Crossfire (Cross Duet #1)

52. IVY

52

IVY

Grayson’s eyes, filled with tenderness and desire just minutes ago, now burned with something dark as he stared at the laptop screen. When he didn’t even look away from it to address me, nerves ignited in my stomach with warning flares.

He’d been waiting for files from his handler—files that should clear my name. After all, they couldn’t contain proof of crimes I’d never committed.

And yet…

Grayson’s demeanor and stiff body told me everything had changed. I could feel it. The air was charged with the electricity of a storm brewing just before a lightning strike, and his soul felt like it’d drifted out to sea.

When he finally looked at me, the eyes that stared back at mine weren’t those of a lover. They were the dark eyes of a killer, void of any emotion.

Except betrayal.

And fury.

Grayson flexed his hand into a fist, his knuckles turning white before he finally spoke with venom-filled words. “You had me convinced…” His voice was too calm for the level of accusation he was making.

My heartbeat jolted into a frantic rhythm, my mouth running dry—afraid to say the wrong thing. Afraid to say nothing at all.

One wrong move, and he could end me before hearing me out.

I wanted to believe that my instincts were wrong—the ones screaming that I was a doe trapped in the hungry path of a lion. This was Grayson. Sweet, protective , took me here to shield me from danger Grayson. This was the man who’d spared my life and had put his on the line to keep me safe.

But that was all under the guise that I was innocent, and there, on his computer screen, were photographs of me, talking to someone I’d never seen before in my life.

Where did they come from? And from whom? And why?

I backed away from the screen like it could reach out and grab me, my heart thundering as Grayson’s face managed to darken even more.

Violently so.

That one glare communicated so much.

He had lowered his defenses for me, sharing secrets he’d never revealed to anyone else. He’d exposed his vulnerabilities, all under the illusion that I was innocent.

But those files, they changed everything.

Grayson stood so slowly that the speed of his movements alone was enough to cause the hairs across my body to stand up. My attention roamed over the dangerous muscles blanketing his bare torso, his body clothed in nothing more than a pair of pants he’d thrown on when he’d exited the bedroom. My heart tried to run out of this room before I could—viciously crashing against my rib cage.

“Grayson, I’m innocent,” I pleaded, my hands trembling as I raised them in surrender. “I swear to you, I’ve never even met that person.”

His eyes snapped to the cell phone in my hand, narrowing.

“Are you trying to tell me that’s not you?” It wasn’t a question; it was an accusation. More along the lines of now, you’re going to insult me further by lying to me? “I believed you.”

“I’m not a criminal.” I took a step backward.

He walked around the desk, his movements deliberate and menacing. “Every word.”

His quiet words and loud accusation burned everything we had to ashes. He singed everything he thought he knew about me, until I was nothing more than a suspicious target worthy of death.

“After all we’ve been through, how can you think I’m a monster?” No matter how much supposed evidence might’ve been sent to him, how could he change his mind that quickly?

How stupid, to think I was someone he cared enough to trust. Evidently, one batch of deepfake photos was all it took for him to transform into the monster who thirsted for my blood.

“Please, you have to believe me,” I begged, tears blurring my vision. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m telling you the truth.”

The predator lurked closer to his prey.

Jump him. Knock him down and pummel him before he has the chance to do it to you.

Those eyes. Were those the eyes his targets saw as their hearts beat for the last time?

I spun and sprinted out of the office, down the hallway, and into the crisp air outside—fleeing into the sanctuary of the woods. I wish I was wearing more than a T-shirt and jeans, but when I’d thrown these clothes back on in a haste after making love, I didn’t realize I’d need socks, shoes, and a coat to flee for my life in the bitter cold.

“Goddammit, Ivy!” he shouted. “Get back here.”

He didn’t deserve my tears. He didn’t deserve to know how deep this cracked me inside or how it echoed with the skepticism I’d faced from others.

All those times I’d begged everyone to believe me, that there was a bigger reason my father killed himself, and they cast me aside, labeling me as a grief-stricken daughter in denial.

Now, Grayson didn’t believe me and was casting me aside, too. Labeling me an enemy of the state, a mass murderer, an evil person who deserved to die.

