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Gray said nothing, jaw tensing, expression angry.

Keene picked up the thread. “Figured it was you who was snooping around the basement. Also figure you're a fed.”

“You figured right,” Gray snarled.

Before Anna could register what was happening, Gray pushed her behind him while reaching for something at the waistband of his jeans. As she lost her footing and fell, she realized it was a gun.

Gray's draw wasn't fast enough. The men opened fire, and Gray jerked twice, grunting as the bullets hit his flesh. Anna screamed in terror as crimson bloomed on his chest.

Falling backward, Gray returned fire, and the first man fell, blood smearing the door frame where his head had been. The second went down shooting back, and Gray took another hit. Lying on his side, the agent kept firing until the second man slumped to the floor as well, unmoving.

“Oh my God.” Scrambling to Gray, she took in his wounds frantically, not knowing what to do. There was so much blood soaking his chest and abdomen. She almost passed out from fear.

“Call 911,” he croaked.

“Okay. Just hang in there, do you hear me?”

“Not going anywhere.” He tried to smile, but it fell short.

She made the call and gave as much information as she could. Then, dropping the phone, she sat by him, clinging to his shirt. “Don't you die on me. Understand?” Tears streamed down her face.

“I'll do my best,” he whispered, searching her eyes. “I do love you. I hope one day you'll forgive me.”

“Just get well, okay?” She couldn't talk about that right now. Couldn't think about anything beyond whether he'd survive.

His face twisted in agony. “Phone, in my pocket. Call my partner. Simon . . . King. Please.” He murmured a passcode to his screensaver, which she memorized.

She fished in his jeans pocket. Grabbing the phone, she held it up. “I'll call him just as soon as we get you out of here.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

“Forgive me, baby. Please . . .” His voice trailed off and his eyes closed. Then his body went slack, and she sobbed.

“Gray?” She shook him and yelled, “Gray? Please don't go! Please!”

The NYPD arrived, assessing the situation and asking her a barrage of questions. The urgency mounted as they learned about the operation and that a federal agent was down. Meanwhile, the paramedics arrived, and she was pushed out of the way so they could work on Gray. She didn't know medical terminology, but she caught enough to know his life was in danger. He'd taken three bullets, one each to the arm, chest, and abdomen. The last two were the worst, and the medics were worried.

In minutes they whisked him out, Anna following close behind. They wouldn't allow her to ride in the ambulance, so she hailed a cab on the street, glad the cops had let her go. This was a federal case, so this partner of Gray's would likely ride to the rescue. She hoped.

In the cab, she pulled up Gray's contacts and found his partner. The phone rang twice before he picked up.

“Hey, man. You find anything new? We've got the raid all ready for tomorrow—”

“Simon?”

The man went silent for a few seconds. Then, tentatively, “This is Agent King. Who's speaking?”

“I'm Anna Claire,” she said, another sob escaping. “Gray's been shot. The ambulance just took him to Roosevelt Hospital.”

“I'll meet you there.”

Then the line went dead.

At the hospital, she called her mother, who immediately took a cab to meet her daughter. The second Margaret walked in, Anna flew into her arms and cried her soul out. Her mom guided her to some chairs where they sat, and she haltingly told her mother the story. Her mom just listened and held Anna, lending her support.

“What do you want to do about Gray?” Margaret asked gently. “Can you forgive him?”

“I don't know,” she admitted, the tears still rolling. “I want him to live, and I'm so afraid for him. But beyond that, I'm not sure.”

“Give it time,” was all Margaret said.

Simon King, when he arrived, wasn't nearly so gentle or quiet. Gray's partner fired questions at her left and right about what had happened in Anna's office, and then made some calls, presumably to get the mess cleaned up.

It was while Anna was watching Simon make the calls—listening to his voice—that the rest of the truth came to her, like a fog lifting.

“You,” she said, walking over to him as he hung up. He turned to face her, guilt already blooming on his face. “You're my so-called attacker.”

