The Grayce Walters Romantic Suspense Series

by Jacki Delecki

  “Mitzi’s going to recover quickly. But it’s too bad I don’t treat humans, you look like you need acupuncture.”

  “A glass of wine will have to do. No Grey Goose tonight,” he said.

  “I could use a glass of wine.” She had never meant that more than now. The image of the man’s scarred arm was burnt into her mind.

  “I’ve only got red.”

  “Red sounds perfect.”

  She followed him into the shiny metal kitchen, the exact opposite of her kitschy space. Davis’ was new Seattle. Hers was definitely old Seattle, overflowing with plants and her cat Napoleon. His refrigerator was bare, unlike her fridge, covered with pictures of her patients. The cold silver shined back at them.

  He opened the wine bottle. In his stark, impersonal kitchen, she felt his solitude. He didn’t spend much time here.

  He pulled the cork out of the bottle. “If it weren’t for Jim Herrick, I don’t know if Mitzi would’ve made it. He’s an amazing vet.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t available.” She started to move toward him to touch him, to connect. He turned and reached for the glasses on the shelf above.

  He poured the wine, his back to her. “It’s okay. You’re here now.”

  Was he angry? He must regret his emotional message on her phone. Always in control, Davis wouldn’t have wanted his feelings exposed, to be vulnerable. He rarely let his guard down, even with himself.

  “I wish I could’ve been with you and Mitzi. I’ve been having trouble sleeping so I turned off my phone.”

  His body was taut, hovering over her. “You don’t owe me any explanation. It’s really okay.”

  She inched closer to him, wanting to ease his guilt, his burden. “It must’ve been hell. I know how much you care for Mitzi.”

  “It’s over. Mitzi’s fine. I’m fine. We’re just tired.” He pulled his lips back in imitation of a smile, but managed only to contort his face into grimace.

  “Anyone would’ve been scared.”

  The heat in his look would have caused a lesser woman to run for cover. His jaw muscle pulsated in the hollow of his cheek from his clenched teeth.

  “You know you’re off the clock now. I’m fine, just tired and pissed. Someone tried to kill my dog.”

  She tried to remind herself his attack wasn’t personal. “I’m not working now, just a friend, willing to listen.”

  He began to pace in his shiny kitchen, taking up more of the cold space. “Why do women always think talking about something makes it better? I’m going to get the guy who hurt Mitzi. End of story.”

  Grayce was offended. Not by his attack, but because he had lumped her together with other women, other women like Daphne. After their time together, she believed they were becoming friends, more than friends. A flush came to her face. “It was just an offer to talk, Davis.”

  She sipped her wine. She wasn’t going to apologize for trying to help him. It was time to go. She had helped Mitzi. Davis obviously didn’t want her help tonight.

  She put her glass on the grey granite. “I should be heading out. It’s late.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, it’s late. I’ll walk you down.”

  “No, don’t leave Mitzi. I’m fine.” She walked to the living room to say good-bye, but the poodle slumbered deeply. What had his anger been about? She couldn’t think about it right now.

  She gathered her coat and purse. Davis watched her. She walked toward the door.

  “Good night.”

  He touched her arm. “Grayce, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be an ass. It’s just been a hard few days.”

  She patted his hand. “You’ll feel better when you get some sleep.” She walked to the elevator.

  She wasn’t surprised that Davis didn’t want to process his feelings, but the disconnect hurt. He was exhausted and needed sleep. After treating Mitzi, she was worn out, too. She stepped onto the elevator, ready to be home. Based on Davis’ reaction tonight, he would never accept her intuition. Intuition got too close to feelings, emotions.

  How could she explain to him, in any logical terms, the impending threat she perceived to him and Mitzi and now her vision of a man’s scar?

