A Matter Of Justice (Grey Justice #4)(39)

Setting her on her feet, Grey inwardly winced when she hissed out a small sigh of pain. For Irelyn to show any kind of weakness meant she was hurting much more than she let on.

“Hurt?”

“It’s manageable.” She threw him a look that he was sure was meant to be haughty. “I can take it from here.”

“Call out if you need me.”

Grey stood just outside the closed bathroom door and waited to hear a thud telling him she had passed out. Yet, he knew she wouldn’t. Irelyn was too damn stubborn to succumb to the normal human reaction to getting the hell beaten out of you. He hadn’t lied. Her collapse into his arms earlier had scared the shit out of him.

Yes, he wanted answers. She was obviously ready to talk, and he was more than ready to listen. However, her health was his first concern. Dr. Sanderson had assured him that, while the gash on her side and bruised, battered body would be painful, the injuries weren’t life-threatening. It was her obvious physical exhaustion that had him concerned. His recommendation of lots of sleep and good, nutritious food sounded simple enough, but with Irelyn, nothing was ever that simple. Nothing about her should surprise him anymore. Hell, he wouldn’t be shocked if she walked out of the bathroom fully dressed and ready to leave.

This had to stop. Life was becoming more dangerous by the minute. He needed to know she was safe, too. And dammit, he wanted her here, home with him.

The instant she walked out of the bathroom and he saw the look on her face, he knew that, at least for now, she would be staying.

“Let’s get you back to bed.”

She grimaced a smile. “I really do look like crap, don’t I?”

“I guess it’s all in your perspective. To me, you’re lovely no matter how you look.”

“You know that makes no sense, don’t you?”

“How about we continue this conversation in bed?”

“Bed? Grey? Really?”

Laughing at her dry humor, Grey scooped her gingerly back into his arms. “I prefer you awake for that.”

“I prefer me awake for that, too.”

Settling her back onto the bed, he pressed a soft kiss on her head. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Not sure. I think I had a candy bar at some point.”

“I’m bringing you a meal.”

“But we need—”

“We’ll talk after you eat.”

She sighed and dropped her head onto her pillow. “No point in arguing.”

“No point at all.” He went to the door, but stopped when she called his name.

“I can’t stay.”

He walked out without answering. Arguing with her when she was at full strength was often infuriating and occasionally delightful. He didn’t plan on having an argument about a sure thing. She was staying. Period.



Irelyn scraped up the last bite of omelet on her plate. Amazing what a good protein-filled meal did for one’s spirits. She swallowed the last of her orange juice and settled the glass on the tray on her lap.

“Feel better?”

Grey had watched her eat every bite. She knew he was worried about her. She’d been worried about herself. But now she felt stronger. She had to tell him everything.

“Much better. Now we—”

Surprising her, he stood and removed the tray from her lap. “Rest a bit more, and then we’ll talk.”

“I want…” She shook her head. In a matter of seconds, she had gone from having a semiclear head and thinking coherently to having no idea what she was going to say. Why was her mind so muddled again?

“Rest, Irelyn.”

She blinked up at him, noting how blurry he had become. “You drugged me.”

“Yes. Now, sleep. You’ll feel better for it.”

She wanted to shout at him for doing something so far out of bounds. She wanted to cry, because she knew he’d done it because he cared. She wanted… What was it? What did she need to tell him?

“Dark. I have to tell you about…”

“We’ll discuss him after you’ve rested.”

Her eyes heavy with fatigue, she blinked to keep them open. “Grey…no. Don’t understand. I need—”

“Sleep,” he whispered.

A soft, sweet darkness was closing around her, enveloping her in a lovely velvety cloud. She was floating, her thoughts peaceful, serene. Just before she drifted away, she could feel Grey gently squeeze her hand, and she managed to mumble, “Missed you.”

With a soft press of his lips on her forehead, he answered quietly, “I missed you, too.”

Unconsciousness claimed her.





Chapter Sixteen





Grey stood on the small stage of the beautiful old theater and looked out into the empty auditorium. Soon, the place would be milling with elegantly dressed men and women. The couples would appear as if they were wealthy and privileged and had nothing more on their minds than to enjoy an old classic movie while they sipped champagne and nibbled expensive hors d’oeuvres. No one would guess that beneath the veneer of elegance lay lethal, trained operatives. No one would guess that they were here to catch a killer.

And he, the überwealthy Grey Justice, superciliously proud of his newest acquisition, would greet those people as honored guests. His tuxedo had been designed by one of the leading new designers. No one would notice that some specific modifications had been made to his attire. His favorite Ruger and Ka-Bar knife were within easy reach, the SIG Sauer at his ankle one smooth movement away, and the Kevlar vest added only a slight amount of extra bulk to his frame.