Crossfire (Cross Duet #1)

16. IVY

16

IVY

Fine. Maybe I was being petty, stooping to this level, but I was tired of Pete’s games. This was why I’d broken up with him.

In the beginning of our relationship, he was nice—there for me physically and emotionally after my dad died—but the more time passed, the more his checkers moves came into play. Like interrogating me if I took too long to answer his call or text or how, if he was upset with me, he’d show up an hour late to our dates.

Lost in my grief over my father, it took me a while to finally recognize the relationship wasn’t healthy. So, I ended it.

And thought, based on how nice he’d been over the last few weeks, that he’d matured past this crap—that we could be friends. And I figured all the bad behavior was linked to us trying to be a couple.

Wrong.

Every day, he’d come in here, supposedly accepting the let’s be friends boundary we’d agreed to, but every day, I’d feared it might be a ploy to win me back. Little things he’d done had nagged at me, like asking about my plans for an upcoming weekend, as if he might ask me to dinner. Or check if I was dating anyone, but when nothing more came of it, I once again convinced myself he was simply being a friend, that his games were behind him.

Until now. Now, I could see he had either been trying to win me back or keep tabs on my dating life. But after his violent outburst yesterday shattered any hope of friendship or reconciliation, he found himself at a crossroads. He could either retreat in shame or lash out, desperate to inflict the same pain he imagined I’d caused him. Predictably, he chose the latter, his bruised ego driving him to new lows of pettiness.

So, here I was, stooping to Pete’s level because Grayson was right; Pete wouldn’t stop unless I sent him an indisputable signal that everything had changed.

Because it had. Yesterday, in that parking garage, I walked in with questions and left with a big screw you on my shoulder.

Screw that guy for tricking me into coming there. Was it the smartest move in the world to meet him? Nope. But that man who’d called himself Bob had tugged on my heartstrings, too, knowing the one thing—the one—he could say to make me walk into a dark murder scene willingly.

Whatever.

Maybe this guy, Grayson, was onto something. It was worth a shot, to make conversation with him while my ex and his new girlfriend sat eight tables away.

“Smile,” Grayson reminded me.

A flush crept up my neck under the heat of Grayson’s smoldering gaze and how it lingered on me as he sipped his drink.

Sexiest sip ever.

But then everything about this guy was sexy. His dark hair accentuated his enigmatic eyes while his navy-blue shirt, rolled up to his elbows, strained against the sculpted contours of his biceps and shoulders. His jeans clung to his lean hips and thighs in a way that seemed effortlessly provocative, accentuating every line and curve of his lower body.

The gentle hiss of a milk foamer filled the air, its steady rhythm drowning out the low murmur of conversations around us, while the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans mingled with the sweet scent of vanilla and cinnamon.

“The ex is looking this way.” Grayson’s mouth tugged up on one side, victorious in our little agenda.

“He is?”

“He doesn’t look too happy that you’re having a friendly conversation with a guy who stepped between you two yesterday.” His eyes sparkled mischievously.

Grayson’s smile was just a carefully crafted facade , I reminded myself—a mask to disarm Pete. Yet I couldn’t help but be drawn in by its allure. The way his full lips curved, the dimple that appeared on his cheek.

Against my will, my damn pulse quickened, and my breath caught in my throat.

Under different circumstances, could someone as hot as Grayson ever be attracted to a girl like me? Might he be already? After all, he was sitting here with me. Maybe making Pete jealous was an excuse to spend time with me.

If not, you’d better look away, Ivy.

He’ll start to realize your smile isn’t completely phony, and then you’ll have to find a new coffee shop after all this.

“It looks like you’re ruining his morning.”

“How unfortunate,” I said.

“Laugh,” Grayson commanded.

I swallowed under the authority of his tone, finding more pleasure in it than I should.

It took me a second to shake out of the fog and wrap my fidgeting hands around my coffee cup to still them.

“Pretend I just said something funny.” Grayson smirked, making my nerves buzz even more, though I had no clue why.

Chemistry, my brain immediately answered. He’s sinfully handsome and dangerously charming, and there’s some frequency he’s giving off that’s activating your own in a way no other man has.

Focus, Ivy, on the conversation at hand.

“I don’t think I can do that,” I admitted.

“Why?” Grayson asked.

“I’m not a seasoned liar.”

Grayson studied my face for several seconds, as if what I had just said was fascinating.

“You want your coffee shop back?” He raised a brow, and damn it if it didn’t make him look even hotter.

Instantly, I wished Grayson and I were having a real conversation, not a fake one to make Pete jealous. In fact, I wanted Pete to just…go away, and if laughing might help, fine.

So, I did. And because Pete knew me, I made it believable.

Did I feel guilty? A little. But one morning at a coffee shop could prevent months of him trying to play with my emotions.

