by Susan Stoker
At the moment, however, Logan was more concerned about Grace. She and her parents were still in the sitting room having what looked like an intense conversation. Well, Margaret and Walter were. Grace was sitting with her head down, not speaking at all.
Whatever they were saying didn’t seem to be having much of an effect on Grace, but remembering what Felicity had told him, Logan was finally understanding that whatever her mother was saying to her probably hurt just as much as his own mother’s fists had.
His thoughts were proven true when Margaret reached down and grasped Grace’s chin in her hand and forced it upward. Through the lenses of Logan’s binoculars, he could see the skin on her face turn white with the pressure from her mother’s fingers. Logan’s rage almost got the better of him before he tamped it down and controlled it.
The last time Logan was this angry was in the Army when a terrorist pushed a small child, around five years old, out of a car toward a checkpoint. The little girl had an adult-size backpack on her back, and she staggered under its weight.
All of the soldiers knew immediately what was happening but couldn’t stop what was inevitable. The child didn’t comprehend English, didn’t understand the soldiers around her yelling at her to stop. To not take another step. But she obviously did comprehend what her father would do to her if she disobeyed him. She kept walking.
Logan hadn’t been the one to take the shot that day, but he remembered the rage he felt toward the man who’d brainwashed her and made that little girl so terrified of him that she’d allowed herself to become a walking bomb.
Felicity had been right. Margaret might not have been physically abusing Grace, but she was slaying her with words. Probably had been for Grace’s entire life. Hiding his letters was just a drop in the bucket of abuse Grace had most likely faced since she’d been a kid. It was a miracle that she was as strong as she was. Most people would’ve been beaten down and cowering.
Even though Grace looked uncomfortable, and there was fear on her face, Logan also recognized her determination. He vowed then and there, sitting in the dark outside her house, watching her quiet strength, that she wouldn’t spend another twenty-four hours under her parents’ thumb.
As Margaret continued to harangue Grace, Walter Mason wandered to the window and stared out into his yard for a long moment. Logan knew he was well hidden, but he found himself holding his breath and tightening every muscle in his body. With a quick flick of his wrist, Walter pulled a cord to the right of where he was standing and dark, thick blinds fell from the top of the window to block Grace and whatever was happening to her from his gaze.
Swearing, Logan reluctantly put down the binoculars and backed away from his hiding spot behind a cluster of trees. They’d done more than enough recon. It was time to act. He needed to meet with his brothers and get Grace the fuck out of that house once and for all.
Grace’s mind swam with all that had gone on in the last few hours. Margaret was putting her plan in motion, and Grace had been appalled by her behavior. At first glance, Brian and Betty Grant seemed like the kind of people who would bow to pressure and cower under the might of Margaret Mason. But thankfully, they weren’t.
They’d obviously been as surprised at her mother’s plans as Bradford had been. They’d politely protested and said that they would not interfere with their children’s love lives, but Margaret had continued to push, throwing Grace under the bus as usual, telling the Grants that Grace had had a crush on Bradford for ages, and how she was looking forward to getting to know him more intimately. The night had gone downhill after that, with everyone feeling awkward and anxious. The Grants had left soon after.
But it was the confused and angry look on Alexis’s face that had hurt Grace the most. The other woman thought she was in on her parents’ plan and seemed to hate her because of it. Any thoughts that they might someday be friends had just been obliterated by the actions of her parents.
Grace ground her teeth together as her mother continued to rage at her after the Grants left. She ignored the accusations and the threats and retreated into her head, plotting how she was going to get away from her insane parents. Her father hadn’t said much, but he hadn’t disagreed with his wife either.
She was jerked back to the present when her mother grabbed her chin and forced her head up, chewing her out so violently that spittle came out of her mouth, landing on Grace’s face. She didn’t move to wipe it away but just stared blankly up at her mother.
Finally, Margaret spat, “I don’t need your cooperation anyway. I’ll get what I want, one way or another. I always do,” and thrust her head away from her in disgust. “Take her back to her room, Walter. Another few days without eating will make her come around, I’m sure.”
Walter took her upper arm in his and yanked her upright. Grace stumbled alongside her father as they made their way down the long hallway to her room. Once again, she changed into a T-shirt and sweats and didn’t make a sound as her father chained her back up. Surprisingly, the older man didn’t say a word either, and soon Grace was alone in her jail cell once more.
She just had to wait them out. Margaret would get sick of her game sooner or later, and Grace would be ready to act. All she needed was five minutes, and she could make her escape.
Five frickin’ minutes.
That’s all.
When her chance came, she was taking it.
Chapter Fifteen
Logan and Blake crouched behind a bank of bushes alongside the Mason property. They’d plotted and planned for hours after Logan had returned from surveilling the family the night before. They had a plan, it wasn’t exactly legal, but Logan didn’t care. He’d seen enough to know that something was terribly wrong in the Mason household, and he wasn’t going to wait any longer to get Grace out.
So the plan was to kidnap her.
It wasn’t exactly the best plan, but it was the most expedient way to get her out of the house. There were a lot of unknowns, but they’d worked through as many of them as they could. Cameras, the Masons themselves, Grace’s mental state, the servants whose whereabouts couldn’t be accounted for . . . it was time.
