Just that someone was closing in. He was jumpy, terrified. I’ve never heard him sound like that before.” She started to say more, but a low rumble cut her off.
The sound of an approaching vehicle.
Beck’s instincts fired hot. He grabbed his weapon and pointed a hard look at her. “Stay put.”
Grace slid off the edge of the tub, pale but steady, her hand going straight to the pistol she had set on the sink. “Not a chance.”
“Grace.” His voice was sharp, no room for argument. “Stay out of sight.”
To his relief, she nodded once and tucked herself against the bedroom doorjamb. Beck moved fast and silent through the house, gun raised, and eased to the front window.
He glanced out. His gut sank, and the curse tore out of him before he could stop it.
Elena Voss.
She climbed out of a black SUV that looked like a vehicle often used for an op.
Elena fit the part of an op, too. She was tall and lean in dark tactical gear.
Her hair, once sun-bleached from the field, was now cut short and severe.
She wore sunglasses despite the winter sun, her movements crisp, efficient, practiced.
She looked like a soldier, but harder. Colder.
And she was walking straight for his door.
The woman was clearly armed. Beck could see the weight of the pistol at her hip and the way her hand hovered close, casual but ready.
Grace’s car was nowhere in sight. He had not noticed it when he drove up, which meant she had hidden it well.
Still, a cold question slid through his mind. Had Elena somehow followed her here?
He eased the front door open just a fraction, every muscle tight, weapon close at his side. He braced for a rush, an attack.
Instead, Elena gave him a brief smile. “Hey, Beck.” Her voice was smooth, almost friendly. Almost.
No move of aggression. No rush. Just calm confidence.
His grip on the door tightened. “What are you doing here?”
“I was hired,” Elena said. Her sunglasses hid her eyes, her expression unreadable. “To track down a fugitive.”
Beck’s chest went tight. “Who?”
“A woman who kidnapped someone and is holding him against his will,” Elena answered flatly. “I’ve been hired to bring in Grace Donovan.”