Chapter Ten
Grace stood off to the side, her arms crossed over her middle as she watched Beck work on Jonah in the exam room at Crossfire Ops headquarters.
The space smelled faintly of antiseptic, the stark white lights overhead making every scrape and cut look worse than it probably was.
Beck’s hands were steady as he dabbed a cloth along Jonah’s cheek, cleaning away dirt and blood.
The man’s injuries didn’t look serious, not compared to what she and Beck had seen in the past, but the bruise swelling on Jonah’s temple was harder to ignore. Beck leaned back and studied it, his jaw tight.
“You should go to the hospital, Jonah. That’s a head injury, and you don’t mess with those.”
Jonah scowled, his voice gravelly. “I’m not going to any damn hospital. I hate hospitals. I hate doctors. Just fix me up enough to walk out of here and we’ll call it good.”
Beck shot him a look, one that Grace had seen countless times when a stubborn operative refused treatment. He didn’t argue right away, just went back to working on the cut on Jonah’s arm. Grace could tell Beck wanted to push harder, but Jonah wasn’t in the mood to listen.
Beck finished cleaning the last of the dirt from Jonah’s arm and reached for the skin glue. He worked with quiet efficiency, closing up a cut that would have otherwise needed stitches.
“This will hold well enough,” Beck explained, “but I need to know something before I use anything stronger. I know about your cancer diagnosis, Jonah. What meds are you on? I don’t want to give you anything that could interfere with those.”
Jonah’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing. “I’m not on any meds. Those damn doctors don’t know shit. They’re all assholes. Now stop asking nosy questions and just hurry the fuck up.”
Grace winced inwardly at the venom in his tone. Obviously, Jonah wasn’t in a thankful mood despite his rescue. Then again, maybe it hadn’t been a rescue but a ruse on Jonah’s part. That was something Grace was hoping they’d soon find out.
Beck, unfazed by Jonah’s surly tone, gave the cut one last check and set the supplies aside.
“You’re not walking out of here,” he let Jonah know.
“Sheriff Chase is waiting in Noah’s office.
She wants your statement.” Jonah started to curse again, but Beck kept talking.
“It’s happening now. The sooner you get it done, the sooner this is over. ”
Grace knew Beck wasn’t exaggerating. Sheriff Chase agreeing to meet Jonah in Noah’s office instead of dragging him into the sheriff’s station was no small concession.
It wasn’t just about Jonah’s health. It meant bumping Elena, Denny, and Silas’s interviews into the afternoon, throwing off the sheriff’s carefully laid schedule.
That kind of accommodation spoke volumes about how seriously they were taking Jonah’s supposed abduction and escape.
Jonah shifted restlessly on the exam table, glaring at the wall as if it had personally wronged him.
“I can’t tell the sheriff squat,” he grumbled.
“I never saw the asshole who took me. I’ve said that already.
He got the drop on me, clubbed me on the head, then shoved some drug in my face.
Chloroform, maybe. Whatever it was, I was out cold. ”
Grace studied him, weighing every word. “And you couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman?” she asked.
Jonah’s head whipped around, his eyes sparking with irritation. “I already told you I didn’t. I didn’t see shit.”
His words rang sharp in the quiet room, then he broke off with a groan, dragging a hand over his bruised face. For a moment he looked less angry and a lot more exhausted.
What might have been an apology slipped out of him, rough and low. “Thanks for saving my ass and all, but I don’t want to keep going over this. I just want to go home.”
Grace swallowed, her unease only deepening. He wanted out, but she could not shake the feeling that Jonah knew more than he was saying.
Beck packed up the last of the supplies and set them on the counter. “Here’s what you do. Clean the cuts again tonight and in the morning. Use the antiseptic I gave you. The scrapes on your legs and back are pretty raw, so take it slow. If they start looking worse, you need to let someone know.”
Jonah grunted and shifted on the table. “Yeah, I think that’s from when the son of a bitch dragged me out of a vehicle and into that trailer. Felt like I got hauled across gravel.”
Grace’s mind snagged on that detail. Dragged.
