Finding Grace Read online

  It came to Thorne in waves. “Sinking fast, help me please, but you wouldn’t, worthless tease; held me down, made me drown.” She took a breath. “A boat with a hole, a can to bail. Hands too cold, she knows she’ll fail.”

  She shook her head to clear it of the vision. “Shit. The hole’s big, the soup can wouldn’t cut it even if her hands weren’t numb.” She took one look at the panic on the faces in the room and took a deep breath. “Hurry. She’s still alive. Call the Coast Guard. I can detail the scene for them. It’s out a ways, just north of the harbor. She has a good chance if they move it.”

  After releasing Katherine’s hands, she slipped her warmers back on, but not before she caught Paul staring at the scars on her wrists.

  “Sick fucking bastards,” he said. Then he looked at his wife and mumbled an apology for his language before taking both of her hands in his and turning her away from Thorne—like he was trying to erase her damaged touch. For just a second, it seemed like he was going to say something to her over Katherine’s shoulder, but he dropped his eyes down to the floor instead.

  She was thankful. She hated that he knew about her scars, hated the trace of revulsion in his eyes, hated the pity she saw there most of all.

  At least Captain America and everyone else was busy or distracted. And Jack wasn’t here. Her everlasting thanks to all the gods for that. Now, if they could just help her save Sarah, too. It was going to be close.

  Captain America had switched the speaker phone back to the officers who’d arrested Todd. The man’s ranting and raving was useless. It was highly doubtful he would have been able, even if he had been willing, to tell anyone where he’d left Sarah. One glance at the frozen rage on the cop’s face told Thorne that only a life sentence or an insanity plea that kept Todd locked up would keep him alive.

  Waiting was hard on everyone, but Thorne honestly worried that Captain America might have a coronary right there in her office. He was clearly not a man accustomed to being helpless.

  Word finally came that Sarah had been sighted in a swamped and sinking boat. The tension in the room ratcheted up another notch.

  It wasn’t until a woman’s frantic sobs came over the speaker that everyone let out a breath of relief, followed by cheers and applause. Katherine actually hugged Thorne right there in her chair. Paul mumbled something Thorne didn’t want to hear anyway and pulled his wife back into his arms.

  Captain America was already sagging like a big balloon the day after the party. His voice was raspy when he turned to her. “I don’t know how to thank you. I owe you more than I can ever repay.”

  Thorne gave herself a moment to think. From her experience, gratitude was fleeting and Captain America’s was too useful to allow it to slip away unused.

  “Actually, there is something. When you’ve got some time, I’d like to talk to you about an unsolved murder that took place about a year ago, not too far from here.”

  When he just frowned at her, another idea popped into her head. “But if you’re looking for something easy, put Griggs on Traffic for a month where I can go by and flip him off.”

  He jerked as though all of her words had registered at once. “An unsolved murder? Of course, any time.” He paused. “But why Griggs? Haven’t you humiliated the man enough? That shiner you gave him was fodder for a lot of…”

  Maybe, but it wasn’t really enough to let him off the hook.

  Oh well. She shrugged. “Forget it. It was just an idea.” Thorne started looking for her knitting and informed the room at large, “I’d appreciate it if you all found somewhere else to be. I’d like to get back to work.”

  The room emptied but the rank smell of his dried-up fear told her Captain America hadn’t left yet.

  She looked up at him and waited.

  “Um, I’m sorry, Thorne. I’m sure you’ve got your reasons. We should talk about—”

  “Whatever.” She waved him off. “Now go kiss Sarah until she forgets her name, then put her in a nice hot bubble bath.” She looked him over. “Maybe you should join her. You look like hell, Captain.”

  “It’s Lieutenant.” She heard him grumble just before he closed the door behind him.

  * * * *

  Traffic hummed beneath the music in Thorne’s iPod. For such a talkative and nosy guy, Farley sure had been quiet all week. Not that she’d exactly encouraged conversation. He was amiable enough, though, and if the looks and smiles he got from a lot of the women drivers were to be believed, he was probably handsome, too. Other than being Blackridge-sized, he looked just like all men did to Thorne—men other than Jack, that is. But he didn’t seem any more comfortable around her than the rest of the team besides Jack were—or Jack had been, anyway.

