Saving Grace

by Stacey Espino

  “Grace! There you are, darlin’.”

  Trevor brushed past a shocked Ken, who scurried over to the telephone. She melted when he pulled her into a warm embrace. The tears came as a surprise. A great wash of relief sent a tidal wave of emotion crashing through her. She hadn’t realized how much she had held back all week, how unnatural numbing herself was when she had lost so much.

  “What are you two doing here?” she managed to ask.

  “Mr. Wagner sent us. We would have been here sooner, but your husband there blocked our calls and instructed the security to keep us out. We’ve been staying in a hotel down the street for three nights.”

  “Scot?”

  “He’s back home. Sniffling little baby. Thinks you want nothing to do with him, but his daddy has a mind for the truth and knew this wasn’t the life you wanted.”

  “He’s right. As usual. Can you get me out of here?” she asked. She gripped his arms tightly through his sleeves, fearing he could disappear if she let go. He provided a welcome familiar sight she didn’t want to lose.

  “We were just leaving. Can’t say I care for the city life.”

  He took her hand and pulled her along to where Conner stood guarding the doorway. His cold exterior cracked briefly when he offered Grace a kind smirk. She’d have missed it if she hadn’t been watching.

  As they slipped from the apartment, Ken called out after them. “Good luck getting out of here. My security and Dr. Velgin are waiting downstairs. Looks like you’ll be spending time in the loony bin after all, Grace.” He laughed, watching them disappear down the hall.

  “You know I never left on my own,” she offered as they hurried down the many flights of stairs. The metal cool against her nylon-covered feet.

  “I figured that much,” said Trevor.

  “He drugged me. I never wanted to leave. Ever.”

  “We know, Grace. Don’t you worry about that now. Let’s just get the hell out of this place first.”

  She felt the need to explain herself. No way did she willingly return to her abusive marriage and leave the best thing in her life behind without a thought. She still didn’t feel comfortable discussing Scot in front of Trevor, or even Conner, for that matter. But the curiosity ate away at her mind until she gave in.

  “Does Scot know you’re here?” she asked.

  “Not when we left, but he might now. Old Pete is terrible with secrets, and Scot’s been sniffing around the house, hoping you’d call.”

  She already imagined herself by his side. Feeling his strong frame, running her hands through his waves of hair, tasting his kiss…

  “She’s got no shoes,” Conner said as they neared the bottom landing.

  “Ah, shit. We can’t worry about that now, either. Piggyback her until we get to the car.”

  From a few steps below, Conner leaned over and reached back. She hugged his neck and wrapped her legs around his familiar body, the scent of cigarette smoke in his hair. He easily continued on with her weight hanging off him.

  Trevor pushed open the metal door on the bottom landing. Light from the lobby streamed in, along with many voices, untypical of the high-class condo. She didn’t have a good vibe. When Trevor let the door fall shut and stepped back, she knew things were about to get ugly.

  “Where is she?” Ken demanded.

  His head poked through the doorway and spotted her glued to Conner’s back. She tucked her head behind Conner’s, trying to remain invisible.

  “Get out of our way. We’re leaving here with Grace.”

  “Ha!”

  Two hired goons, dressed in black, complete with bulletproof vests, came into view behind Ken. She expected no less from him or her parents. God forbid she made some choices for her own life that went against their agenda. The two men stood twice as broad as Trevor and Conner, and she wouldn’t let them get hurt for her, regardless.

  “Everyone out in the lobby,” one of the bodyguards said. His voice sounded unnatural, too deep.

  “We’re fine where we are.” Trevor’s tone of voice was defiant.

  “Trev, don’t!” Grace insisted, wiggling her way off Conner’s back. The painted concrete chilled her feet, and the confined space at the bottom of the stairwell felt even smaller with so many bodies occupying it.

