Page 132 of Crossfire

I followed Hunter through his kitchen, down the hallway, and into his massive garage, where the gleam of polished cars sat under carefully placed lighting and the faint smell of gasoline and motor oil lingered in the air.

“What the hell are you thinking?” Hunter grabbed his hips.

“You wore a mask.”

“And then you made her your girlfriend?”

I arched an eyebrow. “We’ve both done some regrettable things, wouldn’t you agree?”

Hunter’s jaw tightened. But instead of fighting me on it, he ran a hand through his hair instead.

“Do I need to be worried?” he asked.

“No,” I assured.

It took several seconds of him measuring my resolve before finally letting out a planet’s worth of oxygen from his lungs.

“What time will Barry be here?” I pressed. Barry Mansfield, the private investigator I had asked to look into the evidence.

“Seven.” Hunter evaluated me curiously. “So, now, you can finally tell me, what is going on?”

I had planned on keeping my secrets buried for the rest of my life, but everything had changed, hadn’t it? I suppose I could still string him along with half-truths and denials; I had taken an oath with the CIA to never divulge their secrets.

But that was the whole problem. The CIA had either been infiltrated or somehow corrupted with this so-called proof that Ivy was a violent associate of Vosch. I had no idea what was going on or who I could trust.

With one exception—my family.

Had we grown apart after my mom died? Sure. Thus all the secrets between us, but deep down, we’d always be there for each other.

Case in point, Hunter came to my aid in the middle of the night, at the risk of his own demise.

All he asked in return was to understand what was going on.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I said. “Aside from Barry. Not even Luna.”

Hunter waited, his silence his confirmation.

“We’re going to want scotch for this conversation,” I said.

56

IVY

I took another sip of my martini, feeling more at ease as the minutes passed. Luna was really sweet and very easy to get along with.

We had discussed the broad strokes of our lives. But between the two of us, she definitely one the more interesting career department, heading up a chapter of the Innocence Project. She was in the middle of telling me about it when two men walked into the room. One of them had similar features to Grayson, but the other…was identical.

Grayson’s clone was in a suit made of fabric that looked more expensive than my entire townhouse, and the other wore casual clothes—sneakers, workout pants, and a fitted mesh top.

“Jace! Bryson!”

Damn, the Lockwood family DNA was strong. Their parents must’ve been models at some point in their life, what with the unfair bone structures and hypnotic eyes. Not to mention, their tall, muscular, broad-shouldered frames. It was like they were cut from a factory producing the hottest men on the planet.

The two men returned Luna’s hugs, but kept their focus on me the entire time.

Self-consciously, I tugged my sleeves down a little lower to ensure no one could see the red marks on my wrists from when Grayson had zip-tied me at my townhouse. How would I explain that if I couldn’t tell them about his career?

Luna pointed to Grayson’s clone. “Ivy, this is Jace and Bryson.”