Page 122 of Crossfire

“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?

53

IVY

Rule number one for being alone in the car with a hit man who tried to end your life and had just almost done it again: Be grateful. Be appreciative he changed his mind. And thank him for now vowing to help try to save your life.

Turns out, my heart wasn’t on board with these rules. It was too busy replaying how hurt it was, that he’d ever questioned my innocence after everything I’d shared.

Which was absurd. Anyone who had gotten those damning files would question it.

I would. And yet?

Irrationality, welcome to the party.

“I said I was sorry,” Grayson repeated.

I crossed my arms over my chest.

“You’ve been giving me the silent treatment for over an hour. You’re going to have to talk to me eventually.”

“You were going to kill me.”

“I wasn’t,” he claimed, but the doubt in his tone confirmed he’d considered it, at least for a minute, even if he didn’t go through with it in the end.

“You chased me and slammed me up against the tree.”

“You ran. I couldn’t let you get away,” he said, like that was an acceptable explanation.

“You thought I wasguilty.”

“It was a momentary slip.”

“A slip?” I snapped, glowering at him. “A slip is when you forget an anniversary. Not when you use your deadly skills to almost off your…” Your what? What was I about to say? I was certainly not his girlfriend.

P.S. After that little psychotic stunt, I never would be.

Ever.

Not that I was considering it before, let me be clear. All I had done was indulge in some fantasies of what it might be like to…well, it didn’t matter.

What mattered was that one minute, I was making love to Grayson and sharing secrets, and the next, he slammed me up against the tree with his murder forearm and serial-killer eyes.

“What I mean is,” Grayson sighed, “I shouldn’t have questioned your innocence.”

“But you did. Not just a little bit. Not like,Hey, Ivy, can you explain these unexplainable photographs on my computer?No, you grabbed me.” And probably would have killed me if I didn’t beg him to stop.

He had the audacity to let out an exacerbated sigh. “For the zillionth time, I’m sorry.”

He reached across the car and placed his hand on mine.

I yanked mine away.

“Tell me what I can do to make this up to you,” Grayson said.

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