Saving Grace

by Patricia Rosemoor

  Only part of her had thought he was. That he was different. She’d stupidly fallen head over heals with a man who tested her trust. In a weird way, it was the bra incident all over again.

  She hadn’t thought her heart could be broken twice.

  Finishing her coffee quickly, Grace headed for her brother’s place. Maybe talking to someone who’d gone through the same thing would make her feel better.

  Corbett lived nearby in an old warehouse building that had been converted into loft-style condos. The ten-minute walk gave her enough time to calm down before she got to his apartment door.

  “Grace,” he said, pulling her inside and giving her a brotherly hug. “You’ve got to be going through hell. I know Mama is. She’s fretting that you won’t let her take over.”

  Grace pulled out of his arms and moved into his living room, perfectly neat, perfectly put together in browns and tans by a designer. Perfectly boring to her. How could he stand having a sister who was his complete opposite?

  “I’m hoping this will end tonight,” she said, sitting on the sectional.

  “That’s when the blackmailer demanded the money?”

  She nodded. “At midnight.”

  He took a seat next to her. “Start from the beginning.”

  So she had to tell him everything anyway, starting with the notes and ending with all she and Declan discovered about their two remaining suspects, Raphael and Bergeron.

  Corbett listened intently through her whole story, then asked, “So what does this Declan McKenna mean to you?”

  Her throat tightened. She didn’t want her brother to know about her disappointing personal life. “He’s been a friend.”

  “He looked like more than a friend at the fund-raiser.”

  “That was the idea. He was supposed to.”

  “You might fool other people, Grace—maybe even Mama—but you don’t fool me.”

  “Whatever I might feel doesn’t matter. He can’t—no, won’t—love me.”

  Corbett laughed. “I doubt he has that choice. It doesn’t matter what our brains tell us, Grace—our hearts have a mind of their own. That’s been my personal hell for the last five years.”

  Just then, she noticed something on the coffee table—an old snapshot of Corbett with Naomi. One side of his face was pressed into her long, dark hair as if he were trying to inhale her very essence. Her smile was odd—uninvolved—as if she had something to celebrate, but not with the man who held her.

  Why had Corbett pulled out the photograph of the woman who’d betrayed him? His personal hell—did that mean he went over and over and over it? Would she?

  “Is that why you haven’t found another woman to care about?” Grace asked, picking up the photo. “Because Naomi still has your heart?”

  “She did for a long time. I was just saying goodbye.” He took the photo from her, ripped it in two and dropped it into a trash basket. “I’m finally done with her.”

  “Because of Jill Westerfield?”

  Corbett grinned. “She is an interesting woman.”

  “She’s also a reporter.”

  That sobered him. “What?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “She told me she was just starting her own public relations business, the reason she was at the fund-raiser with Laroche. Maybe she’s picking up work wherever she can until her business is in the black.”

  “So you have been seeing her.” Grace hoped her brother would be smarter this time.

  “We had drinks. Once.”

  Worried because her brother got garrulous under the influence, she asked, “What did you talk about?”

  “She’s not Naomi, Grace.”

  “She’s doing a feature on Voodoo for the Rising Sun. She interviewed me yesterday and she didn’t just stick to questions about the business.”

  “She asked about me?”

  “There’s just something about this woman…I don’t like her.”

  “You didn’t like Naomi, either.”

  His tone made Grace start. “I was right about Naomi, though. You blame me for what happened?”

  Corbett sighed. “No, of course not. And nothing happened between Jill and me, Grace, so just relax. I asked her out and she said she was too busy working.”

  Grace leaned her head on her brother’s shoulder. “We make a real pair when it comes to romance.”

  Not that she was having any after today.

  A thought that saddened her deeply.

  IT WAS AFTER DARK when Ian arrived at Vieux Carré Investigations. He started when he saw Declan at the front desk.

  “You didn’t leave yet?”

