The Spy Who Came For Christmas(16)

“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 * who was at your home last night. And this guy—he was aiming at you, Jemma. If this was a breakin, 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.