Page 44 of My Secret Santa Clayton

My heart hammered against my ribs like it wanted out. This was no time to freeze up. Clay took a nasty hit straight to the mouth. Blood spurted, and he spat a red streak into the snow.

I swung the branch again, a desperate arc in the cold air, but I missed—because the guy was running. All I could do was watch as he sprinted off to the tree-line, my adrenaline burst fading to leave me overwhelmed and wrecked.

My heart was pounding so hard I could barely hear anything else.

We…we weren’t dead.

Thank God.

“Grace!” Clay shouted, stepping closer.

Because I was falling...my whole body going limp.

He grabbed me as my knees buckled, the world tilting dangerously. “Talk to me, what the hell is happening?”

I tried to speak, but it was hard. I was having a bad panic attack. I needed to get my shit together, but I couldn’t find a way to do that after staring death in the face. “I knew it,” I managed to gasp out again and again.

“Knew what? Grace, you're scaring me.” His arms were steel bands around me, the only thing keeping me from crashing to the ground.

“They found me, Clay,” I whispered, voice cracking. My head felt light, like it might float away.

“Jesus…” Clay’s eyes were wide as he moved the hand holding my head, and I saw red on his fingertips. “Jesus, Grace, you’re bleeding.”

Oh…oh, it wasn’t just a panic attack. I’d been hit.

“Damn it,” he swore softly, holding me tighter. “We'll figure this out, Grace. I've got you.”

“Got me?” I repeated, a hollow laugh escaping me. “Clay, you can't even begin to understand.”

I looked up at him, his rugged face splattered with blood, and something shifted inside me. This mountain of a man who'd once broken my heart was my lifeline now, whether he liked it or not.

“I need to get you inside,” he muttered. “Stay awake, alert. I’m not letting you go.”

TWENTY

Clay

I knew Grace wouldn’t like it, but I had to bring someone else in on this.

What had happened this morning scared the hell out of me—and I wasn’t easily scared. Someone had attacked Grace, and all the pieces were starting to click into place. Her paranoia, the way her eyes darted around like someone was watching…this was why.

We needed help, and I knew exactly who to call.

Because my best friends in town had been through their own kind of hell—a real estate scandal turned deadly—last year. And I knew they could help.

Kat and Gabe got to my house maybe a half-hour after I called, and I jerked open the door to find them both pale and armed. I gestured them inside, hushing Bear as he wagged his tail.

“Grace is asleep,” I said low, stepping aside to let them in, their boots thumping against the wooden floor as they entered.

“Jesus,” Kat muttered under her breath, eyeing the shotgun leaning by the door. “That bad, huh?”

“Take a seat. Coffee?” I asked, already heading towards the pot.

“Please,” Kat sighed, dropping into one of the chairs. Gabe just nodded, perching on the edge of the couch, hands clasped between his knees, eyes darting around like he expected the walls to start shooting at us.

It was good to have another Marine on this.

He got how it felt to have to protect his woman at all costs.

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