“You could say that. I need to get out of here without being seen.”
The woman’s gaze fell on the bruise around Grace’s wrist, the torn elbow of her jacket. The dark gaze lifted. “You trying to get away from that hunk you drove up with?” When Grace nodded, the clerk said grimly, “Your old man, huh? I know his type. I been there myself.”
“Is there a back door?” Grace asked anxiously.
“You bet your sweet ass there is.” The woman pointed a bony finger toward the coolers in the back. “There’s a door that leads to an alley. You can hide out back there a spell, or you can head on over to Broadway. You might get lucky and find a taxi. You want me to call the cops?”
“No,” Grace said, a shade too vehemently. That was the last thing she needed. “I don’t want him arrested. I just want to lay low for a while until he cools off, you know?”
The woman nodded. “Yeah, hon, I know.”
A FAINT SMELL of decay rose from the shadows in the back of the store, making Grace’s stomach lurch. The cooler and storage area were lighted with a bare bulb suspended from a stained ceiling, and Grace could hear the steady drip-drip of a leak in the cooling system somewhere nearby.
She found the exit, turned the lock, then drew open the door and stepped out into the frigid mist. Her denim jacket did little to protect her from the cold, and she wished she’d used the credit card she’d stashed in her pocket to purchase a pair of gloves and one of the “End of the Chisholm Trail” sweatshirts she’d seen hanging on a rack near the front of the store. Too late for that now, though. She had only a few seconds before Brady would come looking for her.
Closing the door behind her, Grace scanned the darkness. To her left, she could make out the shape—and smell—of a Dumpster, and in the distance, the glow of lights along the interstate. Grace turned right, but as she stepped away from the door, she saw a figure round the corner of the building and head toward her.
Her heart sank. How had he managed to get around the building so quickly? “I’m going back to Dallas,” she said defiantly, as Brady approached her. “Don’t try to stop me.”
“Get serious, Grace.”
“I am serious.” She resisted the urge to back away from him. She wasn’t frightened of him. This was Brady after all. A man she’d once spent a lot of time with, both in and out of bed. She’d known him back then as well as she’d known herself, or thought she had, but five years had passed. A lifetime of regrets had gone by. People changed, under the circumstances.
He took her arms, and for a moment, they both remained motionless, as if frozen by the icy mist. But his gaze was hot, igniting embers inside Grace that should have been smothered years ago.
Should have been, but weren’t.
Okay, she thought resolutely. So I still find him attractive. I still have feelings for him.
No good reason why she wouldn’t. Their relationship had ended abruptly because of her betrayal. She’d wronged Brady and he’d walked away, leaving her emotions in limbo all these years. But now, suddenly, at the worst possible time, those feelings had come back to life, and her emotions were dredging up some pretty powerful memories.
“After what I did to you, why do you care what happens to me?” Her voice sounded strained, even to her.
His grasp on her arms tightened almost imperceptibly. “It’s like I told you earlier. This isn’t about you. My assignment is to keep a witness—you—safe until you can testify against Kane. And that’s what I intend to do. That’s all I intend to do.”
His meaning was perfectly clear. She was nothing to him now but an assignment, a distasteful one at that, and although Grace could understand his emotional distance, her pride was still wounded, making her lash out at him. “And if I refuse to testify?”
“You’ll be called as a hostile witness. That much is obvious,” he said coldly. “But once you’re on the stand, I think even you would have second thoughts about lying.”
Anger flashed through her like lightning. “I never lied to you, Brady. You can’t accuse me of that.”
“You may not be a liar, but you’re a conniving—”
“Bitch?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Grace.”
“I don’t think I have to.” Her anger turned to bitterness. “Your feelings for me are perfectly obvious.”
He was silent for a moment, gazing down at her. Grace could barely see his expression in the shadows, but she knew by heart the contours of his face, the gray eyes that could be soft as rain or hard as steel. She knew, without really seeing him, that his lips would be slightly parted as he contemplated their dilemma.
And it was a dilemma, for both of them. Brady had once told her he never wanted to see her again, and yet here he was, duty-bound to protect her. As for Grace—she once would have relished spending time alone with him, having the opportunity to prove to him that she’d changed. But instead, all she could think about was getting away from him. And the hell of it was—she couldn’t tell him why. He thought she was after a story. He thought she was still the same hard-nosed, integrity-challenged reporter she’d been five years ago.
Sometimes people grow up, learn from their mistakes, she told him silently. Sometimes people figure out what really matters in this world.
Unfortunately, the revelation had come too late for her and Brady. And if she did manage to get away from him, it would only reinforce for him that he’d been right about her all these years.
Brady’s hands slipped down her arms, and a shudder rippled through Grace. His slightest touch had always kindled her deepest passions, and even in the face of danger, she couldn’t help responding. He was Brady, after all.
But the moment she felt the cold metal of the handcuffs clamp around her wrist, Grace’s desire turned to despair. His gaze darkened on her as he fastened the other cuff around his own wrist. They were joined now, but not in the way she’d wanted.
“How can you do this to me?” she asked desperately. “Take me against my will like this.”