  The guard with the shaven head stepped toward her, but Trevor threw the first punch to the side of his jaw. The man’s head ricocheted to the side, and he stumbled slightly. Shit! All hell broke loose after that. Conner dove forward to defend Trevor from the guard’s retaliation, trying to subdue the mammoth-size arms behind his back, and then all four of them were at it. Punches flew, and bodies collided. Grace crouched down in the corner to stay safe from the testosterone-rich melee in front of her. From between their shuffling legs, she saw Ken retreat into the lobby. Her affection for Trevor and Conner had tears welling up in her eyes. They were being massacred. Although they fought like truebred cowboys, fearless and dirty, the bodyguards were steroid-filled monsters, trained and paid to inflict maximum damage. Conner’s head rammed into the metal handrail, and blood leaked from the cut. He didn’t falter, but bent forward and plowed his head into the guard’s stomach, forcing him against the wall. Grunting deafened her.

  A moment later, Trevor fell onto his knees in front of her after receiving a direct punch to the face. His left eye already swollen shut. She only wished to see his flawless, handsome face again. Enough was enough.

  She gently ran her hand over his cheek and shook her head before standing.

  “Stop it! I’ll go with you. Just leave them alone!” Grace confronted the two goons, who stopped to listen.

  “Don’t do it, Grace,” warned Trevor, still on the ground.

  She ignored him, allowing the guards to lead her into the warm sunlight of the lobby as a prisoner.

  Ken and her father, of all people, stood in the lobby with triumphant smirks, arms crossed.

  “I should have expected this from you. And to think I actually thought you’d make the right choice this time.”

  Her father shot a disapproving glare her way before appraising the two cowboys leaning against the far wall. They looked like a train wreck, and she desperately wanted to run over and tend to them.

  “Dad, you can’t do this. You can’t control me forever.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I can do anything I want. Money talks, Grace. You should have learned that by now.”

  She shrugged free of the hand holding her arm.

  “So what’s the plan? You going to lock me away for the rest of my life, because there’s no way I’ll sit by idly anymore and let you dictate my future.”

  “So be it. Dr. Velgin is on his way right now, and I have a feeling he’ll agree with committing you for observation.”

  Her anger grew, took on a life of its own. How dare they try to mold her life to suit their twisted plans? Her blood and the man who should love her, both ready to sell her off to benefit the bottom line. A divorce would shatter all their plans and newly made alliances and partnerships. Who cared if Grace had to be sacrificed? She was nothing in their eyes. Only a problem.

  But her anger had nothing to back it up. Trevor and Conner couldn’t stand up to such power, and she posed no threat on her own.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The condo security didn’t like what took place around them. One of the two men announced the police were called, even though they wouldn’t move from around their protective counter. Grace thanked God that the police would set things straight.

  “We’ll have to meet Dr. Velgin at his office. I don’t want the bloody police involved. Do you know what kind of bad press that could bring to the golf course?” Her father addressed Ken, who jumped on his cell phone to instruct the doctor to wait at his office uptown.

  Grace beckoned Trevor and Conner with fear-filled eyes, wished that they could save her from being dragged to a second location. Every suspense movie she had ever seen about never letting the crazy guy transport someone to a se
condary location flashed in her head. If they got her to the doctor’s office, she’d be spending a minimum of three months in the psych ward. The thought terrified her, but she was impotent to change anything.

  Her eyes stayed locked on a helpless-looking Trevor as the two hired men forced her toward the front doors. She didn’t want to leave.

  The revolving door spun before they reached it. The crisp afternoon air swept in, along with her lifeline. Mr. Wagner stood in the entrance facing all the shocked faces surrounding him. She thought she saw her father bow as if he set eyes on a god. Mr. Wagner wore a tailored navy suit, his presence commanding. This was the figure that could lead a billion-dollar empire. But when he turned his eyes to Grace, she found the gentle softness she had grown to love. He held out his hand, but she ignored it, running into his protective embrace instead.

  “Mr. Wagner?” Ken’s voice shook with a humble respect and no doubt the nerves of a man who had essentially stolen his wife.

