An Unforgettable Lady

by Jessica Bird

  "Ah—I'm going to go take a shower," she said in a strained voice. "Would you like some clothes to change into?"

  Callie put the picture back and looked down at herself. "That would be great."

  A little while later, Grace sat at the edge of her bed in her bathrobe and waited for Callie to come out of the dressing room. When she did, Grace was surprised by the transformation. The woman's long red hair was drying into loose curls and, dressed in a pair of Grace's slacks and a fitted jacket, she looked sophisticated, not at all the drowned waif.

  We wear the same size clothes, Grace thought.

  "This is a gorgeous outfit." Callie stroked the fine cloth.

  "The red is perfect for your coloring." Grace tilted her head to one side. "What do you do? "

  "I'm an art conservationist, but right now I work as a receptionist at a gallery. I need to find another job, but for the past few years, things have been... difficult."

  There was an awkward moment.

  "How can I reach you?" Grace asked, going over to the bed stand and taking out a small pad of paper. As Callie's eyes lit up with what seemed like genuine happiness, she felt a spasm of guilt. The woman seemed to be looking for a friend, but Grace didn't think they could ever have that kind of relationship.

  Callie jotted down a number and Grace was struck by the fact that she wrote with her left hand. Just like Grace did. Just as their father had.

  "You know, you don't have to call," Callie said, handing the pad back. " I really only wanted to meet you. To see you up close once. To make sure you were real."

  Grace looked down at the number.

  "Can we give you a ride home?" she offered, wondering where the woman lived in Chelsea. "We'll be going downtown very soon."

  Callie glanced out of the window at the rain, which was still coming down. "That would be great. Thanks."

  As Callie went out to wait in the living room, Grace approached John's door cautiously. Knocking quietly, she opened it when she heard his curt answer.

  He was doing pull-ups at, the bar he'd installed in the bathroom doorway. At a driving pace, he was pumping his body up and down, the muscles in his arms hard and heavily veined from exertion. She wondered how long he'd been at it.

  "I'm really sorry I went off like that," she said tentatively as she shut the door. "I just needed to get outside for a minute. I wasn't thinking straight."

  He stopped and dropped from the bar. "It was a goddamn dumb thing to do."

  "I know. I won't do it again."

  "You better the hell not. I'm not even going to bother telling you what could've happened." He reached for a towel and wiped the sweat off his face. "Are we going down to the Foundation?"

  As he refused to look at her, she wished there was a way to take it all back, wished she could return to the moment when she'd put her running shoes on.

  “I’m sorry I upset you."

  “I’m not upset." He walked over to the bureau and began checking his gun. She heard the clicking sound of metal moving against metal.

  "Yes, you are."

  He turned to her, his eyes narrowed with anger. "Go get dressed, Grace."

  Instead of cowering from him, she saw through the harsh words, to the fear she sensed was underneath them.

  "I came back. I'm fine." When he didn't reply, she said, "John, I'm okay."

  He put the gun back on the bureau and slipped on a black watch. "Did you think maybe the police had caught that nut job who's knocking off your friends? Because they haven't, you know. You could have damn well not come home after a stunt like that."

  "But I did."

  John cursed. "You should be smart enough not to believe in luck."

  She tried to approach him but he stepped away. "You hired me to make sure you come out of this alive. Don't put me in the position of failing you again."

  He went over to the door and threw it open.

  "Countess?” he muttered, motioning with his arm.

  She waited for him to look at her. He didn't.

  As she brushed by him, she said softly, " Please don't use this as an excuse to push me away."

  She didn't wait for his response.

  * * *

  As soon as Eddie pulled up behind the building, the three got into the Explorer. Callie gave out an address in Chelsea and Grace watched as the neighborhoods went from luxurious high-rises to brownstones to walk-ups. When they pulled up in front of one that was not quite as dilapidated as the others, Callie opened the door.

  "Thanks for the ride," she said. "And I'll send back the suit."

  "Don't worry about it," Grace replied.

  The woman shook her head. "Thanks, but I can't keep it."

  With a parting wave, she shut the door and disappeared into the dingy building.

  Grace turned to John as the car surged forward. He was staring out the window, a brooding expression on his face.

  "John?" His eyebrows rose but he didn't look across the seat. "Would you be willing to check into her background?"

  "I've already started."

  She stared at his profile, getting the terrible sense that something had changed between them. Perhaps irrevocably.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, she and John walked into the lobby of the Hall Building. There were few employees around because of the holiday, but there were plenty of tourists visiting the museum. After stopping briefly to check in with the security guard at the front desk, they went into an elevator.

  When they got upstairs, Grace was surprised to see Kat at her desk and a man standing in front of her. He had his hands on his hips and a cocky expression on his face.

  "I didn't know you were coming in today," Grace said to Kat in an even voice. She gave the man a quick once-over. Slick suit, slick hair, god-awful tie.

  It had to be a lawyer, she thought, wondering how he'd gotten past the security man downstairs.

  Kat smiled tightly. "Mr. Lamont called and said he needed me to come in. I guess his assistant has quit again. This man—er, won't leave."

