Oh, no.
“Dinner? No, no, that’s okay. I’m just going to—”
Before she could tell Maria that all she wanted to do was use the bathroom, wash up, and pass out until morning, a loud grumble cut her off. It took her a second to recognize that the sound was coming from her stomach.
Maria’s eyes sparkled as she bit her bottom lip, trying in vain to hide her smile. Giving up on her denials, Grace just hoped for a hole to open up underneath her feet so that she could just disappear into it and never face the other woman again.
“So, yes, dinner will be ready soon. I still have to eat myself, and it’s no trouble to make another plate. Sit. Get settled. I’ll comm you when it’s done.”
What else could she do? She was too tired to argue.
“Okay. Sure. Sounds great. Thanks.”
With a nod and a smile, Maria left, making sure to close the door to the Sunflower Room behind her. Grace waited for a second, then crossed over to the door, checking to see if the locks were activated yet. They weren’t, and she immediately put them out of her head as her bladder screamed a warning that she needed to go now.
It wasn’t until after she finished up and was washing her hands in a beautifully-carved marble sink that Grace even thought to wonder why a quaint bed and breakfast in a teensy-tiny town needed a security system as intense as that one.
There was a story there. Had to be. But, so long as Maria didn’t push for answers from Grace, she wouldn’t ask any uncomfortable questions, either.
Something had been bothering Tommy since they got to the hotel.
He refused to go too far from where they found the tracker; it was the last spot where they could place Grace at. So Boone used the dash computer to pull up the closest luxury hotel and brought Tommy there. Between Tommy’s name and Boone’s persuasion, they snagged a connecting residential suite since neither of them knew how long they would have to stay there.
It wasn’t the presidential suite, but it was good enough. Besides, he was attempting to travel under the radar. If Henry Mathers got word that Grace had run off on him again, his father might start up with that tired bullshit about him giving up on the ballerina and finding a woman who really wanted to be with him.
Tommy was convinced that he already had. So what if she was playing hard to get? Just because his brother barely had to try with his wife, that didn’t mean that Grace wasn’t worth the time and effort. She was. And maybe he shouldn’t have locked her in his penthouse apartment without staying behind and making her understand how badly he needed her at his side.
She didn’t get it. That was his fault. He thought Grace knew how much he loved her, how far he would go to show her that. Obviously not, otherwise she wouldn’t have used his housekeeper—former housekeeper—to help her get away.
He refused to make that mistake again. This time, when he had her back in his grasp, he wouldn’t waste his time in trying to remind her why she fell in love with him in the first place. He’d make it legal first, then he’d have all the time in the world to make sure she didn’t want to leave him.
Now if only he could find her.
He was antsy. As he paced the length of his suite, skirting around the sofa, resisting the urge to smash the glass coffee table in with one frustrated kick, he couldn’t shake his nerves. One way or another, ever since he first found her during that fateful performance of Cinderella, Tommy knew where Grace was, who she was with, what she was doing.
He might not have made it so obvious; it was easier to keep an eye on her when she wasn’t already running from him. It was only when he couldn’t stop himself, when he had to get some kind of reaction out of her, that he showed his cards.
Sometimes she played right into his hands. And sometimes she was spooked.
Grace was spooked right now. He could sense it. She wasn’t just running blind—she had a plan. But what was it?
There was something, something that nagged at him, and it had everything to do with the tracker. Why would she drive all the way here, take a trip that would’ve had her in the car more than five hours by his estimate, only to ditch his tracking device in the middle of nowhere?
Okay. So maybe the heart was a bit much. At the time, he thought she would understand the meaning behind the gesture; it didn’t occur to him until later that leaving a bloody heart in a gift box might’ve been too literal. The coffee he brought up to her door was a peace offering. It shouldn’t have sent her running across state lines.
But it did. There was no question about that or he wouldn’t be currently pacing in a hotel suite.
The question he did have?