  Mr. Wagner ignored him, cool and calm as any day back on the ranch, and called back to Trevor and Conner, slumped against the marble wall. “What on earth? Have you two been fighting? Should have known better than to send country boys to the city. I expected you all back days ago.”

  “Sorry, sir. We ran into a couple obstacles.” Conner nodded to the two bodyguards.

  Mr. Wagner tsked and shook his head as he appraised the two giants. They turned to look at Ken for direction, but he disregarded them, not wanting any association with the objects of Mr. Wagner’s anger. Once on their own, they appeared dumbfounded, jaws slack, unable to form a sentence.

  “I think you two fellows should run along. You probably need a protein shake about now. No?”

  They shuffled past him and escaped through the revolving doors.

  The power in the lobby shifted. Her father and Ken looked so small and pitiful when, only minutes ago, they had held her fate in their hands.

  “Don’t let them take me, Mr. Wagner. I don’t want to go with them,” she cried into his lapel.

  “I didn’t think so.” He faced off with Ken. “I’ll expect you to forward any divorce papers to my lawyer’s office by tomorrow.”

  “Of course, sir. It was all just a big misunderstanding.”

  Mr. Wagner scowled. Grace’s father proceeded to pull Ken out of the lobby by the sleeve. She sighed in relief once they were out of sight.

  “Thank you. Oh God, thank you for coming.” Grace still hadn’t released her hold on his jacket. She felt the hum in his chest, and his smile warmed her, melting her remaining numbness.

  “My car’s outside. My driver will take you anywhere you want.”

  Grace lost the words she attempted to speak. Had he come to save her and his two cowboys and be done with it? She hoped he had come to take her home, the place she considered home. She even half expected to see Scot rush through the revolving door. But this was the end. Mr. Wagner had saved her, and it was time for her to start her own life with no influence but her own. Bittersweet.

  “You know what? I’m fine now that he’s gone. I’ll just head back upstairs and pack some things”—she looked down at her feet—“and get some shoes.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “I’m sure.” She fought the temptation to ask about Scot. Did he know Mr. Wagner had come for her? Had he asked about her? Had he worried or tried to fight for her like he once asked his father to fight for his mother? Since he offered no information, she assumed the worst. Everyone had moved on with their lives, and she needed to do the same.

  She passed Trevor and Conner on her way to the elevators. Conner stood up and grabbed her wrist, and Trevor inched his back up the wall until he stood as well, a grimace of discomfort on his face. Mr. Wagner would ensure they got the medical help they needed.

  “Where you going?” he asked.

  “Packing a few things, then…I don’t know. I’ll figure it out. Thanks…both of you, for everything.”

  The three of them considered each other in silence.

  Trevor broke the hush. “Come back, Grace. You don’t belong here. The only reason we came was to bring you home with us.”

  “I can’t. The swap is over. There’s no place for me there anymore. I don’t belong on the ranch any more than I do here.”

  “Bullshit. We all took care of you, didn’t we? Everyone misses you. It hasn’t been the same since you left,” insisted Trevor.

  “I’m sure,” she said with disdain. “I already told you all that I never plan to be anyone’s booty call again. That’s all we had between us, wasn’t it.” She didn’t phrase it as a question, but a statement. They all had great sex together, but no relationships were created. Without the sex, she was nobody on the ranch, easily forgotten.

  “And what about Scot?”

  “What about him? Do you see him here coming to the rescue? Sex, Trevor. That’s all it ever was.” The tears threatened to spill over. She fled into the elevator, and then started pounding the buttons to make the doors close. Once alone, she lost all control, crouching to the ground with her face in her hands. Her stomach heaved, and she convulsed as she let out her grief and disappointment. For once, why couldn’t the impossible happen, the cliché from most of her romance novels? Why couldn’t Scot come to the rescue and tell her all those sweet words she longed to hear? The promises, the safety in his declarations. But words were like grains of sand, easily scattered and forgotten. Without action, his words only served to break her heart.