  She had to keep her focus on preparing herself, save her energy for the coming battles with his enemies. She didn’t know why she was involved in protecting Davis and Mitzi. But the why wasn’t important now—only the how.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Why the hell had his boss picked this bar? The boss sat across from him in the slick cushioned booth. Fuck, nobody needed to park under a chandelier to throw back a few cold ones. Benson missed the J&M with its wood tables and waitresses in tight ass jeans and its perfect location, close to the station but far enough away that you wouldn’t get spotted having your morning belt. In his new line of business, the J&M was off limits.

  “You want another?” Benson signaled the waiter.

  The commander shook his head.

  “Somethin’ wrong?” Benson asked.

  The commander never got pissed, but you knew when he was disappointed, just like his old man. Except unlike his old man, he never beat the shit out of you.

  “What’s with the red hair?”

  Benson ran his fingers through his hair like the commercial. “It’s a statement. I’ve always wanted to be a redhead.” Benson laughed, but the commander didn’t. “It’s my signature: fiery red, get it?”

  The commander tapped on the table, his massive finger beating a slow rhythm, like all the years at the station. “There’s a bit of a complication with your signature.”

  “What complication?” No one, not even the commander, could reprimand him now. He was a free agent.

  “You and your red hair were seen. A woman saw you.”

  “The woman takin’ care of the dog?”

  “You knew someone saw you?” The commander never raised his voice, but the way he asked felt like he had.

  “I had to shut the fucker up, he kept barking.” God, this was just like work. Nothing about what a good job he’d done. No respect for how perfect the shed burned, or how perfect he had planned. He purchased each item from a different location, paid cash for the five gallon container of chlorine from a pool supply store in affluent Bellevue, the gallon canister of brake fluid from the hood in White Center, the thin cotton rugs from Kmart.

  “She didn’t see me come out of the shed.”

  “But she heard you.”

  That’s all the commander could say, that some stupid bitch had heard him? His plan to set the explosion in a corner, to ignite two walls simultaneously, had worked. The Martha Stewart rugs had served as a fucking great wick.

  “So? There’s no way she can connect me to the fire.”

  The commander sat up straight. He was one big son of a bitch.

  “So she saw me. I’m some dude on the wharf. Davis can’t prove nothin.”

  “Don’t underestimate Davis. He’s no fool.”

  “I thought Davis was going to be taken care of?”

  “His poodle keeps getting in the way.”

  “No shit. Davis has a poodle?” The idea was too funny.

  The commander threw back the rest of his Glen Livet.

  He didn’t need a pricey drink. His Corona went down real smooth. “What’s the big deal if a woman saw me?”

  “The people who invested 20K expect the job done right.”

  “The shed burned beautiful. Fuckin’ good job.” He had saturated the rug closest to the wall with brake fluid. He wanted the biggest explosions next to the forty feet of fir. And his timing had been perfect.

  “They won’t be happy if they find out there’s a witness.”

  “Nothin’ will come of the witness.”

  “I know that, but they don’t.”

  “So, who cares?”

  The commander slowly leaned forward as if he was thinking about grabbing him and hurting him. In the years at the station, he had never seen the commander do anything violent. The man was always in control.
/>   “You don’t get it. When they’re unhappy, things happen.”

  “I did the fuckin’ job. What they gonna do to me? Ask for their money back?” Shit, he’d already spent most of it. He had obligations, his bookie, his shiny red Corvette.

  “If they want their money back, you’ll be glad to give it to them.”

  “They’d have to kill me first.”

  The commander raised his eyebrows as if it was a possibility.

  Those bastards wouldn’t come after him, wouldn’t kill him, would they?

  “We’ve got to take care of our little complication. I’ve got her addresses for work and home.”

  “What do you mean?” His voice cracked. He was still thirsty. He reached for the comfort of the cold Corona.

  “Just follow her. Make sure she doesn’t contact Davis.”

  “Why should she?”

  “She shouldn’t, but I don’t want any messes.”

  “Why don’t I follow Davis?”

  If he hadn’t been watching the man’s face closely, he wouldn’t have seen the change, the way his face got redder, his eyelids closed for a second before he gave the hard look. “Davis will spot you, even with your signature. He’ll recognize his old buddy.”

