Every Step She Takes (Who's Watching Now Book 2)

by Jannine Gallant

  “We’ll get take-out burgers. Come on, live a little. You just cheated death.”

  Chapter 25

  Travis exited the plane and hurried down the concourse as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Four missed calls. What the hell? He scowled as he listened to the first message then slowed to a stop. Fritz was beyond steamed. Travelers moved around him, a couple making rude comments.

  Damn Grace.

  His hand clenched around the phone as the next message started. McNally calling to say his old buddy was in a panic to reach him. Then a second message from Fritz. And a third. Grace hadn’t bothered to call him, even though she had to know the agents at the safe house would report her little escapade.

  He’d kill her—except Mason Rogers had almost beaten him to it.

  Damn Grace.

  Jamming the phone back in his pocket, Travis headed toward the baggage area. After collecting his suitcase, he left the terminal, caught a cab and gave the driver Grace’s address. If she had the nerve to interview Sutton and dodge a sniper’s bullets at the freaking safe house, she certainly wouldn’t hesitate to go home afterward. No wonder she’d been so insistent he stay in Seattle an extra day. He smacked the seat with his fist.

  “Dude, easy on the upholstery. You’re not going to lose it on me, are you?”

  Travis met the cabbie’s nervous gaze in the rearview mirror. “Sorry. I’m a little irritated.”

  “If that scowl is irritation, I’d hate to see you when you’re really pissed.”

  He let out a long breath. “Maybe irritated is a bit of an understatement.”

  “You’re not going to hurt someone, are you?”

  “No.”

  He’d never touched a woman in anger in his life, and he wasn’t about to start with Grace. He probably wouldn’t even raise his voice. What was the point? There wasn’t a whole lot she could say in her defense, but he was pretty sure she’d come up with something.

  “Here we are.”

  Pulling out his wallet, he paid the driver, slammed the cab door, dragged his bag up the steps and punched in the security code.

  Damn Grace.

  His heart ached as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. The door to her apartment was ajar. A murmur of voices came from inside, one distinctly male, the other belonging to Grace. Dropping to his knee, he eased the suitcase zipper open and pulled his weapon from an inside pocket. Taking a breath to steady his pulse, he edged the door further open. The entry table lay on the floor, the mirror over it splintered.

  A man with dark hair stood in the doorway to the living room. He spun, weapon drawn.

  Grace screamed and tackled him, sending the Glock flying. “Don’t shoot! Nobody shoot!”

  “Jesus, Grace, get the hell off me.” After retrieving the Glock from beneath the overturned table, the man eased up off the floor in one smooth movement before giving her a hand up.

  Travis righted the entry table and reluctantly set down his weapon since his holster was still in his suitcase before crossing his arms over his chest. The man standing beside Grace regarded him with a hint of amusement lighting his eyes.

  She cleared her throat. “Travis Barnett, meet Nolan Marconi.”

  When the armed stranger stepped forward and stuck out a hand, Travis shook it. Nolan—the name niggled at his memory. Surely Grace had mentioned it before.

  “Nolan’s a detective with the SFPD. He…uh…sort of helped me out today.”

  The memory clicked. The guy looking so comfortable in Grace’s apartment was her ex-boyfriend. Perfect. Travis held her gaze for one long moment before she turned away.

  Her fists clenched at her sides. “Someone trashed the place.”

  “So I see.” He crossed the entry to the living room. Broken picture frames and tossed cushions littered the floor, but the kitchen seemed to have escaped damage. “How bad is the bedroom?”

  “Not horrible. My clothes are everywhere, but he didn’t destroy them.” Her hand shook as she tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “It’s almost like he was looking for something specific.”

  “He?”

  “Mason Rogers. Who else would have done this? He must have broken in while we were gone.”

  Travis frowned. “You mean while you were interviewing Casey at the safe house?”

  She winced. “I guess you heard about that. No, Rogers was in Bodega Bay the same time we were. This had to have been done over the weekend.”

