by Cynthia Eden
Grayson had moved, so fast, and he took the impact, catching her so that she fell onto him. And he held her there, close against his body. He had to be freezing because he was flush against that ice but…
He kissed her.
His fingers sank into her hair and his mouth opened on hers. Yes. She loved kissing him. Loved the slide of his lips and the sexy thrust of his tongue. She pushed closer to him, enjoying the heat of his body. Enjoying every single thing about him.
She caught his lower lip and gave him a light nip.
“Jemma…”
Now her name wasn’t a yell. It was a sexy demand. But Zack was around someplace, and she didn’t intend to give the kid a show.
She stood, balancing easily on her blades, and offered her hand to Grayson. “Want to try again?”
He looked at her hand. Looked at her. And nodded. His fingers curled around hers.
And Eartha Kitt’s immortal Santa Baby began to play over the speakers.
***
Grayson Cole was fucking ice staking. Laughing and skating and acting as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
The sonofabitch.
Rage built as he watched the lovers on the ice. Always touching. Always glancing at each other.
It wasn’t fair. Grayson had wrecked his world and all along…he’d had her waiting. The woman who melted the freaking Iceman. Who made Grayson light up like a Christmas tree. This wasn’t the spy he’d known. This wasn’t a cold-blooded killer.
This was a man with a very, very obvious weakness.
He almost felt sorry for the woman. She had no idea that she’d just been yanked into the middle of a war. She’d suffer. She’d beg. She’d die before it was all over.
Yes, he almost did feel sorry for her.
It’s all Grayson’s fault. Everything…it all went back to Grayson.
He turned away from the rink and headed back toward the crowd that waited on Main Street. Or, more specifically, to the idiot who would be supplying him with information. An idiot he’d scouted out last night.
Matthew Vail.
Thanks for the ride, asshole. It was hard not to laugh when he saw the guy. After he’d watched Matthew fight with Grayson, it had been an obvious choice to take the fellow’s truck. A quick bit of hot-wiring, and he’d been in business.
Matthew was standing there, watching the carolers, drinking some hot chocolate. Swaying his body a bit in time with the song. Douche.
He’d watched the guy take flowers into the chocolate shop, and he’d wondered if Grayson had some competition. Let’s find out.
“Hey, man!” He slapped his hand on Matthew’s shoulder and pasted a wide, friendly smile on his face.
Matthew turned toward him, with a hesitant smile on his face.
“Love your gym,” he said. Total bullshit. He’d never been in there. “Thanks for a great place to work out while I’m in town.”
Matthew’s chest puffed out as his smile widened.
Studying his prey, he said, “Didn’t I see you with that pretty chocolate shop lady earlier?” He whistled. “Talk about sweet…”
Matthew’s smile faltered. “She is.” He glanced toward the darkened shop.
“That your girl?” Tell me about her. Tell me everything.
“No.” Matthew’s smile was definitely gone now. “No, she isn’t my girl.”
He quickly held up his hands. “Sorry, man! Didn’t mean to say the wrong thing.”
But Matthew shook his head. “You didn’t. My fault.” He rolled back his shoulders. “I should be going.”
You are not helping me, buddy. Not at all. “Want me to buy you a drink?” he said quickly. Maybe that would make the guy talk—and get him to reveal more about the cute little chocolatier.
“Not for me. I screwed up with Jemma, but I won’t be making that mistake again. Getting my priorities straight now.” Matthew inclined his head. “Hope you enjoy your stay in Holly.”
Matthew shuffled away.
Fucking dead end.
But…his gaze slid toward that darkened shop. Jemma was busy with Grayson right then. Her shop was just waiting. Maybe he’d go over there and take a look around. See if there was anything inside the place that would tell him more about Jemma White.
Yeah, he’d just go over to the chocolate shop and take a quick look inside. Let’s see if you have some secrets I can use, Jemma.
He focused his gaze on her shop…and slipped across Main Street.