  She reminded herself that Jack didn’t want to give her rides anymore. She didn’t understand; they’d been getting along so well. Too well…Shit, not all that again.

  Since Sarah’s rescue on Monday, Paul and the rest of the crew had tried to be nice. They just didn’t know how to handle her, not that anyone ever had. And it felt so good to be useful again. She couldn’t quit over whatever was going on with Jack. At least not yet.

  “You miss Dagger, huh, Thorne? That office of yours has been awful quiet this week.”

  Farley appeared to have finally gotten up the nerve to talk. And shit. Just what she wanted to talk about. Not. But he was really working that smile.

  What the hell. “I like Jack. Everybody knows that.” She tried to make it sound nonchalant.

  “He like you, too?”

  She tried a cool shrug. “I thought he did. You’d have to ask him.” Let me know what you find out. “We do have a lot in common.”

  “Oh yeah?” Farley’s eyebrows rose and he turned from the road to eye her curiously.

  Oh, for…“Not like that. God, Farley. I mean in the way we feel about things.”

  “Dagger talks to you about his feelings? Huh.” He shook his head like she’d told him Jack was from Mars and drove a little green spaceship. “Well, he’s different since you came, anyway. I’ve known him for a couple years.” He lowered his voice to a loud whisper, “Don’t tell him I said this, but I think you’re good for him.”

  “Really?” Thorne worked hard to make it sound like she couldn’t have cared less.

  “Yeah. He’s still an unnerving sonofabitch, but he’s not as grim as he used to be. Actually, I think you’re good for the whole place. Work is a lot more entertaining since you came on board. Where’d Paul find you, anyway?”

  Crap, another conversational direction she didn’t care for. And things had just been getting interesting.

  “You know Farley, through Captain America—uh, Lieutenant Rigby.”

  He smiled. “See, now, you’re funny too.” But after a beat, like a dog back to a bone, he said, “Oh yeah, that’s right, the kidnapping attempt down at The Plaza. What I don’t understand is why someone of your talent was working as a waiter down there.”

  Thorne hoped she had done a better job of sounding casual than Farley was doing.

  “Nice try, Farley, but I don’t talk about it.”

  “Not even to Dagger?”

  “Not even to Jack.”

  Farley let out a disappointed sigh. “Well, okay then. What about this Jefferson fella Dagger mentioned?”

  “Jack told you about him?”

  “Me and the whole team down at O’Learys.” He looked over at her. “You know, if you don’t want us to talk about you, Thorne, you should join us. He told us about Tron’s, too.”

  “The rat bastard. His middle name’s Judas, I know it is.”

  This time Farley laughed. “Why wouldn’t you want anyone to know that stuff, Thorne? It’s pretty cool, really. Makes you seem more humanlike.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to seem more humanlike.” She felt his eyes on her when she turned back to look out the window.

  His sigh had the ring of resignation to it. “Well, a little bird did tell me that if we turn here, we’ll drive right by that
cop you wanted to flip off. Said he’ll be directing traffic there for a while.”

  She smiled. She had a hard time picturing either Paul or Captain America as a little bird.

  * * * *

  L.A. sucked. Dagger hated the heat and the way the bright sun seemed to wash the color out of everything. The buildings were ugly and everything was so goddamn far apart you practically had to live behind the wheel. Grace would hate it here, too. Back when she told him she’d moved to Seattle for the climate, that she loved it cool and dark and damp, he’d laughed at her. But maybe she had a point.

  With all this damn driving and mostly only dumbass Mills for company, he’d had nothing to occupy his mind but Grace—the memories of how she’d looked, how she’d moved, how sexy her voice had sounded, particularly when she was all breathless…Oh God…And, hard to believe as it was, she had responded to him. He’d felt it. Felt her heat, seen that vein in her throat throbbing…Damn, his jeans were too fucking tight. Like they’d been too tight pretty much all week.

