The Spy Who Came For Christmas(9)

And he’d tied up his last case. The case that had gone straight to hell in a handbasket and left two other operatives dead. He’d barely managed to escape with the needed intel and his partner…

I won’t be seeing him again.

“It’s not like you can turn it off,” Brad continued, his voice hushed. “Once a spy, always a spy, right?”

Brad had been pulled into one of Grayson’s missions two years ago. He’d gotten clearance from those in power at the CIA and he’d learned the truth about Grayson’s work.

“So I need to know…” Brad’s hand tightened on his arm. “Did you bring trouble with you to my town? What do I need to be watching out for?”

Grayson shook his head. “No one should have followed me.” Because he wasn’t the same guy that he’d been in Paris or Madrid or Moscow. Each job brought him a new identity. But he wasn’t any of those aliases right then—he was just Gray.

Brad studied him a moment, then he let Grayson go. “You should stay away from Jemma.”

“Not happening.” The words were out before he even had a chance to think. An instinctive response. Primal. He needed to be close to her.

“Come on, Gray. You just met the woman. There are plenty of eligible women in this town—gorgeous women.”

Now he was getting pissed. “Jemma is gorgeous!”

“Hell, yeah, I get that but Jemma…Jemma is special.”

His eyes narrowed on Brad. Hadn’t they gone over this shit? He was sure he’d told the sheriff to back off. If he hadn’t been clear enough before, he was about to be crystal.

“She’s been through a lot.” Brad’s voice had gone grim. “I got worried about her because I knew she was different when she came back from college. And I did some digging. Maybe I shouldn’t have, maybe I should have minded my own damn business—”

“You’ve never been too good at that,” Grayson cut in to say. But he didn’t mean those words in a bad way. Brad just…he was Brad. Always trying to help other people, even when he should just be protecting himself. Only Brad never got that—he thought he was there to save the world.

I used to think the same way. But too many missions that went bad—they changed me. He’d been burned too many times. Lies and deception. Never knowing who to trust…it got old.

“Jemma doesn’t want people to know about what happened to her, and I’m not going to tell her secrets because I happen to value the woman’s friendship. Hell, if she even found out that I’d dug up the files…” Brad’s voice trailed away.

The files?

Brad exhaled slowly. “All I will say is that Jemma was hurt. She came back here, and I think she’s been hiding ever since. Jemma needs protection. She needs safety. What she doesn’t need…” And once more, Brad’s words just seemed to fall away.

But this time, Grayson knew just how his friend had been intending to finish his sentence.

What she doesn’t need is you.

“Don’t be too sure you know Jemma. Or what she needs.” Grayson stalked away and opened his driver’s side door. “And let me know when you turn up that truck. Because I’d sure like to have a nice little sit-down with the joy riding *.” Not that I buy that story. Not for a minute.

“Right. Like you know how to have a friendly sit-down. At the CIA, I think they just teach you guys about torture sessions.” Brad’s voice was a faint rasp. “Listen, just remember what I said, okay?”

He’d remember, but that didn’t mean he’d listen.

Grayson cranked up the SUV, revved the engine, and…he drove back to the one place that he needed to be.

With Jemma.





Chapter Four


She heard the growl of an engine—a sound that seemed to be coming from right outside her house. Jemma lived at the end of the road, a long, twisting road, and she sure hadn’t expected another visitor at that time of night. So when she heard the growl, she jumped out of her bed and peered through the blinds in her bedroom.

Outside, she saw an SUV. Grayson’s SUV. And that was Grayson jumping out of the vehicle and marching toward her door. As fast as she could, Jemma grabbed a robe and yanked it around her. Then she ran for the front door. He was knocking on that door even as she fumbled with the locks.

Why is he back? What happened?

She opened the door—but not fully. Jemma kept her chain in place as she stared at him. After all, it was the middle of the night and maybe thoughts of her past had been haunting her. Telling me not to take risks.

After all…once burned…

“Jemma.” He sighed out her name. Made it sound sexy. Made it sound as if he needed her.

“Wh-what are you doing back here?” She tried to look past him, to see if he’d brought Brad with him. But since the door was only open about two inches, she couldn’t make out very much.

“Jemma, let me in. I want to talk with you.”

“It’s late. After midnight.” And she was getting more nervous by the moment. She’d bought her house because it was secluded, because she liked being away from everyone else and their prying eyes. But right then, she sure wouldn’t have minded a nosy neighbor or two.

“Are you afraid of me?” He seemed horrified by the very idea. “Jemma, I had you in my arms tonight. I was kissing you.”