by Lisa Harris
“Maybe.”
He grabbed his mug and stood up.
“Good night then.”
“Good night.”
Grace yawned, then looked toward the room where they’d told her she’d sleep tonight. Macbain wasn’t the only person who needed a good night’s sleep, but as tired as she was, she didn’t want to be alone. She glanced at the phone Nate had left her, tempted to call him. But she was going to have to get through this on her own for now. Two agents sat on the other side of the large room, laughing quietly over coffee and a game of cards. She told them good night, then headed to bed.
The room she’d been assigned to lacked any kind of personal touch. Just a bed and a dresser, and a painting of a dog on the wall that made it seem almost more cold and sterile than it already was. Someone had left a pair of red drawstring pajama pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt on the bed, the only real splash of color in the room. Nate had promised to bring her a couple outfits of clothes and a few other essential items in the morning, but for tonight she just wanted to forget that she’d almost died. Forget someone clearly wanted her dead. Forget that Nate had officially stolen her heart.
She’d call her parents, touch base with Anne, and deal with all of that tomorrow.
At one o’clock Grace lay staring at the ceiling like she’d done the last hour, and the hour before that. Shadows played in the room from the streetlight seeping in through the blinds. She pulled the blanket up around her shoulders and turned over, trying to find a more comfortable position to sleep. But she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to find rest tonight. She was used to helping her patients deal with a laundry list of issues from divorce, to childhood traumas, to the pull of addiction. She’d learned over the years to keep her work separate from her personal life. To compartmentalize other people’s issues so she didn’t drag their problems home with her at night. And most of the time, it worked.
But this was different. This time she was the patient. She had no idea how to handle what was going on around her. She understood trauma, but not at the level of someone trying to take her life. That was something reserved for heroines in the books she read and the movies she went to see. They always ended up being saved by some dashingly handsome hero.
Like Nate.
His image hovered in front of her, playing with her heart. Except she knew there were no guarantees that everything would work out in this situation. They still didn’t know who was behind the threats, or how to stop the grid from going down.
No . . . She didn’t even want to go there.
Maybe she’d read too much into what he’d said. Into a kiss that never would have happened under normal circumstances. But there was nothing normal about Nate Quinn. She was used to a nine-to-five job where she did everything she could to make her clients’ lives better, then returned home. Nate’s work was completely different. High adrenaline . . . Life-and-death situations. Facing the moment in people’s lives when everything spiraled out of control. For a few days she’d become a part of that life. She wasn’t sure it was a place she wanted to stay.
Besides, romance—and even knights on white horses—seemed like a frivolous thought when someone wanted to kill you.
I need your peace, Jesus. And your protection. Because everything seems so out of control.
Like she was spinning in a great void. She hated feeling out of control.
She took a deep breath, hating that her nerves were shot and her body was so exhausted. She needed to sleep if she was going to think clearly and be able to help Nate in the morning. But instead her heart still pounded like a sledgehammer and her brain refused to settle down and let her sleep.
She closed her eyes, continuing her prayer, and eventually felt herself slowly drifting off to sleep. When sleep did come, though, it was full of restless dreams of her and Nate, and Stephen’s lifeless body.
She woke with a start at the sound of something rattling in the other room. The now familiar wave of adrenaline surged through her as she turned back over to face the door. The sound of muffled voices filled the adjoining room.
The last time she thought she’d imagined someone in her house she’d been right.
No. Not this time. She was in a safe house with guards. There was nothing to worry about. It was probably just Macbain getting a drink or the agents doing something to keep themselves awake. She was safe. There was no way for them to find her. No way for them to get to her.
“Grace?”
She opened her eyes. Someone was standing at the foot of her bed with a flashlight swung in her direction.
“Grace?” Macbain locked the door behind him. “You need to get up.”
“Why?” She squinted against the light. She must still be sleeping.
“You need to get up now. They found us.”
“Who found us?” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, still caught between the reality of the moment and the lingering memories of her nightmares. “What are you talking about?”
“I got up to get a drink and heard some commotion in the living room.” He grabbed her shoes and threw them on the bed on his way to the window. “There are two men in the other room. They’ve taken down the officers, which means they’ll be in here in a few seconds at the most.”
“How is it possible someone found us here?”
“I don’t know, but we need to get out now. There’s a fire escape on the other side of this window. I saw it earlier. If we can get out and get to the street, we might be able to get away.”
Grace tried to shove away the panic. If their guards had been immobilized, there was no way help would reach them in time. They were on their own. They wouldn’t be able to go out the front door.
They needed to run. Needed to dial 911.
“I need my phone.” She grabbed it off the dresser while Macbain ripped up the blinds and undid the window latch. She clicked the On button, then swiped the screen.
Nothing.
Macbain was tugging on the window, trying to get it open.