“You make it sound like an assault. This isn’t personal. I’m trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need your protection. I can take care of myself.” But even as she spoke the words, the sound of the gunshots on Market Street echoed in her head. Kane’s words, “If I so much as smell a cop, your mother is a dead woman,” reverberated through Grace’s being. She was terrified, and if her life had been the only one on the line, she would have welcomed Brady’s protection—run flying into his arms, if he’d have her—but she had to think of her mother. Brady couldn’t help her save Angeline. Only Grace had the power to do that.
“Do you have any idea who you’re up against?” Brady demanded, as if reading her thoughts. “I’m not just talking about Kane, though God knows, he’s dangerous enough. I’m talking about Rialto and Calderone. They make Kane look like Santa Claus.”
Grace’s mind flashed back to the night Kane shot Alec Priestley, his childhood friend, in cold blood, apparently without remorse. That Stephen Rialto and Tomaso Calderone were even more brutal chilled Grace to the bone, but she knew Brady was right. Kane had murdered quickly, but from everything Grace had read about Calderone and his people, the kill was to be savored.
“Do you remember what happened to those poor DEA agents who were caught by the Calderone cartel in Mexico? They cut out their eyes and gave them to the local witch doctor.”
Grace tried to suppress a shudder. Kane was the one she had to worry about now, but if Rialto and Calderone felt threatened by her—
Brady gave a tug on the handcuffs, cutting off her thoughts. “Come on. We need to get back on the road.”
Grace opened her mouth to argue, but in her present situation, it seemed ludicrous. All she could do was bide her time. Brady couldn’t keep her handcuffed forever, nor could he watch over her twenty-four hours a day. Sooner or later, he would have to sleep. And that’s when Grace would make her move.
Without a word, she followed him docilely to the truc
k.
THE SCENERY changed as Abilene receded in the distance. Timber woods gave way to fenced plains that seemed to go on forever. Through the wet darkness, Brady could make out the silhouette of the oil wells that continued to pump what had once seemed an endless supply of black gold. A lot of the wells had gone dry, but the skeletal remains of the derricks dotting the plains still fed the illusion that all Texans were rich.
Grace was silent, gazing out the window as the miles crept by. She had her head turned from Brady, but he was pretty sure she wasn’t asleep. She was over there plotting, trying to figure out how she could get away from him.
What made her so desperate to get back to Dallas? Was getting a story still that important to her?
What else could it be? Brady mused. What other reason would keep her from testifying against Kane and Rialto unless—
Unless she was being threatened.
Was that it? Had either Kane or Rialto gotten to her somehow?
Could Brady have been wrong about her?
Dangerous thinking, where Grace was concerned. He knew all too well what she was capable of, the lengths she would go to for a hot scoop. Instead of trying to justify her motives, he’d do well to keep his mind on his assignment and his eyes on the road.
The interstate was starting to glaze over, and Brady was forced to go even slower. They were inching along the highway, but if Kane and his men were somewhere behind them, the weather would hold them up as well.
Brady had unfastened the handcuffs as soon as they were on the road again, and it was just as well he had. He needed both hands on the wheel, and besides, the forced proximity with Grace had been more unsettling than he cared to admit.
Okay, he thought grimly. She was a damn attractive woman. He’d have to be blind not to see that, and dead not to react to the way her soft, brown hair framed her face, the way her light blue eyes could look right through you. The way her legs seemed to go on forever.
As if sensing his thoughts, she turned from the window to face him. He could feel her blue gaze burning into him, but he kept his own gaze steadfastly on the road.
After a few moments, she said softly, “Why did you quit the police force, Brady?”
He hadn’t expected that question. Not yet anyway, but then, Grace had never been one to dance around an issue. He’d once admired that about her. He’d once admired a lot of things about her until he’d had a glimpse of the real Grace.
He shrugged. “You know why I left.”
“No, I don’t. What happened wasn’t your fault.”
“The hell it wasn’t.” He realized suddenly his jaw was clenched, and he worked almost forcibly to relax it. “I left confidential files unsecured in my apartment. I didn’t take the necessary precautions when I set up the bust.” Brady’s failure was still raw, like a wound that hadn’t healed properly. He’d walked away from that failure and a career he’d worked years to build, and he’d almost done the same thing after Rachel died. But Mitchell Forbes was not a man you could walk away from that easily. He’d sent Brady back out again, not just to face his failure, but to face his past. He hoped to hell the old man knew what he was doing.
“You had no way of knowing I’d look in those files.” Grace’s voice was very quiet, almost hushed. “Or that I would listen in on your private phone conversation.”
“But I would have known,” Brady said bitterly, “If I’d been thinking with my head.”
The implication wasn’t lost on Grace. He saw her flinch, as if he’d physically struck her. “You still think I went to bed with you to get information.”
“Worked like a charm, didn’t it? There’s a sucker born every minute, as they say.”
“Brady…” Whatever she’d been about to say, she never finished it. Instead, she turned to stare out the window again.
After a moment, she said, with her own bitterness, “After that night, you never gave me a chance to explain. You cut me out of your life without a word. You just disappeared.”
