by Maya Banks
friends.
She seemed to trust him, yet she hadn’t allowed more than friendship, which told Zack that she likely hadn’t ever gotten that far with anyone else.
That knowledge should have given him satisfaction, but all he felt was hollow regret that she’d never had anyone to show her tenderness and . . . love.
He wanted to be that man. He wanted it more than he wanted to breathe. But unless he could somehow offer Gracie tangible proof of his innocence and not just his word, he knew in his heart that he’d lose her all over again.
At that thought he went rigid, his jaw clenching to the point of nearly breaking his teeth. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow that to happen again. Murderous rage swelled within him and his mind was consumed with revenge. Justice. For Gracie. Truth for himself. Freedom. For them both. So that maybe—maybe—they could move past this. Together.
The soft strands of her hair that were wrapped around his fingers slipped from his grasp as he formed a rigid fist. He knew what had to be done. He wanted to seek vengeance. For Gracie. For them both. His thoughts were consumed with violence and making the pieces of shit who’d hurt his Gracie pray for death.
He’d make them confess every sordid detail of their sickening attack on a girl who legally was still a child. And then their wives could decide whether they wanted to remain married to a rapist or ever trust them with their own daughters.
His pulse thudded at his temples and he forced himself to calm his raging thoughts of retribution. Just for now. He lay his cheek atop Gracie’s head and pulled her a little closer to him.
“I love you, Gracie,” he whispered. “And if I ever hope to make you love me again, there’s something I must do. I have to leave you for a while, but I’ll be back. I swear.”
He turned his cheek, sliding it against her hair just enough so he could press his lips to her forehead. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, capturing the feel of her, soft and warm and so very precious.
He would carry this memory of her in his arms, when, for just one exquisite moment in time, everything was good and perfect. It would be all that sustained him until justice was served and he came back to her with the answers they both desperately needed—and deserved. Because while Gracie was the biggest victim in this tragedy, they were both victim to something all encompassing and completely life changing. And it would take time—and understanding from them both—to possibly right past wrongs and to move forward from a past that would haunt them both for the rest of their lives.
TWENTY-FOUR
GRACIE awoke with a heavy sense of lethargy. Her limbs felt heavy and slack and it took much effort to even turn over in bed. She felt exhausted, like she had lead in her veins, and her reflexes were dull and sluggish. It was as if she’d been drugged or heavily sedated.
She wrinkled her nose trying to remember if she’d taken any of the medication the doctor had prescribed when she’d been discharged, but no, she hadn’t had a chance. As soon as she and Zack had arrived at this place, things had been thrown into turmoil.
She went still as memories began sliding back into place, like pieces to a puzzle. Snapping together at a speed that momentarily disoriented her. Then some of the fuzziness dissipated and the fog lifted, revealing with painful clarity all that had transpired the night before.
Her hand tentatively reached out and she turned, wondering if Zack was still beside her in the bed. She didn’t remember him taking her to bed after her debilitating panic attack, but at some point in the night she’d briefly roused only to find herself firmly nestled against his body, his arms surrounding her like a protective wall. It had felt . . . nice. For the first time in years, she’d felt safe. And how screwed up was that? Nothing had been resolved. Nothing had changed. Or had it?
All her hand encountered was a bare space. Not even an indention or warmth to indicate that he’d recently vacated the bed. She frowned and was puzzled at the instant surge of disappointment upon finding him gone. All she wanted was to be next to him again, his arms around her, to experience just for a moment the reassurance that nothing could ever hurt her again.
But he had been the one who hurt her the most.
She couldn’t be swayed by words, no matter how persuasively they’d been rendered. But . . . what if . . . No, she wouldn’t go there. Her gift was infallible—when she still possessed the ability to read minds. But that was gone along with her innocence and belief in good.
She hadn’t been mistaken. There was no way all three rapists would have identical recollections of the same event.
And yet Zack had been utterly devastated by the revelation. No one could possibly feign that kind of reaction. He’d looked sick at heart and there was no faking the tears and anguish. Never had she seen such raw agony in another person.
She could make herself crazy trying to make sense of the insensible. There was no point in even attempting it. But she could make sure she was never again in a position of being betrayed by someone she trusted when the solution was so simple.
She wouldn’t give him—or anyone—the opportunity. And that was no way to live. Never allowing herself to get close to someone. Never having friendships, close relationships. Or sharing her life with someone she cared about. Hadn’t she already wasted too much of her life as it was? Living in a self-imposed void, carrying out the motions of each day, never dreaming of the future. Not having dreams at all?
The idea filled her with sadness, and, disgusted with herself for already weakening under his influence after only forty-eight hours, she shoved the covers back and gingerly sat up, sliding her legs around and over the edge of the bed.
