Chapter Two
Grace froze in the shadow of the hallway, her back pressed against the wall. Elena’s words hit like a blow, sharp and disorienting. Hired to bring her in. For one dizzy second she almost lunged forward, ready to storm past Beck and demand answers face-to-face.
But then she caught it. Beck’s hand, low and subtle behind the door, palm angled toward her. A clear command.
Stay put.
Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her throat. From where she stood she could see part of Beck’s shoulder and hear every word that Elena was saying.
“Jonah’s family hired me,” Elena told him. Her voice carried no warmth, no inflection, only a cold certainty.
Grace’s brow furrowed. That was wrong. Jonah had never been close to his family. Not during Strike Force, and certainly not after. He had all but cut them out of his life. Why would they suddenly care enough to hire someone like Elena?
Beck’s voice came steady and calm, though Grace knew him well enough to hear the steel beneath. “And when you find her? What then?”
“I’ll take her into the sheriff’s office for questioning,” Elena replied. “Jonah’s family believes that Grace is holding him against his will. They are worried about his safety.”
Heat surged through Grace, hot and furious.
Her fists curled tight at her sides. Lies.
All of it. She had never laid a hand on Jonah except to try to help him, and there’s no way in hell she would have held him against his will.
The urge to shout it, to push past Beck and face Elena head-on, rose sharp and fast.
Beck’s hand shifted again, his palm cutting the air in a quiet warning. Don’t come out here.
Grace forced herself to hold her ground in the hallway, every muscle tense, fury trembling inside her skin.
“Is Grace here with you, Beck?” Elena asked, her voice cutting sharp through the quiet.
“Why would she come to me?” Beck’s tone was calm, almost bored. It was a good act, one that just might fool Elena. Might.
Silence followed. Long enough that Grace could picture Elena’s expression, calculating, weighing. When she spoke again, there was the slightest hitch in her voice. “Because you and she were once a couple. That’s why I figured Grace would come to you.”
Grace’s chest tightened. The truth of it lay heavy between them, and for a moment she thought Beck might falter.
But his reply came clipped and firm. “Once we were a couple. That’s over though. There’s too much bad blood between us for her to show up at my door.”
Grace pressed her fist against her thigh, steadying herself. His words stung, but she understood. He was protecting her, even if the denial scraped raw.
“I read the incident reports this morning,” Beck went on. His voice shifted then, taking on a harder edge. “Shots fired on the county road. The shooter’s description matches you, Elena.”
Grace leaned closer against the wall, her whole body taut. Beck had just turned the accusation back on her. And for the first time since Elena arrived, Grace wondered if Beck had managed to rattle her.
“That’s a lie.” Elena’s voice sharpened, cutting through the air. “I wasn’t the shooter. Why would you even think that of me?”
Grace leaned forward from the shadows, watching Beck’s shoulders shift with a cool, almost smug steadiness.
“Once you were dark ops,” he said. His tone carried the same deliberate weight he had used before. “Once.”
Grace caught the echo, the way he had thrown Elena’s own words back at her just as he had denied their history minutes ago.
A raw curse hissed from Elena. “I work the tough cases, Beck, but I stay within the law.”
Beck made a short sound, something between a grunt and a laugh, the kind that said he was not convinced.
Grace pressed a hand against the wall, her heart hammering. The longer this went on, the more dangerous it felt. Elena Voss was not rattled easily, yet Beck had her off balance.
And Grace knew one slip could bring all of them face-to-face.
“Who exactly hired you to find Jonah?” Beck asked, his voice steady but edged with steel.
For a long moment, Elena didn’t answer. Grace strained to hear, her breath held tight in her chest. Then Elena spoke, clipped and careful. “His brother, Silas.”
Beck’s tone cooled further. “Last I heard, Jonah and his brother were estranged.”
“That changed,” Elena said quickly. “They reconciled. Families do that. Sometimes—”
A sudden chime cut her off. The sharp sound of a text message echoed in the silence. Grace pressed a hand to her stomach, fighting the urge to lean forward far enough to see.
“I have to go,” Elena said abruptly. No pretense now, no smooth explanation. Her voice was brisk, businesslike.
Grace caught the hurried steps retreating across the porch, then the slam of a vehicle door. An engine roared to life, gravel spitting as the SUV tore away from the house.
She stayed pressed against the wall, her pulse racing. Elena was gone, but the air still felt charged, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.
Beck shut the door with a firm click and turned the lock. He watched through the window, no doubt as Elena’s SUV bumped down the drive and finally disappeared onto the county road. Only when the sound of the engine faded did he step back.
Grace moved out from the hall, her heart still pounding. “Jonah never said a word about reconciling with Silas. But he did mention something else. He recently came into some money. An insurance settlement.”
Beck’s eyes narrowed. “How much?”
“About a hundred grand.”
He gave a low grunt, thoughtful and grim. “That could be a motive for Silas to hire Elena. If he hired her, that is.”
Grace crossed her arms over her middle, uneasy. “You think Elena was lying about that.”
“I think we need proof,” Beck said. His tone carried a weight that steadied her even as it rattled her nerves. “Our resident tech at Crossfire Ops might be able to find that out.”
Grace met his gaze, her pulse steadying, though a knot of dread still pressed hard against her ribs. At least Beck was already thinking steps ahead.
Beck’s gaze cut back toward the window, his jaw tight. “Did you get a look at the vehicle the shooter was driving when you were attacked?” he asked.
