Page 12 of Revival in Laurel Valley

His mouth curved into something almost like a smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As her eyes drifted closed, she felt his hand wrap around hers. Warm. Solid. Real.

And despite everything—despite the fear and the danger and the impossibility of it all—she felt safe.

Chapter Three

The afternoon light slanted through the bulletproof windows, casting long shadows across the apartment. Liza lay on the couch, her head still throbbing despite the painkillers Colt had sent, and watched Grant pace.

He’d been at it for the past hour. Kitchen to window. Window to door. Door back to kitchen. Like a caged animal looking for a way out.

She understood the feeling.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” she said.

He stopped mid-stride and turned to look at her. “Sorry. I’m not good at waiting.”

“Neither am I.” She shifted on the couch, trying to find a position that didn’t make her head pound. “What time is it?”

“Almost three.” He moved to the window, careful to stay to the side as he peered out. “Five more hours until dark.”

Five hours. It felt like an eternity.

“Tell me about her,” Liza said. “The full story. If I’m going to be running from this woman, I want to know what I’m up against.”

Grant was quiet for a long moment. Then he moved to the chair across from her, settling into it like he was preparing for battle.

“I met Ryan Caine twelve years ago,” he began. “She’d just been selected for our task force—youngest woman in Detroit PD history. Smart, driven, talented. She reminded me of…” He trailed off. “She reminded me of who I used to be. Before the job wore me down.”

Liza heard the weight in those words. “You trained her.”

“Yeah. Taught her everything I knew. Weapons, tactics, how to read a scene, how to survive.” His jaw tightened. “I was proud of her. Thought she was going to be something special.”

“What changed?”

“Eduardo Diaz.” Grant’s voice went hard. “Drug dealer, killer, everything wrong with the city in one package. We’d been building a case against him for three years. Caine was part of the team. And then…” He shook his head. “I started noticing things. Evidence that went missing. Raids that came up empty because someone had tipped Diaz off. Witnesses who suddenly changed their stories.”

“She was feeding him information.”

“More than that. She was in love with him.” Grant leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I confronted her. Gave her a chance to come clean, to fix it. She looked me in the eye and told me to mind my own business.”

Liza could hear the betrayal in his voice, even now.

“So I went to internal affairs. Turned over everything I had. She ran before they could arrest her. Married Diaz within the month.” Grant’s hand went to his scar. “Two years later, I finally brought Diaz down. Caught him red-handed in a deal that got one of our own killed. He’s serving life without parole.”

“And Caine blamed you.”

“She swore she’d kill me. Made it her mission.” He met Liza’s eyes. “First attempt was six months ago. Car bomb. I wasn’t in the vehicle, but my partner was. He survived, barely. Second attempt, she tried to run me off the road. Third time, she fired shots into my apartment. Carefully placed sniper shots. She was playing with me.”

Liza’s stomach turned. “How many attempts?”

“Seven, counting today. Each one more reckless than the last.” His voice was flat. “Internal affairs started investigating me instead of her. Said I was obsessed. That I was putting the department at risk by staying on the job. They gave me a choice—retire or be fired.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Fair doesn’t matter in politics. They needed someone to blame, and I was convenient.” The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. “Twenty years on the force. Commendations, successful cases, lives saved. None of it mattered.”

Liza sat up slowly, ignoring the way her head protested. “So you came here.”