Saving Grace (Misty Grove Book 2)

by Paige, Victoria

  I squeezed my thighs together as my core pulsed with need. I was going to do this. I stepped into the shower and grabbed the soap, lathering my skin, gliding sensually down my curves and allowing myself to relive that night. A hand pressed down my pubic bone as I inhaled sharply and bit my lip, before cupping my sex and finding myself slick.

  Oh yes, I was horny. Funny how I remembered all things elemental to sex. I was about to dip a finger into my entrance when the shower door flew open to reveal a furious Matt.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he roared. I gawked at him, still frozen with a hand between my legs and the other on a breast. He stood there, shirtless, all sweaty with rippling muscles. The urge to jump his bones and do bad things with him was unbearable. I swallowed perceptibly.

  “Need help?” He smirked as he took in the positioning of my hands. Brows that had previously been drawn in anger were now raised in sexy amusement. His hair was mussed up and damp, as if he’d been running and dragging his fingers through it.

  “You’re letting the steam out. Shut the door,” I snapped when I finally found my voice. Regret lanced through me as he did as I ordered.

  I finally got unstuck and leaned against the tiles, feeling my cheeks burn in embarrassment at being caught. Then I noticed his hazy form through the shower door. He was undressing.

  “What are you doing?” I screeched his earlier question back at him.

  The glass door opened, and he stepped in naked as if it was the most natural thing for him to get into the shower with me.

  “Helping you out,” he muttered before dragging me gingerly toward him. Before I could protest, his lips caught mine. His tongue demanded entry and, when I yielded, he invaded with no hesitation. I whimpered while he growled softly and kissed me languorously, teasing me in slow stabbing bursts. I gripped his arms, and, God, he was hard. Everything about him was hard.

  He turned me around, molding my back to his front and I felt his erection against the curve of my spine. His hand didn’t waste any time seeking the part of me that ached for his touch.

  “You’re killing me, babe,” he groaned as I arched against him. Two fingers plunged into my slick channel, while his thumb massaged my clit that was coiled for release. He turned my chin gently, lowering his head to kiss me just as I moaned into his mouth with my shuddering climax. I felt, rather than heard the growl rumble from his chest as he clenched me to him until the remnants of my orgasm ebbed away.

  He quickly put me away, grabbed the shampoo and proceeded to wash my hair. Uh, what? I couldn’t help the disappointment that washed over me. What happened to shower sex? Didn’t he want me to return the favor?

  “Your timing is terrible,” he mumbled, after he’d lathered and rinsed me down. I noticed after I’d come, he tried his best to keep his obvious erection from touching any part of my body. “Go get ready, babe. We’ll have company in twenty minutes.”

  “What?”

  He pressed a kiss to my forehead and whispered, “Go.”

  *****

  Elliot Holden, the man before me, looked strangely familiar, but I wasn’t sure if it was my psyche forcing me to regain my memory. I’d expected a man who’d easily blend into the trenches of the criminal underworld. I was way off mark. Elliot reminded me of an Ivy League graduate and former frat boy. His expensive-looking suit was a far cry from Matt’s faded jeans and thermal Henley. My boss had brown eyes and styled his brown hair carefully. He looked more like a lawyer than a DEA task force chief.

  The three of us gathered in Matt’s office. I sat in Matt’s chair behind the desk, while he was perched nonchalantly on its edge. Elliot was sitting in one of the two chairs in front of the table.

  “You don’t remember what happened at the airport?” My boss enunciated his question as if he was convincing himself.

  “She doesn’t remember much. Period,” Matt responded for me.

  “I wasn’t talking to you, Foster.”

  “I won’t have you harassing her.”

  Matt was pissed-off for me, but as much as I appreciated him as a go-between, my boss was my problem. I put a calming hand on Matt’s arm.

  Elliot noticed the gesture and squinted his eyes. “And you seemed to have taken advantage of her situation, Foster.”