Taking it slow, she eased up, holding on to the headboard so she didn’t end up in a heap on the floor. Her body groaned its protest. A hot flush washed through her body, and the stiffness and pain had her panting lightly as she weaved around like some drunk sorority girl. She paused a moment to gain her bearings, and after she steadied herself enough that she felt confident that she wouldn’t take a header, she took a purposeful step, pleased when she didn’t so much as wobble.
She was still dressed in the clothes she’d worn the day before. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, she made her way to the closet. Zack had said Eliza had shopped for her and she was curious to see what the other woman had chosen.
If she had been worried, she needn’t have been. The clothing was a study in comfort. Soft—not stiff—denim jeans were folded neatly and arranged on the shelves. There was an array of tops to choose from as well as shoes, socks and, to her embarrassment, an assortment of panties and bras. It appeared as though Eliza had covered all the bases.
Bypassing the jeans, because she didn’t feel up to wrestling with the formfitting denim, she instead chose a pair of athletic pants and then selected one of the comfortable-looking shirts.
She’d kill for a hot bath and to soak for a couple of hours, but she knew she didn’t have a prayer of being able to get out of the tub once in, and she wasn’t about to ask Zack for help. Later she would attempt a shower and hope that she was steady enough not to slip and fall.
After brushing her teeth and taming her tangled hair into a much more manageable ponytail, she braved leaving the bedroom and carefully walked toward the living room. To her surprise, she saw Wade and Eliza—not Zack. Where was he? In the last few days, she hadn’t been able to move without him being no more than a foot away at most.
Eliza was cheerfully making a cup of coffee, and Wade . . . well, he didn’t look pleased by Eliza’s company. Anna-Grace wondered what that was all about. Wade certainly wasn’t immune to a pretty woman and Eliza was very attractive. Not to mention capable and self-sufficient. All the things Anna-Grace wished she was.
Wade turned down the coffee Eliza offered, and with a shrug, Eliza sank down onto the couch with her mug cupped in her palms as though she had a cup of ambrosia. The look of bliss on her face was comical.
Then Eliza glanced up and saw Anna-Grace in the doorway. Immediately she shot to her
feet and set her coffee on the table in front of the couch and hurried over to where Anna-Grace stood.
“How are you feeling?” Eliza asked.
She put her hand under Anna-Grace’s elbow to lead her farther into the living room and then firmly deposited her in one of the armchairs.
“Would you like some coffee? I just brewed it so it’s nice and hot, and I do make a pretty mean cup of coffee if I do say so myself.”
Wade also walked over to Anna-Grace, concern darkening his face.
“Are you all right, Anna-Grace?” he asked quietly. “Are you hungry? Is there anything I can get you?”
To her surprise, Anna-Grace was hungry. After a few days of sipping, at best, a few spoonfuls of soup, her stomach was protesting loudly.
“Coffee and breakfast sound heavenly,” she breathed.
Eliza beamed. “I’d say that’s a good sign that you’re starting to get better.”
Wade turned to Eliza and grudgingly asked, “Would you like something to eat as well?”
Eliza’s eyes twinkled mischievously, almost as if she knew she annoyed Wade—and didn’t care one bit, and she smiled sweetly with exaggerated innocence. “Why thank you, Wade. I’d love something to eat. Gracie and I can eat together.”
“Her name is Anna-Grace,” Wade growled.
Eliza’s gaze shot to Anna-Graze, apology evident in her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just that Zack has always called you Gracie and that’s what I know you by. Would you prefer that I call you Anna-Grace?”
Anna-Grace gave her a reassuring smile. The other woman was so nice and the last thing Anna-Grace wanted to do was make her feel as though she’d done something wrong.
“You can call me either. Truly. I don’t mind. Zack is the only one who ever called me Gracie. It was his pet name for me.”
She couldn’t control the spasm of pain that wrinkled her features when she spoke of Zack, and recalled the giddy pleasure she’d always experienced when Zack had used the affectionate endearment.
Eliza gave her a look of sympathy and impulsively reached out to squeeze her hand.
“Where . . . where is Zack?” Anna-Grace asked hesitantly.
She didn’t want to appear eager, but after spending every single minute with her since her attack, it seemed odd that he was nowhere to be found. Had the revelation from the night before unnerved him? Was he through keeping up his pretense of innocence and had left as a result?
But he’d been so . . . adamant that he’d done nothing. And Zack had always been stubborn. She couldn’t imagine him simply giving up and walking away.
Eliza and Wade glanced uneasily at one another and tried to cover that they had, but Anna-Grace didn’t miss the quick exchange. She frowned and pinned Wade with her stare since Eliza was likely more loyal to Zack and may or may not tell her what was going on.
Wade sighed and ran a hand through his immaculate hair, and astonishingly didn’t mess up a single strand. But that was Wade. Always impeccably dressed and perfectly put together. Anna-Grace had no idea how he managed it. But his appearance—like everything else in his life—was well ordered, without a single thing out of place.
