Crossfire (Cross Duet #1)

34. GRAYSON

34

GRAYSON

“Grayson.” Daniel’s brows furrowed together. Wearing a gray T-shirt that clung to his athletic frame and a pair of black cotton pants, it was clear I had woken him up. “The hell are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

Daniel rubbed his sleepy eyes, slow in his movements as he shut the door and followed me into his sparsely furnished living room. Soon, dawn would break through the blinds, but right now, it was still dark outside, the interior lit by overhead lights that stretched like breadcrumbs from Daniel’s bedroom to the front door. In here, a lone flat screen was mounted on the wall across from a black leather sofa that bore the creases of many evenings he and his wife spent in solitude now that their kids were grown and moved out.

“Is your wife home?” I asked.

Daniel regarded me. “She’s visiting her sister in San Francisco. Why?”

Good. Then, I could speak freely. “Why was I sent to kill Samantha Jackson?”

He stilled, his eyes narrowing. I didn’t normally come to his place after assignments.

“Ah hell.” Daniel ran a stressed hand through his silver hair. “We had another miss?”

“A complication.” I shoved my hands into my pockets.

Daniel clenched his eyes shut. “Jesus, Grayson. What happened this time?”

This time. Offense pulsed through me.

“Why did the CIA order this hit?”

He cocked his head. “The hell do you mean?”

“They think she’s a violent criminal. Why?”

“Think?” Daniel repeated. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Do they think she’s working for Vosch?”

“What’s with all the questions?” Daniel took a step closer to me. “What happened?”

“Samantha Jackson. Did you know that it was the woman from the garage?”

Daniel’s eyebrows shot to his forehead. “The surprise guest?”

“You didn’t know?”

“If I had known, I would’ve told you.”

“Why wouldn’t they tell us that?”

Daniel rubbed his neck.

“How did someone else in the CIA figure out she was the one in the parking garage before we did?” I pressed. “I thought we were the ones looking for her?”

“Come on.” He motioned with his chin. “I’m going to need a coffee to wake my ass up for this conversation.”

I followed Daniel to his kitchen, where the scent of last night’s rain on my skin mingled with the lingering aroma of burned coffee from yesterday’s pot. Daniel rinsed it out and set up a fresh one to brew.

“If someone else in the CIA already knew who she was, why did I spend two days stalking this woman, trying to get her name?”

“Because we didn’t have her name,” Daniel said. “It was our responsibility to figure out who she was. She interrupted our mission.”

“Is that why the CIA wants her dead? Because she interrupted our mission?”

The sound of the coffee maker gurgling to life provided a mundane backdrop to our grim discussion.

“We don’t end witnesses,” Daniel answered. “You know that. We carry out orders for one reason—to eliminate mass murderers before they can kill a bunch of innocent people. The only reason the CIA would have ordered the death of Samantha Jackson was if they had proof she was responsible for, or had plans to kill, an ungodly number of innocent people. And if they knew she was our surprise guest, they would have told us.”

“Would they?”

Daniel’s sigh cut through the tension, his hands grabbing his hips, framing his frustration as palpably as the tight set of his jaw.

“They would have told me,” he decided. “If this woman was connected to our case, they would’ve told me.”

“But they didn’t.”

Daniel’s lips thinned. “Maybe our case overlaps with someone else’s. Maybe we’re tripping over another department.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But it still doesn’t answer my question. Why do they think Samantha Jackson is a violent criminal?”

Daniel’s eyes snapped to mine. “Because they told us she is.”

“What if they’re wrong?”

“The CIA doesn’t make mistakes,” Daniel stated firmly.

A whisper in my mind dared to question, “Don’t they?”

“Not with something like this, no. If they said Samantha Jackson is a criminal, she’s a criminal.”

Doubt crept in like an insidious poison, threatening to undermine the very foundation of my beliefs. Could I trust my instincts over the CIA’s intel? The thought of Ivy being a violent criminal felt like a twist of the knife in my gut.

“I’ve spent time with her, trying to get her name, and I don’t see it.”

Every moment I spent shadowing her, piecing together her life, I’d been drawn to her light, which warmed my icy shadows. Could I really extinguish such a light this easily? Jackson wasn’t a rare last name, nor was the first name Samantha. Was it possible, no matter how tragic it might’ve been, that they got the wrong Samantha Jackson when they’d given me her address?

Daniel turned his head slightly. “You’re questioning the CIA now? We’re not more informed than the CIA intelligence.”

“I’d like to see the order.”

“What?”

“The order.” My attention swept past him. “Is it on your computer?”

“The hell is that going to do? You have the name and address.”

“But it’s the wrong person. I don’t know how, but I think the real target somehow used Samantha Jackson’s name and address. Do you have a photo of the target?”

“She’s still alive, isn’t she?” He bit his lip so hard, I thought it might bleed.

“For now.”

“Jesus, Grayson.” Daniel clenched his eyes shut. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Trying to make sure an innocent person doesn’t get killed.”

“Is that her story you’re buying? Innocence?”

“I’m telling you, something is off. If this woman was an arms dealer, why did Vosch’s guy try to kill her?”

