In Deep

by Lulu Pratt

  Ice chills the blood in my veins.

  “What?” I ask incredulously, my brain refusing to let her words sink in.

  “Brick,” she repeats emphatically. “Martha from the bakery says she found out from his assistant when the girl came in to order a cake last Wednesday.”

  Fear traps the words in my throat and my knees weaken.

  With white knuckles, I grip the handle of the shopping cart before me, using it to support myself.

  “Mom, I’m sure it’s just a silly rumor,” I say regaining my ability to speak.

  “I don’t know,” she says uncertainly.

  “Trust me. Brick isn’t thinking about me anymore. Everything happened so long ago,” I speak trying to convince her as well as myself.

  “Even though I suspect you’ll never tell me the full story, I know the man is dangerous. Gracie, you didn’t just skip town for no reason.”

  “I know, Mom,” I say, stealing glances at my surroundings. I want to insure that no one overhears our conversation.

  “Gracie, I need you to promise me that you’ll be careful.”

  “I always am.” My words are placating but hold zero confidence.

  “Be careful of who you trust in that town,” she warns. “I don’t know what I’ll do if anything happens to you because of that man.”

  She sounds disgusted whenever she mentions Brick and I’m slightly comforted to have her allegiance on this.

  “I promise to be careful.”

  My mom takes the time to stress her earlier point about being trusting no one and tells me to call her if I need anything.

  As soon as I disconnect the call, I abandon my cart of groceries and flee the store. Beating a hasty pace to my car, I survey the parking lot even more paranoid than I usually am.

  Then I notice a completely blacked-out SUV in a far corner of the parking lot and my heart stills.

  Is it the professional my mom claims Brick hired?

  I’m being silly, I tell myself even as I draw a fearful breath. Brick and I have both moved on from that shitty time.

  I have nothing to be worried about.

  Right?

  Still, the bile is rising in my stomach at the thought of him tracking me down.

  After all the work I did to disappear. He could be lurking and I know my pepper spray won’t be a match for whatever he has planned.

  I drive home, frequently checking my rear-view mirror to see if the SUV is following me.

  I’m pleased to see no signs of it during my ten-minute commute home.

  Swimming in unpleasant thoughts, I trudge upstairs and come to a clear realization: it’s time to formulate a better plan.

  *****

  Stephania raps lightly on my closed door, calling out to me.

  “Gracie, I made your favorite. Seafood mac and cheese. Open up and I’ll give it to you,” she tries tempting me.

  Stephania is a great cook and she knows I usually can’t resist whatever she prepares. But tonight is different.

  “I’m not hungry, Stephania.”

  I’ve been locked in my room since I returned from the market three hours ago. Trying to digest what my mother said and formulate a plan in the event that Brick really does track me down.

  It’s possible that I’m overreacting but I’ve always preferred to err on the side of caution.

  “Grace, please.”

  Lost in my thoughts, I almost forgot that Stephania is at my door.

  “Will you save it for me in the oven, please?” I ask, infusing my voice with kindness.

  I’m irritated but she doesn’t deserve my foul mood.

  She’s been nothing but great since I’ve known her.

  “Fine,” she huffs dejectedly. “Does this have anything to do with Jameson? I’ll kick his ass,” she promises darkly.

  My smile returns for the first time since earlier this afternoon.

  “Jameson didn’t do anything,” I reassure her.

  “Okay. I’ll put your food in the oven.”

  “Thanks,” I call back.

  I hear a light thud against the door and I imagine she’s dropped her hand to rest there as she says her next words.

  “I’m here if you need me, Grace. You can tell me anything,” she emphasizes. “You know that, don’t you?”

  Emotion fills my heart at her sweet words.

  “I know, Steph. Some other time. I just need time to think.”

  I want to tell her everything but trepidation steals my courage to do so.

  When I hear footsteps retreat down the hall, I exhale.

  The relief is fleeting.

  My phone vibrates, rattling on my nightstand and I know without looking that it’s Jameson.

  He’s called me twice already and sent three times as many texts.

  It’s not like me to go without answering my phone and I know he must be worried. We’re usually in contact throughout the day, exchanging flirty texts and making plans for our next meeting.

  But I can’t entertain those thoughts while my ex is somewhere plotting to exact his revenge.

  I can’t think about anything but running again.

  *****

  Pounding against my bedroom door wake me from a fitful sleep.

  The aggressive knocks are much more brutal than before and I know it’s not Stephania on the other side offering food and conversation.

  These knocks are heavy and violent, leading me to think the worst.

  Had someone gotten into our apartment?

  My bleary eyes read the time on my cell phone and I learn that it is 7:28 a.m.

  Twelve missed calls.

  Twenty unread texts.

  The notifications widen my tired eyes.

  “Grace, open up! I know you’re in there, sweetheart.”

  Holy shit.

  It’s Jameson.

  I leave my bed and pad over to my bedroom window, which overlooks the street below.

  His bike is parked near the curb in a haphazard manner as if he’d been in a rush.

