Saving Grace (Serve and Protect Series)

by Wilson, Norah

  “So you thought you’d start by going after the frigging Russian mob?”

  She colored. “I did not go after the Russian mob. I was working on a feature story on immigrant populations in our community. For your information, it was going to be a really good piece. It’s just that one thing led to another and another, and there I was, stumbling onto that sweatshop. I just blundered along, following the trail without thinking about the consequences. And because I didn’t think, here we are.”

  She closed her eyes, waiting for his censure. The hand that closed warmly on her thigh caused her to jerk in the bucket seat.

  “Don’t apologize for bringing this home. I ran the same risk every day I was out there dogging Landis, but I didn’t think twice about it.” He grimaced. “How’s that for arrogant?”

  Her gaze flew to his, finding his eyes warm.

  “Pretty good piece of investigative work, all in all.”

  She let out her breath. “Really?”

  “Really. Hell, Grace, we didn’t know about the sweatshop. I mean, it’s not a surprise. That’s how most ethnic gangs get a foothold, by exploiting their own people. Then they branch out into other criminal activity as opportunity allows. But Landis is so far into the latter – drugs, money laundering and whatnot – that we figured he’d graduated beyond that stuff.”

  She smiled tremulously. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He leaned across the console, grasped the back of her head and pressed a quick, hard kiss to her mouth. “Now you’ve got to get moving so I can do a little bear baiting.”

  Bear baiting. Oh, Dear Lord, he was going to deliberately provoke Landis. What had he said? Color outside the lines. Fear leapt anew, making her heart thud against her ribs.

  “You think I’m going to leave you here alone? It’s my fault we’re in this mess.”

  “No, it’s Landis’s fault. And I absolutely do expect you to leave me to take care of business. In fact, I want you to go right now, check into a motel and wait for me.”

  “Ray‌—”

  “The Fredericton Inn on Ellis Road, or the Day’s Inn on Delancey if there are no vacancies at the Fredericton. Park the car right outside the unit so I’ll know which one you’re in. I’ll knock, but don’t open until you’re sure it’s me. Got it?”

  “How can you expect me to sit around twiddling my thumbs in a motel room while you’re out here risking ... risking....” She couldn’t say it.

  “I can’t afford the distraction of worrying about you. This next part is going to be delicate. Nothing I can’t handle,” he hastened to assure her, “but I’ll need to keep a clear head. It’ll be easier knowing you and the baby are safe. Please, Grace.”

  She dropped her head, gripped the wheel hard again. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  “Good girl.”

  He leaned over and kissed her again, this time with impossible tenderness. Abandoning her death grip on the steering wheel, she captured his head with one hand, holding him to her for long minutes. Her other hand she pressed to his chest, feeling the powerful thudding of his heart under her palm. When he lifted his head, his eyes burned through to her soul.

  “Promise me you’ll come for me,” she said.

  “I will.”

  “The baby’s yours. You know that, right?” As soon as she blurted the words, she felt stupid. Of course he knew that. He’d already said he figured out there was no other man.

  “I know.” He smiled, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her left ear with a gentle finger. “I figured that out this morning when I woke up in that motel room.”

  This morning? “But how? You didn’t know about Landis then.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way.” He lifted her hand and carried it to his mouth, brushing the backs of her knuckles with his lips. “It’s not that I don’t think other men want you. Hell, I think they all want you. How could they not?”

  He lowered her hand but didn’t release it. Instead, he traced patterns on the back of it with his thumb, his gaze downcast. Grace dropped her own gaze so she could see what he saw, his big calloused hand surrounding her smaller, whiter one.

  “And it’s not that I don’t think there are better men out there,” he continued. “Men who’d be better for you, better to you. Better jobs, better financial position, better social position, and Lord knows, better looking.”

  She felt his hand tighten on hers.

  “But it finally sank in that even if you were planning to run away with Russell-friggin’-Crowe, you couldn’t have slept with him until after you’d broken off with me. Not you, Grace.”