  Back in her suite, she slammed and locked the door, barreled straight for the coffee table, grabbed each lemon from the glass bowl whipped them across the room, and stomped on several that rolled near her afterward. Growling through clenched teeth, she ground her heels into the wet pulp. After a week of feeling nothing but sorry for herself, everything rushed out, anger being dominant. Anger toward Ken and her parents for destroying her life, Scot for not keeping his promise, Mr. Wagner for not insisting she return with him, Trevor and Conner for making her feel cheap…but in reality, she was only mad at herself. Nobody could be blamed except herself. She allowed her life to continue on this path and couldn’t depend on others for her happiness.

  She crashed on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, all her anger draining away, leaving her exhausted and empty. Where would she go? Not home to her parents, not back to the Wagner ranch. She remembered Scot’s request to spend her life with him, to move into his bachelor apartment until they got something together. That seemed a lifetime ago, words forgotten, no doubt. She wouldn’t return to him a sniveling empty vessel. No way.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Grace watered her tomato plants. They grew vigorously, tied with white string to the slats in her small balcony to support the weight of the branches. She breathed in their heady scent, which reminded her of summer and rolling pasture. Once she shook out every last drop of water, she reentered her apartment to prepare for work.

  Today would be a good day. The sun shone brightly, not a cloud in the sky. Maybe she’d take the top off her convertible today and let her hair fly free, like the carefree days she had spent riding her Appaloosa. She smiled at the memories. Memories. Four months had passed since she started her own life, reinvented herself, and never looked back.

  Her new job managing a local restaurant wasn’t as high-class as running a golf course, but she got it on her own without references from her past. Besides, she had gotten enough money from the divorce settlement to never work another day in her life. But sitting around doing nothing didn’t suit her.

  In front of her hallway mirror, Grace added lip gloss before shoving it back into her purse. After grabbing her car keys from the hook by the door, she locked up and headed down to the parking lot.

  “Morning, Grace,” called Anthony, the groundskeeper, with a friendly wave.

  “Morning, Anthony. Beautiful day.”

  She hummed to herself, something that became a habit thanks to Mr. Wagner, as she unlocked her car.

 
On the driver’s seat sat a single lemon.

  She froze, scanning the backseat and general area around her like nervous prey in scent of a predator. He had found her. The only explanation. All these months hiding and starting over were in vain because the bastard had found out where she lived. She had no doubt Ken would focus on making her life miserable as he insisted she did to him by leaving.

  No time to worry. She had to get to work. Leaving the top closed, she sped out of the parking lot, surveying her surroundings as she drove. Her cell phone rang, snapping her back to the present. She fumbled with her purse, trying to steer and reach for the phone at the same time. Flipping it open with one hand, she brought it to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  Nothing. No voice, no background sound, then a quick hang-up. With her nerves already on edge, it was easy to make the connection. Had Ken somehow infiltrated every facet of her life, found out her address, phone numbers, and perhaps her employment, too? Fucker! She hated him with such raw passion.

  She pulled in front of Giovanni’s a few minutes later, thankful for the public place. Her heels clicked against the asphalt as she walked toward the entrance in a hurry. The sound brought back memories from five months ago when she walked across the runway to the jet that would bring her to the Wagner ranch for the wife swap. She was a different woman now: strong, confident, independent. Ken would not bring her down easily this time.

  The lighting in the restaurant was much dimmer than the bright sunshine outside. Her eyes took a few moments to adjust. When she finally focused, a huge bouquet of red roses sat in a vase on the bar.

  “Carmen, what are the flowers for?” she asked the hostess as she leaned in to smell the sweet fragrance.

  “They’re for you, Ms. Ellis. Came this morning.”

  Grace frowned and snatched the small white envelope from the bouquet. The card read: I finally found you. Your secret admirer.

  She crushed the note in her fist. “Carmen, did you see who brought these?” Her tone was dead serious, like an investigator trying to solve a murder.