Chapter Six
He was used to dodging bullets. Used to sneaking into buildings. Disarming his enemies.
But taking a casual stroll down a street decked out for the holidays? Holding Jemma’s hand? Stopping to sip hot chocolate?
I am not used to this shit, but I sure do like it.
The carolers were still singing. A guy in a big, red Santa suit had even joined the fun. Grayson’s eyes narrowed on Santa. Was that…Brad? It was hard to tell with that bushy, white beard and the extra padding, but it sure looked like it might be his buddy.
Grayson’s lips twitched.
This is what I needed. This place. His gaze tracked over to Jemma.
This woman. A woman who’d gotten right past his defenses. A woman who was slipping into his heart.
Her head turned toward him. She caught him staring at her, and a wide smile curved her lips. He just had to bend toward her and put his lips against hers. The crowd vanished, and it was just…her.
Sweet Jemma.
Jemma White, where have you been all my life?
Someone bumped him from behind. He looked back and saw a line of kids rushing toward Santa. Kids. He didn’t have much experience with them, that was for damn sure.
So why in the hell was he suddenly picturing a little girl with Jemma’s blue eyes?
“How about we get away from the throng?” Jemma said. Her fingers tugged on his. “Maybe go someplace a little more private?”
Oh, hell, yes, that sounded like a great plan to him. They turned around and headed back to her shop. Her car was there, and so was his SUV. They’d get the vehicles and go…where?
Her place?
His? He was renting a little cabin up on the mountain. Small but definitely big enough for two. And if Jemma wanted to be alone with him—
“I turned off that light.” Jemma stopped beside him. Her head tilted as she stared at her shop. Grayson followed her gaze. He could see the faint glow coming from her chocolate shop. The lights weren’t on in the front of the shop—it seemed as if one of the back lights was turned on, a light in her kitchen.
“I know I turned off that light,” she said as her voice dropped to a whisper. “I always turn off the lights.”
He didn’t doubt her for a second. “Stay here.” Then he was rushing forward, not going for the front door of her shop, but heading for the back.
“Grayson, no!” She’d run behind him. She grabbed his arm just as he rounded the side of the building. “We should go get Brad! He’s the sheriff!”
“Yeah, well, Santa’s busy now. I’ve got this.”
“You’ve got a would-be robber? No!” She shook her head. “Not safe! This isn’t you camping out on my couch. This isn’t—”
The guy ran out of her shop at that moment, sending the back door flying open. He was dressed in black, and the guy had yanked a ski mask down over his head. He looked like a big, hulking shadow.
A big, armed shadow.
Grayson saw the guy lift the weapon that was in his right hand. A gun. Only that gun wasn’t aimed at Grayson.
Oh, the fuck no. Grayson lunged for Jemma even as that bastard fired. Grayson and Jemma tumbled to the ground, and he made sure to shield her with his body. The bullet hadn’t made a sound when it was fired—
Silencer.
They had no cover right there. He had to get Jemma to safety. “Stay low, sweetheart,” he murmured in her ear. Then he reached down and snagged the knife he always kept strapped to his ankle. The shooter had retreated, his steps l
oud and rushed, but Grayson could easily pinpoint his location.
And he’d always been very, very good with his knife.
He took a second to aim, and then he threw that knife. It struck their attacker in the upper, right shoulder and the guy yelled.
“Let’s move,” Grayson said, “now.” They hauled ass toward his SUV. He made sure to keep his body between her and any threat, and seconds later, he had the door to his vehicle open. He pushed Jemma inside. “Stay low,” he told her once more.
“But Grayson—”
He took his gun out of the glove box. The weight was familiar, reassuring, in his hand.
“Grayson?” Jemma’s voice was barely a breath of sound. She seemed lost, confused.
He wanted to take her into his arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay, but…he had a bastard—a bastard who shot at Jemma!—running wild out there, and Grayson needed to deal with the guy. The man’s thundering footsteps told Grayson that the jerk was desperate to escape the scene, but after he’d fired at Jemma—
You think I’ll let you vanish?