  I turn back to my door just as his fist makes contact again.

  “Grace, please. You’re freaking me the fuck out.”

  A pang of guilt hits me at the tortured sound of his voice.

  He really is worried about me and my reclusive actions aren’t helping the matter.

  I inhale a deep breath and pull open the door to face him.

  Chapter thirteen

  JAMESON WILCOX

  I sit on Grace’s bed, patiently waiting for her to return from her shower. It was the sole condition she had listed before she agreed to talk to me.

  My mind runs through a gamut of possible causes for her mood and I grow anxious.

  Had she learned something about my true identity?

  Why had she left the grocery store so abruptly yesterday without any purchases? Watching her from my truck, I’d seen a noticeable difference in her demeanor when she left.

  Something had definitely happened.

  Grace reenters the room and I watch her make quick work of getting dressed.

  Her level of comfort with me in the room isn’t lost on me. She trusts me.

  With damp hair falling beneath her ample breasts, I’m momentarily captivated by the picture she makes.

  The somber look on her face reminds me that this isn’t a pleasure visit.

  Taking a seat beside me, she sighs heavily.

  “I think my ex is looking for me,” she reveals.

  I carefully control my features into a look of concern.

  “What are you saying, Grace? He wants you back?”

  Her expression darkens and she begins to fidget with her hands.

  “In a manner of speaking,” she states.

  I wait for her to disclose more.

  “He wants to get me back for something I did when I left him two years ago.”

  My ears perk up in anticipation. It looks like I’m finally going to discover what it was that she did to get on Brick’s bad side.

 
“What did you do?” I coax her to share more.

  Shame mingles with regret on her face before she shakes her head sadly.

  “I stole from him.”

  I stop breathing.

  She was admitting guilt.

  I was protecting… and fucking a guilty woman.

  I want to smack myself for being so stupid.

  “Jameson, are you okay?” I hear her ask and I know my expression must have faltered.

  I shift my eyes back to her.

  She looks worried, wringing her hands as she watches me.

  “Sorry,” I clear my throat. “Why did you steal from him?”

  “I was stupid,” she admits, raising her eyes to look at me.

  On my feet, I begin pacing and digesting this new information.

  I’m betraying a client’s trust because of her and she’s telling me that it’s for nothing.

  Grace looks at me, resigned.

  “I wanted to hurt him as much as he had hurt me and I knew money was the answer.”

  My pacing ceases and I come to a stop in front of her. I’m simultaneously enraged and intrigued by this new piece of the puzzle.

  Had Brick laid his hands on her?

  “He hurt you?” I ask for clarification as my jaw clenches.

  Grace nods, her face wrinkling and I know that this isn’t easy for her talk about.

  “Not physically,” she clarifies. “But it didn’t change the fact that I was terrified of him.”

  “What did he do to you?” I ask, gravely and suddenly back on the defensive.

  Just the thought of anyone harming Grace has my vision blurred by red lines.

  “I guess I should start from the beginning.”

  I give an encouraging nod.

  “His name is Brian Masner, but people call him Brick. And he was my first everything.”

  I absorb the significance of those words in stride, working to conceal my jealousy and repulsion.

  That rat-faced motherfucker had been her first love.

  “I grew up in Ravenwood a few hours south of here and he was the king of that town. I imagine he still is.”

  Watching her carefully, I wait for her to go on.

  “Anyway, I always had a crush on him because of his status in town. He had money and lots of it, but I didn’t know the origins of that money until it was too late.”

  “What do you mean?” I pry.

  “He commits insurance fraud with his brother,” she says cautiously. “Brick is a life insurance broker. He owns one of the largest agencies in the state. His brother, Matthew, is a coroner. They work as a team to scam innocent people out of millions of dollars every year.”

  The puzzle pieces are starting to fall in place for me.

  “Couple goes in to buy a life insurance policy, a few months later the husband or wife dies mysteriously. The other spouse cashes out on the claim and gives Brick a generous cut for his services,” she says ending her phrase with her fingers raised in air quotes.

  “Wow,” is all I can say.

  “His brother miraculously intercepts the deceased at the morgue. He shows up and rules no foul play was involved, saving the ‘grieving’ spouse from murder charges or further investigation. He and Brick split the earnings and then repeat the process.”

  “How have they not been found out?” I ask, taking a seat next to her on the bed.

  A sad sigh precedes her answer. “Brick and his brother are pretty powerful in Ravenwood. Most people fear them and the others have been bought with the promise to stay out of their way. They get away with a lot.”

  I don’t doubt it but I still want to know where she comes into the picture.

  “What happened between you two?”

  “I challenged him. He was so manipulative and controlling during our relationship because he was used to getting his way. The infidelity and emotional abuse really did a number on me. He somehow managed to make me believe that no one would want my damaged goods if I left him. Young and naïve, I believed him. At least for a while.”

  “Shit, Grace. I’m sorry he did that to you.”

  She gives a mirthless laugh, dismissing my words.

