23. Charlotte

23

CHARLOTTE

E veryone's eyes are on Grayson. That gives me a chance to act. Good thing Wyatt didn’t pay as much attention to my social media feeds as he should have.

Otherwise he’d have known I have double-jointed thumbs. I slipped free of the stinging rope while they were preoccupied with taunting Gray.

I get rid of my gag and grab hold of Wyatt’s gun, pulling it out of his grasp. He shouts and tries to retrieve the weapon. In our mad scramble, it flies out of both of our hands and skids across the floor.

Wyatt’s face screws up with rage.

“You fucking bitch, you just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

I can hear commotion across the room, but I can’t spare a second to look. I’m facing off with a man who, despite his advanced age, is six inches and a hundred pounds heavier than I am.

But I can see it all over his face. He’s underestimating me.

Wyatt tries to grab me by the throat. The training Grayson gave me takes over and I smack his hand away and follow up with a hard stomp on the instep of his foot. Wyatt bellows in pain. While he’s distracted, I dive for the gun.

I pick up the heavy pistol and roll over onto my back, leaning up so I can aim at Wyatt. Once he sees the gun directed at his face, Wyatt’s eyes bulge out and he screams, running down the hallway.

I follow him, and in a moment of adrenaline-tinged fear, I try to squeeze the trigger to shoot him in the back. But the gun only clicks. The safety is on. Meanwhile Wyatt is able to get away.

I flip the safety off, my heart pounding as I rush back to help Gray. But as I move closer, I stop in my tracks, stunned by what I see.

Gray stands in the middle of the room, blood running down his chin from a fresh cut on his lip. His hands are still bound, but his expression is one of fierce determination. The cultist who had been shocking him is now struggling in Gray’s grasp. Gray has him by the collar, clutching him with a fierce resolve.

The cultist’s eyes widen in fear as Gray lifts him off the ground with surprising strength. Gray’s muscles ripple under his shirt as he uses his bound arms to force the man back against the wall. The cultist’s glasses, twisted and broken, lie on the floor, evidence of the fight that’s transpired.

Gray’s gaze locks onto mine as he throws the cultist to the side. The man crashes into a pile of equipment, thoroughly dazed. Gray, breathing heavily, steps forward with grim purpose.

Across the room, Malloy—our betrayer—stands in the corner, his face contorted in pain. He clutches his obviously broken left wrist with his right hand. I don’t think he’s going to cause us any more problems. Still, I point my gun at him, making sure he doesn’t make a move.

Gray’s attention shifts to the remaining threat. A shirtless muscle-bound cultist, previously watching from the corner, has now moved to confront him. The man’s face is a mask of rage, and his eyes gleam with malice.

The cultist lunges at Gray, but Gray sidesteps with practiced agility. He ducks and weaves, his bound hands moving with surprising dexterity. The cultist’s attack misses, and Gray uses the momentum to strike back. He kicks out with his foot, catching the cultist in the midsection and sending him staggering backward.

Gray seizes the opportunity. He charges at the cultist, using his bound arms to his advantage. With a swift, calculated move, he grabs the cultist’s arm and twists it behind his back, forcing him to the ground. The cultist struggles, but Gray’s grip is ironclad.

As the cultist writhes beneath him, Gray manages to use his shoulder to pin the man down. The cultist’s attempts to break free are futile against Gray’s unyielding strength. Gray’s breath comes in heavy, controlled bursts as he uses his weight to keep the man subdued.

With a final, powerful push, Gray slams the cultist’s head against the floor. The impact is enough to render the man unconscious. Gray stands up, his face smeared with sweat and blood.

“And here I thought I was going to rescue you,” I say as Gray’s eyes focus on me.

“I could tell you the same thing.”

We come together. I kiss him hard, with all the love I feel.

Oh God, I do. I love him. That must be why I don’t care that I have the metallic taste of his blood in my mouth. I have to wonder if he feels the same for me.

“Great job, buddy,” Malloy says.

It’s hard to say who gives him a more hateful glare, me or Gray.

“I knew you could do it. Looks like my plan to go undercover with the Order worked to perfection.”

