Finding Grace Read online

  Paul saw the check still sitting on the desk where Dagger had left it. At least he’d taken the ring with him. He looked at Farley and said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to go pray she comes back, for all of our sakes.”

  * * * *

  Sitting on the sofa in Dagger’s apartment, many beers and shots later, Joe asked him, “Is it true what Paul said? Did you really kill all those people?”

  Dagger’s bottle stopped on the way to his mouth. “Why would Paul tell you about that?”

  “He wanted me to understand that Grace isn’t the only one who’s damaged. I’m sorry, Jack.”

  “I’m not. For every man I killed, I saved hundreds, sometimes thousands.” He took the drink.

  “No, I’m sorry for what it did to you.”

  Dagger shrugged. “Me, too.” What else could he say? “So tell me how it went down with Grace. What do you know about her being damaged? Tell me everything.”

  He didn’t feel drunk, but he was feeling a little sick. He watched his brother hesitate, looking like he was going back and forth, arguing with himself and looking like he might be sick, too.

  Finally Joe said, “I’ve failed you about as bad as one brother can fail another. Grace was right, my best sucked. I have enough regrets when it comes to you. I won’t add to them if I can help it. The only thing you need to know about my conversation with her is that she told me she loves you. I believe her now and I think I even believed her then. I just didn’t want to. Don’t get me wrong, I agree with her. She did you a favor when she left. Return that ring and take a trip. The sooner you forget about her, the better.”

  “I’m never going to forget Grace, Joe. She’s part of me. I’m closer to her than I’ve ever been to anyone, even Paul. At least she knew I had a brother. And Joe, have you ever really made love? I never want to fuck again. The idea of even touching another woman leaves me cold.” Dagger shuddered.

  “I’m going to need another beer if you want me to answer your question.”

  Dagger had to think back to what his question had been. He went and got another couple of beers and handed one to his brother. “Tell me, Joe, how you fucked it up.”

  “You always were the smart one, for all the good it did you.” He took a long drink out of the bottle. “It’s like this, Jack. She was so sweet, but she had nothing, came from nothing. I was dating this hot woman, loaded too, when I met her. Melissa was just supposed to be a fling, a little something on the side. But I went crazy over her and got caught. The rich bitch dumped me. I was pissed, blamed Melissa. I swear, I’ll never forget the way she looked at me, like I’d ripped her heart out and stomped on it. A week later, I learned that she’d never even known about the other woman, that the fuck up was all mine, every which way.”

  “How long ago did this happen, Joe?”

  “Maybe a month.” He shrugged.

  “Does this have anything to do with your visit?” Dagger looked at his brother.

  “I guess so. Now that you say it. All I could think about was that I had no one, that there wasn’t anyone in the world who gave a fuck about me except me, and I was doing a piss-poor job of it and had no one to blame but myself. I knew I’d blown it with you, too, but I couldn’t give up without trying one last time, in person.”

  “So you came here to fuck me over in person?” Dagger drank his beer down, not expecting an answer.

  “That wasn’t my intention, Jack. I was trying to protect you.”

  Dagger just sat there before he started laughing and found he couldn’t stop. Before too long, Joe joined him.

  * * * *

  “Sure you don’t want to stay another couple of days?” Dagger asked as they pulled up to the curb at the airport.

  “Nah, I think I’ve been enough trouble. Besides, I’m getting old; I don’t think my liver could handle it.” He slapped his brother on the back. “Say, I meant to tell you, nice sweater. I never figured you for cashmere.”

  “Grace knit it for me.”

  “Knit it? Oh for chrissake, it figures. Sorry.” Joe shook his head. “Say, maybe, if you’re not too busy, think about coming out to New York for a visit. I promise I’ll show you a good time. There’s tough clubs with shit music there too, you know.”

  Dagger saw the hope in his smile and felt sorry for him. “Yeah, sounds good. I’ll call you. Sure you don’t want me to wait?”