  “I need some equipment,” Declan said. In truth, he had nowhere to go, not until it was time to pull off Grace’s plan.

  “You’ve been waiting for me?” Ian asked. “Why didn’t you just call?”

  “I’m waiting for Grace to call.”

  He suspected he’d be waiting a long time if she wasn’t planning on breaking into Raphael’s apartment this evening. Thinking someone else ought to know what was going on in case something went wrong, he told Ian about Grace’s plan for the evening.

  “Hell, man, you’re letting her take the lead? Are you crazy?”

  “I don’t have much choice. If I try to stop her, she’ll just fire me and go on her own.”

  Ian perched a hip on a desk. “How about exerting some personal influence?”

  “What influence? I told her I couldn’t love her.”

  “So you told her about the prophecy. What did she say?”

  “She had the idea I betrayed her somehow by not telling her before. Or maybe it was because I told her about Lila. She walked out on me.”

  “And you didn’t go after her?”

  “For her own good.”

  “Let’s get you that equipment,” Ian said.

  Ian led the way to his office where he pulled keys from his pocket to open the supply closet door. That’s where he kept his electronic toys.

  “I want to make sure I have constant communication and I want to see where she is at all times.”

  “No problem.”

  Ian pulled several items off the shelf, including a Bluetooth communications system that included a tiny camera—Grace could wear it in her ear. Anyone who saw it would think it was part of her cell phone system, but the wireless technology would allow them voice and visual contact. Rather Declan would be able to see what she could see and they could hear each other.

  “Once you get her through this situation,” Ian said, “what then?”

  “What do you expect? I break all ties with her.”

  “Why, Declan?” Ian frowned. “The dangerous situation will be ended, then, and you’ll have nothing further to worry your head over.”

  Tempting…Ian didn’t believe in the prophecy, Declan reminded himself. “What if there’s another danger?”

  “What if you have some faith and take a chance? Believe in your own power and Grace’s to keep danger at bay. Wouldn’t it be worth it?”

  Declan didn’t know what to think. He’d lived his whole life with his mother’s death and his father’s consequent rejection of him. That had tainted the way he saw life for himself in the future.

  He couldn’t sort it all out now, though, not when he needed all his focus to keep Grace safe.

  Alive.

  Otherwise there would be nothing to think about at all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  With her plan in place, all Grace had to do was wait for the right time. The e-mail would come in at midnight. Using the keys she’d found in the loading dock office to get in the building, she would try to find the blackmailer at work as Declan stayed on the computer pretending to be her, receiving and answering e-mails. But prior to that, she would try to get into Raphael’s apartment so she could look for evidence before he returned. She checked the clock. Quarter to ten and no Declan. Her nerves were vibrating by the time the knock finally came twenty minutes later.

  Grace swun
g open the door and steeled herself at seeing him. “I’m ready to go.”

  “Not exactly.” He waved a small case at her. “A little electronics so we can stay connected.”

  Despite her resolve, Grace couldn’t ignore the way her pulse picked up or the way her throat threatened to close on her. She couldn’t force her feelings away. Couldn’t stop the longing as Declan opened the case and pulled out what looked like a Bluetooth earbud headset.

  “The camera is right here, at the tip. I’ll be able to see everything you see.” Then he drew out a cell phone. “You can turn this on, okay the Bluetooth connection, then put it in your pocket.”

  “Looks simple enough.”

  “Let’s try it.” Declan set down the cell and moved toward her, earbud raised as if he were going to put it on her.

  Pulse thundering, Grace ducked away from his hand. “I can do it myself.” She snatched the earbud out of his hand without touching him.

  After putting it in place, she okayed the Bluetooth on the cell. Seconds later, a picture of her hand and cell appeared on the cell phone’s screen. Looking up, she aimed the camera higher and lifted the cell so she could see Declan’s face on the screen.

  “If you press the button on the left, you can record everything you see,” he told her.