  His sigh was deep and long, an attempt to release some of the unbearable tension. Truthfully though, he would have been satisfied just to talk to her, to have her sitting next to him. He glanced at the passenger seat with such bitterness that Mills flinched.

  It hit him hard. Dagger slapped the steering wheel instead of his own head. He missed her! Shit. He’d never missed anyone before. He’d missed beer, he’d missed pork chops and juicy steaks, he’d even missed his caddy, but he’d never missed anyone.

  Now he was truly and royally fucked. Especially after his best friend had probably screwed the hell out of any chance he might have with her. And he could only be pissed at himself because big bad ol’ Dagger had been scared. Scared that he might be turning into a…Then he’d discovered his instincts weren’t traitorous at all—that they were good, really good…

  He punched the roof of the SUV. He still didn’t feel any better.

  Maybe if he clocked Mills instead…He glanced at his passenger. The poor bastard was sweating even more than usual. At least he was quiet. Had been ever since Paul had called and told them all about the rescue of Lieutenant Rigby’s girlfriend.

  Grace’d done it again, pulled a rabbit out of her magic hat. He wondered what else she had in there. He sure as hell wanted to find out.

  A song came on the radio. One of the songs she’d played in the studio, the one where she’d used that silver ball. Holy Christ. He turned up the music without thinking and his lips formed a smile. It felt strange, but good.

  Mills must have taken it for a momentary sign of weakness.

  “Hey Dagger, can we stop for somethin’ to eat? I’m starvin’.”

  Dagger turned his shut-the-fuck-up look on him and cranked the music up another notch. He turned his eyes back to the street that seemed to go on forever, disappearing into the shimmering waves of heat coming off the pavement.

  When the song was over and the asshole jock started jabbering, he turned the volume down in time to hear Mills’s stomach growl. He pulled into the next fast food joint they came to. Mills could hardly afford to have what smarts he might have dulled by hunger.

  “Thanks,” Mills said around a mouthful of burger. “Say, now you got everythin’ all set for us, you gonna be headin’ back, Dagger?”

  “Why? You in a hurry to get rid of me?” Dagger kept his gaze straight ahead this time, at least until he heard Mills swallow.

  “It’s just that…” The swallow was louder than it should have been. “Damn. How come I always got to lose when it comes to drawin’ straws?”

  “Lemme guess. You’ve been elected to impart me with some special wisdom.”

  “Uh, somethin’ like that.”

  “It’s gonna be real deep and insightful, I can tell already.”

  “Promise you won’t hurt me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Now that just don’t seem fair.”

  “I’m not the one who lost the draw.”

  The sound that came out of Mills’s mouth was more like a gulp than a swallow this time.

  “All right then.” He sucked in a breath. “You know you’re no hill o’ fun to begin with.” He held up his hand as if Dagger would have protested. As if. “Now that’s fine, the devil we know an’ all. But this week, well, it’s been like ridin’ shotgun to a seat packed full o’ C-four on a teeter-totter. An’ I’m not the only one what feels that way.”

  “Hence the straws.”

  Mills nodded.

  “That bad, huh?”

  Mills nodded again. Dagger thought he was holding his breath.

  “I explained it was all that little faggot’s fault—”

  “Goddamn it! It is not Thorne’s—” The SUV shuddered this time when Dagger’s fist punched the roof. Even though, damn it to hell, in a way it was.

  Mills’s breath whistled out through his teeth. Dagger could smell the onions.

  “I know, I know, y’all think he’s somethin’ special. An’ maybe he is. But he’s gotcha all agitated, Dagger. Mind now, nobody’s blamin’ you. Bet you’re real glad to be here with us and Farley’s been stuck with drivin’ him all week—”

  “What!” Grace was riding with Hollywood-fucking-Farley? Funny, Paul hadn’t seen fit to mention that. Dagger punched the roof again. His knuckles were trying to tell him something, but he didn’t want to hear it any more than he wanted to hear what Mills had to say.