When did Grace find the tracker? She had to have known it was there, otherwise she wouldn’t have gotten rid of it. It didn’t make sense for her to hold onto it all the way from Dayton. It had to have been closer to where Boone discovered it in the grass.
Which meant that Tommy needed to go back and have another look.
9
“You didn’t have to do this.”
Maria hushed her with a wave of her orange dishcloth. There was a smiling pumpkin printed on it. “I told you. I was cooking anyway. Sly’s gonna need to eat, and I’m sure he’ll be poking his nose in again before the locks engage.”
Grace remembered the look Sly gave her before he drove off in Maria’s car. Oh, yeah. There was no way he wasn’t not coming back to Ophelia tonight. She’d only been in town for about an hour, barely met three of its locals, and she was beginning to think Lucas might’ve actually managed to downplay the whole hating outsiders thing.
Well, except for Maria. She was a freaking sweetheart.
“I like to call it my outsider special,” Maria said, tossing her dishcloth onto the counter before spooning the freshly sauced pasta onto a plate. “Something I came up with when I was first starting out with Ophelia. Instead of just offering breakfast in the morning, I do dinner, too, for any guests who might want it. It’s usually the outsiders.”
“Do you get many?” Grace asked. “Outsiders?”
“You’re my third. Here.” Swooping around her, Maria set the plate on the table in front of Grace. “Eat up while it’s hot.”
The two of them were in the kitchen. When Maria gave her the option of having supper in her room or being served in the dining room, Grace’s first reaction was to say that she was fine, that she didn’t need anything more than to lay down and go to sleep. Of course, her stomach chose that moment to let out a huge growl, as if angry she was trying to get away with not feeding it.
Maria laughed, then insisted that Grace follow her. She led her through the first floor of Ophelia, pointing out rooms like the Lavender Room and the Peony Room, before showing off an immaculately decorated dining area. Already feeling twitchy from the long, long day, Grace was worried about sitting down at the elaborate spread. What if she dropped one of those crystal-looking glasses or something?
To her relief, Maria kept going, bringing her to a cozy kitchen near the back of the bed and breakfast. A round wooden table took up half the space; the rest of the kitchen boasted professional, stainless steel equipment. Grace found herself ushered into one of the two chairs set on opposite sides of the table. Within a few minutes, Maria had set a chopped salad and a glass of water in front of her.
The two protein bars had held her over for most of her drive, but it was late now and she was starving. As Maria went about cooking dinner, she dug into the salad. By the time she was licking the vinaigrette off the back of her fork, her hostess was plating their main course.
Grace looked down at the dish Maria put in front of her. She saw a hearty mound of steaming pasta in a rich cream sauce resting on a cream-colored plate with pumpkins drawn along the rim. It matched the festive decorations in the kitchen. Maria had pumpkin-printed napkins and her orange dishcloth, plus a set of salt and pepper shakers shaped like ghosts.
October, Grace remembered. Halloween. It was cute. Now that she put enough space between herself and Tommy, the idea of
someone coming to her door while wearing a mask wasn’t as terrifying as it might’ve been.
Her stomach tightened at the mere thought of him. And she thought, maybe not enough space then. She shivered, her skin crawling, the old familiar fear rushing over her. Halloween was nothing when Tommy’s handsome face hid a mind so twisted and a heart as black as tar.
I won’t let him find me. I can’t.
Grace swallowed roughly, shoving the uncomfortable feeling aside. Know what? She was going to eat this pasta because her hostess had so generously made it for her. And if she made herself sick by forcing it down? At least each individual room in Ophelia had its own bathroom.
Once Grace took her first bite—and, holy crap, was it good—Maria returned to the stove. A moment later, she joined Grace at the table with a plate of her own.
Maria picked up her fork, though she didn’t start eating right away. Instead, she cleared her throat. “I’ve been thinking about it. I know Lucas sent you,” she said, “but he wouldn’t have wanted to. Nothing against you, sweetie, but—”
Grace quickly swallowed her bite. “Hey, it’s okay. He made sure to warn me about Hamlet.”
