Page 150 of Crossfire

Cell phone blockers.The realization hit me like a punch to the stomach. Technically illegal, they were rarely used by the CIA in high-stakes missions, so why this one?

Whatever was going down, there was no communication in or out.

My mind raced, the implications of the situation sinking in. Hunter wouldn’t even be able to call his security team for help, and if they were using cell phone blockers, chances were, they were also jamming the signal to his security feeds, too. His security team could be sitting tight, looking at ghost feeds, having no idea of the hell going on in or around his house.

Fuck! I didn’t have the number to his security team.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles throbbing as I pushed the car to its limits. I had to get there, had to stop whatever was happening to everyone I loved, before it was too late…

66

IVY

Sitting in the great room, I typed another message to Grayson with trembling fingers.

Me: Are you okay? Please respond.

I hit Send, my heart pounding as several agonizing seconds passed.

Message failed to deliver.

The words glared at me from the screen, mocking my desperation.

“I haven’t seen Grayson like this before.” Hunter’s voice startled me, and I turned to find him standing behind me with a glass of scotch in his hand. The faint hint of its smoky scent wafted through the air while his sapphire eyes, so different from Grayson’s emerald ones, studied me with concern.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Hunter swirled the burnt-orange liquid in his glass, the ice cubes clanking softly against the sides. “For years, he’s been…empty. Going through the motions without truly living. But with you?” Hope flickered across his features. “I’ve seen a spark in him that I thought had died with our father.”

I swallowed hard, fighting to maintain composure. “He’s worried about my safety.” Instead of worrying about his own.

I typed another quick message, and at least this one was trying to go through.

That had to be a good sign, right?

“It’s more than that,” Hunter’s voice was low and earnest. “With Grayson, there was before and after. Before our father…died.” He choked that last word out with a deeper, aching tone. “He was your typical happy kid.”

Hunter’s face fell into a grimace at the aching memory.

“But once my dad died”—Hunter shook his head—“Grayson didn’t smile, didn’t associate with people. He just…existed. But with you”—Hunter’s searched my face—“I’ve seen a flicker of that little boy coming back.”

My throat swelled.

“And I don’t want him to go away, because if he does, I don’t think he’ll ever return.” A small pause elapsed. “Which is why I have a…I guess you could call it afavorto ask.”

I blinked, unable to hide my confusion. What could some billionaire want from me?

“Be patient with him,” he said gently. “He’s trying, even if it might not always seem that way, so please don’t give up on him.”

“Why would I give up on him?”

I mean, other than him being a lethal agent who probably had a body count that would make me shudder.

“Grayson”—Hunter rubbed his jaw—“has never had a relationship. I can only imagine he’ll have missteps along the way.”

Missteps. Like holding me hostage and thinking an orgasm could make me forgive him for almost following through with killing me.

Yeah.Misstepswas an understatement.

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