“And?” Leland said.
Romeo fidgeted, looking only at Gracie. “He said he was your son. And that his father had told him about us. He said he’d taken over a school email address but was actually the one who’d given us the lead on the group. And that he had others.”
That made absolutely no sense. Although Romeo would have had no way to know. She knew that John would never, ever have told him about her lifestyle. El, maybe. Ty, never.
Gracie put her hand against a stomach doing fix-this-now flips. Someone had set Cee, Ty, and her up in a very smart, very detailed way. “It wasn’t Ty sending those emails. You were catfished.”
Romeo shook his head, turned a healthy shade of shame. He started to stammer, protest, then accepting the information, began to talk: “Cee wouldn’t tell me where she was supposed to meet Ty—said it was better if I didn’t know—but I got the impression it was in the Poconos.”
She swung her head between Momma and Leland, both of them staring past her at each other. It wasn’t Ty. It wasn’t Cee. It was someone drawing them together while pretending to be both of them. Someone with computer experience, enough to set all of this up. Someone with motivation.
Momma and Leland had been right. This time it was Gracie who named her first. “It’s Layla.”
Gracie’s cell beeped. Her heart picked up its pace; she looked at the text. It was from Cee. Coordinates. And the words, He’s here. Come alone. Or Cee, who’s not here, will die.
She handed Leland the phone and he shared the image with Momma. Layla had them both, apparently at separate locations. Her eyes traveled across Leland’s desk. And she’d used Cee’s phone number—despite the fact that she was currently staring at Cee’s cell sitting quietly on Leland’s desk—to text Gracie.
She was good. She’d hacked Cee’s phone—which had layers of security. There was no doubt she’d used that phone to spy, to listen in on conversations, to gain information, to manipulate. That’s how she’d known about the elevator. She’d been listening in on their conversation, because unlike the Mantua Home, Gracie’s apartment didn’t have a countersurveillance system.
Come alone.
Fudge.
The desk phone rang. Leland reached across his desk and picked it up. He frowned. “Wave them inside.”
He hung up. “Dusty and Victor are here.”
Dusty and Victor?
Chapter 61
Dusty was done arguing with Victor, who’d been outside the club when Dusty had escaped through Gracie’s elevator and tunnel. The man had a look of pure rage on his face. Though that could be from the pain of driving an Expedition with his arm in a sling.
“I could’ve driven your SUV, you one-armed bastard,” Dusty said.
“I’m not trusting you with my ride. I saw him—Tony.”
Not again. “I don’t give a fuck what you saw, the man is dead.”
Dusty rubbed at his aching eyes. The setting sun right in his face didn’t help. His head throbbed. His stomach turned. Leave it be, man. Leave it be.
He bent forward to get away from the sun and massaged the sides of his skull.
Victor looked at him. “You okay?”
“Can we just leave this be? Let’s worry about saving Gracie’s son.”
“You don’t look good.”
Going quiet, Victor drove the car to a place Dusty had never imagined would have more of a pull for him than the job.
Victor stopped the car at the manned gates of the Mantua Home. A guard came out, and after a rather surprisingly quick check of the car, waved them through.
They drove through the gate and over a new speed bump large enough to jar his teeth. Still recovering from his injuries, Victor cried out, “Mother. Fucker.”
Looked like the Mantua Home had themselves a new scanner. Swanky. “Pretty sure that motherfucker speedbump had a scanner in it that just weighed our balls.”
Victor’s eyebrows rose. “Could’ve bought me dinner first.”
After passing through campus and up the hill, Dusty directed Victor where to park. He pulled into a spot and turned off his car.
Dusty climbed out of the SUV, his stomach in knots. He had no idea how this was going to go. For all he knew, Gracie would kick him right out.
He took the front steps two at a time. The door opened, and he walked into the Parish home and found himself greeted by…Gracie.
His heart gave a whoop of joy and a rallying cry of Steady, man.