  An aching hollowness filled him. “You weren’t here last night?”

  Her head jerked up. “I told you I was staying with a friend.”

  “So I see.” Her friend leaned against the doorframe, legs crossed, the picture of ease.

  “Not Nolan. I stayed with Gretchen.” Her eyes flashed. “I don’t like your insinuation.”

  Travis took a breath and held onto his temper. “I’m the bad guy here?”

  The detective straightened. “Uh, I think I’ll leave now. Looks like you’re in good hands.”

  The rigid line of her back eased. She stepped forward and touched her ex-boyfriend’s arm. “Thank you.”

  “You bet. Am I going to see you at my wedding?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Great.” With a nod toward Travis, he strolled out the door.

  Travis rubbed the back of his neck and closed his eyes. He opened them when Grace laid a hand on his arm. The same gesture she’d used with the cop. He jerked away.

  “I guess Fritz called you.”

  “Multiple times while I was in the air. He’s angry, and he’s blaming me.”

  “Why?” Her voice rose. “You didn’t do anything.”

  “How’d you get the safe house address, Grace?”

  Her gaze dropped. Stooping, she picked up a picture off the floor. Cracked glass fractured outward from the center of a family photo. She laid it on the counter then bent to retrieve a second one.

  “Saying I’m sorry really isn’t enough. I understand you’re angry.” Her chest rose as she drew in a breath. “I knew you would be. I’d hate me, too, if I were you.”

  He stepped to the window. Fog had rolled in from the ocean and hung in the trees. Stuffing clenched fists into his pockets, he turned. “I really do need to know how you got that address.”

  “From an e-mail Fritz sent you.” She held up her hands. “Yes, your computer is password protected, but I got in after about ten tries. You must have switched the password recently.”

  He’d changed it to her name and the date they met.

  “I bet you had a good laugh.”

  Rapid blinking didn’t stop two fat tears from rolling down her cheeks. “It made me feel even worse.”

  “But not bad enough to shut the damn laptop and respect my privacy.”

  Swiping a hand across her face, she shook her head. “I have to do my job, Travis.”

  Seeing her tears tore him up inside. He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her it was okay. But it wasn’t. “Anything for a story?”

  A hint of anger flashed, and the tears dried. “It wasn’t like that, but don’t you feel the same way about your company?”

  “I put everything on hold to come here. You matter more to me than my business.”

  “Maybe right now I do, but what about in a month or two? If I don’t have my career to fall back on, what’s left?” Her voice quavered, and she steadied it. “An empty apartment?”

  “Have you so little faith in my feelings for you?” The pulse at his temple throbbed, and he took a couple deep breaths. “Or don’t you trust your own? I bet Marconi could tell me a few things about your level of commitment in a relationship.”

  “He’d tell you to run far and fast. I won’t try to stop you if that’s your decision.”

  Turning her back, she picked up a pillow and threw in onto the couch. It smacked against the cushion like a fastball hitting the catcher’s mitt.

  “Has it ever occurred to you I want you to stop me? I want you to take a little i
nitiative and actually show you care.”

  She spun around. “I care. I wouldn’t be sleeping with you if I didn’t.”

  “I don’t know if that’s the best barometer of your affection.”

  He wanted to snatch the words back the second they left his lips. The pain in her eyes flared bright.

  “Get the hell out.” She picked up another pillow and threw it at him.

  He deflected it with his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

  “You thought it, and that’s enough.”

  “Maybe I wanted to hurt you. Maybe I wanted you to feel the way I did when I learned how you’d betrayed my trust. Still, it doesn’t excuse what I said.”

  “You’re damn right about that! Stay. Go. I don’t care.” She turned and ran into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

  * * * *

  Grace hung the last wrinkled shirt in her closet and walked into the bathroom. Blotchy red eyes met her gaze in the mirror. She grimaced. Giving in to a crying jag had felt good while it lasted, but now she looked like crap. Flipping on the faucet, she splashed cold water on her face. A slight improvement but not much. Not that it really mattered. Travis was probably long gone, and she wouldn’t even have Wylie for company.