“Malloy, shut the fuck up,” Gray growls. “You’re dirty and you’re going down, just like Wyatt…where is Wyatt?”

“I chased him off, I think.”

More gunfire sounds from upstairs. Gray holds his hand out toward me.

“You did a great job, but could I borrow that for a bit?”

“I can’t get rid of this thing fast enough.” I hand him the gun. “I tried to shoot him.”

“Good,” Gray replies.

“In the back.”

“Even better,” Gray says.

“He was running from me at the time. It would have been murder.”

Gray’s eyes soften. “You were defending yourself. Any lawyer worth his degree should have been able to get those charges dropped. Come on, let’s go topside and see if the guys need any help.”

The basement isn’t nearly as opulent as the ground floor of the villa. Bare cinder block walls and scored concrete are all that surround us. But it does make navigating our way back up a lot easier.

Once we’re halfway up the stairs, the door at the top bursts open and a tall, intense man with thickly muscled arms appears. He lowers the hand cannon when he sees us.

“Grayson? That you? And Charlotte, too?”

“It’s me, Cole. I appreciate your checking before you blasted a hole in me with that anti-tank pistol.”

Cole apparently has no sense of humor, because he stares past us into the basement.

“Are there any other hostiles?”

“Negative,” Gray says. “You can stand down.”

“I never stand down.”

Cole ejects a magazine from his pistol and jams in a new one with precise movements and mechanical clicks. I’m glad he’s on our side.

I’m even more glad when we get back to the first floor and find no guards to bar our way. What we do find, however, makes me yelp in fright: half a dozen bodies lying near the staircase.

“These enemy assets attempted to stop me from breaching the basement door,” Cole says in a voice devoid of emotion.

“Jesus Christ, Cole. Remind me not to piss you off,” Gray says with an astonished whistle. “Ryker said you were Hell on Wheels. He did not exaggerate.”

“I’m just a sailor.”

I hide my chuckle. Yeah, right. Just a sailor. I feel sorry for anyone who gets in Cole’s way.

“Come on,” Cole says, leading the way. “Rendezvous point is this way.”

I lean over and whisper to Gray.

“Is he always like this?”

“Pretty much.”

We follow him to the main ballroom. Outside, the constant flashes of headlights and the sounds of ripping gravel indicate the party guests are fleeing in a hurry. I can’t blame them one bit. If I never come back to Wyatt’s again, it will be too soon.

When we reach the main ballroom, it’s largely deserted and a chaotic mess. The champagne glass tower sits in smashed ruins, while most of the food has been exploded by stray bullets. Jax and Griff huddle near the entrance, both of them holding guns in their hands.

“There he is,” Jax says as we approach. “You look like shit, Grayson.”

“You should see the other guy.”

“No, I mean the way you’re dressed,” Jax says, shaking his head in dismay. “What is that…do you have gel in your hair?”

“Look at all the bling,” Griff says with a chortle.

“Ha ha,” Gray replies, wearing something between a sneer and a smile. “By the way, my old friend, using the term loosely, is in the basement with a broken wrist. Might want to corral him.”

Grayson looks around the room while Jax addresses me.

“Are you all right, Charlotte?”

“I’m fine, thanks to Grayson and your team. But Gray probably needs to see a doctor.”

Gray turns back to us, his face crossed with a frown.

“Forget the doctor. Has anyone seen Wyatt?”

Jax and Griff exchange glances, then look over at Cole. All of them seem confused.

“Tell me that bastard didn’t get away,” Gray says with a groan.

“I doubt it.” Jax grabs his cell phone out of his pocket and taps on the screen. He holds it to his ear and speaks after a moment. “Yo, Bastian. Did you happen to…yeah. Yeah, the director guy. You did? Is he still…I see.”

Jax puts the phone away and smiles.

“I left Bastian up on the roof to keep watch. He says he shot Wyatt in the shoulder as he was trying to get into the garage.”

“Is Wyatt still alive?” Gray asks.

“Yes.”

“Too bad.”

“Look at it this way, Gray. He’s going to San Quentin for the rest of his life. It’s worse than death.”