I thought we’d shared something so deep, it wouldn’t be shaken, let alone so easily.

What a naive idiot I’d been, to fall for him and to believe that I mattered more to him than this. That I meant enough to him to give me the benefit of the doubt or at least ask me about this instead of chasing me through the forest.

I bit back the burning in my throat and focused on my escape through scratching branches and ice-cold earth against my bare feet, but he caught me. Of course he did.

And he slammed my back against a tree, yanking my cell phone from my hand and shoving it into his back pocket.

Leaving me at his mercy.

“Please.” After all those self-defense and fighting classes, begging left a bitter taste in my mouth. Or maybe that was the putrid smell of heartbreak, but Grayson had the upper hand in this battle. More lethal fighting skills, knowledge of the terrain, knowledge of where he may have stashed weapons. “If you ever cared for me, if any part of what we had was real, don’t do this.”

But it was too late.

When a predator hunts down his prey, it doesn’t have a happy ending.

“You think I’m going to kill you,” he growled.

Which confused me. Why did that almost sound like a question? And a stupid one at that.

I’ll point you to evidence A: the forearm to my chest. Evidence B: the chase through the woods. Evidence C: that murderous look in his eyes that caused me to flee in the first place.

“Are you the man in the woods?” His voice had an undercurrent of rage.

“What man in the woods?” I choked.

Were his eyes…shimmering?

That’s when I realized what he was talking about. His own version of a big bad wolf—the man he had seen in the woods outside of his home the night his father was murdered. The man he had metaphorically chased his entire life, had metaphorically ended repeatedly. A man responsible for death and pain and heartbreak, who destroyed families and killed the souls of children like him. The man in the woods, his metaphorical Moby Dick, if you will.

And the glassiness in his eyes told me that he’d let me much farther into his heart than I realized.

Which could either be the biggest threat to my life. Or my only hope…

“Look into my eyes.” My voice trembled. “I know loss. I know pain. I lost my dad, too, and I’d never wish that on anyone, Grayson.”

Our breaths were the only sound in the silence that stretched endlessly between us.

I could see that he believed me—or at least part of him did—and I could see the struggle ravaging his features. If he really, truly believed I was a bad guy, I’d be dead already.

Yet here he was, holding me, staring into the depth of my gaze, desperate for an explanation.

“Someone is setting me up,” I realized. “And they might be setting you up, too.”

He scrutinized me, his breathing slowing down as his grip loosened.

I reached down and placed his hand on my chest.

“You know what’s in my heart,” I said. “If you really think I’m capable of murdering innocent people,” I continued in a shaky voice, “then kill me right now.”

Grayson’s chest heaved as he searched my face, my soul. Seconds stretched into eternity as I panted, praying that he would see the truth in my face. Every heartbeat felt like forever, with my body in the vulnerable clutches of a deadly operative.

And then, slowly, the hardness in Grayson’s expression began to soften. The crease between his brows smoothed, his shoulders sagging as his grip on my chest loosened even more.

Until finally, he dropped his arms.

Releasing me.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice rough with emotion.

I should have just felt grateful, relieved that he believed me. Honored, even, that he chose to believe me despite whatever was on his laptop screen.

But my heart. It was too busy burning to death.

I couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

After what we had shared together, baring our deepest fears and vulnerabilities, how could he have thought that little of me for even a split second?

What could be on that screen that had the power to erase everything we had been through? My gaze swept back to the cabin, where those images had changed everything.

“I want to see them again,” I said. “The pictures. Closer this time.”

He probably wouldn’t let me see. After all, it had to be confidential CIA information, but to my surprise, Grayson nodded.

We walked in silence back to the cabin—my attention darting around the woods as I wondered if I should try to escape again. But it was no use. The only way to survive was to get to the bottom of this, and I couldn’t do that without a better picture of what I was facing.

“Who is that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the computer screen.

“Ivan Vosch.” Grayson watched my face, looking for any indication that the name meant something to me, I guess.

Probably still having doubts then.

My stupid heart. There it goes again. Stop sobbing. He’s an assassin. What did you think, you’d found some clandestine love affair, Ivy?