  She looked up to find his gaze hot on her face.

  She swallowed. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you? Hell, you should be kicking my butt for being so slow. I shoulda figured that out weeks ago.” He released her hand. Then, gruffly, “You okay to drive?”

  She nodded.

  “You sure? ’Cuz now would not be the time to be pulled over for erratic driving. We’re not fugitives, but the authorities are very interested in talking to us at this time.”

  “Hey, I’ll get there okay,” she said. “Just make sure you do, too.”

  “Give me two hours.” He checked his watch. “If I’m not there by ten, drive to Quigg’s. Don’t check out, just get in the car and go. And don’t call ahead. Quigg’s phone is bugged, and I’m not sure who put the tap on, the good guys or the bad guys.”

  Fear churned in her stomach. She forced it back, struggling to keep a clear head. “You’ve talked to John?”

  “Briefly. Now pay attention, Grace. If I’m not there by ten, drive right over to Quigg’s and ring the bell. He’ll be at the station, but Suzannah will call him and get him home on some pretext. Tell him everything, including what Landis said about witnesses. Quigg can help you disappear until it’s safe.”

  Fear churned her stomach. “Ray, let’s go to John right now. He can help both of us disappear.”

  “What kind of a life would that be, looking over our shoulders all the time? And what would we do? I could never take another job on a police force, or you at a newspaper. That’s exactly where they’d start looking for us.”

  “But Ray‌—”

  He took both her hands this time and squeezed them. “We’ve got a good chance to put this guy away for a long, long time. Think about those people in that sweatshop, the young women he’s pressed into prostitution. Who’s going to help them?”

  “The police, dammit.”

  “He’s never going to make a mistake unless we goad him into it, but it’s never going to happen as long as we have to play by the rules. Right now, I’m just the man to get at him. My career is probably down the toilet anyway, unless we can bring him down.”

  Her heart constricted. “You’re not going to kill him, are you?”

  “That’s not my plan.”

  Grace didn’t miss the judicious wording of his reply. “Be careful. Don’t do anything you can’t live with.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Trying to save my soul, Grace?”

  And why not? He’d come to save hers. She felt tears well, but no way would she surrender to them. She had to be strong now, for Ray, for the baby.

  “Among other things.”

  He smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.”

  She leaned across the console and kissed him, the same kind of quick, hard kiss he’d given her. Then she pulled back. With trembling fingers, she turned the key in the ignition. The Toyota sputtered to life. “Just make sure you make it back to me, okay?”

  He grinned his old cocky grin. “Count on it.”

  Then he opened the passenger door, climbed out and strode back toward Landis’s club. Before she could succumb to the desire to run after him, she found first gear and pulled away.

  She’d wait at the damned motel. She’d wait for two hours, just as she’d promised. Then, if he didn’t show, she was coming back, weapon or no weapon. She’d kill Landis with her bare hands if he hurt Ray.
/>
  Chapter 13

  RAY SAT IN THE booth near the men’s washroom for an hour before he got his chance.

  He’d already killed two shots of vodka and sat nursing a third. Not that he’d imbibed much. He’d long ago learned how to throw the hard stuff back, then spit it into the beer ‘chaser’. His breath would reek of vodka and no one would be the wiser.

  When one of Landis’s key henchmen finally went to take a leak, Ray slid out of the booth and followed him.

  So secure was Vladimir Rusakevitch, he didn’t spare more than a glance when Ray entered the washroom behind him. A quick check of the stalls confirmed what Ray already knew‌—‌he and the big Russian were alone, and there were no security cameras.

  Drawing his weapon, he strode up behind Rusakevitch. Pressing the barrel of his pistol to the base of Rusakevitch’s skull, he shoved the man into the wall.

  “Hey! What the hell?”

  “Shut up. You’re job is to listen. You got me?”

  The other man dragged in a breath, seeming to grow in girth and height, but he responded appropriately. “Got it.”

  “Okay, turn around.”