She pressed the button again. She must have been so tired that she’d forgotten to charge it.
This wasn’t happening. Not again.
She could hear footsteps scuffling in the other room and a door shutting. They were close.
She threw her phone down.
“I knew I shouldn’t have left my land. This would never have happened there.” Macbain tugged at the window. “It’s jammed.”
“Let me try.” She checked the lock, then tugged on the window. But he was right. It wouldn’t budge.
The bedroom door slammed open behind her and two dark figures entered the room. One shoved Macbain against the wall and the other one grabbed her by her arm.
Grace let out a scream that was quickly muffled by the man’s hand across her mouth. Seconds later, she felt something sharp pierce her arm. A fog spread through her as the room went dark, and she collapsed into nothingness.
28
Nate jolted awake out of a deep sleep. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand beside him, not sure what had woken him up. It was only three thirty. He didn’t feel like he’d slept at all since he’d finally managed to fall asleep, but he knew he had. Gracie had filled his dreams, and no matter how much he wanted to push her away, she was still there, hovering in the recesses of his mind.
He didn’t remember the last time a woman had affected him the way she did. He hadn’t been able to ignore the connection between them, no matter how much he wanted to. Something about her smile, her compassion, and her grounded, no-nonsense way of looking at life intrigued him. And most of all, she managed to stir his heart in a way he couldn’t simply dismiss.
But that didn’t mean they were right for each other. Or that he was ready to move forward because of what his heart might be feeling. He still had to find healing himself before trying to make a relationship work. And he had to restore his faith again.
Without that in place, no relationship was going to work.
How did I forge
t how to trust you, God? How did I get so lost?
Gracie had encouraged him to open up to his grief and everything he’d been avoiding. He’d tried for so long to do it on his own. Tried to shake off the all-consuming guilt he’d taken on for failing his partner and team. Tried to find a way to justify the reality that he was alive while so many others had died. His job was to save and protect. Watching eighteen people die had shattered all of that. If he couldn’t safeguard those around him, then what right did he have to wear a badge?
Even if there had been no way to stop what happened.
He blew out a lungful of air. Gracie hadn’t been the only one to talk to him about survivor’s guilt. His counselor had assured him that guilt was a common response to trauma. But she’d also told him that if he wasn’t careful, he’d end up being eaten alive by its destructive lies. He’d watched the guilt affect his relationships with his family and friends. His relationship with God. It had pinned him down and left him feeling helpless because he hadn’t been able to stop the evil taking place around him.
Just like Kevin.
He rolled over onto his side as his mind made the connection. Kevin had allowed the death of his daughter to immobilize him. It had stopped him from healing, and in the end he’d walked away from a relationship with the one person who completely understood his loss. But Nate understood why Kevin had bailed. The bombing had changed him too. Suddenly circumstances had shattered his normal life. It had affected his view of the future, his faith, and left him numb.
Loss often brought out both the best and worst in people. Gracie and Kevin would have grieved on a different timetable but, in the end, would have come out different people because of what they’d gone through. They’d understand exactly how much the other was hurting, and yet each looked at grief differently. A reality that had eventually pulled them apart.
Gracie, though, had shown him another side of grief. Her loss was still there, and time would never simply erase it. But he’d seen the strength in her. And a joy despite the pain. Instead of letting grief cripple her, she’d managed to take that loss and use it to help others. It was as if Hannah’s death had become a reminder to her about what was important. What was real and meaningful.
“We try to take one day at a time, doing everything we can to get through the next hour or minute. I know that Hannah would have told me to smile, and I want to make Hannah proud. I want to live joyfully for the time I have left in life.”
Gracie had been right. He needed to start living again. He knew there was no timetable. No quick fix. Knew that even his faith couldn’t erase the grief. But it could give him hope. He wouldn’t ever be the same again. He was finally beginning to realize that. But even Jesus lived as a man who understood grief.
When he closed his eyes, he could see her smile. Could hear her voice, telling him it was time to move forward. That it was time to take a chance.
Three hours later, Nate turned onto the street of the safe house with a bag of chocolate chip bagels on the passenger seat and two Styrofoam coffee cups in the cupholders. He’d managed to go back to sleep, and although his alarm had gone off before he wanted to get up, he was ready to get the day going and find a way to put an end to things. The FBI was holding a briefing at seven thirty, but first he wanted to see Gracie.
He slowed down at the sight of two marked cars sitting outside the apartment building. His mind immediately switched to alert. Something had happened. An ambulance was parked on the other side of the police cars. He jumped out of the car, leaving breakfast in the front seat, and ran across the lawn. Just because there was a break-in didn’t mean it had anything to do with Gracie. There were dozens of break-ins every day in the Dallas city limits.
But his gut told him this was no coincidence.
He held up his badge as one of the officers standing outside started to motion him back.