  “Why you—” Matt broke off angrily, straightening from the table, but I stood as well and grabbed his arm to hold him back.

  “Mr. Holden … Elliot,” I addressed the other man quickly. If there was one thing I’d learned about Matthew Foster, it was he had a quick temper. I had no intention finding out if he could get physical because of it. My gut told me he could. “You can check with my attending physician and neurosurgeon at Atlanta General. I didn’t even know my name when I regained consciousness after the bombing. My memory is slowly returning. However, at the moment, I can’t remember anything in the past twelve years. I recall a smattering of my college life and flashes with my training at the DEA. There are also straggling pieces I can’t quite fit in a point in time.”

  Elliot didn’t look happy. In fact, he looked downright troubled. I glanced at Matt who was intently scrutinizing my boss.

  “Was I working on something?” I went out on a limb. “Did I have information you needed?”

  My boss sighed in frustration. “I can’t talk to you about it in front of Foster.”

  “You’re not talking to her without me either. You choose.”

  Elliot jumped out of his chair and stepped away from the desk, waving his arm angrily at Matt. “What is this, huh, Grace? Why is Foster suddenly in your life? When did this happen?”

  “He was there for me in Atlanta.”

  “Did you ever ask yourself the question why he was desperately trying to look for you when the bombing happened?”

  “You son of bitch,” Matt snarled. “Grace doesn’t need you messing with her head right now.”

  Elliot laughed derisively. “What are you afraid of, Foster? That she’ll remember what a supreme jackass you were to her?”

  “I…” my eyes darted between the two men. “I told you about M—”

  “He was a jerk to you, Grace,” her boss cut in. “That’s why I came down here as fast as I could. God knows what he has planned to pay you back for Blood Bull.”

  “I told her about Blood Bull, jackass,” Matt returned Elliot’s insult. “In fact, it’s you and I who have a score to settle.”

  Elliot’s face paled.

  “But not today,” Matt added.

  “You told him classified information about the Blood Bull op, Grace?” her boss glared at her. “I could have you investigated and put under disciplinary action for this.”

  “Was I in Misty Grove under your directive?” I asked and ignored Elliot’s threat.

  “Yes, you were.”

  “What was my task?”

  Elliot glanced at Matt. “To report back on deLamar’s activities while undercover as an investigative reporter,” he said carefully. He raked his hands through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know if I should even discuss DEA affairs with you if you can’t remember anything.” His eyes bore into me. “Try, Grace. What do you remember when you were at the airport?”

  Matt and I exchanged glances. We agreed not to mention the abduction.

  “I was there to catch my flight, Elliot. Why is it important to you what happened? Shouldn’t the FBI be the one asking me these questions since the bombing falls under their turf?”

  My boss schooled his expression, walked back to the chair, and sat. “There may be a link between the Carillo Cartel and ISIS. There are reports of ISIS training camps in Mexico.”

  “What’s ISIS?” I asked, confused.

  Elliot looked at me with genuine horror. “Oh, Grace. You really don’t remember?”

  “You finally believe I have amnesia,” I stated dryly.

  He inclined his head.

  “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Gracie,” he said softly, and then louder, “I’ll be honest with you. Right no
w, you’re useless on my team, but as your boss, you’re my responsibility.”

  “I’m taking her off your hands,” Matt said roughly.

  “She’ll be safer in D.C.”

  “Do you know if there’s a threat against me?” I asked.

  “Nothing specific to you,” Elliot said. “But before the bombing took over the news, the main headline was the extradition of Hector Vargas to the States, and you were one of the lead agents who took him down.”

  Tension ratcheted up in the room.

  I debated whether to tell him of my abduction, but Matt, sensing I was about to, took my hand and squeezed it.

  I was utterly confused what to do, whom to believe and trust.

  Trust no one.

  “I think I’m safe here.”