  Damn. She needed to call Rachel and make arrangements to retrieve her dog. Maybe in the morning because right now she couldn’t face a conversation with her sister. One sympathetic comment and she’d break down all over again. If her sister was in the mood to commiserate. More than likely Rachel would tell her she’d brought her troubles on herself. Facts were facts, and Grace honestly didn’t blame Travis for lashing out. She just hadn’t expected the wound to go so deep.

  After running a brush through her hair, she left the bathroom and crossed to the bedroom door. Beyond the barrier, all was quiet. Her shoulders slumped. Pushing it open, she stepped out and stopped when a lid clattered. The scent of herbs and chicken teased her senses.

  The living room was neat and tidy. Broken glass had been swept up and the disarray straightened. While she’d indulged in a temper tantrum in the bedroom, Travis had cleaned and cooked. Tears threatened again.

  When he rounded the end of the counter and met her gaze, his eyes were sober. “I made soup, but it can wait. We need to talk.”

  Her steps dragged as she walked to the couch and sat. “What’s left to say?”

  “I don’t know, Grace, probably plenty.” He dropped onto the far cushion, leaving a good two feet of space between them, and ran a hand through his hair. “Right now I want to hear what happened earlier today. I questioned your neighbors, but no one saw a stranger in the building.”

  “How did he get in then?”

  “I haven’t a clue, but no one was home in the apartment above yours. I’ll check back later to see if he noticed anyone.”

  “Mr. Peterman. He probably let Rogers in.”

  “Not after I gave him a lecture on the dangers of allowing strangers into the building when I ran into him in the lobby last week.”

  “I hate to burst your bubble, but not everyone listens when you give orders. Mr. Peterman does what he wants.”

  “Kind of like you.” His words were delivered in a hard, flat voice.

  Grace pressed her lips together and breathed through her nose, uncertain how many more jabs she could take.

  “Sorry. I won’t belabor the point.” Leaning forward, he planted his elbows on his knees. “So your fellow tenant let Rogers into the lobby. He jimmied the lock on your door, tossed your apartment and left. He didn’t take anything?”

  She shook her head. “Not that I’ve noticed. What jewelry I have is still in its box. All my electronics are accounted for, and I don’t have any knick-knacks worth stealing.”

  “Did you call the cops?”

  “I was with a cop. What would be the point of calling 9-1-1?”

  Color tinged Travis’s cheeks, but he didn’t respond.

  “Nolan said he’d write up a report.”

  “Marconi isn’t big on following procedure, is he?” Travis let out a breath. “Rogers didn’t break anything but pictures and the mirror?”

  “No. Weird, I know. Why would he paw through my stuff? I don’t get it. I don’t know this guy, so why would he take such a personal interest in me?” She shivered. “It freaks me out, knowing he was in here looking at my things, touching my clothes.”

  His voice softened. “The clothes will wash. He didn’t touch you. That’s what matters.”

  “I know, but it’s still—unsettling.”

  A day ago he would have slid across the expanse of scarred leather and pulled her close, comforted her with a hug. Or kissed her until she forgot all her problems.

  Staring straight ahead, he didn’t move an inch. “So, Rogers followed you to Bodega Bay and took a shot at you. I’m thankful you at least had the sense to call Marconi to watch your back, though why he didn’t stop you from going I’ll never understand.”

  “Maybe because I made it clear I’d go with or without him.”

  “He should have locked you up.”

  Grace gritted her teeth. “Rogers didn’t follow us. I drove straight from Gretchen’s house in her car to Nolan’s then back to drop it off when he insisted on driving. Nolan knows what he’s doing, and he assured me we didn’t have a tail.”

  “Then how did Rogers locate the safe house?”

  She shrugged. “He must have a contact inside the FBI.”

  “Or Estrada does. Shit.” Travis scowled. “Rogers was probably there to take out Sutton when you screwed up the works. For some reason he took a shot at you instead of waiting to complete the hit.”

