11. Grayson
GRAYSON
Things were different in the days after the kiss.
There was something freeing in not having to pretend anymore.
The cards were on the table.
We hadn’t spoken of it—the cold light of day made certain topics more awkward.
Once one day passed, then another, I decided it made the most sense to forget the whole thing.
It seemed like she agreed with me. Aside from a few moments when our eyes would meet and desire uncoiled deep in my gut, we were able to get through the day without repeating the mistake we made that night.
Though it hadn’t felt like a mistake at the time. Nowhere close. Which was what made it that much more dangerous.
How right it felt.
How necessary.
Just as necessary as sleeping next to her at night.
She kept to her side of the bed, and I kept to mine, only reaching out to nudge her when it seemed like she was having a bad dream.
Scarlet had them a lot, probably more than she knew.
It never took more than a few gentle shakes to pull her out of it.
Once or twice, she spoke, and to my surprise, it wasn’t Dominic’s name she mumbled.
It was Mom. She was talking to her mother, warning her. Don’t.
It wasn’t my problem. I was here to keep her alive, a job I was succeeding at while my business ran without me. “You keep saying you’re going to go on vacation,” Drake had reminded me when I bitched about being so far away from the action.
Some vacation. Sightseeing and outdoor activities, I didn’t feel safe entertaining any of them.
Not for my sake, but for hers. What were the chances Dominic would track us here?
Could I afford to take that risk? Until she was safely tucked away in some little nowhere town, living an entirely different life, I would not feel comfortable doing anything even semi-normal.
And then what? What would happen to me with the Garibaldi crew most likely out for blood at their boss’s orders? I could worry about myself when the time came.
A week had passed at the cabin by the time I reached out to Jack on a fresh burner, figuring he might want an update.
He was probably waiting for one. I had kept him hanging for too long after we parted ways in the parking lot where, for all I know, Dominic had still been screaming at me for turning my back on him.
As usual, his voicemail picked up. Retired men could afford to sleep in.
“I wanted to give you an update,” I explained, walking the length of the porch and back again.
I had my workout outside, wishing for the freedom to go for a run, still anxious at the idea of leaving her alone for too long.
I’d settled for chin-ups using a sturdy tree limb, push-ups, burpees, anything I could think of to punish my body into forgetting the feel of her body beneath mine.
“Everything’s going smoothly,” I told him or rather his voicemail.
“Nothing to worry about. It’s actually sort of domestic in a twisted way.
We could be on vacation. I can see why you always talked about wanting to retire out here.
Of course, nothing is restful about it, and I’m ready to tear the walls down with boredom, but things could be worse. ”
Scarlet was in there, behind the closed door.
Like it was that easy to shut her out. I glanced into the cabin on my way past one of the two windows looking over the porch.
She was in the kitchen, her ponytail swinging while she wiggled her hips to a vaguely familiar, catchy pop tune she was whistling.
Hips I longed to hold onto while taking her hard, fast.
“She’s handling things well,” I croaked, shaking myself free of that sudden flash of lust. “My guys are working on arranging a new identity for her. She hates the idea, but she’s smart enough to understand there’s no other way.
” That didn’t mean she liked it. Whether or not she liked it was not my concern.
Certain things had to be done, and this was one of them.
“I know I did the right thing…” I concluded before adding, “… even if it’s torture in some ways.
But we can talk more about that when it’s over, and I come back.
I need to figure out between now and then what I’m going to do about my Dominic problem.
If you have any ideas on that, I would love to hear them. ”
Because at the end of the day, it was all well and good to play the hero, but eventually, the time would come to settle up.
I wasn’t about to go on the run like Scarlet would.
If I couldn’t find some way to placate him, an option that was getting less likely by the day, it might come down to a simple choice—him or me.
The last thing I wanted was to take it that far, but the son of a bitch might decide to force my hand. I couldn’t ignore the possibility.
The tension building in my head, making my pulse pound, was a warning sign. I had to bring myself under control. I couldn’t let her see my hatred. Things were difficult enough for her without adding something new to be afraid of.
I would have to revisit the subject of her new identity over breakfast. She had to get used to the idea.
The thought inspired me to call Drake for an update on timelines.
Most of the documents would be prepared by now, at least according to the rough estimate he’d given me.
When I called, he answered right away. “Just the man I was hoping to hear from this morning.”
“I didn’t know you cared so much,” I replied with a chuckle while watching two squirrels chase each other up and down a tree trunk. When was the last time I took a few minutes to observe something like that? “Tell me you have good news. I’ll digest my breakfast much better.”
“Everything's moving along. We should have all of the documents within a day or two. After that, it’ll be a matter of transporting her safely.”
So why did he sound so troubled? “Is there something you’re not telling me? I can hear it in your voice.”
“Have you checked the news from out here?”
“Not this morning.” A cold finger traced the length of my spine. “Why?”
“When I got in, there was an anonymous email in the main inbox with a link to an article published overnight. We’re trying to trace the source now.” Pausing, he added, “There was no message beyond the subject line. It read, A Friend of Grayson’s.”
I touched a hand to my suddenly tight chest as if that would do anything to ease the sensation. Why is he dragging his feet this way? “What’s the article about?”