  “You’re taking an awful risk, Grace,” my boss said. “I know deLamar isn’t a threat. Yet. He works for himself and he’s no mercenary. However, he’s always been a wildcard and has had close dealings with the Carillo Cartel.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, Holden, Troy was the one who got me out when you overruled Grace and redirected the SEALs elsewhere,” Matt reminded him icily.

  “You had wrong intel from Peña,” Elliot said. “I had updated intel and redeployed the SEALs to the right location, and they captured Vargas. Mission accomplished. You were a victim of wrong place, wrong time. Nothing more.”

  Matt’s nostrils flared. “Feels good sleeping at night when you’re thousands of miles away, doesn’t it, Holden?”

  “You understood the risks, Foster.”

  “You had twelve SEALs at your command. Grace had recommended you send a team of four to help me. Roger had assembled a group of trusted Federal Police to back them up. We could have taken down Esteban Moreno and his sons.”

  “Who’s Estaban Moreno?”

  Matt smile was shark-like. “The current leadership of the Carillo Cartel. They took over when Hector Vargas was captured.”

  I gasped at the revelation. No wonder Matt had hated me.

  “If you’re accusing me of something, spit it out, Foster,” Elliot challenged tightly.

  The two men glowered at each other. This was a lot of information to process, and I understood the basic animosity between them, but deeper explanations seemed to be on the other side of an insurmountable wall. I had hoped that seeing Elliot would unlock the pieces that teased the edges of my mind, but they remained elusive.

  “Grace?” Matt’s concerned voice broke through my mental ramblings. “Do you remember anything?”

  I wanted to scream in frustration as both men looked at me expectantly.

  I shook my head. “No. And I don’t think I ever will.” I looked at Elliot. “You’re right. I’m of no use to you. I’ll let you know when I remember more.”

  I pulled my hand out of Matt’s grasp and quickly exited the room.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Grace

  Two steps forward, one step back.

  Three weeks after Elliot came to Misty Grove, there was progress. Though his appearance didn’t trigger an avalanche of memories, it had, at least, started a trickle. However, what I was remembering didn’t favor a positive opinion of Matt. I’d get flashes of his insults and ridicule for what I did for the DEA. I knew they were mostly out of context, and I didn’t get the whole picture, but it did nothing to strengthen the already tenuous thread of my trust in him.

  I clearly remembered one instance in his auto-shop office, so it must have been when I’d just arrived in Misty Grove posing as a journalist.

  “Ms. Levinson, surprised to see you again.”

  “It’s been a while, Matt.”

  “Foster,” Matt said coldly.

  “What?”

  “My friends call me Matt. You’re not my friend, Ms. Levinson.”

  I sighed. “It’s been almost two years, Matt, and you never tried to hear me out.”

  “There’s nothing to hear out,” he waved his hand dismissively. “You failed me. You let Roger down, then you let him clean up your mess.”

  “My hands were tied—”

  “Bull-fucking-shit,” he spat. “You were trying so hard to keep your job, you forgot how to do your job,” Matt snorted in disgust. “You’re not tough enough to qualify for your position, Ms. Levinson. So, how did you get it?”

  “Are you implying something?”

  “Implying?” Matt sneered. “You’ve got a rocking body, Ms. Levinson, and I’d admit you had me fooled into thinking that you were qualified to handle your job, but it’s obvious now that you’ve slept your way to the top. It explains”—he made an up and down gesture with his hand indicating my body—“why you’ve been relegated to our small town. What? Holden get tired of your pussy or something?”

  “Mr. Foster,” I snapped. “This conversation is over. Believe whatever you want, but you’re bound by the agency to help me get information on Troy deLamar.”

  I acknowledged strong feelings of guilt for allowing Matt to speak to me that way. And amidst that guilt, there was also regret. There’d been attraction on my part even then.

  After I stormed out of that meeting with Holden, Matt had come after me. He caught me in the bedroom and tried to take me in his arms, but I pushed him away. I told him to give me space.

  He had looked at me incredulously and asked why.

  I turned away from him without explaining and simply said “please.”