Not carried. Jonah wasn’t a big man, but whoever had taken him might not have had the strength to lift him.
That fact didn’t rule Elena out. In fact, it made Grace wonder more.
Elena was wiry and strong, but not built to shoulder Jonah’s weight.
Dragging him would have been the easiest way.
She kept that thought to herself, watching Jonah’s hunched shoulders and the stubborn set of his jaw. Something about his story still didn’t sit right.
The three of them walked out of the exam room, the smell of antiseptic trailing behind them. Jonah moved stiffly, his boots dragging against the polished floor.
“Have the CSIs found anything yet? In the woods or that trailer?” Jonah asked.
Beck gave a short shake of his head. “Not that I know of.”
Grace bit back a comment. She knew they had both gotten the same text update only fifteen minutes earlier. Nothing. No prints, no fibers, no trace evidence that could confirm Jonah’s story. It wasn’t a lie, but Beck probably hadn’t wanted to share any kind of official info.
They reached Noah’s office, the door already open. Inside, Sheriff Chase sat near the desk, her steady gaze already locked on Jonah. Isla was perched in a rolling chair off to the side, her short red hair sticking out from under a pair of oversized headphones that she clearly wasn’t using.
Isla tugged off the headphones and grinned. “About time. I was two doodles away from drawing mustaches on all of you just to kill the boredom.”
Grace couldn’t help it. A corner of her mouth twitched. Isla’s quirky humor often surfaced at the oddest moments, a counterweight to the tension in the room.
But her amusement died when her gaze shifted. Denny Martel was there, leaning against the far wall, arms loose at his sides. Grace hadn’t expected him. He caught the look of surprise on her face and gave a thin smile.
“Don’t worry. I’m not here to see you,” Denny grumbled. “I dropped by to check on Jonah.”
Grace’s stomach tightened, because with Denny, nothing ever felt that simple. Or true.
Denny pushed away from the wall, his voice smoother than his expression. “How are you holding up, Jonah?”
Jonah’s answer came sharp, almost a bark. “Fine.” The single word carried all the cool distance in the world.
Denny’s smile tightened. “I’m surprised you didn’t call me when you escaped.”
Jonah hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to Grace before he muttered, “I remembered her number. That’s why I called her.”
Grace felt the weight of those words settle on her chest. Was that the truth, or was Jonah spinning another line? She kept her doubts to herself, unwilling to feed more fire into the tension already burning between the men.
The silence that followed was heavy and awkward. Finally, Sheriff Chase rose from her chair. Her tone stayed even, professional, but there was no mistaking her intent.
“Mr. Martel, I need to speak with Jonah now,” the sheriff said.
Denny’s jaw ticked, though he covered it quickly. His gaze slid around the room, landing on Beck, Grace, and Isla. He didn’t say a word, but it was clear he noticed they were staying while he was being asked to leave. His lips pressed thin, and without another comment he turned and walked out.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the room charged with everything unsaid.
Sheriff Chase powered up a tablet, her fingers moving with efficient precision. “Before we get started on your statement, Jonah, there’s something you might want to hear.” She nodded toward Isla.
Isla leaned back in her chair, spinning the stylus she held like it was a toy baton. “So here’s the fun part. Someone’s been trying to hack into your bank account.”
Jonah’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “What? How the hell did you find out that?”
Isla gave an unapologetic shrug, her grin crooked. “During a deep dive of, well, everything that could be dived into. Your name’s been a hot search in my feeds, so I poked around. Saw some signs of an attempted breach. Relax, though. They didn’t get in. Your money’s still safe, for now.”
Jonah cursed under his breath, a string of words that made Grace wince. His knuckles whitened where he gripped the edge of the desk.
Sheriff Chase kept her gaze on him, her voice even. “Who would be trying to hack your account?”
Jonah didn’t hesitate. “Silas. My greedy bastard of a brother wants his hands on my money.”
The speed of Jonah’s answer was telling, but Grace didn’t know whether it was truth or if Silas was a convenient scapegoat.