Logan gestured at Blake after Nathan rang the doorbell to distract Walter and Margaret. They moved as one toward Grace’s window. The curtain was closed tightly, as it had been all week, but there was a light on in the room. They’d spray-painted the lenses of the cameras at the side of the house to buy them some extra time and to make it harder for anyone to identify them. Both men wore all black, complete with gloves. Blake tried the window. Locked. They’d expected it. Logan pulled a glass cutter from his pocket and quickly and silently carved a hole into the glass big enough for his hand to slip through and unlock the window. He held his breath as Blake eased the glass up, relaxing as no alarms went off. Using Blake’s hands as a step stool, Logan crawled into the room.
The object of their mission was asleep on her bed. Logan took a moment to drink her in. Grace was on her side, both hands under her pillow. She looked peaceful, which was a nice change after what he’d witnessed the night before.
The light next to the bed was on, and Logan ran his eyes over Grace, looking for signs of abuse. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing came out slow and even. She was wearing a T-shirt and her arms had no bruises on them. The sheet had been pushed down to her hips and Logan could see her chest rising and falling rhythmically.
He breathed out a relieved sigh that, from what he could see, she looked to be unhurt. Silent as a ghost, he strode across the room, keeping his head down, and put one hand on Grace’s shoulder and as he rolled her to her back, putting the other over her mouth to muffle any startled sound she made.
She came awake with a jerk, staring up at him in the low light.
“It’s Logan. You’re safe.” He kept his voice low, so it wouldn’t be picked up by any cameras in the room. “Don’t make a sound. Understand?”
She nodded under his hand.
“I’m going to take my hand away. Plea
se. Not a word. I’ll explain.”
Grace nodded again, faster this time.
Logan eased his gloved hand off her mouth and opened his to tell her what the hell he was doing in her bedroom, when she beat him to the punch.
“Get me out of here.”
Logan had a million questions for her, but those five words answered the most pressing. “We don’t have a lot of time. Grab only what you have to have.” Logan turned to eyeball the room, scoping it out.
“Can you get these off?”
He turned back to Grace, not understanding the question, but tensing when he saw what she was talking about.
She was holding up her hands, which had been hidden under her pillow, showcasing the wide cuffs on her wrists with the chain attached to both snaking up to the headboard of her bed.
“Son of a bitch,” Logan swore, narrowing his eyes on the padlocks keeping her prisoner. Her parents had locked her up as if she were an animal. Chained their daughter to her bed as if she were a mental patient. Logan wanted to kick himself for waiting as long as he did to come and get her out.
“They keep the key on them. I’ve tried to slip my hands out of the cuffs, but they’re too tight. All I did was hurt myself,” Grace whispered.
Logan sized up the situation quickly. “I don’t have anything to cut them off with,” he apologized, moving toward the headboard to examine it.
“Oh, I understand. Will you come back with something?”
Logan looked sharply at Grace. “I’m not fucking leaving you here, Grace.”
“But-”
“Those assholes aren’t as smart as they think they are. Stand up.” Logan was beyond pissed. Pissed at her parents. Pissed that Grace thought he’d leave her there. Just pissed in general. He helped her stand next to her bed, getting angry all over again when Grace swayed on her feet. She was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, which she held onto with one hand. The white T-shirt she had on hung on her frame.
Shifting her to the side, Logan leaned down and affirmed what he’d suspected. He turned back to Grace and said urgently, “Things are gonna go quick here in a second. I’m going to make a shitload of noise and we’ll have to move. What do you need me to get before we go?”
She shifted in front of him, biting her lip and refusing to meet his gaze.
“What, Grace? Hurry. We don’t have a lot of time.”
She looked up at him then. “There’s a stack of letters under my mattress. I’m sure my parents know about them, but for some reason they let me keep them. Probably because they thought it would hurt me to have them.” She shrugged. “I didn’t take them when I moved into my apartment because I was trying to move on.”
Logan immediately bent to the bed and lifted the top mattress and pulled out the letters. They were tied together with a pink ribbon. He held them out to her. “These?” He tried not to feel a stab of pain at the thought of her receiving letters from someone else . . . and having them be so important she kept them under her bed.
“Yeah. They’re um . . .” she wouldn’t meet his eyes again. “I wrote you. All the time. I didn’t know where to send them, but I thought I’d send them when I heard from you. Even when I didn’t get anything from you, writing to you became a habit. I’d tell you everything that was going on here.” Grace looked up at him then, self-conscious and defiant at the same time.
“Those are letters you wrote to me?” Logan asked, flabbergasted.
“Yeah.”
“Fuck,” he breathed, pulling her to him, crushing the letters between them. “Fuck,” he repeated, not able to get anything else out. Finally, knowing he had to get this show on the road, he cleared his throat and pulled away from her. “Anything else?”
“No. Everything here was bought by my parents. I don’t want anything from them.”
“Your IDs and stuff?”
She winced and shrugged. “I’m assuming my mother has it all.”
Logan nodded. It would be tough to deal with, but not impossible. Blake could help them replace the missing IDs.
