Page 19 of Crossfire

Don’t, Ivy.

My heart thundered in my chest, and my thumbs trembled, but I swallowed it back with determination as I fired off a text.

Me: Who are you, Bob?

I stared at the screen, waiting for the indication to change fromDeliveredtoRead, as it had done in all our other communications, and I also watched for the three dots to indicate he was responding. A long shot? Yes, especially when you consider that if he was alive, he’d be royally pissed at having taken a beating. But surely, he’d also be pissed I was alive, so maybe he’d be stupid enough to try and convince me to talk to him again.

In which case, I could come with a swarm of cops.

Two blocks away, the city bus appeared, hurtling toward me as I pulled up his contact and hovered my thumb over the Call button. My fingers trembled, a mixture of dread and hope taking flight in my stomach, making me want to hurl.

What would he say?

What would I say?

I swallowed over the sudden tightness in my throat and pushed the button.

When it went straight to voice mail, I let out a shuddering breath.

Search:What does it mean if messages are not showing a read receipt and your call to that number goes right to voice mail?

Answer:Most likely, the person has blocked you.

My gut twisted as every last hope that this had been some sort of colossal mistake died a slow, painful death. And with it came three crushing truths I could no longer deny:

Bob had tried to kill me.

He might still be alive.

Now that he failed, I had no idea what he’d do next.

9

GRAYSON

Maybe today will be my first official kidnapping—if you don’t include the shit that I did with my brother a few weeks ago…

In fairness, while Ididstuff that man into the trunk of my car, killed him, and dumped his body into Lake Michigan, I would argue that was different because that had nothing to do with my CIA job. That fell more under the category of a…favor. After all, the guy had shot a family member of Hunter’s girlfriend.

But I digress.

This woman was unequivocally related to my job, and I had to gather information as quickly as possible.

I maintained a safe distance behind her, who remained engrossed in her cell phone until a city bus pulled up and came to a stop with a hiss. As the door opened, I waited briefly before boarding, securing the last available seat. It was close enough to keep the woman in view, but unfortunately, not close enough to see what she was looking at on her screen.

The bus was packed with people sitting shoulder to shoulder on the long bench-like seats around the perimeter. The cramped space heightened the smell of sweat, mixed with fried food, making the atmosphere even more uncomfortable. As Isettled into my seat, my mind raced with questions about the mysterious woman.

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