“He left,” Wade said hesitantly.
Anna-Grace was stunned, but more unsettling was the fact that she was . . . upset? Disappointed? After the events of last night, she couldn’t imagine him simply leaving, but perhaps she shouldn’t at all be surprised.
“Oh for God’s sake,” Eliza said in exasperation. “Leave it to a man to completely fuck up an explanation.”
Wade shot Eliza a glare and she glared right back at him. The animosity between the two was tangible, and it puzzled Anna-Grace. They’d disliked one another on sight, but then they’d had contact before Anna-Grace had been pulled into the picture, so perhaps something had occurred between the two that she had no knowledge of. Whatever it was must have been serious to have sparked such an intense reaction.
“Come on, Gracie,” Eliza said, taking her hand and gently pulling her toward the breakfast table.
She pinned Wade with an imperious stare. “Make yourself useful and get Gracie something to eat while I pour her a cup of coffee, and I’ll explain everything to her.”
Wade didn’t look at all pleased to be ordered about by Eliza, but then he was a man used to doing the ordering. But he didn’t argue and began taking out items from the refrigerator and banging pots and pans about as he pulled out two skillets.
Eliza set a steaming cup of coffee down in front of Anna-Grace and then sat down catty-corner to her with her own cup.
“First, and most important, you will not be left without protection,” Eliza said emphatically. “Wade and I are staying with you here, and members of my team will rotate through so that there is always a third present here as well. And well, also because Wade is a civilian, so he doesn’t really count.”
Wade slammed down one of the skillets and turned, a fierce scowl on his face.
“I’d pit my skills against one of your pansy-ass operatives any day of the week,” he said in an icy tone. “And I can damn sure protect Anna-Grace better than you can. You aren’t much bigger than she is, for God’s sake. What exactly are you going to be able to do if faced by two or three much larger and stronger men who aren’t exactly deterred by the fact that you’re a woman? Are you just trying to get yourself killed?”
Anna-Grace’s eyebrows rose because she could swear mixed in with the obvious irritation was actual concern for Eliza.
“I wasn’t dick-sizing you, Wade,” Eliza said dryly. “Nor was I implying that you were some ball-less pussy.”
Anna-Grace coughed trying to stifle her laughter and ended up wheezing when her mouthful of coffee went down the wrong way.
“I was merely suggesting that as refined and as highbrow as you are, you likely aren’t used to what I—and my coworkers—deal with every day.”
Wade’s eyes glittered, and his expression grew deadly, suddenly giving Anna-Grace the impression that despite his outward appearance, he was something quite different underneath. And his next words confirmed that fleeting thought.
“Don’t let the outward trappings fool you even for a moment, Eliza,” Wade said, his tone sounding . . . lethal. And dangerous.
Anna-Grace shivered, because he suddenly sounded like someone you did not want to cross. Ever.
“You may very well be surprised by what I’m capable of. I didn’t get to where I am with good looks and charm.”
Eliza didn’t seem ruffled at all by Wade’s declaration.
“And you may be surprised by all I know about you and your various business practices,” she said airily. “So, in that regard, no, I doubt I’d be surprised by anything when it comes to you. And that’s quite an ego you have there. Who said you were good-looking and charming? Personally I find you to be a royal pain in the ass.”
Wade’s eyes narrowed at the insult. “What the hell does that mean? What exactly do you know about me? And there are plenty of women who disagree with you,” he added in a silky, mocking voice.
Eliza laughed, ignoring his comeback about other women, who were countless, Anna-Grace was sure. It was a mystery to her why Wade had ever been interested in her on a more personal level than casual friendship.
“I’m a wiz at uncovering information on people that they don’t necessarily want the rest of the world to know. It’s useful in my line of work. It frustrates my computer geek boss—one of them—that I’m better with technology than he is and he knows it even if he won’t admit it.”
Wade’s scowl deepened. “I don’t even want to know,” he grumbled and then turned back to the stove, muttering about all-knowing, interfering women.
Eliza’s eyes were sparkling with laughter when she turned her attention back on Anna-Grace. “Now that we’ve got certain egos in check, I’ll continue telling you about Zack.”
Anna-Grace got the impression that Eliza quite enjoyed yanking Wade’s chain, and even more interesting was the fact that she clearly got un
der Wade’s skin when not much ever seemed to bother him. He was the epitome of cool and calm, and Anna-Grace had never seen him remotely ruffled.
Eliza’s expression sobered as she reached over to place her hand on Anna-Grace’s. She squeezed lightly in a gesture of comfort.