  “No, thanks, it’s a long flight. I’ll just stretch my legs and get a few last breaths of fresh air.” Joe grasped his hand and squeezed it hard before turning away.

  * * * *

  “So, you two patch things up?”

  Joe jumped six inches off the bench he’d been sitting on, watching planes take off. “Grace,” he practically squeaked.

  “Thorne, if you please. Shit, I’m not going to hurt you, Joe.”

  “Not like you hurt my brother, anyway, Grace. I thought you were long gone. Portland, at least.”

  “Farley bought that, huh?” Her grin didn’t reach her eyes. “I never left town.”

  “They all bought your show, baby—hook, line, and sinker. They think you’re some kind of wounded angel.”

  “But not you, Joe. I don’t fool you.”

  “You say you love him, but you walked out on Jack because you’re too scared to let him see you for what you really are—damaged goods. You’re breaking his heart because you’re a coward. So no, you don’t fool me.”

  She pulled her knees up to her chin and hugged her legs. “I know.”

  “So why are you here? Come to gloat over the carnage?” He forced a laugh.

  “I didn’t have the guts to leave. I tried. Really, Joe, I just want to know if he’s okay.”

  “You mean you’re here to soothe whatever you’ve got left of a conscience. You selfish little…”

  He was looking at her, but she was watching a plane coming in. Was that a tear on her cheek?

  “Prove me wrong, Grace. Give Jack a chance. What have you got to lose? The hellhounds are dead and there’s nobody left to blame.” He got up and walked away without looking back.

  He hoped she didn’t see him let go of the breath he’d been holding. God, that had been hard. The hardest cross he’d ever done. He hadn’t been prepared, either. At first, he’d thought she was just some kid, a guy. But then she’d spoken with that bruised voice. She looked so small, so fragile. And after he’d finished with her, so broken. Jack would have killed him for talking to her like that, and he’d deserve it. He could only hope he hadn’t wasted the opportunity, that it was enough, that he’d finally done right by his brother.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Something wasn’t right. Dagger felt it even before he unlocked his apartment door. He’d worked late and stopped at O’Leary’s too, trying anything and everything to distract himself. Mills was back in the office and had given him nonstop shit about Grace. Farley had been subdued since Dagger’d come back to the office after looking for her. The whole world was upside down.

  He reached for the light because without it, he couldn’t seem to see the mess. It had been there when he’d brought Joe to the airport three days ago, and it should be there still—unless the broken-heart fairy had taken pity on him and cleaned up, knowing it might be years before he could make himself do it.

  Dagger flicked the switch and blinked. There wasn’t really any such thing as a broken-heart fairy, was there? He’d just made that up, right? So what had happened to the bottles and chip bags, the pizza boxes and beer caps?

  And his stereo was playing music from that little AM station on the end of the dial, the one that played such a bizarre variety of music, all thrown together like the DJ was a drunken monkey; the one that Grace liked so much.

  His heart started pounding. He tried to call out her name, but his mouth was suddenly too dry and only an odd croaking sound came out. He crept to the bedroom but stopped short outside the door. Soft light was spilling out from underneath it, along with the warm scent of melting candle wax. With hu
rried and unsteady steps, Dagger returned to the living room and unlaced his boots with shaking fingers, sure that he wouldn’t be sane enough to do it later.

  * * * *

  Thorne had heard him enter the apartment, had heard him come down the hall, but she hadn’t heard him come in the bedroom, nor could she see if he’d opened the door a crack because she was lying on her stomach with her face to the wall, in all of her naked and scarred glory. Damn him anyway for keeping his doors so well oiled.

  She heard him turn around—at least the fucking floorboards creaked—and then the muted pounding of his boots on the carpet, almost running back to the living room. He’d seen her, he must have, and he couldn’t get away fast enough. Thorne froze from the inside out and felt herself fracture. She couldn’t move, and she couldn’t stop the tears. She didn’t hear him come back.