  “Well, like my mama says, in for a penny, in for a pound.” Mills started talking faster than Dagger had thought he could. “We was thinkin’, the boys an’ me, you just need to let off some steam, right? An’ since it’s prob’ly best you not go beatin’ on some poor body as you’d like to kill him as not, we were hopin’ last night at the girlie club you were gonna find yourself a nice little piece o’ relief, like you do now an’ then…An’ here in L.A. they’re all so full of sunshine and sweetness, well, they prob’ly wouldn’t even charge you extra like they do in Seattle.” Mills took a deep breath and went on, his face locked onto the road in front of them. “But then you just had to go stompin’ out o’ there practic’ly before they even got started. We figured maybe on account you were broke, so we took up a collection, see? We raised—”

  Just then, Mills made the mistake of looking over at him. Dagger didn’t just laugh. He roared.

  His passenger moved farther away from him and started eyeing his door like he was considering using it even though they were on the freeway.

  The confederacy of fools and their general only had it half wrong, though. He wasn’t broke, but he was losing it. Watching those girls after seeing Grace had been like—

  “Now, now no need to…it was jus’ a thought. But one thing you gotta understand.” Mills looked at him again, though Dagger could tell it took about all the courage the man had. “If you plan on stayin’, you’re ridin’ by yourself. You’re this close to blowin’—” he almost pinched his thumb and index finger together “—an’ if you don’t know it, we all sure as hell do, an’ there’s none of us wants to be within a mile of you when it happens.”

  Mills turned his eyes back to the road and fell blessedly silent. Dagger was still shaking with laughter that he hoped wasn’t madness.

  Chapter Ten

  Something pounded insistently at Thorne’s consciousness. It had taken forever to fall asleep last night. Not that that was unusual, but it had been worse than ever this week, worse since Jack had penetrated her protective shell and left her shivering in Seattle with a storm full of questions to sun his fine inscrutable ass in fucking L.A. The big jerk. She’d been alone all her life, but she’d never known loneliness until now.

  What was that infernal racket? It was probably her neighbor again, trying to teach himself how to play the Djembe drum, a lovely instrument that she lately wished had remained in Africa.

  She didn’t figure out that what she heard was knocking instead of drumming until a deep voice with a trace of Southern accent penetrated the thin door of her apartment.
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  “Thorne, uh, Grace, it’s Dagger. Let me in, will ya?”

  Her eyes flew open and she practically jumped out her bed on the floor.

  “Jack!” she almost shrieked.

  “You gonna let me in?”

  Thorne thought of the scars the sweat suit she slept in wouldn’t hide. They weren’t the worst she had, but they were bad, and impossible to miss. She could just tell him to go away and come back tomorrow. That’s what she should do. But if she did, she’d just spend the rest of the night lying awake and wondering why he’d come.

  What to do? In knitting, programming, and life, the simplest solution was often the best.

  “Okay, you can come in as long as I don’t have to turn on a light.”

  “What?” She could almost see his brow furrowing. “Okay, sure, whatever.” His words were casual, but his tone was tense.

  She opened the door and took a step back. Even the dim light in the hall made her blink.

  He stepped in and said, “You sure do seem to like it dark, between those big tinted glasses and the blindfold you wear during your workout. What’s that about, anyway?”

  Backlit as Jack was, and lit from the front only by the tiny amount of light that made it through her kitchen window, she couldn’t make out his expression. Letting him in had been a mistake.

  Thorne took a step back. “Did you really come over here in the middle of the night and get me out of bed to ask me how I feel about darkness?”

  Her voice hadn’t come out petulant as she’d intended it to, but rather as a low whisper, almost an invitation. Damn it, how did Jack manage to suck all the air out of a room?

  Then she felt his strong hands on her shoulders, pulling her to him. His touch was gentle enough, but there was no mistaking his intent when she heard the tone in his voice. “No, Grace, that’s not why I’m here.”

  “Well then…” She didn’t finish, couldn’t finish. She felt the warmth of his breath before the touch of his lips on hers, his fingers cradling her face. It was so sweet, so gentle, so tempting, that she suddenly thought she understood what all the fuss about kissing was.