Chapter Six
Grace sat on the edge of the exam table, the paper beneath her crinkling each time she shifted.
The room smelled faintly of antiseptic, sharp and clean, a contrast to the smoke and gunpowder still clinging to her memory.
Beck crouched beside her, steady hands checking the bandages he had put on her earlier when he’d first cleaned and tended to her gunshot injuries.
“The glue’s held,” he said, his touch gentle but firm.
She nodded, though every movement sent aches rippling through her ribs and shoulder. The fall during the attack had left her sore all over, muscles throbbing in protest. Exhaustion weighed on her, heavy and relentless, the crash of adrenaline making her feel hollowed out.
They had spent hours at the sheriff’s office after the ambush, answering questions that went in circles, every detail dissected while the clock dragged.
By the time Sheriff Chase finally released them, the day was nearly gone.
Because of the attack, Elena’s interview had been pushed back until tomorrow.
Grace hadn’t wanted to linger at the station and neither had Beck.
Now she was back at Crossfire Ops headquarters, under his care again, his focus trained on her injuries as if the rest of the world could wait.
“You’re banged up, but nothing’s torn open,” he let her know. “That’s something.”
Yes, it was something all right, and she was damn glad they were alive. Cal and Garrett, too. A lot of things could have gone wrong during that attack, but they’d all walked away from it unscathed.
Well, mostly unscathed.
She was certain the hellish memories of it would stay with her for a long time.
Beck straightened, stepping back just enough to give her room, but his gaze caught hers. She saw it then, the exhaustion in the swirls of blue that used to undo her so easily.
How the heck could he look this good after the hellish day they’d had? Apparently, quite easily because those eyes, that face, that body all meshed together to create one hot guy.
The air between them tightened. Grace’s pulse jumped, and before she could shift away, his head dipped closer. His mouth brushed over hers, featherlight. Barely a kiss. But the spark it lit roared through her like fire catching dry kindling.
Beck drew back fast, clearing his throat. “Sorry. That was bad bedside manner.”
Maybe. But the heat still curled in her chest, the taste of him lingering like a memory she had thought she’d buried. That kiss was anything but bad. It was drenched in the same pull that had always lived between them, waiting for a moment like this to flare back to life.
The echo of Beck’s kiss still lingered when the door opened. Grace straightened instinctively, her pulse quickening for a new reason.
Noah stepped inside. His gaze flicked from her to Beck and back again. They weren’t touching, but his eyes sharpened in a way that told Grace he sensed what had just passed between them. Heat crept into her cheeks, and she busied herself adjusting the edge of the bandage at her arm.
“How are you doing?” Noah asked, his voice calm but carrying that steady weight of command.
“Fine,” she said quickly.
Noah shifted his gaze to Beck.
“She’s holding up,” Beck said with a short nod.
Noah’s expression stayed serious. “The shooter’s still unaccounted for. Sheriff Chase is moving forward, though. She plans to bring in Silas, Elena, and Denny tomorrow for questioning.”
Grace’s stomach tightened. Three people, each with a reason to hate her, all being pulled into the same circle. Tomorrow was going to bring answers, or it was going to make the danger even worse.
Noah’s gaze darkened. “The CSIs are still combing through the cabin, but so far it’s clean. No prints, no blood, no sign Jonah was ever there.”
Frustration clawed at Grace’s chest. She had wanted answers, proof that Jonah had been holed up in that cabin, something solid to prove which side of this mess he was on. Instead, they had smoke, bullets, and more questions.
Beck muttered low, his voice edged. “Figures. Whoever set that ambush knew exactly how to cover his tracks.”
Noah’s jaw shifted. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “They did find this on a trail not too far from the cabin.” He tapped the screen and angled it toward them.
A photo filled the display. A crumpled scrap of paper with a scrawl of uneven handwriting.
Next time I won’t miss.
Grace’s breath hitched, her stomach hollowing.
Her eyes lifted to Beck’s. His jaw had gone hard as stone. Whoever was after her wasn’t finished.
Noah slid his phone back into his pocket. “The note’s at the lab. They’ll analyze it.”
Grace let out a slow breath. She wasn’t hopeful. If there had been any chance of DNA, their attacker wouldn’t have left it behind. Still, maybe the lab would find something—a partial print, an odd fiber, anything.
“Call it a day,” Noah said. “Both of you. Get some rest. Grace, you’re welcome to stay here. We’ve got crash rooms for operatives coming in from assignments.”
Before she could answer, Beck spoke. “She can stay at my place. The guestroom’s more comfortable than a crash room. And this way she doesn’t have to drive home.”
He didn’t say the rest, but Grace heard it anyway. Going home wasn’t safe. Not with a shooter who had already promised another try.
Her throat tightened. The note had been proof enough. Whoever wanted her dead wasn’t finished.
She gave Beck a small nod. “All right. I’ll stay with you. Thank you.”
Noah gave them one last look before turning toward his office, his footsteps fading down the hall. Beck touched her arm lightly, guiding her toward the exit.
Outside, the air bit cold against Grace’s skin. The clouds had thickened, smothering the sky in a dull gray that seemed to press lower with each passing minute. Snow, rare for Crossfire Creek, was actually in the forecast, and the air carried that sharp weight of something waiting to break loose.
They were almost to Beck’s truck when a car swerved into the lot and rolled to a hard stop. Grace’s pulse spiked as Elena climbed out, her movements sharp, her expression a storm.
“I knew it,” Elena snapped, her voice slicing across the space. “You were hiding her. You lied to me this morning, Beck.”