No, oh, no. Grayson turned and rushed after the guy.
***
What? What in the hell had just happened?
Jemma was crouched low in the SUV—because, yes, bullets were flying. Bullets. And she wasn’t in the mood to die. She also didn’t want Grayson to die, not when she was falling for the guy.
Only…she wasn’t exactly sure who Grayson was anymore. He’d pulled a knife out of his boot and thrown it like some kind of action movie star. And he’d yanked out that gun from his glove box, held it so casually, and given chase after the bad guy without any hesitation.
Who is he? What is going on?
She lifted her head just a little, intending to peek out of the passenger side window and see what was happening—
“Jemma!”
She ducked back down and wished that Grayson had left her with a weapon. I need to go help him. I can’t just hide. I need to watch his—
“Jemma!”
This time, the voice registered. Brad’s voice. She raised her head again and saw Santa staring back at her through the glass. She cracked open the door—she’d locked it because what good would an unlocked door really be—and Brad grabbed her hand.
“Did I just see Grayson running with a gun?” Brad demanded.
“Someone was in my shop.” A robber. Must have been a robber, right? “He had a gun. He shot at us, and Grayson gave chase.”
Brad automatically reached for his holster, only it wasn’t there. Santa didn’t carry a gun, did he?
And then she heard the rush of footsteps. Brad whirled around, his body crouching, and Jemma tensed.
“He got away.”
Grayson. Grayson was back and safe and she jumped out of that SUV and knocked Santa out of her way as she ran toward Grayson. Ignoring the gun he still had cradled—way too casually—in his hand, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. “Do not ever leave me like that again.” Don’t go chasing off into the night after some crazy guy who just shot at us!
For an instant, he stiffened against her, and she started to pull back, feeling awkward, but then his left arm came around her and he held her tight. So tight. As if he didn’t ever want to let her go.
And I feel the same way about him. Only…
Jemma looked up at him. Shadows slid over his face.
“He had a motorcycle waiting at the edge of the woods. The guy jumped on it and got away.” Grayson’s voice was grim. “Brad, we need to get your deputies searching for him, now. This wasn’t some amateur hour. He had his ride stashed, ready to go, and the guy’s gun was fitted with a silencer.”
It had been? She hadn’t noticed. She’d been rather busy diving for cover and trying to not scream. Or die. “It was a robber,” Jemma said.
His hold tightened on her. “I don’t think so. Not after the asshole who was at your home last night. And this guy—he was aiming at you, Jemma. If this was a break-in, the perp would have focused just on running. Not shooting. He wanted to hurt you, and that shit is not going to happen on my watch.”
She shivered. From the cold. From the fear that was growing inside of her.
And…from the absolutely lethal tone of Grayson’s voice.
She looked up into Grayson’s eyes. “Who are you?”
His eyelashes flickered.
“Gray?”
“I’m a man who can keep you safe.”
She pulled from his arms. Looked at the gun in his hand. Then back at his face. You’re also a man used to hunting, used to attacking your prey. Because there had been no hesitation from him. No fear, no panic. He’d gone cold and hard and he’d attacked without even a second thought.
He’s friends with Brad. Brad is law enforcement. “Are you a cop?” Why hadn’t they had this talk before? She’d been so focused on the here and now with Grayson. But…
I need to know more about him.
“Not exactly,” he said.
What kind of answer was that? “Gray, what are you?”
His gaze cut to Brad. Brad was stone silent.
And Grayson didn’t answer her.
***
That sonofabitch.
He braked his motorcycle on one of the long, twisting dirt paths that cut through the woods. His shoulder was throbbing and bleeding too much—mostly because he’d yanked out the knife when he’d been running.
I should have left it in. Everyone knew a wound bled more once the freaking knife was taken out, but he hadn’t exactly been given a whole lot of options.
