Crossfire (Cross Duet #1)

55. IVY

55

IVY

As soon as the door opened, Hunter’s gaze snapped to Ivy.

He tried to keep it subtle, but Hunter’s glare swept back to me with a look that shouted, You brought the hostage here? To my home? Are you fucking kidding me? Even though I’d tried to disguise it, she might recognize my voice or some other identifying feature and figure out it was me who was babysitting her!

But I needed Hunter’s help, and based on my last count, even with the hostage help, he still owed me.

Besides, I cared about Ivy, so it was only a matter of time before she’d meet him anyway.

I mean, I assumed that’s what people in relationships did. That’s what Hunter did when he started dating Luna, so we might as well get this official meeting over with.

“Ivy”—I motioned with my hand—“this is my brother Hunter. Hunter, this is my girlfriend.”

At my proclamation, Ivy’s cheeks incinerated with crimson while Hunter clenched his fists at his sides, the muscle in his jaw pulsing like he was silently praying for the strength to not throttle me right here and now. Helping me hold a woman hostage was bad enough. Inviting her to his home where she might recognize him? Worse. Inviting this woman into my life for the foreseeable future?

Well, that was just asking for trouble, wasn’t it?

But again, that was the pot calling the kettle black. He’d held his girlfriend against her will, and I’d helped.

Still, part of me knew bringing Ivy here was reckless. But another part—the part that was falling for her hard and fast—couldn’t bear to let her out of my sight. Not when her life was in danger.

Besides, we Lockwoods stuck together. Through all our sins and secrets, we helped each other, no matter what.

As Hunter gathered his strength to not slaughter me, Ivy glowered at me so intensely, I could almost smell the singe of fuel from the rockets firing into my skull.

Which confused me. Wasn’t claiming her as my girlfriend, like…a good thing? Or was defining our relationship on the fly, in front of someone else, without preapproval frowned upon? Based on the daggers, I guess it was the latter.

Great. This whole relationship thing was going to have a steeper learning curve than I imagined. Who knew you could get in trouble for professing your intentions to someone?

“Actually”—Ivy plastered a smile onto her face—“we’re friends.”

Friends?

Okay, I’d admit I wasn’t a master in the relationship department, but I had just finger-banged her in the car, and then she screwed me senseless.

Friends? It was my turn to be insulted.

I leaned down and brought my mouth so close to her ear that my lips brushed against her earlobe as I whispered, “You’ve come on my tongue. I’d say that makes us more than friends, Kitten.”

Ivy’s breath caught, and she shivered slightly before narrowing her eyes at me, determined not to let me fluster her.

I stared. Right back.

She’d admit we were more than friends tonight if it was the last thing I did.

“Grayson?” Luna’s wide smile appeared behind Hunter. “Oh my gosh.”

She slammed into my chest, wrapping her arms around me. I wasn’t what you would call a hugger, but I liked Luna. We’d been through a lot together.

I guess something fundamentally shifts in your relationship when your brother’s girlfriend slams into you, covered in blood, with no top on.

And begs you for help.

But I digress.

“It’s so good to see you, Luna.”

Luna stepped back and rested her hands on my shoulders, staring at my face for a few seconds before finally pivoting toward Ivy.

That’s when Luna’s face really lit up—wider eyes, gigantic smile.

“I’m Luna.”

Ivy took Luna’s outstretched hand.

“Ivy.”

“Come in, come in,” Luna insisted. “Jace and Bryson will be here soon.”

Hunter waited one whopping second after we’d stepped inside before he said, “Grayson, a word?”

I’d been dreading this…

“Ivy, what can I get you to drink?” Luna asked as she and Ivy ambled into the great room.

Hopefully, Luna wouldn’t ask her too many questions before I could return.

I followed Hunter through his kitchen, down the hallway, and into his massive garage, where the gleam of polished cars sat under carefully placed lighting and the faint smell of gasoline and motor oil lingered in the air.

“What the hell are you thinking?” Hunter grabbed his hips.

“You wore a mask.”

“And then you made her your girlfriend?”

I arched an eyebrow. “We’ve both done some regrettable things, wouldn’t you agree?”

Hunter’s jaw tightened. But instead of fighting me on it, he ran a hand through his hair instead.

“Do I need to be worried?” he asked.

“No,” I assured.

It took several seconds of him measuring my resolve before finally letting out a planet’s worth of oxygen from his lungs.

“What time will Barry be here?” I pressed. Barry Mansfield, the private investigator I had asked to look into the evidence.

“Seven.” Hunter evaluated me curiously. “So, now, you can finally tell me, what is going on?”

I had planned on keeping my secrets buried for the rest of my life, but everything had changed, hadn’t it? I suppose I could still string him along with half-truths and denials; I had taken an oath with the CIA to never divulge their secrets.

But that was the whole problem. The CIA had either been infiltrated or somehow corrupted with this so-called proof that Ivy was a violent associate of Vosch. I had no idea what was going on or who I could trust.

With one exception—my family.

Had we grown apart after my mom died? Sure. Thus all the secrets between us, but deep down, we’d always be there for each other.

Case in point, Hunter came to my aid in the middle of the night, at the risk of his own demise.

All he asked in return was to understand what was going on.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I said. “Aside from Barry. Not even Luna.”

Hunter waited, his silence his confirmation.

“We’re going to want scotch for this conversation,” I said.