The Spy Who Came For Christmas(17)

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.

Grayson clarified, “Former CIA.” As of two weeks ago. “I can’t talk about my missions. They’re classified, but yeah, I know how to handle myself with a gun.” And at least twenty other weapons. And when he didn’t have a weapon, he still knew how to take down the enemy.

A faint furrow appeared between her brows. “CIA. Does that mean…what are you? Like, a spy or something?”

Exactly like a spy. “I’m out of the business now,” he told her again. “Just trying to live a normal life.” Because he was tired of the death and the lies. Jemma didn’t want secrets. Neither did he. Not with her. “I don’t have any family left, and this place—it seemed like it might be a good stopping point for me while I tried to figure out what the hell I’d be doing with myself next.” Maybe private security. Maybe freelance work.