“Yes.” She pictured it instantly, the way it had appeared in her rearview mirror before the first shot cracked the glass. “A dark gray pickup. Lifted, with mud caked on the wheel wells. Texas plates but the tag was smeared with dirt. I couldn’t make out the numbers.”
Beck nodded slowly. “That’s not what she was just in. Elena pulled up in a black SUV, clean, no mud, no damage.”
Grace’s pulse ticked faster. “She could have swapped out vehicles. Especially if she thought I reported the first one to the cops.”
Beck turned back to her then, his presence solid and steady. He stepped closer until he could touch her hand, his palm warm against her chilled skin.
“We’ll get this sorted out. I promise,” he murmured.
Her throat tightened, the simple contact unraveling the worst of the fear clawing at her.
Beck released her and pulled his phone from his pocket. He hit a button, waited a beat, then said, “Noah, it’s Beck. I need you to talk to the sheriff. Elena Voss should be brought in for questioning about the shooting on the county road.”
Grace stood still, her heart pounding as the weight of Beck’s words settled between them. Elena might have slipped away for now, but Beck was already turning the hunt back on her.
Beck kept the phone pressed to his ear, his tone clipped and precise. “I’ve got Grace with me. She’s hurt, but stable. Elena shot her. Grace came here after the ambush, and I patched her up.” He paused, listening, then added, “Yeah. I’m sure it was Elena. Grace saw her.”
Grace strained to hear Noah’s reply, but Beck’s voice was the only thing reaching her. His words carried the same calm control she had seen on missions, the tone that steadied everyone else even when chaos raged around them.
Finally, Beck lowered the phone. He slipped it into his pocket and looked at her. “Noah wants you to come to headquarters so you can write up a statement of the shooting. The sheriff will need it.”
Her stomach knotted. “The sheriff.” The word tasted sour. “What if Elena really is tied in with them? What if I walk in there and—”
“Grace.” His voice cut her off, firm but not unkind.
She met his eyes. The steadiness in them was the same as when he had taken her hand a moment ago, the same steadiness she had once leaned on without question.
“All right.” She drew a long breath and nodded. “I’ll go. I’ll trust you. And Noah.”
Beck’s shoulders eased slightly, though his expression stayed hard. “Good. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”
Grace wrapped her arms around herself, the fear still gnawing at her, but with Beck at her side the decision felt bearable. For now, that had to be enough.
Beck locked up behind them, scanning the tree line before stepping off the porch. Grace followed, her breath hitching slightly as the cold air hit her. When he reached for her arm to help her into the truck, she shook her head.
“I can manage,” she insisted.
She gritted her teeth against the ache in her ribs and the sting in her arm, pulling herself up into the passenger seat. Every movement made her body protest, but she forced herself through it. The over-the-counter meds Beck had given her would kick in soon. She just needed to hold on until then.
“Thanks,” she said once she was settled. “For cleaning me up. For not hauling me into a hospital.”
He glanced at her, his expression unreadable, then gave a small nod. He understood. He always had. After that last disastrous op, she had spent weeks in a hospital bed, the smell of antiseptic and the steady beep of monitors etched into her memory like scars.
“I didn’t insist,” Beck said as he started the truck, “but it wouldn’t hurt for you to have an exam by a doctor.”
Grace let out a slow breath, conceding enough to satisfy him. “If I feel like I need it, I’ll go.”
The engine rumbled beneath them as Beck pulled out onto the dirt drive, the winter sun glinting across the frosted grass. Grace pressed her shoulder back against the seat and closed her eyes for a moment, willing her body to ease.
One step at a time. Headquarters was next.
The truck rolled down the long dirt drive, tires crunching over frost and hard dirt until they hit the county road. Beck kept one hand steady on the wheel, his eyes sweeping the quiet stretches of land as they drove.
Grace leaned her head back against the seat, staring out at the Texas Hill Country passing by. Rolling hills cut sharp lines against the pale winter sky, oak and cedar trees clustered along fences, and limestone outcroppings jutted white against the earth.
The sun was higher now, but the air still held a bite, a hard brightness that made every shadow stand out. Grace rubbed her arm absently, wishing the meds would hurry and take the edge off.
They were about halfway to Crossfire Ops headquarters when she saw it. A gray pickup sat on the shoulder ahead, mud splattered thick along the wheel wells. Her breath stalled in her lungs.
“That’s it,” she whispered. Her pulse kicked hard. “That’s the truck Elena was in when she opened fire on me.”
Beck slowed immediately, pulling his own truck onto the shoulder a safe distance back. He killed the engine, eyes sharp as he scanned the road and tree line.
Grace’s chest tightened. The silence out here felt too heavy, too still.
They traded a glance, silent understanding passing between them. This could be a setup.
Beck’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. “Stay put. I’m not risking you getting out. You’re too much of a target.”
Grace swallowed hard and nodded. The road stretched empty in both directions, not a single car in sight. The quiet pressed down on them, broken only by the ticking of their engine.
Instead of pulling onto the shoulder, Beck rolled forward until his truck sat dead level with the gray pickup. The cab was empty. The driver’s side door was locked, but the keys dangled from the ignition.
Grace leaned forward, her pulse rattling in her ears. At first, it looked like nothing more than an abandoned truck, but then she saw it.
Her breath caught. A strangled sound rose in her throat. “Oh my God.”
There, on the passenger seat, lay a mask.
Not just any mask.
Elena’s face stared back at her, pale and expressionless, molded in perfect detail.