“Do you have any sneakers?”
She shook her head. “No. Those letters are the only thing I want to take with me.”
Logan’s heart swelled in his chest. He’d once been a part of a rescue mission for a group of men over in the Middle East who’d been held captive. They’d had the same look in their eyes as Grace did. The only thing they’d wanted to do was get out of the building they’d been held in, and get the hell out of the city. The fact that he saw that same desperation in Grace’s eyes now spoke volumes.
“Okay, time to go. Gather up the chains, but don’t wrap them around your wrists,” Logan ordered, nodding in approval as she did as he’d asked. “I can’t break them, but I can destroy the headboard. See these slats?” He pointed at the thin spindles of her headboard. “I’m going to kick them out and since the chain isn’t attached to anything else, as soon as they’re broken you’ll be free of the bed. We’ll just take the chain with us and take care of it later. As I said earlier, it’s gonna make some noise, so we need to move the moment you’re free. Okay?”
“Yes.”
“Blake is waiting outside the window. I know it’ll be hard to move carrying those chains, but I’ll help, and he’ll make sure you don’t trip.” He eyed the armful of chains and the precious letters she held to her chest. “Do you want me to carry those? I promise I’ll keep them safe.”
Grace hesitated, and he saw her swallow and blush before holding out the bundle to him. “Yeah. Thanks. They’re yours anyway.”
He tucked the letters inside the pocket of his sweatshirt, not missing the look of relief on Grace’s face. Logan climbed up on her bed, feeling the warmth of her body still on the sheets beneath him. If he’d been anywhere else doing anything else, he probably would’ve taken the time to enjoy being in her bed, but at the moment, he was just too pissed off and anxious to get out of the house.
“You ready?”
“More than.”
“Step away as far as you can toward the window and turn around. I don’t want you to get hurt when the wood goes flying.”
“It wouldn’t matter,” Grace told him as she followed his orders. “If it gets me out of here, I don’t care if I get hurt.”
“I care,” Logan told her, returning his attention to the headboard. He heard her indrawn breath, but ignored it. “On the count of three. One. Two. Three.” His foot came down hard on the two spindles next to one of the chains. They split easily, with a loud crack. Logan quickly shifted and aimed his foot at the other two spindles holding Grace hostage. Using all the rage built up inside him, those two broke as well.
He hopped off the bed and put one arm around Grace’s waist, pulling her toward the window as she frantically gathered up the loose chain. They clanged as she moved, and she winced.
“Sorry. Shit, I’m being too loud. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, Grace. You’re doing just fine. Come on.” Logan helped gather up the chain as they stepped up to the window. He threw back the curtains and saw Blake’s anxious face.
“Jesus, bro. You made enough noise to wake the dead. I think our timetable just shifted.”
Logan watched as the reason for all the noise became clear to his brother.
“Motherfucker. Really? They chained her like a dog?”
“I prefer to say like a pissed-off wild boar,” Grace told Blake with a serious look on her face.
Blake managed a short chuckle. “Come on, honey, let’s blow this Popsicle stand.” He held up his arms to help Grace step out of the window.
She awkwardly held the heavy chains in one hand and reached out for Blake with the other. With his help, and Logan’s behind her, she was soon standing on the ground. Logan appeared at her side within seconds.
“Shit,” Logan swore, looking at her bare feet. “I forgot.”
“It’s fine, let’s just go,” Grace told him, obviously not wanting to wait another moment.
“Hold onto me,” L
ogan ordered, bending over and picking her up. She squeaked, but didn’t cry out as she was lifted into his arms.
She lifted one hand over his head, careful not to bash him with the chain still attached to her wrist.
Without a word, the trio made their way quickly and silently through the trees on the property until they reached Nathan’s car.
“Hurry up!” the youngest Anderson barked. “They heard whatever it was that you did, and the shit hit the fan. I showed myself out and hightailed it back here. The element of surprise is obviously shot to hell. What the hell did you-”
Nathan’s voice trailed off when he got a good look at Grace, then said to her grumpily, “Please tell me you’re into kinky sex.”
“Um, no,” Grace said, slightly embarrassed.
“Damn. Didn’t think so.”
Blake got into the front seat of the older-model Ford, which most of the time sounded like it was on its last leg, and Logan climbed awkwardly into the back with Grace. As soon as the door shut behind them, Nathan floored it and started down the long driveway.
“What are we gonna say when the cops come to question us in the morning?” Nathan fretted as he drove.
“The cops aren’t going to come,” Grace said calmly.
“How can you say that?” Nathan barked. “Two men, dressed all in black, just unchained you from wherever you were being kept and stole you out of the house. And let me say, your parents are pissed, Grace.”
“I bet they are,” she agreed. “But think about what you just said. Two men unchained me from the bed and took me. Unchained. Me. My parents aren’t going to want to draw attention to that.”
“Damn,” Nathan breathed, looking slightly relieved at her words.
“Are you all right?” Logan asked from beside her. Grace didn’t look all right to him. She sounded fine, but he could feel her trembling and saw that she was clenching her hands together, like she had when he’d come to see her a few days ago.