  Davis and all his work pals had deserted him after he was sacked. No one believed the sauce gave him an edge, didn’t matter to anyone that he was one damn good firefighter.

  “Just do what you’re told.”

  “Hey, I’m no Columbo. How much to follow her?”

  “Are you kidding? This isn’t a job. Our asses are on the line.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  He could just let the witness know he was watching her, give her something to think about.

  The commander started tapping his finger again. “Don’t say or do anything. Just watch her.”

  “I could scare her.”

  The commander clenched his fist into a tight knot, the size of a sledge hammer. “If you scare her, what do you think she’ll do?”

  “Shut the fuck up and go away.”

  The commander took a deep breath and spoke as if he had trouble breathing. “She’ll go straight to Davis. Do you understand? We want to make sure she doesn’t go to Davis.”

  “So I just follow her?”

  “And call me if she visits Davis’ office or meets with him.”

  The commander handed him a sheet of paper.

  “Grayce Walters, Veterinarian. That’s hilarious. The woman who rescued the dog was a vet.” He was starting to feel mellow. His third Corona must be kicking in. Watching a woman might not be bad at all.

  The boss didn’t answer, but shook the ice in his glass.

  “Call me if Grayce Walters makes any contact with Davis. Use my personal cell phone. Don’t contact me otherwise.”

  “I know, I know. We can’t be seen together.” The commander always treated him like he was a dimwit.

  “One other thing.”

  “Sure.”

  “Lose the red hair.”

  The commander threw down a fifty and walked out. Hell, with fifty bucks, he could live with the bullshit. Even the chandelier was startin’ to look good.

  Chapter Thirty

  Grayce negotiated her Subaru over the Fremont Bridge, her tires slipping slightly on the wet grills in the middle of the span. She and Hollie were on their way to an aikido demonstration at Smiling Crane Aikido Studio, and a fine mist hung in the morning air.

  “Why did you study aikido? It doesn’t seem like your kind of thing,” Hollie asked.

  Without the heavy black eyeliner and her hair knotted on top of her head, Hollie looked fourteen.

  “When I got interested in acupuncture, I wanted to learn everything about the East. Studying aikido helped me improve my acupuncture skills.”

  “Martial arts helped your acupuncture?”

  “Aikido teaches you to focus, to direct your energy. By studying aikido, I mastered controlling and channeling my energy into intention, the very center of my healing practice.

  “I’ve never taken any kind of martial arts. But I had to take a self-defense course at the shelter. It was a joke.” Hollie cracked the joints on her left hand.

  “Sounds like a good idea in theory.”

  “They had some Pollyanna telling us how to be safe on the streets—like she knew the streets. You know they’re putting on this demonstration today just for us. They don’t usually do private demonstrations. Of course, the fact that you studied with that famous master helped.”

  “Thanks, Hollie, for getting this together.” She had asked Hollie to research aikido studios. She didn’t know what her assistant had said, but she had a feeling the people at the studio expected a master, not someone who hadn’t studied or practiced aikido in years and wanted to brush up on her skills.

  Twenty minutes later, Hollie and Grayce hung their wet jackets on bamboo hooks on the grass-colored wall in the Smiling Crane Studio. The vibrations in the space were peaceful, harmonious.

  “The instructor is almost a third degree black belt. How cool is that? Just like James,” Hollie said.

  “One designer kick and James is your hero?” Grayce said.

  “His kick was awesome and he has a black belt. I’m getting a feeling that aikido is for me.”

  “Remember, this is a scouting trip, to assess whether this is the studio for either of us.”

  “No problem, Boss. I get it. We’re on a reconnaissance mission.”

  “Why do I always feel as if I’m in a video game when I’m with you?”

  A tall woman dressed in a gi and the distinctive trousers called hakama that practitioners of aikido and kendo traditionally wore, entered the hallway. “Dr. Walters, welcome to Smiling Crane. I’m Elaine Mitchell.”