  “It came with the territory. Or so I thought. I thought we were going through a rough patch and that things would eventually get better.”

  “When did you realize they wouldn’t?”

  Grace releases a shaky breath.

  My hand finds hers in a silent offering of support.

  “About a year too late. He started threatening me, telling me if I left he would kill me and have his brother cover it up. Said if I ever tried to tell someone, no one would believe me because everyone has a price. He would just buy their silence.”

  Livid, I take controlled breaths and study her profile. She’s so composed, her strength admirable.

  “So why do you think he’s looking for you now? After all this time?”

  “Who knows,” she shrugs. “When I finally left, I stole about five-hundred thousand dollars cash from him before I hightailed it out of town. I dumped it in the ocean before I came here. As much as I could have used it, I didn’t want blood money. I just wanted to hit him where it hurt.”

  “Damn,” I admire her guts. I’m more determined than ever to keep her out of harm’s way.

  “He probably made it back in a few weeks’ time, but I suspect he’s ready to hold up his promise. My mom called me yesterday and told me he’s hired someone to track me down.”

  My head snaps towards her at this news.

  Shit.

  Reading her face, I try to determine if she has any inclination that I’m that someone. Her face doesn’t reveal anything.

  She continues solemnly, “My first instinct is to run again but I know it’s a short-term solution for a long-term problem. He will eventually find me and I’ll have to face him.”

  Grace’s words are resolute and hopeless. She doesn’t see another option.

  Impulsively, I blurt out a solution.

  “I will protect you.”

  Shocked, she stares at me with a question in those gorgeous eyes.

  “I’m the owner of a newly founded private security firm. Or have you forgotten, Ms. Chambers?”

  “Oh,” she mutters.

  “You’ll be my first client,” I decide. “I won’t let that bastard lay a hand on you.”

  “As tempting as your offer sounds, I can’t afford to pay you, Jameson. But thank you,” she declines with a gracious smile prompting me roll my eyes.

  I tackle her to the bed playfully, catching her by surprise with my swift movements.

  “I don’t want your money, woman,” I growl against her lips. “You don’t have to face this on your own. Let me help you, Grace.”

  She giggles and I know I’ve effectively lightened the mood.

  “Okay,” she agrees breathily.

  “But I do have another form of payment in mind,” I say deviously, nipping at her ear.

  Chapter fourteen

  GRACE CHAMBERS

  “Come on, Grace. You can do better than that,” my trainer, Austin, encourages as I lift my foot to deliver another roundhouse kick towards his gloved palm.

  My muscles burn as I execute the move, maintaining proper form and follow through.

  From there, Austin and I move through a combination of front and side kicks. His taunting serves as the motivation I need to make it through the next set of punches.

  Following the news I’d received from my mom two days ago, I’d decided to take up kickboxing.

  A coworker of mine had recommended Austin and when I’d called him, he’d happily agreed to give me an introductory lesson tonight.

  We’re working out in a private room at the gym, typically reserved for dance fitness classes.

  As we wind down with some stretches, I notice a figure looming in the open door.

  My heart leaps in my chest and that giddy feeling invades my stomach.

  Jameson.

  With an inviting wave and ea
sy smile, I gesture for him to come inside.

  We’d agreed to meet up after my gym session and he was right on time — punctual as ever.

  As he comes towards the two of us, I notice his normally neutral expression is dark, his eyes possessing a dangerous gleam.

  Dread twists my gut and fear tickles my nerve endings as my mind draws up the worst-case scenario.

  Did something happen?

  Did he hear from Brick?

  I want to voice these questions but think better of it when I see Austin extend his hand in Jameson’s direction.

  Clearing my throat, I make hurried introductions as the two men shake hands.

  I notice Jameson barely makes eye contact with Austin, his brooding eyes trained solely on me.

  “Jameson, this is my new trainer Austin. Austin, this is… Jameson,” I say as my mind draws a blank.

  What do I introduce him as?

  The guy who’s fucking me?

  My new bodyguard?

  My boyfriend?

  “Nice to meet you, man.” Austin is friendly, his words cloaked in a thick Southern drawl.

  Jameson barely grunts before he addresses me.

  “Grace, are you ready to go?”

  A frown sets in as I gather my things.

  What the hell is his problem?

  He’s being so rude.

  Austin and I make plans for our next session and I thank him profusely before gathering my things from the corner near the floor-to-ceiling mirrors.

  As we walk through the gym towards the front door, I notice his icy behavior is specifically aimed at me.

  No flirty comments or greeting kisses are exchanged. Just pure silence and body language that says more than he has.

  From the ticking at the base of his jaw, I can tell he’s pissed.

  Once we reach the parking lot, I stop walking and turn to him.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?”

  His tone is clipped and cool when he speaks.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were getting a trainer, Grace?”

  Affronted, my earlier frown returns.

  “I wasn’t aware that I had to tell you anything, Jameson. What is this about?”

  He scoffs, shaking his head.

  “I would have liked to know, that’s all.”

  “Why?” I pry, beginning to understand the root of the problem.