Grace rose when the sheriff gave her a look that clearly said it was time to let her work. Beck moved with her, and together they stepped into the hall. She felt the tight coil of tension in her chest unwind just a fraction. At least Jonah was someone else’s problem for the moment.
They didn’t make it far. Cal came striding toward them, his Texas Rangers cap pulled low, his mouth set in a grim line. “We’ve got a situation. Elena is down at the gate, and she’s shouting for you two by name.”
Grace’s stomach dropped. She felt Beck stiffen beside her.
They followed Cal into the briefing room where Noah stood waiting. Without a word, Noah tapped a control on the wall. One of the big monitors lit up, a live feed from the front gate.
There she was.
Elena stood just outside the compound, pacing in the cold like a caged animal. Her hands cut through the air as she shouted, her voice carrying even through the speakers. Security guards blocked her path, their expressions hard, refusing to move aside.
But Elena didn’t care. Her voice rose, raw and ragged with fury. “I want Grace and Beck. Let them come out here and face me. I want a showdown.”
Grace’s throat went dry. Elena wasn’t just angry—she seemed unhinged, her grief and rage feeding on each other until it turned into this ugly demand.
Beck’s jaw tightened, his hand curling into a fist at his side. Grace couldn’t stop the thought that lodged in her head like a shard of glass. If Elena wanted a face-to-face confrontation this badly, maybe she had already convinced herself she was judge, jury, and executioner.
Beck’s voice cut through the room, low but certain. “She’s not right. Look at her. She’s either drunk or high.”
Noah adjusted the camera, and the image zoomed closer. Grace sucked in a breath. Beck was right. Elena’s eyes had a dull, glassy sheen. Her movements were jerky, unsteady, like she was running on fumes or something stronger than grief.
“I’ll go talk to her,” Beck said, his gaze locked on the screen.
Grace’s pulse jumped. “Not without me.”
He glanced at her, clearly ready to argue, but she lifted her chin. “She’s calling for both of us. If I stay behind, she’ll only spin it into something worse.”
Before Beck could push back, Noah cut in. “Fine. But you two be careful. I’ll have the guards search her for weapons before either of you get within reach.”
Grace nodded, her heart already hammering. Even with the assurance of a search, she couldn’t shake the sense that walking out there to face Elena meant stepping onto a live wire.
The cold bit through Grace’s coat as she and Beck crossed the lot to the van. Sleet tapped against the windshield once they were inside, the sound sharp and steady. The roads were wet but not icing yet, though the gray sky promised worse before the day was over.
They drove the short distance to the front gate. Two guards were already there, struggling to corral Elena.
Grace’s stomach tightened. Elena wasn’t just worked up, she was unraveling.
The guards tried to frisk her, but Elena fought them, twisting and jerking her arms. When her eyes landed on Beck and Grace climbing out of the van, she started shouting over the hiss of sleet.
“You set me up!” Her voice cracked, loud and raw. “Both of you. You think you can frame me and walk away clean? Fuck that. You’re both gonna pay.”
Her words slurred together, thick on her tongue. She swayed on her feet, and one of the guards snagged the pistol tucked in the waistband of her coat. Elena snarled, trying to snatch it back.
“Don’t touch me!” She swung at him, wild and clumsy, her fist cutting through nothing but cold air. The second guard moved fast, seizing her arm and locking it behind her back before she could stumble into the ice-matted grass.
Grace’s pulse thundered in her ears. Whatever Elena was on—booze, pills, maybe both—it had stripped away the last layer of control she had left.
Elena fought against the guard’s grip, her voice breaking with rage. “You think you’re smart, setting me up. I’ve got proof. I’ll show the sheriff. I’ll show Noah, and he’ll fire your asses so fast you won’t even see it coming.”
Beck’s voice was sharp. “What proof, Elena?”
Her head jerked toward him, her movements clumsy and uneven. “On my phone. You’ll see. It’s all—”
She shoved a hand into her pocket, fumbling, her breath puffing white in the freezing air. Grace braced herself, waiting to see what kind of card Elena was about to play.
But before Elena could pull anything out, her knees buckled. Her eyes rolled, turning glassier still, and she crumpled like a rag doll, falling onto the icy ground.