“Jackpot,” Grayson declared. “He looks pissed.”

I should just feel happy, not guilty. This guilt was stupid.

If only I had something else to focus on besides Grayson and this strange situation.

“I wish they weren’t out of chocolate cake.” I’d quickly glanced at their pastry section when I’d ordered, but I’d told myself it was a good thing; I didn’t need to be spending money on pointless desserts right now.

He tilted his head, clearly confused by my change of topic.

“It’s my go-to when I’m stressed,” I explained.

Honestly, my social skills.

“Can I ask you something?” Grayson rested his elbows on the table.

My traitorous eyes suddenly became possessed, tracing the long lines in his forearm muscles, wondering what it would feel like to trace my fingers along them.

When my eyeballs finally returned to minding their own business, I was met with a ghost of a smirk from Grayson.

Great. He just caught me checking him out. How embarrassing.

“Why was he manhandling you yesterday?” His tone wasn’t playful at all, though; rather, it was firm, bordering on angry.

Also embarrassing.

I frowned. “It’s a long story.”

“Judging by the size of his coffee, we have a long runway until he finally takes off.”

I sighed, unsure where I’d even begin.

“It’s…hard to explain.”

“Try me.” Grayson’s focus drifted to my lips—my cheeks warming—before looking back up to meet my eyes.

I took a sip of my coffee, biding my time to figure out how to start.

I settled with, “I did something stupid yesterday.”

To this, Grayson’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “More stupid than dating him?”

I couldn’t believe I chuckled; I hadn’t let out any genuine laugh since before my father died, but there was something disarming about Grayson.

“Much more,” I admitted.

“Well”—Grayson leaned back—“I don’t want to pry, but I just can’t imagine what could be more foolish than dating that Neanderthal.”

Again, I let out a soft laugh, and it surprised me how easily he chipped away pieces of my walls.

“I’m not sure I’m supposed to talk about it; it’s an open investigation.”

“Investigation?” Grayson’s eyebrows shot up again, his voice low and tinged with concern. “Sound serious. Are you okay?”

My cheeks warmed under his earnest demeanor, a flutter of something warm and thrilling stirring in my chest. Out of all the questions Grayson could’ve fired at me, the first words out of his mouth were about my well-being, all while taking time out of his day to make my life a little easier.

A sudden surge of emotion pricked my throat, and I had to glance away before he could see the impact of his caring words etched across my face.

Did Grayson have a girlfriend? Would I ever find someone as genuinely good and selfless as him in my life?

I couldn’t believe I was about to spill my guts, but something about Grayson’s eyes pulled the truth from my lips.

“I agreed to meet someone I’d met online,” I finally started.

Grayson watched my mouth, waiting patiently for me to get this out.

“He said he had something important that my grandmother desperately needed.” I took a shaky breath. “So, I went to meet this person, and…it was a trap, I guess. I was attacked.”

Grayson’s expression shifted, a new layer of concern etching itself across his features as he studied me. “Were you hurt?”

His gentle sincerity wrapped around me, calming my heartbeat.

“Just bumps and bruises. But…it could’ve ended differently.”

And then where would Grams have been? My mom was right.

“It was stupid to agree to meet and even stupider to actually go.”

“Sounds like you were trying to help your family. There’s nothing stupid about that.”

Something electric passed between us, raising goose bumps on my skin.

“He said his name was Bob , but I’m sure that was a lie, too. When I got there, at first, I refused to go inside. He claimed he’d be willing to meet me at another location of my choosing,” I continued. “But looking back on it, I think that was a tactic to get me to let my guard down.”

It was a big risk, but that was the whole point. A trusting person would presume Bob would never bluff about something like that—taking the chance I’d walk away. Which I nearly had. But that’s what he had to say to win over my confidence, didn’t he?

“What did this guy say he had?”

I blinked. “What?”

“You said you were meeting him because he had something important. What was it?”

I hesitated.

“Well…” I bit my lip. “My dad died…”

The symphony of voices faded around us until I could hear the beating of my heart and feel the dryness on my tongue.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Grayson’s attention settled on my hand resting on the table, his fingers twitching slightly, as if resisting the urge to reach out and touch it.

“He was the best human I knew,” I admitted, my mind becoming lost in a sea of memories. “When he was young, he lost his grandfather in a restaurant fire, so he decided to become a fireman. Dedicated his life to saving people’s lives.” My lips angled up slightly with pride. “He had the most easygoing personality of anyone I’d ever met, too. It was impossible to not love him, not to get along with him, you know?”

I shifted uncomfortably.

“But he, uh…”

Suicide had a stigma to it, one that needed to be broken down so more people felt safe enough to ask for help. Maybe if Dad felt safe enough to confide his feelings, he would still be here today.

“He took his own life.”

