5. Charlotte

5

CHARLOTTE

G rayson stiffens up like a board as I prepare to post the video. The disapproval beaming out of his silver-gray eyes makes me shift in my seat.

“Are you mad at me again?”

Grayson’s lips tighten up, and his brows come low over his eyes.

“Not mad. Frustrated, maybe.”

I set the phone down in my lap and frown.

“What did I do wrong now? I thought you accepted that I needed to post content.”

I feel more than a little hurt about his reaction. I’d thought we were over this.

“I understand your reasons, but…do you think it’s a good idea to tell all of your millions of followers that I am about to take you to a safe house?”

I open my mouth, close it.

“I, um, I guess maybe I shouldn’t do that.”

Grayson sighs and grips the steering wheel with both hands, resting his forehead against it.

“You can film it again, but nix the part about the safe house. And keep my name out of it. Not to mention that I’m ex CIA.”

“I can definitely do that.”

I delete the original video.

“But I have to ask, what’s so bad about people knowing your name?”

Grayson’s mouth twitches, and his eyes get a distant look. I have the impression he’s trying to find the most diplomatic way to explain something he feels should be obvious.

“If the Aegis Order figures out who I am, they can doxx me. They’ll know where I trained, how long I worked for the CIA, probably what my favorite brand of breakfast cereal is. It will make it easier for them to target us.”

I feel really stupid right about now. I cover my face with my hand and groan.

“I didn’t even think about that.”

“So you see, I’ve got legitimate concerns.”

I shoot the vid again, this time only referring to Grayson as my bodyguard. Grayson seems satisfied and I post the video.

“If we’re lucky, the Order doesn’t know where you are right now, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Really? You don’t think they know where I am?”

He shrugs. So much for being reassuring. It’s hard to get a read on Grayson. Is he the realest guy in the room, or a CIA phony? Some of my followers have said things about the CIA. They say the CIA teaches its people to lie for a living. So you can never trust one of them.

Jaxon clearly trusts Grayson, though. And I trust Jaxon, because of the outstanding reputation of his security firm. He has word-of-mouth endorsements from some of the heaviest hitters in Hollywood.

So, I should trust Grayson. I want to trust him. But there’s something else troubling me. It’s the way my breath catches in my throat when he looks at me. Not to mention how my skin tingles whenever he’s near.

I glance over at him as we roll down the highway. His tanned, toned arms flex as he shifts the jeep into a higher gear. A bit of stubble is starting to show on his ruggedly handsome face. His eyes are currently hidden behind a pair of mirrored shades, making Grayson seem more enigmatic than ever.

In so many ways, we’re exact opposites. He wants to stick to the shadows, while my life is lived out in the open. I try to picture Grayson endorsing toothpaste as part of his morning routine and it makes me want to laugh.

It would be easy to dismiss Grayson as an alpha male ‘hard case’ who has no use or time for people like me. But he listened when I told him about why it’s so important for me to keep creating content. He listened, and, even better, he took me seriously.

I can’t help but feel there's more to Grayson than meets the eye. But whether that unseen quality is good or bad, I still can’t say for sure.

One thing I do know for sure, is he’s easy to look at. Some guys are hot, and they know it, and that ruins the entire effect. Grayson is hot, but either he doesn’t know, or more likely, he just doesn’t care. I wonder if he’s ever used his good looks to further a mission for the CIA?

Picturing Grayson in a tuxedo asking for his martini shaken, not stirred, makes me chuckle out loud.

Grayson glances over at me, his lips pursed into a frown.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, I just tried to picture you as James Bond.”

Grayson relaxes, which surprises me. A ghost of what might be an inkling of a smile pulls at the corners of his lips.

“I get a lot of people asking me if the spy game is like the James Bond movies.”

I wait, but he doesn’t elaborate. I decide to pry a little as we speed along the sun-drenched freeway.

“I get the feeling that it’s nothing like those movies.”

He rewards me with a dry chuckle.

“That’s an understatement. I’ve never worn a tuxedo on assignment a single time. I’d sure like to have some of those gadgets, though.”

“Yeah, me too. I bet the Order wouldn’t mess with me if I had a watch that shot lasers.”

Grayson offers a slight smile, but my mention of the Order sets him onto a grim streak again. I think he’s worried about me but doesn’t want to let on too much.

I don’t know what to make of it. I know my life is in danger, but at the same time the Order feels like a distant threat. Something I need to be worried about in the future, but not right this moment. I know it’s probably the wrong way to think about it.

I’m taking the threat seriously. I hired a bodyguard for goodness sake. But I still get the impression that I’m not nearly afraid enough.