  “Do you mind if I....?” The Russian gestured to his pants, which were still undone.

  “Yes, I do mind. In fact, I want you to drop them around your ankles. Then I want you to turn, keeping your hands on top of your head where I can see them.”

  Rusakevitch cursed fluently, in a mixture of Russian and English, but complied, his dark eyes spitting hatred. “You’ll die for this, dirt bag.”

  Ray brought the barrel of his gun around and pressed it into the goon’s lips. “I think I said your job is to listen. Understand? Or do you need to suck on this a while?”

  A slight tremor passed through the big man. “Understood.”

  “Okay, tell your boss Landis to keep his hands off the illegal drug trade. No smack, no crack, no blow, no nothing. Nada. Not a single, sorry goddamn-skinny reefer. Got that?”

  Rusakevitch roared.

  “Shut up.” Ray held the man’s chin and pressed the barrel of the gun against his now clenched teeth.

  “He’ll kill you,” the Russian ground out.

  “I really don’t like to repeat myself.” Ray applied the barrel of the gun to his captive’s teeth more forcefully. “From now on, you red fellas are gonna stay away from the drug trade. Keep your underfed whores, keep your illegal cigarettes, keep all your other scams. Hell, make a buck any way you can. Knock yourselves out. But stay away from the drugs. That’s our territory. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Rusakevitch muttered though closed teeth.

  “Good.”

  Giving Rusakevitch a good, hard shove, Ray turned and left. Counting on the other man having to recover his balance and yank his pants up before raising the alarm, Ray strode through the bar. He encountered no opposition.

  Once outside, he broke and ran. He leapt onto the Harley, which started on the first try. God bless Quigg for his devotion to the old relic. Revving the engine, Ray waited until a knot of men burst out of the club’s door. Then, he peeled out. Giving them a good look at him, he roared past the club, blew the red light to the accompaniment of blaring horns and disappeared into the night.

  Fifteen minutes later, he rolled into the parking lot of an apartment building on Greenfield Drive, parked the bike then set off on foot toward the Fredericton Inn. Five minutes later, he spotted the Toyota. A minute after that, he raised his hand to rap on the door of unit 116, but Grace opened it before he could knock.

  “Oh, thank God!”

  She closed the door again to throw the chain, then ripped it open and pulled him into the room.

  “You’re okay?” Her hands moved over his arms, his shoulders, his chest, as though to assure herself he was intact. “Omigod, you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “What took you so long?”

  He checked his watch. “Hell, there’s still twenty minutes to spare‌—”

  She launched herself at him, the force of her momentum knocking him back a step. A split second later, he was crushing her against his chest, devouring her mouth with his.

  As they kissed, she dragged him deeper into the room until he felt his legs collide with the edge of the bed. They both went down, hands streaking everywhere, mouths seeking. Desire ripped through him, fierce and hot and wild.

  Man, he had to get a grip. Grasping her arms, he pushed her away.

  “No, don’t stop. Oh, please, Ray, don’t tame it. I want you like this.”

  Her plea fogged his brain with fresh lust, but he beat it back.

  “No, it’s not that. I have to call Quigg. If I don’t set things in motion, we’ll have a real gang war on our hands, not just a potential one.”

  He sat up and grabbed the phone from the nightstand, punching in Quigg’s number at the station.

  She came to her knees beside him, her eyes worried. “Gang war? Ray, what did you do?”

  Before he could respond, John Quigley answered.

  “Quigley here.”

  “Sergeant Quigley, this is your lucky day. I’ve got an anonymous tip for you.”

  “Anonymous, eh?”

  Ray grinned. Quigg’s tone told him he knew just who he was talking to. “Yeah, just call me Deep Throat. Here’s the scoop, Sergeant. The Red Fellas are girding for a battle with the Disciples tonight.”

  A short pause.

  “Landis’s boys making war on our local motorcycle gang? You sure about that?”