“Feel for you,” Victor said as he sidestepped past him, then nodded at Gracie. “Where’s Momma?”
She pointed down the hall. He began to walk in that direction and threw back, “Go get ’em, Red.”
Really? Dusty braced himself. He’d rather she hit him than look at him with eyes that screamed her pain.
Gracie stopped within feet, looked him right in the eyes. “What happened with Tony after we left?”
He startled. “What? Tony?” He tried to think, tried to remember what had happened at the end. His head ached like someone tried to split it open with an ax. He cringed, put his palms over his eyes. Leave it be, man. Leave it be.
He had no choice. He relaxed, let it go, lowered his hands, and blinked at her. “I have no idea.”
Her eyes looked strained, hurt. Wait. Hurt not by him but for him? She moved forward and put her arms around him. Why couldn’t he remember?
A thread of sharp alarm winged up his spine. He wrapped his arms around her soft warmth. “Grace, I can’t explain why, but I don’t remember what happened at the end with your brother.”
She shushed him. “I know. I know.”
Again that sharp slice of alarm. Something was fucked there. He felt what must be her tears soak into his shirt. “You do?”
She stepped back, wiped her eyes. “We have a dire situation here. I need your help. And I don’t have time to explain M-erasure to you, the levels of mind wiping, or what a complete and total Moby Dick my brother Tony has been to you. So can you trust me on this?”
He found his throat swelled with emotion. She was asking him to trust her? “Hell yeah.”
He bent to kiss her. And when she lifted her lips up to his, he claimed them, tasted and rejoiced in them, in her. She moaned. His heart filled his chest. So sweet. She put a hand on his face and pulled back. She ran a thumb across his chin. “I love you.”
He sucked in a breath. Damn, he was going to cry. He swallowed. “Love you more.”
Chapter 62
Layla’s computers were set up on the dining table in the great room of the True family vacation home. The shades were drawn, the room was dim. Just like Layla liked it.
Though, as far as cottages went, this one was ridiculous, with Victorian couches and lamps and an old-grandma smell and feel.
She preferred modern furniture. Sort of like the upstairs office in Gracie’s club. Another thing they had in common. Like computers and technology.
Despite its crowded and kitschy décor, this cottage was perfect for her needs. Far into the woods, secluded in the Poconos, and it abutted a whole lot of nothing. She typed another instruction into her computer, checking the images of the surrounding property on the multiple computer screens.
She directed a drone into place on the perimeter of the home. The tiny drone, an invention she’d named Huntsman, flew up, skirted branches, and when it reached the coordinates attached its talons to a tree branch.
The device weighed less than five ounces. Like the others, it was programmed to recognize and track human movement. And the best part? They weren’t that expensive. So losing them in the fire wouldn’t be a big deal.
One of the mercenaries on loan from her father’s biggest overseas supporters—a rich billionaire with more sand than soul—walked in from rigging the underground propane tank to the detonator.
Privately she called these borrowed
soldiers Thing One and Thing Two. It still shocked her that the Dubai businessman hadn’t even asked what she needed them for, just handed her a couple of humans. Damn, that felt great. Perks of every step her father took closer to the presidency, living on this planet with no rules. Being rich was one thing. But living with no rules was what all humans really wanted. Just ask Mukta.
She turned to Thing Two. His pacing was making her nervous. “Can you check on the boy? Make sure he isn’t up yet?”
So far her borrowed humans had been super helpful. Thing One, scratched cornea and all, was outside readying the tripwires. He said he could do it in his sleep, but she still trusted robots more.
“No problem,” Thing Two said, swinging his stun baton around in a way Layla wasn’t sure was smart. Thing Two was always trying to impress her. Kind of stupid when she was already fucking him. He took his Hulk-body up the stairs.
“Do you know the ‘Little Red Cap’ story?” Layla asked the girl, Cee, who was tied to a white wicker chair.
