Trusting Danger (Danger, #2)(25)

Chapter Seventeen





Inside the guest bedroom he’d chosen, Grayson stared out the window at the backyard below. Why had he done that? He’d heard Claire on the staircase and should have stopped talking. Instead he’d kept going, knowing she’d hear.

Did he want to hurt her feelings? Maybe. If he kept her pissed off, she wouldn’t be nearly as attractive. He’d never been interested in rich girls before—too high maintenance for him—and he sure as hell didn’t intend to start now. Claire Parker was a protectee, and the daughter of a senator at that. The last thing he needed was Eli chewing him out for inappropriate behavior, especially with a woman who had connections like Claire did.

But the way she’d handled the situation, confronting him head-on like that, was something not many men would do. He had to admit she’d earned a little respect for that ballsy move. Most women were intimidated by his surly demeanor and the badass persona he wore like a suit of armor. His attitude kept people at a distance, which was just fine with him.

For a moment, he considered apologizing but rejected the idea. The thought of going downstairs with his tail between his legs held little appeal.

Besides, he could picture exactly what would happen if he did—Claire would make a snippy comment about his apology, and Jeremy would snicker in agreement. It was almost like he and his partner were playing good cop/bad cop, with Jeremy naturally falling into the good-cop role. No, it was best to just keep his distance from Claire.

Logically, he had a right to be pissed at her; it had been dangerous for them to go back to Claire’s condo. The kidnappers could have been there waiting for her, which could have resulted in someone getting hurt, or worse.

But if the sitter had left the dog there unattended for days while Claire was at the safe house, it wouldn’t have ended well for the poor animal. Grayson had to admit he probably would have done the same thing if he’d been in her position, responsible for a dog who depended on him.

Maybe she was right?

Grayson pushed aside his misgivings and unzipped his duffel to unpack the few days’ clothing he’d brought. The mindless activity helped him organize his thoughts.

His job was to keep Claire safe. Period. It didn’t matter if she liked him or not. They didn’t have to be friends, and they surely weren’t going to be anything more.

But an image of Claire’s angry face in the kitchen downstairs brought a scowl to his own. He shoved the shirt he was holding into a drawer and tugged his phone from his pocket to call Eli and report in.

“I was just about to call you,” Eli said when he answered. “I’m getting a warrant for Rex Gibson’s arrest for criminal conspiracy and attempted kidnapping.”

Grayson frowned. “So fast? My cover will be blown if you do that.”

“We’ve got enough on him between your testimony, what he said in your last meet while you were wired, and the text messages we intercepted. He’s going to wind up with a stiff sentence for this side business of his. Plotting to kidnap the daughter of a senator will keep him off the streets for a good long time.”

“What about the drug ring?” Learning the identity of its leader had been the whole point. “Gibson probably won’t rat anyone out.”

“We’ll have to come at it from another angle.”

Grayson paced the small bedroom, running his hand over his close-cropped hair. “Something else has been bothering me. That call Gibson made to the burner phone. You said he called someone in DC.”

“Right. It pinged off a tower in the city.”

“It couldn’t have been Claire’s boyfriend. He was with her in Florida at the time of the call.”

“Then he must have someone working for him.”

Grayson paused, thinking it through. “Possibly. Rex Gibson may be out of the picture, but he still might have someone in play. Or whoever ordered this kidnapping might hire someone else to finish the job.”

“We’ll keep digging here to see if there’s another way to find the owner of the burner phone,” Eli said. “I’ll let you know what we find.”





Chapter Eighteen





Before breakfast was even over Monday morning, Claire was at her wit’s end. Every time she spoke to Grayson, which was as little as possible, he snapped at her, especially when she asked about communicating with the outside world.

“No phone calls or texts,” he said sharply, putting down his coffee mug, “and no internet.”

When she explained she needed the internet to work on her case, he practically growled at her, reminding her of Charlie after she’d had him fixed . . . broody and pissed off at the world. And thinking of her dog reminded her of how much she missed him, which just made things worse.

Her appetite gone, Claire dropped her fork to her plate and glanced at Jeremy—who was keeping his head down and concentrating on his food, obviously trying to stay out of the argument.

Frowning at Grayson, she said, “What am I going to do all day?”

Grayson shrugged. “Whatever you want. As long as you stay inside, keep away from the windows, and don’t use a phone or the internet.”

Frustrated, Claire pushed her eggs around her plate, dropping her fork when a thought came to her. “Wait, I can’t go on a run?”