“Right. So you must understand our surprise. Mine. Sly’s too, even though he was an outsider himself once. It’s not very usual for people to stumble upon our village.”
Grace thought of the cones blocking the exit, and the gaping hole that created the fork in the road. A lost traveler got around all that, then they really had a reason to find Hamlet.
Just like she did.
“They have to be sent,” she guessed.
“Yes, and that’s the funny thing. Lucas, he’s my brother, and I love him dearly. But he’s like so many of the people here who have called Hamlet home for generations. Our grandparents were some of the first to settle here. Even if he’s gone, Hamlet is forever his home and he’s very protective of it. Protective of me, too. He wouldn’t have wanted to share.” She paused, expertly twirling her pasta around her fork before taking a bite. “Are you enjoying the fettuccine?”
“What? Oh, yes, thanks. It’s delicious.”
“That’s good. Mangia. Eat up. If you have room later, I’ve got a pumpkin cheesecake I baked last night just waiting to be sliced into.”
When was the last time she had cheesecake? It had to have been more than fifteen years now. Even after retiring from the ballet, Grace was careful about what she put into her body, whether it was food, pills, or booze. A lifetime’s worth of habits was difficult to break, and she stubbornly held onto the hope she’d be on the stage again someday.
But after being forced to run so suddenly? Driving for what felt like an eternity only to end up in a small town two states over from Dayton? Bring on the goddamn cheesecake.
Half of her portion remained on her plate. She scooped up a mouthful, not even attempting to try to twirl the noodles like Maria had done, and shoved it in.
And that’s when Maria said, “By the way, you haven’t said anything about Lucas’s wife yet,” and she nearly choked on her pasta.
It went down the wrong pipe, forcing her into a coughing fit to try and dislodge the noodle stuck there. Maria pushed the glass of water closer to her. Grace snatched at it, gulping half the contents down.
“How did you know?” was all Grace could say when she could breathe again.
Maria laughed. “Please. My brother, he thinks he’s so mysterious. So aloof. The moment he left home, I knew what he’d done.”
“Done?”
A strange look flashed across Maria’s face, erasing any sign of her humor. “Pardon. What he was going to do, that’s what I meant. You see, Tessa… she was it for him. No one could stop him from chasing her when she left Hamlet, not even me. Why try? Lucas loved her from the beginning.” She set her fork down, shoved her plate away. “You know them both, yes?”
“A little. They were my neighbors in—”
Maria cut her off with a wave of her hand. “You know them. Did they marry?”
Grace thought of the gold band on Tessa’s slender ring finger. And she remembered how insistent Tessa was that Lucas didn’t want Grace to gossip. But was it gossiping when it was his sister who was asking after him?
She was the only child of a pair of only children. She had no aunts, no uncles, no cousins, no siblings. She also had no idea what she was supposed to do.
“Um—”
“And let me guess: Luc didn’t want me to know.”
From the way Tessa made it sound, he didn’t want anyone to know.
“I—”
“Dimenticalo. Forget it, sweetie. I’ll get it out of them when I drag those two back to see me again. Still, I see that Tessa’s been very coy with her e-mails.”
Grace blinked in surprise. “E-mails? I thought there wasn’t any type of internet here.”
“There’s not. No phones, either, like I said back in your room. It’s the way we like it in Hamlet, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t take advantage of technology when we need to. There’s a library in the next county, not too far from here. It suits me.”
“Oh.” Grace shook her head. “Sorry. That makes sense. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just—never mind.”
“Hmm.” Looking over the table at her, Maria set her chin in her hand, her piercing blue eyes searching. Grace held her breath. She wasn’t altogether too surprised when Maria said, “You running from something, sweetie?”
It was a good thing she gave up on the rest of her meal. That astute comment, said so simply in Maria’s lilt of an accent, would’ve had her choking again for sure.