This wasn’t easy to talk about, particularly with a man I barely knew, but I would not let Dad die in vain. Every opportunity I had, I would spread awareness about suicide prevention. That started with admitting the truth to myself and to anyone who asked what happened to him.

Grayson’s face softened as he studied me. “I’m so sorry.”

And he seemed truly sorry.

Grayson’s voice dropped to a whisper, a shadow crossing his face as he confided, “You know I don’t tell many people this, but I know the agony of losing a father. Mine was taken from me through a senseless act of violence.” His words dripped with sorrow that seemed to fill the space between us. “And it’s a pain so deep, so all-consuming, that I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

His raw vulnerability struck me to my core. He didn’t have to lay bare such an intensely personal wound, yet he chose to share his trauma with me, peeling back his protective layers to expose the still-tender scar beneath.

What an honor for him to share that.

His confession reached into my chest and grasped my own grieving heart, silently assuring me that I was not alone in my pain.

Before I could even think of what I was doing, I reached out and gently placed my fingertips on his forearm. The instant our skin connected, a heated current shot through my body, zapping every nerve ending as it raced from my fingers to my core. I inhaled sharply, my cheeks flushing with the intensity of the unexpected sensation, while Grayson’s stare dropped to where my fingers rested on his arm. For a suspended moment, there was only the two of us, connected by this single point of contact that seemed to pulse with energy.

Realizing the unintended intimacy of my gesture, I withdrew my hand, the warmth lingering on my skin like a ghost while a flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before he met my gaze once more, the air charged with something that hadn’t been there moments before.

I swallowed, trying to regain my composure.

“How long ago?” I asked.

Grayson took a few more seconds to shake off the effect of our touch before finally taking a sip of his coffee. “I was eleven,” he cleared his throat. “But I prefer you continue telling me what happened yesterday.”

If it hadn’t been for his caring voice, I might’ve been a little hurt by that, but somehow, he managed to make me feel like the center of his attention—the only thing worthy of his time at this coffee shop being my life story.

“Um,” I continued, “well, shortly before my dad died, he said he’d finally come up with the money to take care of his mom. My Grams had a stroke a couple of years ago, and she needs to live in an assisted living facility. It’s…rather expensive.” To put it mildly. “But after his death, my mom and I went through his bank accounts, and there was nothing in them.”

Grayson’s head tilted. “Do you think he might have exaggerated about the money?”

Lord, the deep rumble of his voice seemed to echo through my ears.

“My dad wasn’t a liar. I mean, I guess he could’ve been saying that to make me worry less, but it wouldn’t take long before Grams would’ve been kicked out of the facility and I would’ve realized he was still broke,” I reasoned.

“And this guy said he knew where the money was?” Grayson deduced.

I nodded. “When I got there and saw just how remote it was, I was about to walk away, but…” I blew out a breath so deep, my shoulders sank. “Sometimes, you need something so badly that you’ll walk blindly into a fire to get it,” I said. “I know how to protect myself physically—better than most men, actually. And I guess I let it get to my head that I could protect myself if anything happened.”

When the latest hiss of the milk foamer finally fell silent, Grayson spoke, his voice gentle and filled with admiration. “Seeing as you’re alive and well, it seems to me that you did protect yourself.”

As I met his eyes, a mosaic of forest shadows and sunlit glades, I willingly surrendered to the depths of his nonjudgmental stare, drowning, not in water, but in the warmth and understanding.

“Who do you think it was that lured you there?” he prodded gently.

The police had asked this question, of course, but I still didn’t know.

“Some psycho, deranged killer who gets his kicks from luring women to abandoned garages.” My heart quickened, stomach clenched, thinking how close it had come. “Police think it was human trafficking.”

“But this person knew about your father, about the money, and knew it was to pay for your grandmother’s medical care?”

“Police said he might have hacked into my computer and found personal information.”

Skepticism, bordering on anger, flashed across Grayson’s face, his jaw tightening.

“Or it’s someone who knows private details about you and your father. Someone with motive to hurt you.”

A frost slithered down my spine.

“I didn’t recognize the guy in the garage.”

“I’m talking about who delivered you to him.”

I blinked. “What would anyone gain by having me attacked?”

Grayson’s eyebrows creased together. “What happened when you got there?”

“I…some man attacked me.”

“Did he try to rob you or…”

Or rape me.

“No. He just…I think he intended to kill me.”

That asshole had charged me with a gun, and it almost fired before I’d kicked it from his grip.

“So, whoever lured you to this garage knew extremely personal information about you and wanted you dead.”

The detective had almost convinced me a human trafficker could be sophisticated enough to gain that intelligence, but Grayson made my sixth sense come back loud and screaming. This wasn’t just some random person online…

“Who in your life might want to hurt you, Ivy?”

I swallowed.

“And will they try again?”