“A retired detective was discovered northeast of the city, off Las Vegas Boulevard. Shot execution style.”
There were moments with the power to change the path of a person’s life.
Like the night I’d decided to follow Dad after he left the dinner table with no explanation.
I watched in confusion as he exited the front door of the random house I’d tracked him to, a gas can in one hand.
He struck a match, lit it, and tossed it inside before bolting down the front steps.
That moment was when I knew for sure what sort of person he was—a man who would murder his supposed best friend. I could never trust him. I could never be anything like him.
This was another of those moments. The world around me went dark. Cold. Blank. This time, when I touched a hand to my chest, it was to make sure my heart was beating. How could it with so much weight crushing it?
“Grayson?” Drake asked. “You still there?”
“I’m here.” But was I? Physically, maybe. I saw the world around me, the brilliant blue sky and fluffy white clouds piling on the horizon. Scarlet’s whistling inside the house blended with the birds singing, creating a harmony that might have been pleasant at any other time.
“They identified the body,” Drake continued. “His wallet was in his back pocket. The name is—”
“Jack Meadows,” I said. The words were heavy. Full of certainty.
He released a soft groan. “So you did know him.”
Past tense. Somehow, that was the worst of all—hearing Jack spoken of in the past tense.
And there I was, assuming he didn’t feel like answering his phone.
I had left a voicemail for a dead man. “Did they say how long he’d been out there?
” I asked rather than answer Drake’s question. I didn’t need to.
“No, there were no details about that, but I can look into that if it would help.”
What could it help? No amount of digging would bring him back.
Dominic. He killed him. He fucking killed him.
“I’ll be back in touch soon,” I muttered before ending the call, reeling, leaning against the railing on the edge of the porch. I forced myself to breathe as deeply as I could to keep my head clear and from keeling over as shock rolled through me in wave after wave.
He fucking murdered Jack to send a message to me.
The man who had been more of a father to me than Dad ever was.
Endlessly patient, infuriatingly understanding, and look where it got him.
All of his insistence that I could be a better man than I was raised to be, and he had ended up dead in the desert after some heartless bastard had him killed.
Scarlet’s startled gasp when I flung the front door open barely registered in the back of my mind as I headed for the bedroom, where a small notepad full of phone numbers waited in the nightstand drawer.
Using burner phones meant I couldn’t keep a single list of electronic contacts.
If it had been only me, I would’ve used my cell, but I still had to keep her in mind. I had to take every precaution.
My hands shook hard enough as I punched the number in that it took three tries to dial it correctly. Though the number would have come up with no ID, Dominic answered without a hint of suspicion. “This is Dominic Garibaldi.”
“You mean the soon-to-be-deceased Dominic Garibaldi?” I muttered, closing the bedroom door silently, gritting out every word.
He didn’t seem surprised, knowing the news would reach me. He’d been waiting for this call like a spider sitting in the center of a web. With a snicker, he asked, “Oh, you got my invitation?”
“What invitation?” I snapped.
“I invited you to come out and play. I assume that’s what this call is about.”
That’s how he wanted this to go? Fine with me. “I’m afraid you might not know exactly what you’ve done.”
“Let me see. I looked at the footage from outside the restaurant where we had our unfortunate meet-up. I noticed you talking with that old man. I looked up his car registration, did a little research. I think I know exactly what I’ve done,” he concluded.
The motherfucker had the nerve to sound cheerfully smug.
What I wouldn’t give to have him in front of me so I could wipe that smugness off his face.
Half-blind with rage, I snarled, “He had nothing to do with this. He was a fucking civilian.”
“A detective,” he replied.
“Retired, and you fucking well knew it.” He’d been looking forward to retirement for so long. There wasn’t nearly enough time for him to enjoy it.
“These things happen,” Dominic informed me with a sigh, almost like he meant it.
After all, he had a whole lifetime of pretending to be somebody he wasn’t—somebody with a soul.
“Maybe he should’ve been more careful about who he associated with.
A man like him, coming from his line of work?
He had to understand the dangers of aligning himself with a fucking traitor. ”
“I’m going to make you regret this.” It was the only thing I knew for sure to the depths of my soul.
“Is that a threat?” he asked in a light voice.
“You know exactly what it is.” Standing at the window, I gazed out over an idyllic landscape yet saw nothing in front of me but carnage.
“I’m going to be there when you take your final breath.
I’m going to watch you reconsider every shit decision you’ve made in your life.
The last thing you’re going to see is my face. ”
“Well, there’s only one way to see whether or not that’s going to happen,” he replied, his voice now cold, devoid of humor. “You have to come out of hiding, pussy.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“Why don’t you find out?” He hung up, leaving me with nothing to do but throw the phone across the room while a cry of pure rage tore its way out of my chest. Jack. I had underestimated that bastard, and he had killed Jack. I might as well have pulled the trigger myself.
“Grayson?” Scarlet’s wary voice rang out on the other side of the door. “What happened?”
“Leave me alone,” I warned, barely short of a shout. “I mean it. Don’t come in here right now.”
I was afraid of what I might do if she did. The guardrails were off now. No holds barred. Losing Jack meant losing whatever decency he saw in me.
I would never be anything but a liability to her.
Better she find that out now.