  “Thank you for meeting us early on a Saturday morning.”

  “It’s not early for me.”

  The woman’s highly coiled vigor radiated in the tiny space. The dim light shaded her face, accentuating her pointed angles. Her black hair was pulled so tightly, it seemed to pull her eyes back. She smiled, but her dark pinpoint eyes didn’t hide her distrust. The tightness around Elaine’s eyes and mouth communicated that despite years of studying aikido, Elaine still had much to do to work through her demons.

  “I understand you’re a veterinarian and you’ve studied aikido. You’re hoping to continue your study here?”

  “Yes, it’s been years since I’ve practiced.”

  “Everyone needs more study. And I’m sure aikido will continue to help you develop deep focus and compassion in your work with animals.”

  Hollie’s chin thrust forward, her eyebrows gathered in one deep crease, and the piercings bobbed. Not a good sign. Her assistant never did well with new situations, especially those involving controlling personalities.

  “Dr. Walters doesn’t need to study aikido. She’s already a master and she’s an amazing, compassionate person.”

  Grayce wanted to laugh out loud. Not exactly the way to embrace aikido, the way of serenity and balance.

  Elaine Mitchell’s lips pulled back. “You’re the receptionist who called?”

  Elaine was in deep trouble now. Grayce envisioned fireworks shooting out of Hollie’s darkening eyes. Hollie didn’t consider herself a lowly receptionist, but Grayce’s assistant. Hollie edged next to Grayce, widened her stance and crossed her arms on her chest. Grayce moved between the sparring women. “I’m really looking forward to today’s demonstration. Hollie has been explaining the history of your studio to me, a wonderful, restful spot.” Not exactly restful at this moment.

  “One of my students has volunteered to help. If you’d like, I would love to demonstrate with you, Dr. Walters. I’ve heard you’re very accomplished.” Elaine’s voice was deceptively soft and clashed with the challenge in her words and the rigid set of her shoulders and neck.

  “Thank you, but Hollie and I would like to watch today.” She used her calming voice, the one she used for agitated animals needing to establi
sh their territory.

  Elaine tilted her head, assessing Grayce. “You can decide whether you’d like to practice after my demonstration.” Elaine pointed down the long hallway. “This way.”

  The women followed Elaine into the bare practice room. Two orange mats placed against the wall provided the only relief to the monotony of brown.

  Elaine pointed to the two mats. “You can watch from there.”

  Grayce and Hollie sat on the mats. When they were seated, Hollie whispered, “Why didn’t you tell her about your teacher?”

  Elaine turned and stared at Hollie as if she had heard the comments. Elaine joined a young woman who waited in the center of the padded floor. “This is my student, Mary.”

  Mary, like her teacher, was dressed in a gi.

  “I will answer your questions after the demonstration.” Like her speech, Elaine’s movements would be precise, no motion or emotion wasted.

  The two women bowed to each other. Elaine nodded. Mary stepped back then charged with her hands raised above her head, ready to attack Elaine.

  With a broad drop, Elaine deflected Mary’s arms. Dancing on the balls of her feet, she circled, awaiting Mary’s next move. Similar to a boxing ring, each woman circled, moving and feinting in constant motion.

  Mary rushed her instructor, her hands upright, tight to her chest, a position for direct assault. Elaine stepped to the side, Mary flew right past Elaine.

  Mary circled to Elaine’s front and attempted another attack by running forward swinging her arm to the side as if to deliver a chop. Elaine flipped Mary onto her back with a flick of a wrist. An impressive demonstration, since Mary outweighed Elaine by at least 30 pounds.

  “What do you think, Boss? I could take her, right?” Hollie whispered behind her hand.

  Grayce had no confusion about which woman Hollie referred to.

  Elaine walked toward them, her face less tense and almost serene. “What do you think, Dr. Walters?”

  Grayce smiled. “You’re very talented. Your movements were graceful, lithe, as if I was watching PNB dancers.” She sensed how much the woman wanted her to be impressed.