Well, it wasn’t as if she thought she’d be able to hide it forever. She’d hoped, but experience told her it wasn’t possible. It might’ve taken Monica weeks before she confronted Grace about her troubles. Maria knew in minutes.
Moment of truth, Grace thought to herself, and she nodded.
Maria pursed her lips. “You gonna tell me what it is?”
Would she believe her? Tucked away in the small town, odds were that Maria had never heard of Tommy Mathers before. But was she willing to bet that a woman who occasionally left Hamlet and visited the library had never heard of the wealthy and powerful Mathers family? It was like assuming she didn’t know who the president was, or what terrible things were going on in the news. Just because they were secluded, didn’t mean they were ignorant.
And Grace wasn’t so naive to believe that she’d escaped Tommy forever. Maria was kind, and she was sweet, and there was no way she was going to risk anything happening to Lucas’s sister.
“I—I can’t. Not yet.”
Maria was quiet for a moment. She picked up her fork, twirled some more of the thick strands of fettuccine. After popping it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully, she said, “When you can, you will. I understand. And I understand even more why Lucas would send you here. Grazie, Grace. I feel better now.”
Grace didn’t know what to say to that. She opened her mouth, floundered, stared.
Maria took a sip of her water. “Welcome to Hamlet.”
If it were anyone else, he’d have them on a different floor. But Boone wasn’t only his bodyguard, or even just a trusted employee. He’d known the other man for twenty years, and worked with him closely for more than half that. Tommy considered him his right hand. A part of himself. He needed Boone nearby, almost as much as he needed to have Grace right beside him again.
He banged on the connecting door.
“It’s open.”
Of course, it was. Tommy might choose to lock his side of the connecting suite if he wanted some time alone. Boone—used to Tommy’s capricious nature—knew better than to test him by shutting him out. One of the requirements of the job was that he was always on the clock. Whenever Tommy needed him, he had to be ready.
Tommy strode into Boone’s suite, slamming the door behind him in agitation.
Boone was lying on the long leather sofa, still fully dressed. He even had his boots on. His hands folded behind hi
s head, his dark stare was focused on the massive television mounted on the wall across from the sofa.
Tommy stood in between Boone and the television. Muffled moans came from behind his back, the sounds of skin slapping together, the male voice grunting as he pounded away. Tommy didn’t have to turn around to know what kind of movie Boone was watching.
Peering closer, he noticed that, while Boone was dressed, a massive bulge pushing at the front of his trousers warned that that hadn’t been his plan for much longer.
Oh, well, Tommy thought as he reached for the remote resting on the glass coffee table, a twin to the one in his room. He spared a single disinterested glance at the orgy on the screen before turning it off with a decisive click. He didn’t give a shit what Boone was into. The man could go rub one out later for all he cared. But not now. This was too important to let him have the option of disappearing into the bathroom for a few minutes.
Tossing the remote back on top of the table, satisfied at the clank of plastic against glass, Tommy ordered, “Get the car. I’ll meet you right down.”
Boone reached below his belt, giving himself a quick adjustment before climbing out of the sofa and rising to his feet. “You got a tip?”
If only. It rankled his nerves to have to admit that his tech wasn’t infallible. The way Grace led them on a wild goose chase was as admirable as it was infuriating. But there was something… something that he couldn’t shake.
He wanted to go back, travel the highway again, get inside of her head.
Tommy knew the woman better than she knew herself. Now that he was more focused, thinking more clearly, it would be simple to figure out what move she made if only he went back and re-traced the last leg of her journey.
“No. Call it a hunch instead. I want to see something.”
Boone swiped his set of keys for the Jaguar off of the coffee table. “You want to drive, or me?”
Tommy couldn’t search for Grace and pay attention to the road. He wouldn’t care if anyone else got hit or mowed down, but what if his Jaguar got a scratch?
I'll Never Stop (Hamlet Book 4) Page 9