Grace stiffened as Elena stalked closer, fury burning in her eyes.
“And now,” Elena went on, “the sheriff wants me in for an interview tomorrow. What the hell did you tell her?” Her gaze cut to Grace like a blade. “What lies did you feed her to paint me as a suspect?”
Grace’s own temper sparked hot. “I didn’t have to lie. Someone shot at me, Elena. Someone tried to kill me.”
Elena’s lips curled, her hands fisting at her sides. “And you decided it had to be me. Convenient. Blame the one person who lost everything on that op. I lost the man I loved. I lost Carson, and here the two of you are, waltzing around as if it didn’t happen.”
The words hit hard, and the tension between them thickened. Grace felt Beck shift beside her, ready to step in, but the heat rolling off Elena made her pulse pound.
Elena’s voice rose, cutting through the cold air. “You think I don’t see what’s going on now? Jonah’s missing, and you two are right in the middle of it. You want him gone because he hasn’t forgotten that op.” Her glare bored into Grace. “What’d you do to him? Did you kill him?”
The accusation slammed into Grace like a fist. Her breath caught, fury rushing hot to the surface.
“Back down, Elena,” Beck said, his tone hard and warning.
But Elena only leaned closer, her expression twisted with rage. “No. Not until I get answers. You’ve been setting me up from the start, Grace. You always were the weak link, and now you’re dragging everyone down with you.”
Grace’s ribs ached, her shoulder throbbing, but the insult burned hotter than the pain.
Then Elena’s hand came up, a wild swing aimed straight at her face.
Instinct snapped into place. Grace blocked with one arm and shoved forward with the other, cutting Elena’s momentum short.
The move jarred her injuries, sharp pain tearing through her side, but she powered past it.
Elena stumbled back a step, her eyes wide with surprise that Grace hadn’t folded under the blow.
“Don’t,” Grace ground out, her voice low but steady. “Try that again, and you’ll regret it.”
For a beat, the parking lot hung thick with silence, the clouds overhead pressing heavier still.
Beck’s voice broke through the tight silence. “You all right?”
Grace forced a nod. “Yes.”
It was a lie, and she knew he probably saw through it. Her ribs throbbed, her shoulder ached, but worse than that was the raw edge left behind by Elena’s fury. That kind of rage could make someone pull a trigger without hesitation. Elena might have hated her enough to try.
Noah lingered only long enough to make sure Elena was gone before heading back inside.
Beck opened the truck door for her, and she climbed in, settling into the seat with a wince she tried to hide.
The ride was quiet, the road winding back toward Beck’s land, the sky still heavy with clouds that threatened snow.
When they pulled up to his cabin, Grace’s gaze caught on movement in the front window. A cat perched on the sill, tail flicking lazily, its golden eyes fixed on them as if it had been waiting.
Grace raised an eyebrow. “You have a cat?”
Beck followed her gaze, and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “That’s Bandages. Isla Prescott must have dropped him off. He’s sort of a community pet. Everyone at headquarters takes turns looking after him.”
Sure enough, when Beck unlocked the door and pushed it open, the cat hopped gracefully down from the sill and walked toward them, weaving between his boots before leaping lightly onto a chair.
Grace crouched enough to scratch behind the animal’s ears. The soft purr that rumbled out eased some of the tension she had been carrying. “He’s cute. But what about the security system? Did Isla turn it back on?”
“She did,” Beck said, locking the door behind them. “Isla built the system here and at headquarters. Nobody’s getting through without her knowing about it.”
Grace nodded, reassured. Isla’s reputation preceded her. Once a field specialist with a talent for intel extraction, she had been forced out of field duty after an injury. Now she ran point on tech and ops support, and Grace knew there was no one better.
Beck set his keys on the counter, took off his coat and glanced at her. “I’ll fix us something to eat in a bit. Bandages, too. But first I want to check your bandages. That fight with Elena might have done more than you’re letting on.”
Grace let out a soft sigh but shrugged off her own coat. She tugged her top up just enough, instantly aware of the shift in the room. Beck stepped closer, the warmth of his presence as strong as the steady scent of leather from his holster and soap clinging to him.
His touch was clinical, firm and efficient as his fingers skimmed the edges of the bandages on her arm and ribs.
It was the medic in him, the same touch that had stitched men together on battlefields.
Still, beneath it was Beck himself, and it was impossible for her not to feel the heat radiating from him.
“You’re fine,” he said after a moment, his eyes lifting to meet hers. “Examination over.”
But he didn’t step back.
Instead, Beck leaned in, closing the last inch between them. His mouth found hers, and this time it wasn’t a tentative brush. It was full, deep, and unguarded, the kiss of a man who still carried every ounce of heat they had ever shared.
Grace’s breath caught, her pulse racing as the world outside that cabin slipped away.
The kiss deepened, the heat spiking between them until Grace almost forgot to breathe.
Beck’s mouth moved against hers with the same urgency she felt in her own chest, years of distance burning away in seconds.
His hand settled at her waist, steady but searing, and for several long heartbeats the rest of the world simply did not exist.
Then the sharp chime of a phone cut through the haze.
Grace broke the kiss, breathing hard, only to hear the same alert sound from Beck’s pocket. They pulled apart reluctantly, both fumbling for their phones.
The message from Noah flashed across her screen. Grace stared at the words, her pulse still hammering for reasons that had nothing to do with the kiss anymore.
The lab just got the results on the mask. It’s not Elena’s DNA. It’s Denny’s.