  * * * *

  Dagger waited until he had better control of his breathing, because that wasn’t going to get any easier, either. Then he let his eyes move leisurely over her beautiful body in the light of the candles. There must have been two dozen of them. He studied every muscle, every bone, every shadow, every crest and every valley, and yes, every scar. His jaw clenched when he easily deduced what had made most of them, and he knew he’d never be able to stand the smell of cigarette smoke after this.

  Then he saw her body shudder with a sob and whispered her name. “Grace.”

  She stilled and he went to her, strangely afraid that if he touched her, she might disappear. So he bent down and grazed just the nape of her neck with his lips. Then he kissed her cheek and tasted the salt of her tears. She tried to turn, but he pushed her gently down into the mattress and began to kiss her all over. He kissed every mark slowly, lovingly, climbing on the bed and straddling her when it suited him, before rolling her over and enjoying that breathtaking view.

  Her eyes were squeezed shut and she had tensed again. There were even more scars, if anything, than on her back. He could see now why she was so smooth, so bare, and a flash of anguish seared his gut. Yet somehow, her scars made her even more beautiful to him, even more rare and precious. He kissed each one with infinite care, this time letting his tongue tease the silky surface his calloused fingers had only registered as different, as extraordinarily smooth. When he finally looked up at her face, her eyes were wide, their silver glow contrasting with the golden candlelight, and her lips were trembling.

  Right up until he kissed them, Dagger was fine. He’d been banking the fire, keeping its burn steady and even. But just that one kiss had it blazing out of control, threatening to burn him alive with his clothes on. Shit, why did he always forget to get undressed? It didn’t help that Grace wasn’t letting him go, that she was holding him tight against her, that her hands had found their way under his sweater and the waistband of his jeans while her tongue stroked his. She was moving against him now, too, making those little noises in her throat. Shit, he needed to get inside her as much as he needed his next breath—and at this point, it seemed like the two were mutually exclusive. He moaned in frustration and before he knew it, Grace had rolled him underneath her, pulled down on his zipper and up on his sweater, her lips nibbling each freshly exposed inch of his skin like she’d been starving for it.

  He was still pretty much dressed when she lowered herself onto him, but he didn’t care. He was surrounded by Grace, covered in her, and it had never felt better or more right. She was moving slowly, sliding up and down to the rhythm of the song playing on the radio. He knew she didn’t mean to tease him, to provoke him, to drive him beyond all restraint. But she’d done it and there was no help for it now but to turn her around and onto her side so he could pull her back against his chest and drive into her from behind as hard and fast as he needed to. When he touched his mouth to her ear, to tell her how beautiful she was and how much he loved her, she screamed and bucked and his fingers found the ways he knew to make it last for her, even as he felt himself exploding like a rocket that was never coming back to earth.

  * * * *

  Joe sipped his coffee and looked out the window of Jack’s apartment. He’d never known his brother to take so long shaving and getting dressed. But Jack had changed in the three weeks he’d been gone. He was…maybe healing, if Joe wanted to think about it.

  He didn’t. His roaming eyes landed on a hot red sports car with a big white ribbon tied around it sitting in the parking lot.

  His brother walked into the living room, still buttoning his shirt. “Have you seen my shoes, Joe?”

  “Say, Jack, isn’t that your parking spot?” He tried to keep a straight face.

  Jack walked into the kitchen and peered over his shoulder.

  Joe could practically see his brother’s jaw drop, those big fists rubbing at his eyes.

  * * * *

  It was still too cold to be standing outside in his bare feet, but Jack didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy looking at the Ferrari parked right there in his spot.

  “You’ll be needing these.” Joe tossed the keys and Jack caught them.

  “Joe?” Jack’s hands were almost shaking when he unlocked the door.

  “Don’t look at me, I’m a cheap bastard. Keys were hanging around your door knob.”

  He was happy for his brother, he really was. Okay, and jealous, too. He was a big enough man to admit that. Poor little Grace had turned out to be loaded. Who’d have guessed? Thoughtful and generous, too, apparently.