  She tried it and saw a tiny red light that assured her she was recording. Stopping the recorder, she slipped the cell phone into her pocket.

  “Now I’m ready.”

  Declan’s gaze laved warmth through her. This wasn’t the look of a man doing business. No matter what he said, he cared about her, Grace realized. Not that it changed anything between them. Trust was everything to her. Besides, Lila Soto stood between them.

  Grace didn’t want a man who couldn’t give her his whole heart.

  Unlocking her gaze from his, she opened the door and waited for him to leave the apartment first so she could lock up.

  The drive was silent and uncomfortable, her thoughts filled with Declan and all that they’d shared in the past few days. She didn’t understand all those visions she’d had of the future with them happy together—impossible considering the circumstances.

  Just like what had happened with Terrence, she thought glumly. She still couldn’t trust her psychic gift.

  Less than ten minutes later, they were on the street in back of the Orleans Exchange building. A thrill that felt like fluttering butterflies attacked Grace’s stomach. The thought of breaking into Raphael’s place to look for evidence wasn’t a comfortable one, but if there was proof implicating him, she had to find it before Mama took over. She had to make sure that, if he was the blackmailer, he didn’t ruin her mother’s and brother’s political careers.

  Declan pulled up his laptop and she keyed him into her e-mail. Then he connected to her camera. She saw the lowlight, hazy picture of the car’s dash and the laptop itself on the monitor. He was able to go back and forth between e-mail and camera.

  “I’ll be watching your every move,” he said. “Do whatever you have to so I can get in the loading dock door, if necessary.”

  “You’re not going to come in after me.”

  “Only if you’re in trouble. Or if the communication breaks down.”

  “Declan—”

  “Don’t argue with me, Grace. I agreed to do this your way, but only as long as you’re safe.” His tone brooked no argument. But as she opened the passenger door and slipped out of the SUV, he quickly added, “Whatever happens, I want you to know I do care about you.”

  Grace’s heart thundered. She didn’t respond, but her mind roiled. Though Declan cared about her, he didn’t—wouldn’t— love her. No, thinking about it would cripple her emotionally when she needed all her wits together. This wasn’t the time to think about anything personal.

  Slamming the door, she quickly crossed the loading dock area, at the same time pulling out the keys to the building. They felt inordinately heavy. Nerves. She had to calm down. The first key she tried was a bust. Hands trembling just a bit, she sorted the others and tried to insert the next one in the lock. Nope. The third key hit pay dirt.

  The back entrance door swung open and she whispered, “Okay, I pushed the pin so the door won’t lock again.”

  “Good. Don’t say anything unnecessary to me. I can see what you see.”

  The light inside the building was minimal, yet enough to let her make her way to the lobby, then up the stairs. Treading cautiously, she focused on her surroundings, but heard nothing except the rush of her own blood inside her head. There was no night security guard at the desk, of course, but it was possible there was a night guard somewhere in the building.

  A stop just before she reached the second floor assured Grace that she was alone. She rounded the banister and circled the stairs that led to the third floor and the Voodoo offices and Raphael’s apartment. Taking a shaky breath, she straightened her spine and hurried up the stairs.

  When she got to the landing, she first looked through the windows of the office. All dark as expected. About to start trying keys on his apartment door, she heard noise—voices—and realized someone was inside.

  “He’s home,” she whispered to Declan. “Damn! He said he would be busy until very late.”

  “Maybe he’s entertaining.”

  “Or maybe he’s firing up his computer. I should see for myself.”

  “Grace, don’t!”

  Not liking his tone, she said, “I’m not turning back until I find out what’s going on up here.”

  “All right,” Declan conceded, though he still sounded unhappy. “What excuse are you going to use for interrupting him this late?”

  “An apology. Raphael wanted me to come back earlier and I told him I had a family emergency.”

  “Make it convincing.”

  “My specialty,” she said.