He looked away, then nodded. “I'm sorry about that. We needed a way for Gray to get close to you faster than he might have otherwise.”

“To his suspect, you mean,” she said coldly.

King didn't have much more to add. With another mumbled apology, he took a seat on the opposite side of the waiting room. Agents soon swarmed in to await the news on one of their own, but aside from the director asking her a bunch of questions, they left her alone. Fine by her.

It was hours before a doctor in scrubs came out and asked for the family of Agent Sloane. The agents gathered around, being his only family, and Anna hung toward the back.

“It was touch and go for a while, but barring complications, he should recover.”

A cheer went up, and Anna's legs nearly buckled. Her mother took her arm, and Anna didn't hear the rest of what the doctor said. Gray would survive. Nothing else mattered.

But their budding love was another story.

That he had planned a fake mugging so he could come to the rescue and get close to her was beyond despicable. It seemed to be the final nail in the coffin regarding any trust she might have regained in him.

“Sweetie, let's get you home,” her mom said softly, touching her face. “You can't do anything now, and you won't be able to see him yet.”

“And you have a flight in the morning,” Anna remembered. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called and woken you!”

“Bull! You're my baby, and nothing is more important than you. And I'm not leaving tomorrow. I won't go until I know you're all right.”

In that moment, she'd never loved her mother's stubborn, unbending self more.

Reluctantly, she let Margaret lead her from the hospital.

***

Gray surfaced and knew nothing but pain. And in the midst of agony, he only wanted one person.

“Anna?”

“Shh, partner. It's me.”

Turning his head, Gray focused on the figure next to him. “Simon?”

“Yep. Stop talking and get well, okay?”

“Where's Anna?”

“She can't be here right now, but I'm sure she'll come soon. Sleep, bro.”

He didn't want to. But he was helpless against the tide that pulled him under.

Anna. Please, come back.

5

For two agonizing days, Anna debated going back to the hospital. She had to see Gray, but she didn't know what to say. How to move past how he'd played her. Even if it was in the name of the law.

Several of her employees had been arrested in the raid, including a waiter, some kitchen staff, and one of Ethan's sous-chefs. She was disheartened by the betrayals all around her, but glad they'd been caught. A load of cocaine with a street value of millions was seized from the basement of the restaurant's building, and the FBI was enjoying some rare glory.

Except for the part where Gray had almost died.

She hadn't forgiven him yet. Didn't know if she ever could. Even if she did, she didn't know if a relationship with him could survive the taint.

“Sweetie, you're wearing a hole in the carpet. Why don't you go see him?”

Turning, she faced her mom. “I don't know what I'd say. I haven't forgiven him yet, but I still have feelings for him,” she said miserably.

Her mother was silent for a moment. Anna could tell she was chewing on something.

“What?” she prompted.

“What if you saw him, then got out of town for a while. You can tell him you need time to think.”

She stared at her mom. “And what? Just leave the restaurant and go on vacation?”

“Why not?” Warming to her idea, Margaret grabbed her hands. “God knows Ethan can handle the staff. I'll take care of Sterling. Gray's going to survive and he's in good hands. You can't be what he wants right now, so take some time to yourself. Then come back when you know.”

“I can't ask him to hang around waiting for me to decide,” she protested. “It's not fair to him.”

“Why not? You didn't start this, and he didn't have to go so far in doing his job to catch his bad guys. If he loves you as much as he claims, he'll wait.”

“Do you hate him now?”

Her face softened. “No, baby. I don't. Do you?”

“No. If I did, it wouldn't hurt so much.” The damned tears welled again, and her lip quivered.

“Oh, honey.”

“I don't know what to say to him.”

“Write it down,” her mother said suddenly. “Sit down and write him a letter. Deliver it in person, then go on your trip.”

Anna thought about that. Finally, she nodded. “All right. I'll do it.”

“Good for you. I'll help you make all the arrangements.”

Anna sat at her desk and struggled over the right words. About a half hour later, she had managed to compose a letter that told Gray how she felt. One she hoped gave her time to get her shit together and didn't slam the door completely.