  The guy flashed Grace a sparkling smile as he stuck out his hand. "I'm Fritz Canton. I believe you know who I am."

  "Oh, of course, you're Ranulf's attorney. Did we have a meeting scheduled?" she asked, knowing they didn't.

  "No, but I'd like to have a word with you." The man's gaze shifted over to John. "Alone, if I may. I won't take Jong."

  When Smith approved as long as the door was left ajar, she said, "Very well."

  Grace led him into the office and took a seat behind her father's desk.

  Canton looked around and smiled. "This is some beautiful art you've got."

  "Thank you." Grace leaned forward. "I don't mean to rush you, but could you tell me why you're here ?"

  He sat down across from her, put his hands together in a bridge and leaned his chin on them. "My client isn't satisfied with the cash settlement you're proposing."

  Grace frowned. "Considering how much of my money he's already run through, I don't think one cent is appropriate. And frankly, I resent having to pay him for the privilege of a divorce."

  "He only wants what's fair."

  "Then let him leave with what he came with. I'll even give him back the ring."

  Canton's eyes flashed and she knew he was estimating the sapphire's value. "You and I both know it's not that simple."

  "Mr. Canton, if you're here to try and negotiate, you need to call my lawyer." She got to her feet. "Now if you will excuse me."

  The attorney smiled. "I think you'll want to hear me out."

  "Why?"

  "I understand that you were photographed yesterday evening with a man. Outside of your building. My client received a copy of that picture." Canton rose. "It would be quite damaging to you if such a thing made it to the press— and your mother didn't have a chance to get it buried again. Adultery never looks good, especially on a woman, and I can imagine how important it is for you to be perceived as an upstanding citizen right now. With your father having pas
sed and your just taking the helm of this venerable institution, it would be bad timing if a scandal were to come out now. Very bad."

  As he ambled over to the bank of windows, Grace thought of that joke about lawyers, that a hundred of them at the bottom of the sea was a good start. She had an urge to get the trend started.

  "Are you blackmailing me?" she asked.

  "Not at all." He turned to her. "And neither, of course, is my client."

  When she remained silent, his brows rose.

  "So, what do you say, Countess? If we come to an agree-ment on a figure right now, this messy part can be over with. The two of you can issue a joint statement to the press indicating that it is all very amicable and no one will ever see the photo that suggests you've cheated on your husband. Ranulf and I, we were thinking something with eight digits will be sufficient."

  Grace's first thought was that he and his client could go to hell.

  Instead, she smiled calmly. "Thank you for coming by."

  "There's nothing you want to say to me?"

  Telling the guy to go screw himself probably wasn't such a hot idea, she thought.

  "I believe you've stated your position clearly and I'm not negotiating anything without my own counsel present."

  Grace walked over to the door and waited for the man to leave.

  As he was walking out, he said, "Don't be foolish about this."

  "Thanks for the advice," she said wryly.

  chapter

  21

  That night, Smith called Eddie. It was getting late, pushing eleven o'clock.

  " 'Lo?" came the groggy greeting.

  "We're having an early start tomorrow."

  A groan came through the line. "What time we talking, Boss man?"

  "Six."

  Another groan. "You'd figure a looker like her'd be into the whole beauty sleep thing. We headed anywhere special?"

  "She has a breakfast meeting just over the border in Connecticut."

  "Okay, I'll be there with bells on. But they may be hanging off my pj's."

  "Eddie?"

  "Yeah, Boss?"

  "Tell Tiny to give me a call when he checks in tomorrow."

  "What for?"

  Smith pushed a hand into his hair. It had grown in since he'd been working for Grace. He needed to get it cut again.

  "I'm thinking about giving up this job."

  "Why do you want to pull out?" When he didn't answer, Eddie said, "What's going on?"

  Smith was reliving what it had been like to discover Grace was gone. Part of his horror over what had happened was his own failure. When he'd left the bathroom, he'd been distracted, dawdling with those rings, thinking about marriage, for Chrissakes. Because he hadn't been focused on the job, it had taken longer than it should have for him to figure out she'd left and that delay was bald evidence his objectivity was shot to shit.

  The first rule in the security business was pretty damn straightforward: Always know where your client is. She'd risked her life by taking off without him, but he'd compounded the danger by flaking out. It was precisely what he'd feared would happen, a perfect storm of bad thinking on both their parts.

  "Boss? You still there?"

  "Yeah, I'm here." Smith sat on the edge of the bed.

  "Doesn't she need you anymore?"

  He deflected the question. "Turned out she was being tailed by her half-sister."

  "She's got a half-sister?"

  "She does now. I'm running a check on the woman but so far, she is who she says she is."

  "But why are you leaving? Did they find the killer?"

  "No."

  "Boss, do you want to tell me what's really going on?" When he didn't reply, Eddie said, "You worried about being involved with her?"

  Smith opened his mouth but the lie sputtered and died on his tongue. "Is it that goddamn obvious?"

  "No, I've just known you too long. Hey, not that you're asking, but that's a good woman, there. And she's got the eye for you. Like you're wearing her home address on your chest, you know what I mean?"