  Hoping Raphael wasn’t having a romantic tryst, Grace rang his bell. Her mouth was dry, her breathing shallow. Her limbs felt like they were made of rubber.

  The door opened, and to Grace’s shock, she came face-to-face with Jill Westerfield. And the woman was wearing a Voodoo design, one that hadn’t been released yet.

  Heart thundering, Grace barely held back a gasp. “I’m here to see Raphael.” She pushed her way past the reporter into the apartment foyer. Classical music drifted from another room—music to blackmail by?

  “Raphael is otherwise occupied, Ms. Broussard.”

  “What the hell?” Declan muttered via Bluetooth.

  Grace tried to ignore the voice in her earbud. “Where is he, Ms. Westerfield?”

  “In the dining room.” Jill quickly flashed her gaze to the left before zeroing back in on Grace. “But he isn’t to be disturbed.”

  “I’ll just bet he isn’t,” Grace muttered, storming off toward the dining room.

  “Wait!” the other woman demanded. “You can’t go in there!”

  Grace didn’t so much as slow down, so it wasn’t until she was almost to the doorway that she became aware of the buzz of voices mingling with the music. Was there a whole team involved in the blackmail scheme?

  Stopping in the doorway, she realized Jill was directly behind her. But it was the scene in front of her that wrenched her gut.

  Rather than being gathered around a computer, a half-dozen men and three women were sitting around a dinner table, their discarded coffee cups and half-filled glasses of brandy indicating they’d just finished dinner. And Raphael sat at the table’s head and was so engaged in conversation that he didn’t notice her intrusion.

  Larry Laroche sat at the other end.

  Grace stepped back, almost banging into Jill. Confused, Grace whipped around to face the other woman.

  “We had a dinner for Larry’s wealthiest supporters,” Jill said. “I told you Raphael was busy.”

  “I see that now.” Humiliated, Grace started to back off. “It can wait. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Go back to your guests.”

  “I’ll see you to the door first.” Jill took
her by the arm and pushed her toward the door.

  “It went well,” Laroche says, and pulls Jill up against him. “We’re good for each other.”

  Jill rubs up against him. “You’re right.” And thinks that she’s going to get everything she wants.

  Reminded of the way Naomi had used Corbett, Grace pulled her arm free. “I can find my own way out.”

  Praying the other woman wouldn’t follow her or make any kind of fuss, Grace headed for the front door, embarrassed by the mistake she’d made, relieved that Raphael wasn’t the blackmailer, but disgusted by his support of Laroche, even if the man was related to him.

  Worse, Raphael hadn’t told her he was supporting the man competing for her brother’s seat on the city council.

  She waited until the apartment door swung closed behind her and was on the stairs on her way down before talking just loud enough for Declan to hear.

  “The blackmailer isn’t Raphael.” At least she was grateful for something. “That leaves Bergeron Prejean.”

  DECLAN COULDN’T HELP but get antsy waiting for Grace to get out of the building and rejoin him. He checked his watch. A few minutes until midnight…

  A ding alerted him to the arrival of an e-mail.

  “Is that it?” came Grace’s voice via the computer speakers.

  Apparently, she’d heard. “Three minutes early.” Declan brought up the missive.

  DO YOU HAVE THE MONEY?

  “Well, the bastard couldn’t be more direct, could he? He wants to know if you have the money.” His fingers flew over the keyboard, bringing up information. “Just give me a few seconds to check out the IP and make sure he’s really in the building,” Declan said, as the full header of the e-mail opened up on the monitor.

  “Well?”

  “He spoofed the address again. I can’t tell for sure.”

  “Quick, answer him,” Grace said. “Make sure you make it sound like it was from me. Keep him busy while I check it out from inside.”

  “Grace, do you really think this is a good idea? I’m worried that Bergeron might be armed.”

  A fact that made his stomach lurch even as Grace protested, “I won’t face him down. As soon as I see him, I’ll let you know. Just type and don’t let him off the hook!”