At the hospital, nerves assailed her as her shoes squeaked down the corridor, drawing closer to his room. To her relief, there was nobody there visiting him, no witnesses to their pain.

The air rushed out of her as she saw that Gray was asleep. His chest was rising and falling with every breath. He was so pale, his lashes fanned on his cheeks. So handsome, and so vulnerable lying there after fighting to survive.

A wave of emotion, one she didn't want to name, nearly stole her strength. Moving to a chair, she sat and watched over him for the longest time, but he didn't wake. Maybe that was a sign. This was for the best. She had to go while she still could.

Removing the letter from her purse, she lay the envelope on the bedside table. Then she stood and kissed his slack lips.

And walked away.

***

Gray awoke so damned thirsty, he could hardly stand it. His mouth was dry as cotton.

It took him a few moments to get oriented. He'd been having a dream. A nice one, where Anna had come to see him, had kissed him. He could still feel the love lingering around him, almost as if it had been real.

Glancing at the table, he searched for his water glass. Instead, he spotted an envelope propped against the pitcher. On it was written his name.

Hand shaking, he took the envelope. With some effort, he managed to get it open. It took longer to actually be able to focus his blurry eyes on the words, and when he did, he wished he'd been blind.

Gray,

By the time you read this, I'll be on a plane. I need to get out of town for a while, get my head together. I know you'll think this is an attempt to hurt you like you hurt me, but that's not the case at all.

You were doing your job. I understand that. You had to catch the men involved in the drug ring, and I'm glad you did. In the end, you saved my business.

But it's the rest I can't put out of my mind. I was falling for you, hard. If I weren't, I wouldn't be so lost at finding out you weren't who I thought. That I was just a suspect you needed information from, at least in the beginning. I know you fell for me, too, but you still played me. You went too far.

As for what happened in my office, seeing you kill two men frightened me. Worse, seeing you almost die—that terrified me more than anything. So much that I can't sleep. Even if I can forgive you, even if I can give us another chance, you're still Grayson Sloane, FBI agent. Your enemies will try to kill you.

And one day, if one of them succeeds, I wouldn't survive losing you. Not like that. I don't have it in me to take that chance with my heart.

Maybe I'm a coward for cutting my losses, but I can't deal with all of this. I need time to think, and as hard as it is for me to say, I don't expect you to wait for me. I honestly hope you find what you're looking for.

Heal fast, please. I'm so glad you're going to be okay.

Love,

Anna

“I already found what I'm looking for,” he whispered. The letter fell from his hand, and his eyes burned. Inside, he was scraped raw and bleeding.

“And I won't be okay until you come home.”

***

Anna was sprawled in a lounger on the white sand of Aruba, soaking up the Caribbean sun.

Too bad it couldn't melt the chill inside.

Three days she'd been here, and she was no closer to an answer. She used the time to relax and unwind from the stress of what had happened in New York. Stress from making the restaurant successful, too, pouring her heart and soul into the place. She hadn't realized how tightly wound she'd been from that alone.

Should she call Gray? She missed him. But would that solve anything, or just make things worse? She didn't know what to do.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Shielding her eyes, she peered up at the man standing under her grass umbrella. Her mouth immediately went dry.

The man smiling down at her had tanned skin, natural, if she had her guess. Raven hair was swept back from a face that would make Antonio Banderas weep from shame, and his teeth were a slash of white in his angular face. He was tall and wearing Speedo swim trunks that barely covered the essentials and left not one thing to the imagination.

More than being gorgeous, he was imposing. Even mostly naked, he had a commanding presence that suggested his question was a mere formality. He'd asked to sit next to her, but he clearly expected her assent. The old Anna would've bristled and snarled a rejection, but she'd come here to relax, after all. Who said she couldn't do that while talking with a sexy man?

And he was the most stunning man she'd ever met—except for Gray. Quickly, she pushed that name aside.

“Who's asking?” she said, keeping her tone playful. Light.

