Page 66 of Crossfire

Well, well, if it isn’t her old friend, Anger, crashing the party once again.

The rapid-fire emotions flashing across her features reminded me of a deck of cards being shuffled by an overzealous dealer. For a seasoned con woman, she sure hadn’t mastered the art of keeping her outward feelings consistent.

“You were there!” She ground her teeth so hard, I wondered if they’d crack. “Which means youareBob!” Her furious leer scanned me up and down. “And since you failed the first time, here you are. Back for round two.”

Damn, she was good. Any other day, any other situation, I’d buy her act—hook, line, and sinker. Worst case, she’d known I’d be in that parking garage before the assassination attempt. Best case, she’d merely spotted me and implemented a plan after.

If that were true, why risk exposing herself by giving me access to her grandmother’s medical facility? It was a dangerous gamble, especially if she knew I was CIA. She’d be handing us leverage on a silver platter.

How did she know we wouldn’t use her grandmother against her? Kill her, even?

Was the old woman even her grandmother? Was that whole thing staged? All part of her cover?

But the staff at the facility knew Ivy. The billing office confirmed an outstanding balance for the elderly patient. If all of it was a ruse, her plan had been meticulously crafted down to the finest detail. Especially once you factored in the ex-boyfriend, the locals at that coffee shop that knew her name.

And why did she spend so much time trying to gain my trust? Why show up at the coffee shop that next day? Surely, she didn’t think she would get any intelligence out of me; I was an executioner, not an intelligence officer.

Something wasn’t adding up, and the thought of killing her before I understood what was going on tore me to shreds. Even worse was the nagging desire to believe in her innocence. What did that say about me? I had a sworn duty, yet here I was, caught between loyalty and doubt, forced to choose a side without all the facts.

This internal conflict both infuriated and unsettled me. In one swift motion, I knocked the blade from her hand and slammed her harder against the wall, my hand at her throat. Her pulse fluttered wildly beneath my fingers, a tangible reminder of the life I held in my grasp and the gravity of the decision before me.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I decided, my tone low and dangerous as I squeezed her neck a little. In case she needed to be reminded what was at stake. “You’re going to give me some answers.”

With a deep breath and jutted chin, a fresh wall of anger rose around her like a fortress.

“Screw you,” she spat, her face defiant.

My fingers bit into the soft flesh of her neck as I yanked her into the living room, shoving her onto the sofa with a thump. Her fear returned to her expression for a moment—a normal emotion for an innocent person.

Time for some Q and A, sweetheart.

“Who the hell are you?” I demanded, looming over her.

“You’re a psycho—you know that, right?” Her voice trembled as she rubbed her throat, scanning my face, as if searching for a shred of humanity.

I thought I’d been the one pursuing her after she left the garage, but it had all been an act, hadn’t it? She had to have known I was following her, and once I was at the coffee shop, she set her trap and waited to see if the CIA took the bait. Looking back, it hadn’t been that difficult to get her to sit down with me the next day, had it? Why?

“What was your goal in talking to me at the coffee shop?”

She blinked, confusing dancing across her features. “Mygoal?”

“Answer the fucking question.”

Her jaw clenched, but I could hear her tone wavering. “I didn’t have a goal. You seemed like a nice guy to talk to,” she spat, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Obviously a total misjudgment of character.”

I gritted my teeth.

“That whole ex-boyfriend thing was a ruse,” I accused. “To get me to stay and talk. What did you think you were going to get out of me?” I paced, twisting the handle of the knife in my hand.

“Get out of you? What does that even mean?” She looked at the blade lying on the floor.

Go ahead,I silently told her.I dare you.

“Did you think I would leak intelligence? Did you think if you seduced me in bed, I might let a secret slip?”

Ivy stared at me with her mouth open.

“Seduceyou?” she echoed. “What secret do you think I was trying to pry out of you? That you’re evidently a serial killer? That cat’s out of the bag.”

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