Saving Grace (Misty Grove Book 2)

by Paige, Victoria

  “And she has no say?” Troy quirked a brow at the woman in question.

  Matt turned his glare on Grace. There was defiance in her eyes and yet a hint of uncertainty. He was working with the latter and refused to feel guilty about it. Not leaving with Axe when he told her to infuriated him and awakened his ruthless streak.

  “Leave, Troy,” he faced the biker once more. “When you’re ready to talk and explain this whole damned mess, you know where to find us.” Matt clasped Grace’s bicep. “Come on, babe. Let’s get some food in you.”

  Matt nodded meaningfully at Roger as he walked away with a now complacent Grace. His friend lifted his chin, acknowledging that he understood his role to keep the bikers out if they pushed the issue.

  Tension crackled in the air.

  “This is not over, Foster!” Troy called when he and Grace entered the garage. Despite his differences with the biker boss at the moment, they both recognized that now was not the time to cause more turmoil for Grace’s already troubled mind.

  This was definitely far from over.

  Matt was sure this was only the beginning.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Grace

  I followed Matt back to his loft, my mind trying to delve in its trenches for a man called Troy. Finding myself in a chair, I was momentarily distracted by the smell of fried cured pork. Maybe if I had some food in me I could think better. My insides were like a raw twisted knot, but I didn’t know if it was from hunger or anxiety.

  Matt tore the paper bag in half to reveal its contents of stacked Styrofoam containers. He seemed to take great care in unpacking the food like it was some puzzle to solve.

  “I know you’re mad at me,” I hedged as he handed me a container with a “#1” marked on top.

  “You don’t like pancakes,” Matt muttered to the food, jaw tight. “I got you waffles.”

  “Look, I’m sorry that—I don’t like pancakes?”

  “You don’t like the texture in your mouth.”

  Interesting.

  I eyed his breakfast as he flipped the lid open. “I’m willing to give it a try again,” I said.

  Matt’s brows shot up as he finally looked at me, the corners of his mouth lifting in a grin. “What makes you think I’m willing to share?”

  I pursed my lips. “Well, you’ve given up your bedroom for me, so I’m sure there’s a generous bone in your body.”

  “Good point,” he chuckled. “But maybe I have an ulterior motive.”

  That wasn’t funny even as a joke. My thoughts must have shown on my face.

  “Shit, Grace,” Matt sighed ruefully. “I just can’t ever say the right thing around you, can I?”

  “Hence, the Mr. Asshole on my phone.” I couldn’t help jibing.

  He scowled and pointed a finger at me. “You’re right. I was mad at you.” Before I could say anything, he rambled on, “You should have listened to Axe and not left the apartment.”

  “Were you trying to keep that man away from me?”

  “If by ‘that man’ you mean Troy, yes.” Matt frowned. “You don’t remember anything about him?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing even vaguely familiar.” I took a deep breath. “I know I’ve been in Misty Grove only a short while, but how can I be involved with him and you too?”

  Matt stared at me a for a second and then lifted his chin at my container. “Food’s getting cold.” He smeared butter on the pancakes and drizzled syrup. I watched him cut through the stack and lift the fork toward me. “Taste?”

  “Why are you avoiding the question?”

  “Because I don’t have an answer regarding what you were to Troy,” he snapped.

  “This is such a small town, I’m sure …”

  “You were at his compound for two days.”

  “Oh …”

  “Right after our one-night stand.” Matt dropped the fork to his platter and pushed back from the table. He grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and poured coffee that was kept warm on the brewer.

  I tried to absorb all this. “So we slept together one night—”

  “We fucked, Grace, we didn’t do any sleeping.” Matt’s eyes pinned me to my chair. I couldn’t even pretend to work on my waffles because I felt an odd sensation between my legs. He laid the mug of coffee in front of me.

  “—and you’re saying I moved on to Troy.” I was feeling sick to my stomach. Had I been such a slut?

  “I may have pushed you toward him.” His face was etched with regret.

  My brain warred with my resolve to remember that night between us. I was a coward. A ball of emotion tried to rise up, but I choked it back down. “Did you walk out on me, Matt?”

  His eyes narrowed in alert as he tried to gauge my face.

  “From our one night together?” I added quite calmly.

  “Are you remembering?”

  I nodded. “When you slammed out of your bedroom this morning. It was like déjà vu.”

  Matt dropped his head in hands and gave a pained groan. “Fuck!” he muttered. “Of all the first memories to come back it had to be that.”

  As he was wallowing in his own actions, I was appalled with mine. The knot of emotion turned to bile, and I had to rise up from the chair and race to the toilet. Thankfully, I got to it in time to throw up all the water and meds I had taken from this morning. It didn’t take long for me to be dry-heaving into the bowl.

  “Grace,” Matt whispered as he rubbed my back. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick to you.”

  That wasn’t why I was throwing up, but I was surprised to hear his apology because from what I’ve gathered so far about Matt Foster, he didn’t give a damn about what people thought about him. I grabbed some tissue, wiped my mouth and stood over the sink, not willing to face him until I had at least rinsed my mouth.