  “Yeah, I’d say it’s a good bet. Seems like a lone rider went into Landis’s nightclub a short while ago and warned him in pretty explicit terms away from the illegal drug trade.”

  “That so? And this rider walked away in one piece after delivering a message like that?”

  Ray’s grin widened. “The rider was very careful.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Anyway, I’m thinking if you were to stake out the Disciple’s den real quick-like, you might just net yourself some highly illegal automatic weapons among Landis’s crew when they show. Maybe even some incendiary devices,” he added, thinking about his own house. “Enough to put some folks away for a very long time. A fella could even get deported over something like that, I would imagine.”

  “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could describe this lone rider?”

  Ray almost choked. “Um, let me see. Mean-looking white guy, about six feet tall, maybe one-ninety. Lots of leather, a tattoo or two, wearing one of those do-rags over his hair.”

  “Gee, we should be able to pick him out of a crowd of bikers, no problem.”

  “You know how it is. These dirtballs all look alike.”

  “I s’pose he was riding a Harley?”

  “You got it.”

  “Well, thanks for the tip. We’ll get right on it.”

  “Good. And Sergeant? Tell your boys to be careful.”

  “My boys are always careful.”

  Ray heard Quigg break the connection and hung up the phone. Beside him, Grace’s laugh rang out.

  “Brilliant! Landis’s men get caught with a cache of illegal weapons and agree to rat their boss out to avoid deportation.”

  “Simple but elegant,” he said smugly.

  Her smile dimmed. “But what if Landis’s men try to shoot their way out when they realize they’re being pinched?”

  “They’re pros. When they realize what’s happened, they’ll cut their losses.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Sure as I can be.” He put the phone back. “But even if it doesn’t go down that way, without a shot being fired, the guys know the score. Believe me, Grace, they’ll welcome a chance to break Landis’s back once and for all. They’re trained for this, equipped for it. Hell, they’ve been dying for a chance like this.”

  The last of her smile faded. He knew she was contemplating the things he was trained to do, the risks he assumed every day.

  “Ray.”

  She said hi
s name on an exhalation of breath. To Ray, it sounded like a plea, or maybe a prayer. She leaned toward him and he met her. As soon as their bodies touched, the moment their mouths fused, that elemental need blossomed again.

  He pulled her down. Over and over they tumbled on the queen-sized bed, hands sliding under clothing, bodies straining together, mouths ravenous. A few moments later, she reared up.

  “Get this off!” she demanded, tugging on his leather jacket.

  Ray sat up, shrugged out of the jacket, dragging his holster off with it. While he was at it, he tore his t-shirt over his head.

  Grace pulled at her own clothing. Skimpy, navel-baring shirt, those athletic pants he’d come to find so sexy, bra, panties‌—‌it all hit the floor.

  Breathing like he’d just run a 10k race, he tore off the leather chaps and shucked out of his jeans. He barely had time to kick free of his underwear before Grace fell on him. Then her hands were everywhere, small, fierce, gloriously demanding. And her mouth.

  He closed his eyes. Oh, God, her mouth. It was burning a hot, wet path of fire along his neck, down his chest, across his belly. Her breath against his skin the most erotic caress he’d ever experienced. For a wild second, he allowed himself to imagine what it would feel like for her to kiss him intimately, to close her mouth around him and....

  “Grace!”

  At his cry, she glanced up.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut against the erotic picture she made at his groin. “Yes! No.”

  “Am I hurting you?”

  Oh, Lord, she was killing him. “God, no.”

  “I’m too clumsy?”

  Clumsy? Her untutored mouth was just about the sexist thing he’d ever felt. Ever. “No.”

  “Then what?”

  What, indeed? “Grace, you don’t have to do this.”

  “What if I want to do it?”

  His erection jerked beneath her hands, but evidently she didn’t think that was answer enough.

  “What if I told you I’ve fantasized about doing this for a long time? What if I told you how often I wished I dared suggest it? How my insides just sort of liquify thinking about it? How my breath catches in my lungs and....”