I shake my head.

“As long as Wyatt leaves me alone, I almost don’t care what happens to him. I’m not big on revenge.”

“I am,” Gray mutters. “I hope his shoulder hurts.”

He turns to Jax and arches his brows.

“You guys got set up really fast, like you knew the entire layout of the villa.”

“That’s because we did.”

“How?”

I grab Gray by the arm and direct him toward the ambulance which has just pulled up outside.

“You, get yourself looked at first. You cut your wrists getting loose, and you got electrocuted.”

“But–”

“No buts, I’m still your client, and that makes me the one in charge.”

I push him toward the exit while Jax and Griff enjoy a laugh at Gray’s expense. Gray laughs, too, and stops resisting. The paramedics check out his wrists and take his vitals while I wait anxiously.

They bandage his wrists, which apparently look worse than they are, and prepare to send him on his way.

“Wait, what about him being electrocuted? Aren’t you going to do anything about that?”

The senior medic shrugs her shoulders.

“His vitals are all strong, though his heart rate is a bit elevated. I’d say he has nothing to worry about. If you have blood in your urine, get yourself to the hospital right away, but everything looks good.”

“See?” Gray says. “I have a clear bill of health.”

He exits the back of the ambulance and we walk across the now-deserted lawn. Only a few cars remain, including his battered Jeep. I turn and lean my back against the hood, smiling up at Gray.

“So, all’s well that ends well, I guess.”

His silver-gray gaze grows intense. Gray leans toward me as he speaks.

“Charlotte…I don’t want this to end.”

“You don’t? You WANT me to be under threat from a cult for the rest of my life?”

“No!” he shakes his head emphatically. “Not what I mean at all. I mean, I don’t want us to end.”

Gray takes me in his arms and holds me tight. I can feel the heavy thump of his heart against my cheek.

“Charlotte, I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re courageous, and kind, and sweet, and you always find the good in every situation. I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but…”

He pulls away slightly, to look me in the eyes.

“I love you.”

His words flow through me like warm sunshine through glass. My heart leaps for joy, but I’m oddly calm. This moment, though a surprise, feels right. Just right.

“Gray, I love you, too. And I don’t want this to end, either.”

Happiness flashes over his handsome face right before he kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before. There’s an elation that fills both of us to the point of bursting. I feel like this is the storybook ending that so many people want but never get to have.

I sigh as we pull apart, and cup his cheek with my palm.

“Gray, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?” his smile fades, and I can see him bracing for disappointment.

“It’s nothing bad…well, not too bad. I was livestreaming most of the evening with this. I only turned it off once we made it out of the basement.”

I pull a bit of fabric away from my bodice to show him a cleverly-concealed micro camera synced to my phone.

“That’s how the Platinum Security crew knew where to find us, and the layout of Wyatt’s villa.”

“You were feeding them intel,” he says with a laugh.

“So you’re not mad at me?”

“Hell no. I’m glad you were able to assist.”

I sigh in relief and hold him close.

“And I’m glad that you decided not to try and do everything on your own this time. Calling for backup probably saved our butts.”

“Hey,” he says, fixing me with his gaze. “I never would have let them hurt you.”

“So says the guy who was tortured in the basement.”

“I could have freed myself at almost any time. I let them think they had the upper hand.”

“They still shocked the crap out of you.”

Gray shrugs.

“I’m tougher than a two-dollar steak, Sunshine.”

I laugh despite the pathos of his injuries. He laughs as well. Gray moves his face in for another kiss, but stops just as I raise my chin to accept it.

“Wait a minute…you said you turned the camera off, but doesn’t that little light mean you’re still filming?”

I check, and he is right.

“Huh. I must have accidentally turned it back on without realizing. You know what this means, right?”

Gray arches his brows.

“What does it mean?

“All of my millions of followers just saw you confess your feelings for me. There’s no backing out now, buddy.”

He lets out a boisterous laugh, and then he kisses me. Truly, deeply, kisses me. We break apart and I bite my lower lip.

“Take me home, Gray. My real home.”