  Still, it was fun watching Jack. He was like a kid in a candy store, sitting behind the wheel, checking out the cockpit. When he turned the ignition and listened to the engine purr, the smile of pure joy stretching his mouth made Joe glad he was here to see it.

  The stereo was elegantly installed and probably cost half again what the car had. There was no note, no card, just the strategically placed iPod dock.

  “Grace,” was all Jack said.

  Joe had to laugh. “Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face and finish getting dressed. You don’t want to be late, do you?”

  He grimaced, thinking it made his steak knives look pretty shitty.

  * * * *

  Trent surveyed the men standing around the small chapel. “Good Lord, I feel like I’m in Land of the Giants. Farley, dear, who is that handsome man in the tux?”

  “Dagger’s brother, Joe. I still wonder why he’s best man. I was sure it would be Paul.”

  “Silly, Paul’s giving her away, of course. The man does have Jack’s eyes, now that you mention it, but the resemblance definitely stops there. Thorne told me”—Trent lowered his voice to a loud whisper—“that it was Joe who got them back together.”

  “Really? Sure seemed to me like he was the one who—”

  “Shhh. Say, do you think he might be…?”

  “No, Trent, I don’t. The way he keeps looking at Katherine is fixing to get him killed.”

  “Well what about that big fella standing in the corner, he’s awfully cute.” Trent smiled and batted his eyelashes.

  Farley looked over at Mills. “Yeah, you go tell him that, but I wouldn’t stand too close when you do it.” Farley grinned.

  “Oh, you are terrible.” Trent continued to search the small crowd. “Our police lieutenant certainly looks as nervous as a bride, but that may have something to do with the way that winsome redhead he’s with keeps eyeing the proceedings like she wants to be next. Oh, I just love the drama at weddings, don’t you?”

  * * * *

  “Grace, you look like an angel. That ice-blue silk-satin is positively divine with your eyes and hair. And the lace choker and wristlets are the perfect finishing touch.”

  “I don’t know, Katherine, this gown is so tight I’m afraid to bend over. I guess that’s why they call it a sheath, huh? Not that I don’t appreciate you helping me pick it out. As for the lace, well, many non-angelic words were spoken in the process of knitting it.” Thorne grinned.

  “Now, if you’ll just let me put on a little blush for the photos…” Katherine dug in he
r purse.

  “Photos?” A wave of panic hit Thorne.

  “Yes, photos, so you and Jack will have something to pull out and look at when you’re old and gray.”

  “But I’m already gray.” Thorne protested, eyeing the compact in Katherine’s hand.

  “Platinum, dear, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” Katherine deftly applied the blush and pulled out a tube of lipstick. “Now stop fidgeting and turn around so you can look in this mirror and see for yourself how beautiful you are.”

  Thorne gulped and turned slowly. She would have held her breath longer, but the tight fit of the gown made it difficult. She stared at her reflection and thought about the things she’d been through, the things she’d searched for, the things she’d learned about love and trust.

  The woman staring back at her wasn’t flawless by any measure, but she was beautiful. And she’d always been there, just waiting to be recognized. Thorne knew that now, in this perfect eternal moment, knew that she’d found Grace.

  * * * *

  A collective gasp went up in the chapel as Paul walked up the aisle with Grace on his arm. Even Farley was speechless. But to Dagger, she looked the same as she had the first time he’d seen her at Trent’s studio, wearing a leotard and bathed in a sheen of sweat: breathtaking and irresistible. And he was about to lay claim to her in front of God and everybody. He shifted nervously.

  He’d be eternally grateful that Grace had agreed to a small, short, traditional ceremony that could be arranged quickly. Once she had that second ring on her finger, the one that bonded the other and her to him, he’d feel a lot better.

  When the time came, he repeated the vows the minister spoke to him. He held his breath. Now it was Grace’s turn.

  “…Love, honor and what?” Grace’s hand were on her hips.

  He leaned over to whisper in her ear.

  “No, I didn’t. I’ve never been to a wedding. How was I supposed to know traditional meant patriarchal?”