Yes, my heart sobbed. Yes, I did.

“Should I know who that is?”

“The most dangerous arms dealer in the world.”

Jesus.

“I’ve never met him,” I declared. “These photographs are fake.”

“It’s not just these, Ivy. There’s a series of them. Among other evidence showing you’re part of his organization.”

Well, at least it took more than fake photos to break my heart, I guess. Lucky me.

“In what capacity?” Did he even stop to think about how ridiculous that sounded? “What the hell could I offer some arms dealer?”

“Could be various roles within his organization. Like a health-care provider, off the books for if or when his men get injured.”

“But you didn’t stop to think about vital facts or motives?” I balked. “Just slammed me against a tree?”

Don’t snap at him like this. He could change his mind and break your neck.

“The evidence doesn’t say why, just shows that you are.”

I clenched my fists.

“This makes no sense,” I said. “Why would someone go through this much effort to manufacture evidence against me?”

Grayson pinched the bridge of his nose, finally thinking, evidently. “I don’t know.”

“Even if someone wanted me dead, why do something this sophisticated to kill me?”

Grayson scrubbed his face while I tried to swallow the lava coursing down my vocal cords.

“You want to hear the craziest part of all of this?” I challenged. “Even more than realizing some person is trying to frame me?”

I took a step back, putting distance between us.

“I actually thought you knew me better than to think I would ever be capable of something like this.”

Was it irrational? Maybe. Unfair? Perhaps. After all, Grayson was a seasoned agent who was staring down the barrel of a mountain of evidence against me. He probably would never trust his heart over cold, hard facts.

But it hurt all the same.

“Ivy, wait.”

I didn’t wait; I went to the living room and paced. ’Cause that really helps in life-or-death situations.

Suddenly, a firm hand was on my shoulder.

I twisted out of his grip easily, and he let me, staring at me with apology in his features.

“Ivy, I’m sorry. You have to admit, that’s a lot of evidence.”

“Yep. I get it. Don’t worry about it, Grayson. Thanks for not snapping my neck.” Sarcasm battled with anger. “But if you’ll excuse me, I’d rather take my chances alone than spend another second with you.”

“Ivy.”

I put my shoes and socks on, followed by my jacket. I had no idea where I’d go, and he’d probably hunt me down anyway, but whatever.

What else could I do? Wait around for him to change his mind again? ’Cause that’s what he did when he got those files—he’d changed his mind about my innocence and intended to kill me.

“They’ll send someone else for you,” he warned.

My damn body stilled.

“If you stay with me, you have a shot, but if you don’t…”

I turned around.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “They have all that evidence against me, and no one is going to believe my word over that kind of evidence.”

“I believe you.”

“Do you?” I asked. “Do you actually believe I’m a hundred percent innocent? Or are you just having enough doubts to not kill me yet?”

Grayson thinned his lips and came closer.

“I believe you,” he declared. “And I never should have doubted you.”

Stupid heart. Don’t you dare reach for him. He doesn’t deserve it.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” I said. “With that kind of evidence against me, no one else will believe me, so maybe I should just spend whatever time I have left with my mom and Grams.”

I started walking again until he said, “I thought you were a fighter.”

“Fighters know when to tap out.”

“Not if they have something up their sleeve.”

I spun around. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Grayson shoved his hands in his pockets, his bare torso seeming even leaner with the movement.

“You made a good point,” he said. “That someone might be setting you up.”

“Might be?” I snapped.

He cocked his head. “And they might be either using me against you or setting me up, too.”

Yeah, well, they weren’t equal, were they? Another hit on his murder list compared to, you know, my gravestone.

“I think I know someone who might be able to help sort this out.”

Hope took flight in my chest. I was good at a lot of things, but I didn’t know anyone with the skills to figure out where this fake evidence came from. Or how I could clear my name before it was too late.

“But we need to hurry,” he said.

I looked toward the road and back at Grayson. On my own, my chances of surviving were pretty damn low.

But should I, once again, entrust my life to a lethal man who could change his mind at any moment about my guilt? And put a bullet in my skull before I even saw him pull out the gun?