  The minty taste of the mouthwash relieved my queasy feeling, and I managed a short laugh. “Is that an apology for my future memories of you?”

  I looked at him and he grinned. I felt a flutter in my stomach for an altogether different reason, recognizing for the first time why I had slept with this man. He was straight-up handsome in a rough sort of way. His longish, dark blond hair needed a cut, but it suited the several-days-old stubble of his strong, angular jaw. He had piercing, slate-blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. I’ve seen his naked upper body at least. He had a ripped, athletic build that I preferred over the body-builder gym rat type like Troy.

  “Yeah.” His grin widened. “Although, I’d say you do nothing for a man’s ego—puking so soon after confirming I’d fucked you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s not that we’ve slept together that made me feel awful. It’s the idea that I may have slept with another man directly after our night together.” There, my wording was less crass than his, although it still didn’t make me feel better that I might have bed-hopped.

  “My gut feel is you didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?”

  “Sleep with Troy,” Matt clarified. “You and I, Grace, have history. You and Troy do not. We’ve had this sexual tension brewing between us since day one and it only intensified when we went on that mission.”

  “Mission?”

  “Operation Blood Bull whose prime objective was to take down Hector Vargas. The planning and execution took over a year. I had considered pursuing you after the op but got fucked up.”

  By now, he had led me back to the kitchen and sat me down in front of my waffles. Our food had gone cold.

  “What happened?” I was almost afraid to ask as all joviality from earlier disappeared from his face to be replaced by a haunted, grim façade.

  “I got captured and held for a while by the cartel.” At my startled reaction, he quickly added. “It was only for a few days. Troy and Roger got me out. You were my handler and I blamed you for a long time. I refused your calls and turned you away when you tried to see me. I had no choice this last time when the DEA assigned you to work with me for intel on Troy. But there
was nothing in our agreement that said I had to be nice to you.”

  “And you continued to be a jerk to me.”

  “Pretty much. How else should I deal with the fact that the woman I’ve been so damned attracted to may have betrayed me and left me to rot in Mexico.”

  “What changed?”

  “Two weeks ago, when I ran into you at Mike’s Roadhouse and made some offhand remark about your tits…” Matt said, actually looking apologetic. “You’d really had enough of my insults and wouldn’t let me get away with it. You dragged me to the parking lot and told me the truth—that it was Holden who’d called off the SEALs and left me at the mercy of the cartel.”

  I stared at him doubtfully. “You didn’t believe me.”

  “There’d already been rumors that it was your boss who gave the order,” Matt admitted. “The CIA and DEA had a falling out soon after that op because of what happened to me so details were never confirmed.” He looked at me levelly. “You were risking your job trying to contact me to tell me the truth.”

  “You continued to hate me to protect my job?” I asked incredulously.

  Matt clenched his jaw then looked away.

  “Those are complicated feelings,” I said slowly.

  He snorted, returning his gaze to me. “I don’t do feelings.”

  “What I meant …” Suddenly I didn’t know what I meant. “Never mind,” I said as I drove my fork into the waffle. I didn’t know how to talk to this man. He was full of mixed messages. I was only trying to show empathy for his situation and for my efforts he shoved it back into my face. That nagging feeling of inadequacy from that night crept back around my heart. I forced myself to eat, telling myself I needed to get stronger and maybe find myself someplace else to stay. I needed to get back on my feet without the added pressure of my past with Matt.

  As for the man in question, he was suddenly finding his pancakes very interesting.

  “I want a meeting with Mr. Holden,” I spoke up, breaking our uncomfortable silence.

  “Grace—”

  “I don’t want to impose on you any longer. I really appreciate you coming to find me.”

  “Stop,” Matt growled. “Just stop. Didn’t you hear a thing I said about Holden? I don’t trust him.” He glared at me. “I don’t know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours. If I said something that may have offended you, I’m sorry. Again. I don’t have a filter on my mouth. I’m really trying here, Grace, but you have to cut me some slack.”

  “I don’t expect you to take care of me.”

  His eyes softened. “No expectations here. I want to take care of you. We might get on each other’s nerves along the way, but that’s how we roll.”

  “Did we always fight?”

  “We argued a lot, yes, but it mostly started with me to instigate a reaction from you.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Good question, but fuck if I know.” He avoided my eyes then and continued to eat. I wanted to make a remark about the Mr. Asshole bit again, but I decided to let it go. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. After all, he came to Atlanta to find me when he heard about the bombing. That should account for something, right?

  Still, we were getting off topic.

  “I don’t want to hide from whoever is after me, and I really want my phone back.”

  My statement didn’t make him happy if his scowl was anything to go by.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Matt said.

  “The clock is ticking, Matt. The doctor said I need to surround myself with anything that could trigger a memory and that would never happen if I lock myself away here in your loft.”

  “You won’t need your memory if you’re dead,” he retorted.

  “True,” I said slowly and sighed. “Look, we can go through my contacts together, and you can give me your opinion of who’s safe to call and who’s not. Sounds good?”

  “Yeah, okay,” he agreed grudgingly.

  “Definitely start with mom. You didn’t happen to call her yet, did you?”

  He shot me an exasperated look.