Despite the bruise on the side of her mouthy face, which had taught her just how far Layla would let an insult go, Cee leveled a fierce reddish-brown glare at her.
“Guess not. It’s the Grimm version of ‘Little Red Riding Hood.’ A story that even at the tender age of two I hated. Because if you’re so stupid you can’t tell the difference between a wolf and your grandma, you fucking deserve to be eaten.”
Cee’s jaw tightened. She glared. Smart enough to get the insult anyway. Not her fault she was cyber-stupid. The wolves these days were in your own home.
Layla continued to type, occasionally checking the remote feeds on the screens, flashing night vision images of the cabin’s perimeter and surrounding woods. It was all set.
Her hands were sweating. There was one element here that could screw this up. She trusted her technology. She trusted her remote operators, two tech geeks that had been following her since she’d gotten her first college degree in computer science at fourteen. But the human element… “What do you think, Cee? Will Grace come alone?”
Cee scoffed. “No. She will bring an army. And more guns than just those two men.”
Probably not an army. Her surveillance of the woman said she was pretty much a loner and seemed to keep even the attempt on her life to herself. Porter. What an idiot. “Nah. I don’t think so. This is another thing we have in common. I could’ve gone to my brother Porter, gotten help with this, but I didn’t.”
Given an opening, Cee wasn’t going down quietly. “Momma will come with her. And Leland. And—”
Layla laughed out loud. Momma. That old bitch. Not likely. “At this very moment, the FBI is at the Mantua Home searching for your sister. No. If they were to send anyone, it would have to be someone not at the house. And your team is scattered. So that’s not likely. Sure, there’s a chance Grace will bring backup, but I think I’ve got it covered.”
She could handle as much as three extra bodies. More than that, it would get iffy. “Thanks, Cee. Sometimes you just need to talk these things out.”
Layla toggled from drone image to drone image, checking the grounds. She’d have to pick up the long-range sensors and other valuable equipment, but there would be very little evidence left here. “Stop squirming, Cee. You can’t untie yourself with me in the room. This isn’t the movies.”
The girl stopped shifting on the chair.
With the last of her drones in place, Layla turned to Cee. She looked terrified.
Maybe not so stupid. “How would you like your explosive vest, Cee, with a little bit of fringe or unadorned?”
Chapter 63
Gracie looked out her window at the crumbling edge of earth that separated the car from a long drop. Yikes. This was as rural as Pennsylvania got. The SUV had passed a defunct town a few miles back, but they hadn’t seen anything resembling life or the remains of once-life since.
The higher they drove into this remote part of the Pocono Mountains, the rougher the thread of road became—and the thinner. Though moonlight brightened the night sky, the dense trees crowding the dirt road blocked much of it.
As he drove, Victor’s headlights sliced a resolute triangle up the winding road. He cursed as the SUV rocked over the pothole-strewn road. Couldn’t be easy with his injuries.
“Are you sure about your information on Layla, Victor?”
“I told you, Red,” he said. “This chick keeps to herself. Is a control freak. She wants Cee here. Makes the most sense to get you all together, clean up the mess in one swoop.”
Letting out a breath long and low enough to empty her lungs, Gracie tried to calm her nerves. What if Cee wasn’t here? What if…
The big warrior next to her scooted across the back seat, put his strong, protecting arm across her shoulders. “Focus on the plan. On what you can do.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder, getting a face full of scratchy Velcro from his bullet-proof vest and a side full of weapons. Dressed all in black, including his hat and long sleeves, Dusty had a small armory on his person.
He was right. Concentrating on action would keep her sane. She’d checked her phone, which Layla had insisted, via text, that Gracie “had to bring.”
No more messages from Layla. In fact, her phone read, “No service.”
Dusty and Victor had no cells on them. They’d communicate via two-way.
Focus on the plan. “I approach from the front,” Gracie said. “Distract Layla.”
