Page 78 of Crossfire

“How should I know?” Daniel threw his hands in the air, his voice exacerbated. “Maybe it’s a test—to see if we can do it without screwing this up, too.”

I could see in his grimace that he regretted his cutting words—screwing this up—the moment they escaped his mouth. But despite the flicker of remorse, he maintained his anger at my defiance.

“Can I see a photo?” I asked.

“We execute orders, Grayson. We don’t question them.”

“If this was someone you”—I was going to saycared about—“felt confident about, wouldn’t you go the extra step to make sure we had the right target?”

“You spent two days with her; you think maybe you got a little too close? Seeing what you want to see?”

“One way to find out.”

Daniel clenched his jaw. “This probably explains why she was in the parking garage, Grayson. She’s in bed with them.”

No. I think someone close to her might be, but not her.

“You know why I do this for a living,” I reminded him.

If Ivy turned out to be innocent and ended up dead, her blood would be on my hands. I’d be no better than the monsters I hunted. I had to uncover the truth, even if it meant risking everything.

“So, you can imagine my hesitation if my gut tells me the target might be innocent,” I continued. “If I don’t stop for a beat and confirm it, I’m no better than the man that killed my father.”

I didn’t tell him the second reason. That I had started to feel something for Ivy, and that was the first time that happened in my life. If she turned out to be the very monster I dedicated my life to hunting?

Talk about a mindfuck.

I needed to see it with my own eyes, to fully accept it.

Finally, Daniel took a deep breath and scrubbed his face.

“Fine,” he allowed.

He stormed off down the hallway, and a few seconds later, he returned with an iPad. He typed a few things on the screen and then held it up to me.

There was a file with the name and address of Samantha Jackson.

And on it was the photo of Ivy.

A rock plummeted in my stomach, and my heartbeat drummed in my ears as I stared at the photo, trying to comprehend this mind-bending situation.

“Why didn’t you show me the photo before?” I asked.

“You didn’t ask before.”

“Photos help confirm targets, Daniel.”

“In crowds. Samantha Jackson lives alone. The mission was in the middle of the night in the dark. It was a simple job.”

Simple.

“If it was so simple, why did they keep the fact she’d been in that parking garage from us? Something doesn’t smell right.”

Daniel set the iPad down and placed both hands on the countertop. His knuckles whitened, and his jaw clenched and unclenched.

“I don’t know, but her fate is sealed, Grayson. Don’t get attached, just get the job done.”

“I need to see the evidence myself.”

---