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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Grayson
I dial Eric only to have his voicemail pick up and it’s like a punch in the gut followed by a blade. Next up, I dial Blake. Again, I get his voicemail. I’m bleeding out here with the idea that something happened to Eric, and Blake and his team. I try Adrian, who answers on the first ring. “Tell me they weren’t in that explosion.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about and no, I haven’t been drinking. I just really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The house Eric went to with your team exploded and no one is answering their fucking phones.”
“Say what?”
“I said—”
“Fuck,” he grunts as if my words have only now hit him. “Fuck. I’m making calls. And I’m sending Axe up to stay with you until I know what the hell is going on. Don’t go anywhere.” He hangs up.
“Grayson?” Mia asks, watching me as I apparently pace on the opposite side of the island I don’t even remember walking to now.
I force myself to halt and will myself to calm down. “No one’s answering their phones, baby. Adrian didn’t even know the house had blown up.” I dial Blake again.
“I’ve got Kara’s number,” Mia says. “I’m calling her.”
She darts around the island and I catch her wrist. “Where are you going?”
“My phone’s by the door in my purse.”
“Axe is coming up. You need to put on clothes. And don’t answer the door. I’ll do it.”
She steps close and wraps her arms around me. “It’s going to be okay. This is Eric. He’s a SEAL. He a genius, quite literally.”
“He’s still human. He still blows up in an exploding house like the rest of us.”
She kisses my jaw. “He’s going to be okay. I feel it in my gut. I’m going to go try Kara and try to get you some news.” She pushes away from me.
I dial Davis and he answers in one ring. “Tell me you’ve heard from Eric.”
“Not for hours. Why?”
“He went to that attorney’s house with Blake’s team tonight. It exploded and he’s not answering his phone. None of them are.” I run my hand through my hair. “Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Pull out that Glock you own and keep it with you. Don’t go anywhere until I find out if you’re in danger.” I don’t give him time to start worrying my ear off. I’m doing enough of that on my own. I disconnect and text Adrian: Is Davis in danger as my personal attorney and close friend? He’s at home. I told him to stay there.
While I wait for his reply, I head to our bedroom, walk into the closet and throw on jeans, a basic black tee, and sneakers. Adrian finally replies with: I have four men here with me. I sent one to Davis, just to be safe. Axe will be there with you any second.
I’m about to exit the bedroom when Mia appears in the doorway, her dark hair still a finger-fucked mess that I created. Fifteen minutes ago, we were planning our wedding and now this.
“Kara’s not answering,” she says. “I’m going to get dressed.”
The doorbell rings. “That’s Axe.” I intend to leave her to dress, but she catches my arm.
“Grayson—”
I cup her head and kiss her. “I’m okay, baby.” It’s one of the only lies I ever intend to tell her.
“Liar,” she accuses. “But I’ll forgive you under the circumstances.”
I don’t dispute her accusation. The doorbell rings again, and I kiss her again and untangle my arm from her grip before Axe blows down our door. I head through the apartment toward the door with a knot in my damn gut. Eric’s silence is killing me and it’s not a good sign. I don’t even want to know what news awaits me at the front door. I pause in the foyer and step to the panel beside the door and punch the button to the camera view to find Axe standing there.
I yank open the door. “Any news?” I back up to allow his entry.
“Nothing,” he says grimly, stepping inside and shutting the door, automatically locking up.
I key the security system into action and turn to Axe, who is doing the same with me. “What do you think is happening?”
“We have a silent protocol if there is even a one percent chance we could bring danger to our families. I don’t think they’re dead. I think they locked down.”
I don’t know if I’m relieved or the opposite. I scrub my jaw. “I need a drink. You need a drink?”
“None for me.” He pulls back the edge of his leather jacket and shows me his weapon. “We both want me to shoot straight.”
“Well, then eat me out of house and home. You have to need something. These are the men you work with.”
His jaw clenches but he offers nothing more than a barely perceivable incline of his chin. We enter the living room right as Mia, dressed in leggings and a T-shirt, with sneakers, rushes into the room. “Anything?” she asks urgently.