His back teeth clenched. It had been too close. And he’d gotten nothing from that shop. He’d barely had time to search for anything before Grayson had come rushing up. Grayson, always trying to be the hero.
You’re not going to win this time, jerkoff. I won’t let you.
He’d have to hide his bike. Try not to catch too much attention. This town was too small. He couldn’t hang around much longer, not without attracting notice.
So do the job. You know Grayson’s weakness. Attack. No more waiting.
Yeah, yeah, that was exactly what he needed to do. Attack.
His head turned. He knew where Jemma White lived. She’d be heading home soon—she had to go there. After the scare, she’d probably want a familiar place.
I’ll wait for her. I’ll get Jemma. Kill her. And then Grayson can find her broken body.
No more dicking around.
Time to attack.
***
Jemma stared at him as if he were a stranger.
And, yeah, sure, they hadn’t exactly known each other long but…
“I’m still the same man,” Grayson said, aware that his words came out sounding far too much like an angry growl. Hell, what was he? Some kind of bear? He cleared his throat and tried again. “Jemma, I’m the same man you kissed at that ice skating rink. The same man that Brad has vouched for. You can trust me.”
But she turned away from him and pushed open the passenger door of his SUV. They’d stayed in town, talked more with Brad, waited and hoped that the deputies would turn up their perp…
And the temperature had started to drop. Jemma had shivered and hunched into her coat and Grayson hadn’t wanted to keep her out there—where she could be in danger—any longer. So he’d brought her back to his place.
He jumped out of the SUV and hurried to her side.
She stared up at his cabin. “You should have taken me home.”
“He knows where you live, Jemma.”
Her gaze cut toward him. “You think he’s targeting me.”
“I think there have been two…incidents.” Attacks. “Your home and your store. And when he fired, sweetheart, he was aiming at you.” He didn’t want to remember the fear that had burst inside of him during that terrible moment. Grayson took her hand in his and led her up his porch steps. “You’re safer here. Let the deputies search tonight. No one will bother you here.”
He
unlocked his door and waited for her to cross the threshold first. The cabin actually belonged to Brad, and he owed the guy for letting him use the place. Not too big—kind of a cozy place with one unforgettable view of the mountains.
“I should have gone home,” Jemma murmured as he shut the door. “I could have done that.” She turned toward him. “But the truth is…I wanted to stay with you.”
He leaned back against the door and tried to figure out how not to screw this up.
“I don’t want any secrets between us.” Jemma lifted her chin. “Is that too much to ask?”
Considering that his life was all about secrets… “Maybe you should be careful what you ask for.”
“I’ve been careful too long as it is.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach and for a moment, her gaze turned distant. “If you think this guy is targeting me…” She gave a bitter little laugh. A strange sound because his Jemma wasn’t bitter. She was happy and sweet and he felt better when he was near her.
“Why?” Jemma demanded. “Why is he after me? What have I done?”
He strode toward her and caught her hands in his. “Not a damn thing, Jemma. This isn’t on you. It’s on the dumbass who thinks he can play a game with you.”
“But I’ve been safe, for so long. He’s gone.”
Grayson stilled. “He?”
“He can’t hurt me anymore. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.” Her gaze dropped to the floor and her long lashes shielded her eyes.
“Jemma…” The fear he’d felt before was back. And this time, his heart ached. Because he knew his Jemma had been hurt before. Badly. All of the signs were there.
“I want to trust you,” Jemma whispered. “Tell me your secrets, Gray. And I will tell you all of mine. Secrets I’ve never told anyone else.”
His hands rose and curled around her shoulders. I’m out of the business now. I walked away. And Jemma…
No secrets. Not between us. Because he already knew Jemma wasn’t going to be some fling. She was much, much more.
“I saw the way you handled the gun. The way you just ran after that guy without hesitating. If you’re not a cop, what are you? FBI? DEA?”
“CIA.”
Her lashes lifted. That bright blue gaze locked on him. Seemed to see right through him.
