Crossfire (Cross Duet #1)

11. IVY

11

IVY

“How could you even think of meeting that guy?” Pete’s face twisted in anger, and as he stepped into my space, the stench of cigarettes on his breath made my stomach churn.

Looks like he started smoking again.

“You know why.”

“You let a goddamned stranger trick you into going to an abandoned building.”

My hands trembled in frustration and hurt, but I refused to show weakness in front of him.

“It was reckless of you, Ivy.” He pointed a finger in my face, the vein on his neck attempting to split his skin open. “You’re lucky you didn’t get killed!”

“If you’re so angry, why did you insist on seeing me right now?”

Maybe him taking another step into my space made him feel like a man, towering over me like this.

“Was it worth it, Ivy? Did you get what you wanted out of it?”

My eyes betrayed me with tears. I knew he was expressing concern. That part was understandable. But the way he was going about it, aggressive in his tone and speaking down to me, cut deep. As weak as it might sound, after nearly losing my life, what I really needed was a hug—a soft place to land rather than being chastised.

Like the people I witnessed in the emergency room who’d been in a car accident. The second their loved ones arrived, they’d rush forward and hug them, saying things like, Thank goodness you’re okay. I was so worried. Then, and only then, they might start asking questions like, Why were you driving so fast? or, Why weren’t you wearing your seat belt?

Pete skipped the whole I’m glad you’re okay part. I hated how much that hurt.

“You need to accept what happened and move on,” he said, like it was as simple as accepting a weather forecast. “Or it will cost you everything.”

He wasn’t wrong, but…

“You’re not here out of concern.” My voice cracked with emotion. “You just want to lecture me.”

I wanted him to deny it, but he didn’t.

To think he’d been acting like a friend lately.

I brushed past him, but his balls grew tenfold, evidently, because he was stupid enough to grab my elbow.

Clenching my jaw, I studied his fingers digging into my hoodie, imagining all the ways I could snap them. Or maybe I would start by kneeing him in the balls first.

I had never received or dished out violence in any relationship, but there was a first for everything, and Pete either forgot what I was capable of or was arrogant enough to think he could take me on despite it.

I yanked my arm, but the imbecile gripped my elbow harder, glaring down at me like I deserved to be punished for my choices today.

In his dark brown eyes, I saw a glimpse of something I hadn’t seen before—control.

Looking back on it now, Pete liked to be the one in charge, and my actions today must have been the most extreme form of going against his wishes that he had ever experienced. After all, after I’d told him, he’d tried calling and sent me two dozen texts, demanding I didn’t go.

But Pete needed to learn three very important lessons:

1) No one controlled me.

2) He was not my boyfriend anymore, and while I was trying ridiculously hard to remind myself his inexcusable behavior was coming from a place of concern, he had no right to touch me like this.

3) Finally, and most importantly, if he didn’t remove his hand, he would face humiliation like he had never experienced in his entire life. I’m talking fingers snapping, balls lodged in his gut, dislocated shoulder humiliation. If not worse.

“Let me go.”

But once again, Pete only tightened his grip.

“Let. Her. Go.”

The words sliced through the air, each syllable a blade of ice. The stranger’s voice was deep, controlled, and deceptively calm, but beneath that composure, I sensed a current of something far more dangerous. It was as if his tone alone—a blend of boredom and rage—was meant to be a warning, a threat, maybe even a promise of violence barely held in check.

My attention snapped up, colliding with striking forest-colored eyes that stole my breath.Those eyes…they were unlike anything I’d ever encountered. Rimmed with steel, it was as if the emerald perimeter was trying to suffocate the shimmering shades of jade attempting to break through, until nothing would be left but darkness. They hinted at a depth I longed to explore, even as every instinct warned me to look away.

The guy appeared to be my age, yet the sharp angles of his face made him look immortal, with a commanding jaw set in the shadow of dark facial stubble matching his hair, which emphasized his magnetic features. At six foot three, he towered over me with an intimidating presence. There was something undeniably authoritative about his demeanor—the stillness of his body, the way his fingers twitched at his sides, like getting into a physical altercation was of no concern to him—that sent a chill gliding over my skin.

Yet, as he studied me, that chill melted into an unexpected warmth.

How many men would interject like this? Risk a punch in the jaw, just to stick up for a total stranger?

Not many, I’d argue.

And certainly fewer still who looked as if a Greek god had decided to moonlight as an action hero.

“This is none of your business,” Pete snapped, ripping my thoughts back to the confrontation.

The stranger’s attention swept over all the witnesses, some of whom were looking at the scene unfolding before them.

Moving with the coiled grace of a panther, Sexy Stranger positioned himself between me and Pete, forcing Pete to release his grip.

“Touch her again, and I’ll kill you.”