“Zack specifically asked me—hell, he demanded—that you be protected around the clock and that you not go anywhere if possible, and if you absolutely must, then you were to have a full security detail. And he asked me to tell you that there were things he had to do, things that had to be taken care of and that he would be back as soon as possible. But, and he was very adamant about this, he said to tell you he was coming back—to you—no matter what.”
Eliza hesitated, clear concern marring her pretty features. A sense of dread overtook Anna-Grace as she took in Eliza’s words. And their meaning. Surely . . . surely he wouldn’t. But he’d been so angry—furious.
“Gracie, do you have any idea where he would have gone?” Eliza asked. “I’m really worried about him. I can’t imagine what could be so important that he’d take off—on his own—when his primary focus is—has always been—you. He said nothing, other than he had something he had to do. He didn’t ask for help or backup. And we do nothing without backup. It’s the only way we do things at DSS, which tells me this is very personal and that he didn’t want to confide whatever it is he’s doing in anyone.”
Anna-Grace closed her eyes, shame and embarrassment overwhelming her. How could she tell Eliza—someone who obviously cared a lot about and respected Zack—what she suspected was the thing Zack had to do?
“Gracie?”
Anna-Grace opened her eyes to see Eliza’s imploring gaze locked on her, a silent plea in her eyes.
“You can talk to me,” Eliza said softly. “I know you don’t know me, and I know it’s hard for you to trust anyone. But you can tell me anything. I won’t judge. Nor will I betray your confidence. But Zack is very important to me—to everyone at DSS. And if he’s in trouble, we want to help him. Just as we’ll do everything we can to help you. You’re important to Zack, which makes you important to us as well.”
Tears simmered in Anna-Grace’s eyes and she looked down for a moment, indecision weighing heavily on her mind. Then she took a deep breath and glanced Wade’s way.
“If you want to speak privately, I can ask him to leave,” Eliza said in a voice too low for Wade to hear.
“No,” Anna-Grace said just as softly. “He knows part of it. And he needs to know the rest, or at least what I’ve told Zack. Because he hates Zack because of what I told him sometime ago, and now . . .”
“Now what?” Eliza prompted.
Anna-Grace lifted her head and stared directly into Eliza’s eyes and admitted what had been nagging at her ever since witnessing Zack’s reaction the night before.
“Now I’m not so sure that I was right. Maybe . . . maybe I was wrong.” Tears flooded her eyes and sloshed over the rims, streaking down her cheeks in wet trails. “And if I was wrong . . . Oh God, Eliza. If I was wrong, then I’ve made a terrible, unforgivable mistake. If I was wrong, then I punished Zack for years for a sin he didn’t commit. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“Oh, hon,” Eliza said, her voice filled with sympathy.
“He’ll hate me,” Anna-Grace whispered. “Just like I’ve hated him for the last twelve years.”
TWENTY-FIVE
ZACK jammed the rental car into park, got out and strode up the walkway to Stuart’s house. Stuart was the weak link in the chain. The one who never had an original thought in his head and went along with whatever the group was doing. And yet Zack wondered just how much persuading and nagging Kevin and Bryan had really had to do in order to get him to participate in their gang rape of Gracie.
Nausea boiled in his stomach all over again and he had to shove back his visceral reaction to what three men he’d called friends had done to an innocent sixteen-year-old girl or he’d lose his tenuous grasp on what was left of his sanity.
If Zack had any hope of getting a confession out of all three—and he’d beat it out of them if he had to—he needed to start here. And in truth he relished the thought of exacting punishment and cold-blooded revenge. Justice for Gracie. And for himself. But most of all Gracie, who’d suffered the most. Lost everything. As had he.
His hands itched, curling into fists as he knocked forcefully on the door. Never in his life had he experienced such an intense need for blood. And more than anything he wanted to know why. What could have inspired men he would have never suspected of such depravity to attack a defenseless young woman in such a horrific, degrading manner?
The door opened and Zack’s vision clouded with rage as Stuart stood staring back at him, blinking in confusion. And then to Zack’s complete surprise, Stuart’s eyes went dull and he sagged like a deflated balloon. Guilt and resignation were stark, and he simply stood there, unmoving, unspeaking. Almost as if he knew exactly what was coming.
Zack’s fury reached its boiling point and he rammed his fist into Stuart’s jaw, smashing his nose with his knuckles. Stuart flew back and landed on the floor, his hand covering his now-bleeding nose. And he simply stayed down, looking at Zack with so much guilt and regret that it made Zack physically ill.
“Get up, you son of a bitch,” Zack snarled.
With a defeated sigh, Stuart slowly crawled to his feet and staggered when he stood upright. Blood smeared his nose and mouth and he made no further effort to stanch it. He merely looked at Zack like a condemned man awaiting his execution.
Then he closed his eyes and when he reopened them, a sheen of moisture glistened.
“I knew this day would come,” Stuart said in a weary voice.
Shame was evident in every feature. He looked like he very much wanted to