  I could feel the weight of his stare against my back. He must have withdrawn quietly from the bedroom because all I heard was the soft click of the door and then he was gone.

  Matt tried again the next morning, but far from the arrogant man of the first few days, he’d been cautious around me. As if one wrong move from him would send me tearing out from here. He was probably right, and the meeting with Holden had shaken me more than I allowed myself to admit.

  Why would I stay with someone who had hated me for the past few years and glimpses into our past only revealed a man who had nothing for me but contempt. Unless I regained more of my memory, I could never fully trust what he was trying to show me because I didn’t remember telling him about Elliot’s involvement in Blood Bull. He could have found out from other sources, although my boss suspected I was the one who leaked the info to Matt.

  I knew he was frustrated with me, and I could feel the sexual tension simmering between us. Far from being his one-night-stand girl, I was a woman with broken memories trying to piece her life together.

  I didn’t need his complication. I needed answers.

  My phone rang.

  Troy calling.

  “Hello?”

  “I just got back into town, darlin’. Sorry I was gone so long.”

  “No problem.”

  “You ready to talk now?”

  I inhaled deeply. “Yes.” After Elliot had left and with my trust in Matt in question, I had called the biker, but he had disappeared from town for three weeks. I was left with no one to turn to which had made staying with Matt difficult for me and, obviously, frustrating for him.

  “We talk at the compound.”

  “I’m not sure Matt would be okay with that.”

  “Sorry, Gracie, can’t say for certain the diner or Foster’s isn’t bugged. Ain’t risking it.”

  “I understand.”

  Matt would just have to suck it up.

  “I’ll pick you up at seven tonight. And no, Foster can’t come with you.”

  I paused. “You’re bringing me back to the garage, right?”

  Troy chuckled. “I’ll not hold you against your will.”

  That wasn’t very reassuring, but knowing this man had rescued Matt from the cartel made me trust him.

  I went looking for Matt and found him coming out of the boxing ring. There was a gym adjacent to the garage that trained MMA fighters. He’d been sparring almost every day, and somehow I knew I was the reason. After a few days of trying to engage me gently, he’d finally gotten the message and made himself scarce at the lo
ft. I’d actually started to miss him after only a week. I was well-provided for in terms of food and basic needs, but I hardly saw him. He was working in the garage by the time I woke up and came back to the loft late at night. We behaved like roommates with a strong undertow of sexual tension because the few times he’d look my way, I’d see undisguised hunger in his eyes.

  His brows drew together when he saw me at the edge of the gym. He caught a towel from Roger and prowled toward me. Somehow sweat on this man was like a sex pheromone. We’d never talked about our explosive encounter in the shower, but every time I looked into his eyes, I was reminded quite intimately of what we’d done. He had a way of fucking me with his eyes.

  I squirmed as I waited for him to reach me.

  “Grace, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m meeting Troy tonight.”

  He stilled. Roger gave one shake of his head and looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.

  “Over my dead body,” Matt hissed, glaring at me.

  “I think you and I know Troy isn’t the bad guy here.”

  Matt grabbed my arm and led me away from the gym that had quite a number of people showing interest in our conversation. He guided me to one corner of the garage, Roger following closely.

  “That’s not the point,” Matt countered. “He wants to keep you on the compound and we don’t know why.”

  “He’ll not be keeping me against my will.”

  His eyes narrowed. “He said that?”

  I nodded.

  “I don’t like this, Grace. He’s involved in what happened to you.”

  “The bombing?”

  “Your kidnapping. He knows what those people are after.”

  “All the more reason to talk to him, don’t you think? I need my memory back.”

  “You can’t force it!” Matt exploded, startling me and Roger. “Didn’t you hear what the doctor said? You should face what’s familiar, but you can’t spoon-feed yourself information. Look what happened with Holden. How can you process what Troy tells you when you don’t even know how to do your job as a DEA agent?”

  I flinched and Matt realized his mistake instantly.