His deep, pulsing voice echoed in the space around my ears while my brain got to work, dissecting his words, trying to confirm I’d heard them right.

Maybe after the hellish morning I’d had, life was throwing me a bone. Maybe the universe decided almost being murdered and blown to bits was more than one girl could take in the span of a few short hours, so it had offered me this…Greek god of a protector to step in like an exquisite umbrella in my bad-shit rainstorm.

Pete glared at my savior, seeming to take in his height and build, which outmatched his own by four inches and twenty pounds. All while I could imagine the thoughts going through his head. How dare this stranger threaten him?

By the way, how offensive that Pete looked more worried about what this guy could do to him than what I could.

“Whatever.” Pete glowered at me. “Get yourself killed for all I care. I don’t give a crap anymore.”

For a fleeting second, tears threatened to erupt in my eyes, but I bit them back, choosing to embrace the relief that came when Pete stormed out of the café, leaving me in the aftermath of his hurricane. In all our time dating, he had never acted like that before, his behavior so despicable that it tainted my memories of him.

“Are you okay?” The stranger’s voice was softer now as he turned and unleashed the full intensity of his stare on me.

My heart raced—and not entirely from the confrontation with Pete.

Later tonight, Pete’s words would replay in my mind on repeat. My brain was a bastard, plotting ways to keep me awake and full of anxiety, and Pete had just provided fuel for weeks. But I’d have to think about that later.

Right now, the stranger scrutinized my elbow.

“He always grab you like that?”

I shook my head. “No.” Hello, brain cells. Glad you could rejoin the party . “Thank you…” I paused, waiting for him to fill in his name, but oddly, he stood there for a minute, evaluating me before eventually extending his hand.

“Grayson.”

Grayson. What a hot name.

It shocked me that something so trivial could enter my stream of consciousness after almost getting killed a few hours ago, not to mention the scene in the café, but there was something magnetic about this guy’s presence that had the power to siphon my complete focus.

“Ivy.”

I met his extended hand, and as our skin touched, a sudden thrill spread through my palm, sending a buzz up my arm. His grip was surprisingly gentle, the sensation lingering even after our hands parted, leaving me momentarily breathless. His eyes, locked on mine with a flicker of intrigue dancing in their depths, only intensified the moment.

Time seemed to slow, each second etching itself into my memory until, finally, Grayson’s focus tore from my face and shifted to the door where Pete had left.

“You need me to walk you home, Ivy?” His tone was intimate as he pivoted his magnificent attention back to me. “Make sure you get home safe?”

With the unexpected electricity of our brief contact still coursing through my veins, it took me a moment to find my voice.

“That’s not necessary, but thank you.”

As he shoved his hands into his pockets, I couldn’t help but fixate on the way the movement accentuated his broad, muscular shoulders. The fabric of his shirt stretched taut across his sculpted back, hinting at the raw strength that lay beneath.

Realizing I was staring, I quickly averted my gaze, hoping he hadn’t noticed my lingering looks or how I was both intimidated and irresistibly drawn to him.

“Is that guy your boyfriend?” he asked with an edge.

“Ex-boyfriend.”

Grayson’s face relaxed a little, perhaps the two letters in ex giving him reassurance I wasn’t on the verge of becoming a domestic violence statistic.

“Well”—he nodded his chin toward the ordering counter—“I was just about to get myself a cup of coffee. Can I buy you one, Ivy?”

Why did my name sound that enchanting, rolling off his lips? Maybe it was because he had the baritone of a voice actor. You know, the kind you hear on commercials, or better yet, playing the love interest in a romance movie trailer.

And, my God, part of me wanted to pretend I wasn’t having the worst day of my life and jump into his orbit—to see where this welcome rocket ship of sexiness took me. I bet it’d be a fun-ass ride. The guy was charming and mesmerizing, and all I wanted to do was find out more about him.

And, fine, stare at the contours of his muscles even longer.

But hours ago, I’d nearly died. Plus, the detective’s warning echoed in my head, making my sixth sense malfunction. I’d let one stranger talk me into nearly getting killed. Not the best day to accept an invitation from another stranger, no matter how protective he seemed.

Besides, my life was an absolute train wreck. See Exhibit A: the encounter with my ex-boyfriend.

“Thanks, but I’d better go.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “It was nice meeting you, Grayson.”

Damn those eyes. When they unlocked their full potential, they almost made me change my mind with a simple sparkle of desire.

But I had to put distance between myself and this day from hell and figure out what happened. And more importantly, what I’d do next.

As I walked back into the wreckage of my life, I could feel Grayson’s attention on me, full of unspoken questions.

But deep down, something told me this wouldn’t be the last time I saw him.

And, God help me, part of me didn’t want it to be.