“She could be from a rival team. They could’ve had an argument. They could be in a dispute over money or a million other things; it doesn’t matter! What matters is that we have orders, and we have to carry them out.”

“Then, why all the secrecy?”

“Because it’s the CIA! That’s their DNA.”

“Why didn’t they tell you that she’s connected to our case?”

“Maybe they don’t trust us right now after we messed up the last mission. We think we’re still fully on this case, but maybe they’re already cutting us out of it. Piece by piece.”

Shit. “If they don’t trust us, then why would they give us this assignment?”

“How should I know?” Daniel threw his hands in the air, his voice exacerbated. “Maybe it’s a test—to see if we can do it without screwing this up, too.”

I could see in his grimace that he regretted his cutting words— screwing this up —the moment they escaped his mouth. But despite the flicker of remorse, he maintained his anger at my defiance.

“Can I see a photo?” I asked.

“We execute orders, Grayson. We don’t question them.”

“If this was someone you”—I was going to say cared about —“felt confident about, wouldn’t you go the extra step to make sure we had the right target?”

“You spent two days with her; you think maybe you got a little too close? Seeing what you want to see?”

“One way to find out.”

Daniel clenched his jaw. “This probably explains why she was in the parking garage, Grayson. She’s in bed with them.”

No. I think someone close to her might be, but not her.

“You know why I do this for a living,” I reminded him.

If Ivy turned out to be innocent and ended up dead, her blood would be on my hands. I’d be no better than the monsters I hunted. I had to uncover the truth, even if it meant risking everything.

“So, you can imagine my hesitation if my gut tells me the target might be innocent,” I continued. “If I don’t stop for a beat and confirm it, I’m no better than the man that killed my father.”

I didn’t tell him the second reason. That I had started to feel something for Ivy, and that was the first time that happened in my life. If she turned out to be the very monster I dedicated my life to hunting?

Talk about a mindfuck.

I needed to see it with my own eyes, to fully accept it.

Finally, Daniel took a deep breath and scrubbed his face.

“Fine,” he allowed.

He stormed off down the hallway, and a few seconds later, he returned with an iPad. He typed a few things on the screen and then held it up to me.

There was a file with the name and address of Samantha Jackson.

And on it was the photo of Ivy.

A rock plummeted in my stomach, and my heartbeat drummed in my ears as I stared at the photo, trying to comprehend this mind-bending situation.

“Why didn’t you show me the photo before?” I asked.

“You didn’t ask before.”

“Photos help confirm targets, Daniel.”

“In crowds. Samantha Jackson lives alone. The mission was in the middle of the night in the dark. It was a simple job.”

Simple.

“If it was so simple, why did they keep the fact she’d been in that parking garage from us? Something doesn’t smell right.”

Daniel set the iPad down and placed both hands on the countertop. His knuckles whitened, and his jaw clenched and unclenched.

“I don’t know, but her fate is sealed, Grayson. Don’t get attached, just get the job done.”

“I need to see the evidence myself.”

Having a name and identity was one thing. Proof that she was an arms dealer was another. This had to be a mistake. How, I had no idea, but I wasn’t going to murder Ivy unless I saw for myself that she was a violent criminal, the type of people I spent my life ending.

Daniel’s face hardened. “Let me get this straight. You want me to demand proof before we’re willing to carry out their orders now?”

“No. I’m asking if there’s anyone that you can call to at least try to obtain some information.”

Daniel studied me for several seconds, his tone calming slightly as he asked, “Why do you care so much about this girl?”

“Because I don’t kill innocent civilians,” I repeated.

“Neither does the CIA.”

“Great. Then, there should be a mountain of evidence against her that someone can forward to us. Case solved.”

The bitter aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeated through Daniel’s kitchen.

“Where is the girl now?” he asked.

“Contained.”

“Goddammit, Grayson.” Daniel shook his head. “If they find out about this, I’m not going to be able to protect you.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m just asking if you’ll try to get some answers. Can you do that?”

I came here, assuming this was some tragic case of mistaken identity, but Ivy was being accused of being a violent criminal, and that changed everything. If she was innocent and I couldn’t figure this out, no one could protect her. The CIA would get her eventually, and if she died, her name and her family’s name could be ruined.

“If she’s guilty, I’ll end her myself. I just need to see it firsthand.”

Daniel rubbed his jaw.

“How many people have I killed without pushing back? How long have I been a loyal operative, risking my own neck on countless missions? I’d appreciate a little grace on this one.”

Tension thickened the silence between us until Daniel finally sighed.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he agreed in an irritating tone.

“How long will it take you to get me the evidence?”

“I don’t know.” He glanced at the kitchen clock. “But the CIA is expecting a toe tag on her by morning.”

Swiping a thumb along my lower lip, I asked, “How long do you think I have before they realize she’s not dead?”

He sighed. “I can try to tap dance around it for a day, maybe two, but I can’t guarantee it. And meanwhile, if any intel on Vosch comes up, we’ll need to jump on it.” Daniel stared at me. “And we can’t have any delays.”

If Ivy was innocent, every second mattered. But if she was guilty and if she somehow got away, my hesitation could cost countless lives.