Our exit comes up, and Grayson pulls off the freeway. The sun is so low on the horizon it’s practically just a blurry red line. The city lights have started their nightly sparkle. Life goes on, even if my personal life has gone to Hell.

When we pull up outside of my place, Grayson turns a sharp gaze on me.

“Get behind the steering wheel. If anything suspicious happens, and I do mean anything, I want you to drive to the nearest police station. Understood?”

“Um, I–”

“This is a yes or no question, Charlotte.”

Anger flashes through me.

“I don’t know how to drive stick, Grayson. I think that warrants a reply other than yes or no, don’t you?”

Grayson’s skin turns a bit darker. I don’t know if he’s embarrassed or mad at himself, but I can see him walking it all back mentally.

“Just keep your eyes peeled for danger, and honk twice if you see anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

He holds his hand out, palm facing up. It takes me a moment to realize he wants my keys. I hand the jingling set over, and he snaps them up and exits the Jeep.

“Keep a sharp lookout.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m looking out.”

He gives me a long look, as if to make sure I mean it, and then turns and walks up the driveway. I crane my neck, peering all around, but I don’t see anything interesting other than a bunch of guys doing roofing across the lane. Their hammers create a constant staccato as I wait for Grayson to give me the all clear.

After about five minutes, he appears at the front door. From his relaxed gait and lack of tension in his shoulders, I’d say he didn’t find anything unusual in my place.

“Okay. It’s safe to go in and collect your things.”

I enter my place, the familiar sights and smells enveloping me like a well-worn glove. It’s only a ranch style house, but it’s mine, free and clear, with no bank liens or mortgages.

Grayson broods around the living room while I pack up my things. I’m used to traveling a lot as part of my influencer gig, so I’ve become a master packer. I manage to fit two weeks worth of clothes into just one admittedly large suitcase.

I stuff my toiletries into a Gucci leather shoulder bag, and then turn my attention to my lighting rigs, cameras, and shooting gear. I fold up tripods and pack away the more delicate electronic pieces into their own foam lined case.

“Hey, Grayson? Can you give me a hand in here?”

He appears a moment later. I hand off a bundle of filming equipment, which he takes without complaint. His brow gets all wrinkled and annoyed looking, however.

I follow him outside, and down the sidewalk. He picks up my heavy suitcase and hefts it into the back of the Jeep as if it weighs nothing. Then he turns to me and arches his brows.

“Is that it?”

I nod. “Yeah. Just let me go and lock up, set the alarm and all of that biz.”

He nods, and I jog up the sidewalk. I can feel his eyes on me the whole way. My stomach does flip flops. God, what is it about him that makes me feel like this? What’s the opposite of Stockholm Syndrome? Am I attracted just because he’s taking care of me? Or is there more to it?

On paper we’ve got nothing in common. Maybe that’s why he’s so compelling. An opposites attract kind of thing?

All I know is, Grayson looks away just a little too quickly when I turn back down the sidewalk. He opens the jeep door for me and even offers a hand up.

“Thank you. Such a gentleman.”

He gives the trademarked Grayson dry chuckle.

“Sometimes, I can play the role of a gentleman.”

Grayson climbs behind the steering wheel as I digest his comment.

“Have you ever had to go somewhere while disguised?”

“Yes and no.”

He puts the Jeep in gear, and I give him a look.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you just being cryptic?”

“Being cryptic is a force of habit for me.” His sterling gaze flashes over to me for a moment. “But I wasn’t just being obtuse. The answer is both yes and no because while I have frequently pretended to be someone I was not, I rarely have to wear a disguise.

“Really? I thought it would come up a lot more often in your line of work.”

“No, not beyond putting on an apron or uniform shirt. Most people look at other things besides how you’re dressed to determine your identity.”

“Okay, now I’m really curious, what kinds of things?”

He shrugs his muscled shoulders.

“Simple things that you notice on a subconscious level without really being aware of it. Posture, body language, facial expressions. As long as you keep these things to what people are likely to expect, you’ll go unnoticed nine times out of ten.”

I guess I look pretty incredulous, because he feels the need to elaborate.

“Let me give you an example. Once, in a country with a lot of syllables in its name, I found myself having to elude some members of the local constabulary.”

“You were running from the cops in some Eastern Bloc country, got it.”

He stops, and for a second I think I’ve pissed him off. But then a smile spreads on his face, and for a change he doesn’t try to stop it. Happy looks good on him.