“Detective Nate Quinn from homicide,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“There was a break-in at one of the apartments. Neighbor called it in.”
“Which apartment?”
“I’m sorry, but I was told not to talk about the situation. You’ll have to speak with the agent in charge.”
Nate glanced toward the building. Agent Brown was heading out the front door. His stomach churned as he ran to catch up with him. If the safe house had been compromised, why hadn’t he been informed?
Oh God, tell me this isn’t happening. Tell me nothing’s happened to her.
“What’s going on?” he asked, stopping in front of the man.
Agent Brown hesitated, then motioned for Nate to come with him inside the building. “I was getting ready to call your boss, but you might as well know what happened. A neighbor noticed that the front door was ajar. He went inside and found two bodies.”
Nate stopped in front of the elevator. “Bodies?”
“Both my agents are dead.”
The doors to the elevator opened, but Nate didn’t move. He couldn’t have understood the man correctly. “Dead?”
“And our witnesses are gone.”
“What do you mean, they’re gone?” Nate fought to process the news as he stepped into the elevator. There had to be something he was missing. Some mistake in the information he’d just been given. But from the look on the agent’s face, he was dead serious. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know. I showed up here a few minutes ago, responding to the call.”
“I want a look inside.”
“Of course.”
He followed the officer out of the elevator and down the hall to apartment 612. They’d kept to a short list of people who knew where Gracie was in order to avoid something like this. The only explanation that made any sense was that somewhere they had a leak, but who? Everyone involved in the situation on his side he trusted completely.
But maybe he’d been wrong. The ambush at the bank. The accident in the car two nights ago. And now this. This was no coincidence. The only other options were that someone had somehow hacked into their communications. Which would make sense. They’d bugged Stephen’s office. Probably hacked into the elevator he and Paige had taken. Someone who had the ability to take down the grid would find hacking into FBI surveillance a piece of cake.
“Our ERT is on their way, but it looks like whoever broke in picked the lock.”
And managed to take down two trained agents? It didn’t make sense.
Nate stepped inside the room where he and Gracie had sat together just a few hours ago. A chair was knocked over beside the first agent. The second one was slumped against the wall. Cards lay scattered across the table.
“They didn’t have a chance,” Agent Brown said. “Both of them were shot execution style.”
“Looks to me like they didn’t even know what hit them.”
“I agree. They’re here at the table playing a game of cards, someone managed to breach the property, then bam . . . bam. And there’s no sign of the witnesses.”
Where are you, Gracie?
They should have doubled the guards, he thought as they moved to Gracie’s bedroom. Should have realized these guys would stop at nothing to finish their agenda. It was his job to take care of her. He’d promised to protect her and instead he’d let her walk right into a trap.
“Someone had to have seen or heard something,” Nate said, standing in the middle of the room where she’d been sleeping.
“It’s possible. Looks like she tried to get out the bedroom window when they realized someone had broken in, but the window was jammed. The blinds are pulled back and someone tried to get out, but couldn’t.”
“What about the neighbor who called it in?”
“He didn’t see anyone.”
“Can I talk with him?”
“I can arrange that.”
“Thank you.”
His phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Paige?”
“Where are you? I just got the call that our safe house has been compromised.”
&n
bsp; “I know, because I’m standing here in the middle of it. Two FBI agents are dead—”
“And Grace and Macbain?”
“They’re gone.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Paige . . . tell me how this happened. No one was supposed to know they were here.”
“I don’t know.”
He didn’t want to think about the obvious option that there was a leak. That someone on his team or in the FBI had been behind this. But how many millions of dollars were at stake? How easy would it have been to pay someone off?
The clothes Gracie had worn yesterday were neatly folded at the edge of the bed. He’d brought her some clothes from her house, thanks to Becca, who hadn’t been particularly happy to see him. How could he blame her?
He picked up the phone he’d given her. Dead. That’s why she hadn’t called 911. The bag of things Becca had brought her in the hospital lay neatly on the small dresser next to the one set of clothes she had, a toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste.
Someone had taken her, and he hadn’t been here.
“We’re checking traffic cams, and we’ve got agents canvassing the neighborhood, but so far we have no idea where they are. It’s going to take time.”
“We don’t have time.” His instinct was to yell at someone—anyone—for their incompetence, but flying off the handle wasn’t going to help. They needed to narrow down the information they had and lay out a plan.
Brown signaled him again and Nate stepped out into the hallway to speak with the man who’d first called 911.
“I’m Detective Nate Quinn. I know you’ve already spoken to one of the officers, but I’d like to know exactly what you saw.”
“Not much, really. When I came out to walk my dog, I noticed that the door wasn’t shut. I’ve always felt safe here, but my brother’s house was broken into a couple of weeks ago. I think it made me a bit paranoid. Besides that, neighbors are supposed to watch out for each other, though I thought this apartment was still empty.”