Dusty squeezed her close. “I swing around the back. We have the layout of the house. A good sense of the land.” He meant they’d managed to get details on the house and property from online photos. It was forty acres square in the middle of wild brush-filled forest. The perfect family getaway for an angry psychopath to take her victims. “Not that I’d brag, darlin’, but the woods and I are fine friends.”
She smiled, though he couldn’t see it. What with her face smooshed up against him. “Not that you’d brag.”
“Never. But if I were to brag, I’d say you’d picked the right man for this job. You keep that psycho busy. When I get close enough, I’ll switch on my jammer. It’s got a good range, but a shit battery. Not to mention waiting until I’m close will give her system less chance to evolve past the intrusion. Once I flick the switch it’ll slow down the signals to her security and her communications. Enough that I can ghost into the house. Get Ty. Get Cee. And—”
“Get out,” Gracie interrupted. “I can handle Layla.”
“You won’t be alone,” Victor said. “Whatever she has planned, and I have no doubt she’s got a couple of live bodies, the major thrust of Layla’s execution will be electronic. That’s her comfort zone. So when Dusty signals me via two-way that he’s close, I’ll break from my hidey-hole and head straight down the driveway. And my jammer,” he patted the huge black box plugged into his outlet and to an external battery on the floor of the front seat, “has lots of juice. Thanks to your momma’s technology we’ll roll over whatever Layla has up her sleeve.”
“Easy peasy,” Gracie whispered, though her throat was tight with a ball of doubt and fear. What if Cee wasn’t here? What if Ty… Damn Layla.
She was terrifying. Brilliant, with access to powerful technology and the darkest places on the web, through which she could reach the darkest of human minds.
They rounded another corner and started up the steepest incline yet. Trees crowded the thread of road like a threat. This was the final road, the one that led to the driveway and the cabin. She didn’t want them to get too close. “Victor, stop and hide under the cold pack in the back, so she won’t be able to read your heat signature.” Assuming she was that prepared. And Gracie was assuming it. “I’ll drive us to the spot she indicated and park there.”
He pulled over, turned off the lights. “You sure we shouldn’t try to get closer?”
“No. I’m nervous enough about brin
ging you guys.” Momma and Leland had tried repeatedly to get her to let them organize a team. That would’ve been a disaster. The time it would’ve taken, for one. The risk for the family—this was getting beyond complicated with the FBI. And the personality dynamic. She had enough dealing with Layla. She couldn’t add siblings hopped up on revenge to the mix. “We need surprise. So we’ll do our best to make it look like we’re following her instructions. She wants me to park my car two miles from the cabin, under a tree with a glow-in-the-dark X spray-painted on it, and run up to the house.”
“Sounds like I’m going to be all kinds of comfortable,” Victor said. He held up his two-way. “Until Dusty buzzes me that I’m needed.”
“I’ll try to make it fast,” Dusty said. “It’s a few miles through these woods on foot.”
Her stomach twisted with fear. Was this a mistake? Should she have come alone? What if something happened to them? To Dusty?
Reading her mood, probably from the tension in her body, Dusty bent closer. “We’re going to be just fine. You concentrate on your part.”
She angled her head to meet his lowering mouth. She kissed him, open-mouthed and long and hot. The ache that shot through her body was as much emotional as it was physical. “Just be careful.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
From the front, Victor cleared his throat. “Do I get one of those? Either one of you can answer.”
Dusty smirked and gave her a you-take-this wave as he climbed out of the car.
“You’re staying in the car two miles from the cabin. Only coming at the last minute to a jam party. What could possibly happen to you?”
As she opened the door to climb in the front, Victor gingerly climbed between the seats, careful of his sling, on his way to the cold pack in the back. “Knowing my luck with your family, a bear attack.”
* * *
The dirt road was an uneven, ankle-turning mess. Not easy to sprint on in thick boots in the dark. And though Gracie used her night vision goggles, they didn’t help with the altitude. That’s it. She was never taking such a long break from the gym again.
The Price of Grace Page 24