“Right. Well, I ran around a corner, and got their eyes off of me for about three seconds. They came around the corner, but all they saw was an old man limping toward them. They ran right around him and continued their fruitless search for me.”

“An old man?”

It takes me a second to get it.

“Wait, were you the old man? But you only had three seconds, how did you disguise yourself in that time?”

“I didn’t. Not with conventional methods. I adjusted my posture to be bent and decrepit, and twisted up my face to look old and in pain. Then I just hobbled toward them. Because they were looking for a young, healthy man who was running away from them, they didn’t even really see me.”

I whistle and shake my head.

“That’s amazing. I can’t imagine having the guts to pull something like that. I’d be so terrified of being caught.”

I give him a look and chuckle.

“I guess you CIA guys all have nerves of steel and sleep like babies at night.”

He flinches, and something dark passes behind his eyes. Grayson tightens up his hands on the wheel, and sets his jaw hard.

“You might be surprised. I’ve made…mistakes.”

A slight tremble enters his voice. I almost can’t believe what I’m hearing. Grayson the Ghost, showing real human emotion. It makes me feel bad for him, because there's clearly some tragedy he’s keeping under wraps.

But on the other hand, it makes him look so much more human and the magnetic pull he exudes grows tenfold stronger. Now he’s not just a fantasy for me to dismiss. He’s a real human being, and a human being I wouldn't mind getting to know better.

Since he seems done talking for the moment, I turn my attention to my phone. I see that my content team has edited and posted my brief video with Grayson. My eyes widen when I see that there’s one singular theme to the majority of the comments.

OMG he is so hot!

Looks like he walked off the cover of a romance novel.

You guys are just 2 cuuuuute :) :)

My face burns with embarrassment. I hadn’t expected that reaction, and it makes my attraction to Grayson that much more humiliating.

Which of course means he stares right at the screen when we stop at a red light.

“What’s all of that?”

“Well…”

I punctuate my words with nervous laughter.

“Everyone seems to think we look really cute together.”

“Everyone? Who’s everyone?”

“My followers.”

“Oh.”

He frowns, and I can’t tell how he’s taking the news. I close my screen and purse my lips.

“What?” Grayson asks.

“I was just thinking, I should make a post about getting my life threatened more often, if it means I get to meet guys.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me, but then goes back to driving. I sigh and roll my eyes.

“I can tell you want to say something to me, Grayson. Why don’t you go ahead and say it?”

Grayson’s hard expression softens a little.

“It’s nothing bad. I just…you seem self aware, and more jaded than I would expect.”

Now it’s my turn for a dry chuckle.

“You think I’m all bubbly and happy all the time, like I am in my videos? Puhleeeze.”

He grunts. “I guess I don’t really know you.”

Grayson turns those soulful eyes on me again, and I get all melty inside again.

“But I’d like to.”

I can’t quite meet his gaze, and play with my idle phone in my lap. When it rings, I nearly drop it on the floor.

I sheepishly accept a call from Steven.

“Hey, Stevie, what’s the good word? Have you heard anything from Etsy?”

When I get a moment of silence in response, I know something else has gone wrong.

“Ah, nothing from Etsy yet. And Char-Char? We’ve got a problem. I was monitoring your DMs and something came through that I think you’ll want to see.”

I attempt to swallow the lump in my throat.

“Okay. Can you send a screenshot? I have a lot of DMs on a lot of accounts, you know.”

“Of course.”

A couple of seconds later, my phone pings. I check the image and a scowl deepens on my face.

“What? Now they’re trying to get me to pay them, too?”

Grayson’s gaze darts my way for a moment, puzzlement furrowing his brow.

“What?”

“It’s right here in a direct message. If I don’t wire ten grand into their account, then I’m going to, and I quote, ‘suffer the consequences.’”

“Ostensibly, the Order does not care about money. It seems out of character based on what we know of them. But I wouldn't rule anything out. This cult is obsessed with you for some reason, so we should expect the unexpected.”

I groan and give him a glare. “Expect the unexpected? Got anything less formulaic to say? Or do they not cover that in the CIA?”

Grayson’s frown deepens, but Steve’s voice distracts me.

“Ah, Char-Char, the extortion demand isn’t the only reason I called. There’s a new video on your pages that none of us uploaded, and I’m pretty sure you didn’t, either.”

“Oh no. I’ll check it out. Thanks for the heads up, Steven.”

“Yeah. Hate to be the bearer of bad news, and all of that. Tell your hot new boy toy I said hello.”

I only grunt in response, but my cheeks are burning. My hands shake as I open one of my social media pages. My heart plummets to my feet when I see the Order logo.