  "You're getting real poetic as you age," Smith said, growing uncomfortable with the conversation.

  "It's the writing course."

  "Look, I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Hey, Boss?"

  "Yeah, Eddie."

  "It's about time you settled down."

  "Men like me don't settle down. You know that."

  "Don't you ever think about it?"

  Not until recently, Smith said to himself.

  "You know," Eddie barreled along, "Black Watch can keep going without you. Tiny, he's as on top of the boys as a hammer on nail heads."

  "Now you're into metaphors?"

  "That was a simile, Boss."

  After he hung up, Smith began pacing around the room, realizing that somehow, in the midst of all his discipline and self-control, he'd lost his way.

  For years, he'd had one and only one goal. He wanted to make a lot of money doing what came naturally to him without getting himself killed. It was a simple and straightforward kind of life, assuming you knew how to handle yourself with a gun, which he did. But, after years of succeeding admirably, he was confused and conflicted. Black Watch and all it stood for felt arbitrary.

  Holding Grace in his arms did not.

  He tried to remember when he'd last taken stock of what he wanted or needed as a man and thought about something she'd thrown at him when they'd been arguing once. She'd told him he was a ghost. That she wouldn't miss him because he'd never really been in her life.

  She was right, he thought, on a practical level and maybe in some deeper, more troubling way. What had he really given her except pleasure? And some heart ache? She didn't even know his real name, for God's sake.

  Come to think of it, he hadn't used his real name in years.

  A ghost.

  It dawned on him that maybe he'd disappeared awhile ago and it was only now he was noticing. Perhaps he'd just been hiding behind the drive to succeed in his peculiar, violent, and dangerous line of work. After all, what could possibly be more distracting, if you didn't want to think about yourself, than protecting other human lives?

  He wondered when the dissolving had started. Way back when he'd escaped his father's brutality? During his stint with the Rangers? Or was it during those shape-shifting years right after he'd left the military, when he'd relied on aliases and subterfuge so his enemies couldn't find him?

  More likely, it was an accumulation of all the shadows he'd masked himself with.

  How fucking ironic, he thought. The culmination of his life's work was to make himself disappear.

  He thought back to what Eddie had said about settling down, starting over. The idea would have struck him as ludicrous coming from anyone else, except maybe Tiny. But if he unplugged from Black Watch, then what? What would he do with his hours, his days? Would he and Grace ever be able to have a life together? As he contemplated the expanse of time ahead of him, he felt the choices he had as a deadweight on his chest.

  Nice frigging simile, he thought.

  While he was cursing Eddie and his candor, Grace appeared in his doorway. She was wearing one of those nightgowns that hung from her delicate shoulders like a cloud of mist, the kind he could almost, but not quite, see through. His eyes traced the outline of her hips and waist and traveled up to her breasts.

  "What is it?" he asked roughly.

  "We're all set for tomorrow?”

  "Yeah."

  Silence stretched between them and Smith could feel the air change as their eyes met. Time began to melt. Slow down. Halt altogether.

  He went over to her, thinking there was nothing he wouldn't do to protect her.

  Even if that meant leaving.

  He reached out to touch her, his fingers brushing across her collarbone and continuing downward over silk and lace. He came to a stop at the low point of the gown's bodice, right over her heart. He felt it pounding.

  Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her bod
y against his and put his lips down to hers. She let out a long sigh which he swallowed, better than air, into his lungs.

  He lifted her from the ground and carried her to his bed. Pausing before lying down with her, he drank in the sight of her head thrown to one side, her back arched, her hair spilling over the fine fabric of the pillowcase. It was how he had wanted to see her, those many days and weeks ago when she'd first showed him her home. It would be how he would remember her always.

  An unforgettable lady.

  Wrenching off his shirt, he felt her hands come hungrily to his skin and he shuddered as she explored his chest and stomach. His need to be in her was so great, he felt his own hands shake as he slid the nightgown from her body and tore off the rest of his clothes. He pleasured her over and over again with his mouth before he entered her in a powerful thrust that carried them to another world.

  After he came back to reality, he rolled over, taking her with him so that Grace was sprawled over his body.

  "I will never be free of you," he whispered against the sweat-covered skin of her neck.

  "Promise?" she asked huskily.

  He nodded, feeling cursed.

  Because he knew he had to leave.

  Rolling over again, he tucked her into his side.

  As she fell asleep, he thought it wasn't right to torture them both by delaying the inevitable. The sooner the transition was made, the better; he would ask Tiny to come right away.

  And as for their long-term future, after the danger to her was gone, he didn't think it was fair of him to bring it back into her life. She deserved a normal existence, with normal trials and tribulations. She didn't need to be exposed to the kind of baggage he dragged around with him. The last thing she should have to deal with would be some madman showing up with a gun in her bedroom, ready to shoot her lover in the head.

  When he was sure she was sleeping, he slipped out of bed, picked up his phone, and went into the living room. He wasn't going to wait for Tiny to call.

  His oldest friend was the best man he had at Black Watch, almost as good as Smith himself. Actually better, in this case, because the guy would be coming at the situation with a clear head as well as a strong body.