“What was there to say?” The truck hit an icy spot, and he struggled for a moment to regain control of the wheel. He glanced at her to see if she was frightened, but she seemed unaware of the road conditions. “Look, there’s no point in going over this now, okay? It’s finished. I’ve moved on. You’ve moved on.” He shrugged. “Nothing left worth talking about.”
“Maybe that’s how you feel, but I’d still like the chance to tell my side of things. It’s bothered me all these years that I could never explain what really happened that night.”
“We both know what happened.” Brady frowned at the road. He didn’t like rehashing the past. Nothing but a lot of bad memories and some painful regrets back there.
But Grace was insistent. “I knew you were an undercover narc when I met you, but I swear I didn’t get involved with you because of a story. I found out on my own that you were going after Lester Kane, so I started doing some digging. I had a job to do, too, Brady.”
Yeah, and you know what I think of your job. But Brady merely shrugged.
“I could tell from your actions that night that something big was going down. You were—I don’t know—wired. Keyed up. When the phone rang, you thought I was in the shower, but I’d forgotten something. I came back into the bedroom. I didn’t know where you were, so I picked up the extension. When I heard your voice, I knew I should hang up, but—”
“You didn’t.” His jaw was clenched again, but this time, Brady made no effort to relax. He gave her a cold glance. “You heard enough to put it all together.”
“Once I’d read the files,” she admitted. “The story just sort of unfolded. The biggest drug bust in the city’s history was about to go down, and there I was, sitting on the exclusive. I had a way to blow the competition right out of the water.”
“So you wrote the story and got it on the front page of the Examiner’s morning edition.” Brady glanced at her again. “Only, the bust didn’t go down. We were called off at the last minute.”
“I had no way of knowing.” Grace drew a long breath. “It was wrong of me to read those files and to listen in on your phone conversation. I admit that. But I didn’t print the story, Brady. I wrote it and faxed it over to the paper, but Burt was supposed to sit on it. That piece was never supposed to run until I got your okay.”
“And you think that excuses what you did?” He gave her an incredulous look and saw her turn away. “There was no way we could touch Kane after that. He’s been out there dealing drugs all these years because—”
“Because of what I did. I know.” She winced. “You think that’s not the last thing on my mind before I go to sleep at night? I know what I did, Brady. I’ve had to live with it for the last five years. If there was any way I could go back and change that night, I would. But you can’t go back, can you? You can never go back.”
There was a sadness in her tone Brady had never heard from her before, but he knew better than to believe it. “Okay, so now I know everything. We can just forget it. It’s all over and done with.”
“Except for one thing.”
She was gazing down at her hands now, not looking at him. She seemed uncharacteristically subdued for Grace. Remorseful. She lifted her blue gaze and met his. “It’s not over for me, Brady.”
Her words twisted something inside Brady’s gut. Some basic instinct told him not to believe her, she was making up the whole thing so he’d let down his guard. But another instinct was telling him something else. To pull the truck off the road and kiss her until the fire that had always been between them erupted like a red-hot volcano.
For a split second, he allowed his gaze to cling to hers, feeling the attraction quiver along his backbone. Grace had one hell of a body, and she knew how to use it. The thought of her in his arms, lying against him, under him. Those long legs wrapped around him.…
The tires slipped on the icy pavement, and with a sinking feeling, Brady felt the wheel spin in his hands. They were nearing a bridge, and the truck careened badly,
skimming sideways toward the embankment. He tapped the brakes as he tried to steer into the skid.
It didn’t work. Gathering speed, they hydroplaned toward the shoulder, but at the last moment, the left front fender grazed the guardrail of the bridge, slowing them. The nose of the truck dipped over the embankment and hung there for one breathless moment before they went crashing down into the gully.
Chapter Five
The truck skidded to a bone-jarring halt at the bottom of a dry ravine. In the shocked aftermath that followed, Grace became aware of two things: the thunder of her heartbeat and an overwhelming regret for having blurted out her true feelings.
Why on earth had she told him? It was true, of course. She never had gotten over Brady, but now was hardly the time to confess unrequited love. Not with murderers hot on their trail and her escape from Brady uppermost in her mind.
Still, she’d waited five long years to tell him how she felt, and a part of her had recognized that it was probably now or never. When she finally did get away from him, it would seem like another betrayal to him. And she wouldn’t be able to explain her true motives because she and her mother would be thousands of miles away.
“You okay?” he asked gruffly.
“I’m fine.” Her words were as clipped as his. Obviously, they were both uncomfortable and not because they’d run off the road.
Brady muttered a vicious oath as he pounded the steering wheel with his fist. “Of all the stupid, idiotic—”
“At least the embankment wasn’t all that steep,” she offered helpfully.
“Yeah, well, this is West Texas after all.”
He sounded angry, and Grace wondered if he was mad at himself for losing control of the truck, or at her, for saying what she had.
“Let me see if I can get us out of here.” He tried reversing the truck, but the rear tires spun uselessly on the frozen ground. He couldn’t go forward, either. “Damn, this is no good.” He glanced out the window. “Without any traction, we’ll never make it up the embankment.”
The Bodyguard's Assignment Page 5