  I guess that was a no. I shrugged and continued eating.

  *****

  “Mom?”

  “Oh my God, Grace? I was so sick with worry.”

  After breakfast, Matt went directly to his office, retrieved my phone, and handed it to me. He had verified the number belonging to “Mom” was indeed Theresa Levinson and not some code name I had for someone else. I didn’t even know how to begin to talk to a complete stranger. Her voice, though, held a familiar tone. I struggled with what to say next.

  “Grace? Are you there?”

  “I’m here,” I choked out. My courage was deserting me. I should have been more prepared. I should have asked Matt to get me my background. How did I tell this complete stranger to whom I wasn’t a stranger that I didn’t remember her? Did I have a good relationship with her? Was she a doting mom? Did I have a complicated or smooth relationship with her?

  “What’s wrong, ladybug?” There was fear in her voice. “Are you hurt?”

  Echoes sounded in my head followed by a terrible, terrible blinding headache.

  What’s wrong, ladybug? Are you hurt?

  Memories of scraped knees and palms. A beautiful dark-haired woman in a summer dress stood above me with concern on her face.

  Mom.

  Broken pieces of time long ago scrolled through my head like a film spool.

  “I need to call you back.” Overwhelmed by the onslaught of memories, I thumbed the phone off and let it clatter to the floor. My mind struggled to reorder the segments it had recollected. My brain was ready to explode from my skull. When I finally crested the wave, I realized my phone was ringing, someone was shaking me and calling my name, and I was on my ass on the floor.

  Matt was crouched in front of me, his hand on my shoulder with his gaze searching. “What is it? Did you remember?”

  A broken sob escaped me as I nodded. “Mom. She was a good mom.”

  The warmth in Matt’s eyes told me he understood the depth of those simple words. Because more than a mom who would tend to my childhood scrapes, I remembered a single mom who sacrificed the best years of her life to give me everything. I remembered a mom whom I knew would give her life for her child, and just as I was sure right then that mom was panicking.

  “I need to get that,” I croaked as I watched “Mom” flashing on my phone.

  “Yes, you do,” Matt said softly as he picked up the pealing device and, for the third time that day, handed my phone to me.

  The second I answered, my mom’s sobbing voice greeted me. “Gracie, what’s going on?”

  Her childhood nicknames for me: Gracie and ladybug.

  “I’m sorry for hanging up on you, Mom.” Emotions made it difficult to get those words out. My voice cracked which triggered all out weeping on the other end of the line.

  “Tell me what’s wrong, ladybug?” Mom cried.

  Everything.

  “I’m okay, really, Mom, just a little banged up.”

  “I just talked to Elliot this morning and he said he had not heard from you.”

  So, my mom was on first name basis with my boss.

  “I haven’t called him yet.”

  Mom was silent for a beat and then. “Why do I have this feeling you’re keeping something from me? I’ve been calling you for two days. I was pressing Elliot to put you on the list of missing, but he said to wait for another twenty-four hours. God, Grace, I was going crazy. How could you do this to me? Why didn’t you call me immediately?”

  “Mom, I—”

  “I’m sorry … I’m so sorry, sweetie.” Mom’s voice was garbled amidst her tears. “I was just so worried.”

  I didn’t know what hurt worse. My head or my heart. The love for my mom was there, my chest felt like it would explode with it, but I couldn’t think of what to say without making her worry.

  Matt took the phone from me and I didn’t offer any resistance.<
br />
  “Mrs. Levinson? Matt Foster, a friend of Grace’s.” He paused. “She wasn’t able to call anyone because of the chaos that ensued after the airport attack.” He let my mom speak, curling his fingers into mine and kissing the back of my hand. My already tenuous emotions didn’t know how to handle his sweet gesture, but something inside me began to thaw. “She did have a few cuts and bruises, but I assure you she’s fine.”

  His eyes met mine. He was taking the lie for me.

  “It’s not a good idea to visit her right now as she’s not going back to DC anytime soon … she’ll be staying with me in Georgia for a while.”

  Say what? Was this still a part of his lie?

  Matt grinned into the phone as my mom apparently said something that would make sure any man in my life would treat me right. “Loud and clear, ma’am. I’ll treat her like crystal. Here’s Grace.”

  “Mom.”

  “Gracie, you’ve never mentioned a special friend to me before.”

  I rolled my eyes and glared at Matt who chuckled quietly beside me. “Mom, I’ll talk to you again soon, but I’ve gotta run.”

  “Okay, sweetie, I hope you’ll have more time to talk next time.”

  “I will.”

  “Love you, ladybug.”

  “Love you too, Mom.” And I hoped that was my usual response to her. I wasn’t certain yet, but it felt right.

  Thumbing the phone off. I looked at Matt. We were still on the floor. “I don’t know about you, but my butt is getting sore.”

  “It’s such a nice ass, too.” Matt smirked as he helped me up. “I talked to Holden.”

  Surprised, I stared at him. “And?”

  “He’s driving down from Atlanta tomorrow.”

  “I thought he was based in DC.”

  “He arrived in Atlanta the day after the bombing.”

  Was I ready for this? Yes, I was. “Where do I meet him?”