  “The same reason he trashed my apartment, I would imagine. Too bad we don’t know what that reason is.”

  “Whatever, it’s personal.”

  “Isn’t that a lovely thought? I have the personal attention of a hit man. Lucky me.”

  “We’ll figure it out.” He let out a sigh. “Out of sheer, morbid curiosity, how’d you get into the house to see Sutton?”

  “Your friend Fritz should employ smarter bodyguards. I blustered my way inside, and then Casey backed up my pack of lies. He seemed pleased to see me.”

  “I guess that means you got your story.”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry if it pisses you off even more, but I need to spend the evening writing the article. My editor wants to run it in tomorrow’s paper.”

  “Why would it piss me off? You’re just doing your job, right?”

  Biting her lip, she rose from the couch. “I should get started.”

  He stood. “I’ll make a salad to go with the soup. After we eat, I’ll run to the store. We’re out of everything.”

  “You aren’t leaving, for Seattle I mean?”

  He turned, a scowl drawing his brows together. “You think I’d desert you when this freak broke into your apartment once?”

  One shoulder lifted. “I already said I wouldn’t blame you.”

  His chest rose and fell. “That really makes me angry.”

  “Why?”

  “If you have to ask, you don’t know me at all. Go write your story. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

  She opened her mouth then shut it. At this point, talking would only make the situation worse. Choking on the lump in her throat, she walked away. The story wouldn’t write itself.

  Chapter 26

  A spider crawled across the ceiling bathed in the dim morning light filtering through the blinds. Travis glanced at the alarm clock. Six twenty-five. No point in lying in bed when he certainly wouldn’t sleep again. He’d maybe gotten a total of two or three hours rest during the night. Anger, regret and just plain misery had made sleep impossible. Grace moved restlessly on her side of the bed. He suspected she was awake, too, but pretending otherwise. The woman was a pro at avoiding an uncomfortable situation—not that it should surprise him. Grace took care of herself.

  Sliding from the bed, he headed for the shower. He’d intended to sleep o
n the couch but relented when she pointed out it was a good six inches shorter than he was. Instead, they’d occupied their own sides of the mattress. Not talking. Not touching. He wasn’t looking forward to a repeat performance anytime soon.

  Stepping beneath the shower’s spray, he hung his head and let the heat soak into him. He certainly wouldn’t be getting any warmth from Grace. At the moment, he wasn’t sure he wanted any. He’d thought she was different. He’d believed she’d always tell him the truth, even if he didn’t want to hear it. Wrong on both accounts.

  Ten minutes later he left the bathroom. The bedroom was empty, the bed neatly made. Not her usual haphazard style, which probably meant she was still upset. Yanking a T-shirt over his head, he wondered if he was overreacting. Maybe he wouldn’t feel so betrayed if it had been anyone else. Someone he wasn’t crazy in love with who’d taken advantage of his trust.

  Grace was in the kitchen cooking eggs. When he entered the room, she glanced up and smiled—if the faint quiver of her lips could be considered a smile.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “I could eat.”

  Toast popped up as she slid eggs from the pan onto a plate. After dropping the slices beside them and topping the meal with strips of bacon, she set it on the counter next to the butter and jam. He pulled up a bar stool and sat.

  “Eat. Mine will be ready in a minute.” Cracking two more eggs into the pan, she waited with the spatula poised then muttered something under her breath and slid bread into the toaster.

  He concentrated on his food until she sat beside him. “What are your plans for the day?”

  “Work. Then I need to go get Wylie.”

  “How about I drop you off at the paper and then pick him up for you?”

  The fork in her hand stilled above her plate. “Would you mind?”

  “No.”

  She stabbed into the yolk. “Why’re you being so nice?”

  He sighed. “Because there’s no point in holding a grudge over something so petty as picking up the dog. I’ll save it for the bigger issues.”

  Her eyes reflected a mix of emotions as she met his gaze. “I truly am sorry.”