His smile deepened, revealing grooves bracketing his mouth that she suddenly wanted to trace with her tongue. “I'm Joaquin,” he said. “And you?”

“I'm Anna.” She studied him, cocking her head.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, it's just . . .” She shrugged. “I thought I'd heard that name before recently. It's kind of unusual. So, what brings a man like you over here to talk to me?”

“I'll confess: I've been watching you since I arrived yesterday.” He took a seat without waiting for confirmation that he was welcome.

She arched a brow. “Oh? Stalking much?”

He shook his head ruefully. “No. It's just that you have the saddest eyes I've seen in quite a while. I'd like to know if there's anything I can do to change that.”

At first she thought he was kidding, or just hitting on her. But in the depths of his riveting black eyes, she read understanding. Sincerity.

“You seem like you really mean that.”

“I do,” he said quietly. Turning, he waved a hand at a bulky man she hadn't noticed standing just behind them. “Get me and Anna something from the bar. Something fruity with rum for her, Jack and Coke for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

She snorted a laugh, eyeing him. “Really? You have a lackey to play fetch for you?”

“He's my bodyguard. He does what I pay him to do.” Said as though it was quite normal to relax on the beach with a bodyguard.

In spite of herself, she was intrigued. “Do you always take charge? What if I wanted something else to drink?”

“Do you?”

“Well, no. It was a rhetorical question.”

His lips quirked. “There you go. So tell me, Anna . . . can I help put a happy smile back on your beautiful face?”

She studied the gorgeous man beside her and thought,
What could it hurt? Live a little, Anna.
That was her new mantra, the one that had been drilled into her head.

“I think perhaps I'll let you try.”

His smile heated her inside, chasing away the chill. Their drinks arrived, and Joaquin handed her the fruity concoction. Then he raised his own plastic cup in a toast.

“That's a start, Anna. A very good start.”

***

Gray was going home tomorrow. Thank God.

He was in bed, flipping through channels on the wall-mounted TV, when Simon strode in, a serious expression on his face. Whatever he had to say, it wasn't good. Gray sat up too fast and winced in pain. He had plenty more healing to do when he got out of here and had to move cautiously.

“Careful, partner.” Simon took a seat by the bed. “You could rip something.”

“Don't stall. Did you find out where Anna went?”

Simon blew out a breath. “Yeah. A resort in Aruba.”

“So what's with the face? You look like someone just died.”

“Someone might when you find out the rest.”

Dread seeped into his heart. “Lay it on me straight.”

“Joaquin Delacruz is in Aruba. He arrived at the resort two days after Anna got there.”

Anger burned inside him, but he kept it in check. Facts first. “Is he going after her because of me? Because I helped take down Manny?”

“I don't know, man. What I do know is he's getting awfully chummy with her, doing his best to get close. Real close.”

Anger swept into rage in a single heartbeat, and he shoved the covers off him. “If he touches her, I'm going to kill that motherfucker.”

“What are you doing?” Simon asked in alarm. “You can't go after him. You'll either set back your recovery or you'll really kill each other.”

“That's a chance I'll have to take.” Standing, he fought off a wave of sickness and pain. “Get me my damned pants.”

“No. The only place you're going is home, and even then you're on bed rest. There's no way you'll be cleared to fly, much less out of the country, and you know it.”

The truth seeped in slowly, and it was killing him. Easing back into the bed, he clenched his fists in the sheets. “When I'm out of here, I'm going to take care of Delacruz for good. The question is, are you with me? If not, stay the fuck out of my way.”

Simon's jaw clenched. After a pause, he stated, “When you're
healed
, I'm in. Somebody has to watch your stupid back.”

“Good enough.” That would have to do. For now.

Joaquin fucking Delacruz. Using Anna to get to Gray. To take their hatred to a whole new level.

Well, Gray would play the billionaire's game. Just this one last time.

Joaquin, going legit? He didn't believe that for a second. He was going to find the elusive proof he needed.

Then Gray would bury that son of a bitch alive.