Saving Grace (12 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Grace

I wake slowly, pulling myself out of the nightmare with
difficulty. The memory of it is already fading, a shadowy figure chasing me
through a maze but my other memories of the shooting have returned with it.
Even though I don’t remember anything useful, I can’t wait to tell Walker. My
erratic heartbeat has just settled into a more normal rhythm when I notice I
can’t move. I tug my wrists and look up. He followed through on that promise
after all.

It takes several minutes to work one wrist free of Walker’s
leather belt, then the next. He is not in the room and I’m fuming by the time I
step into the shower. I hurry through washing my hair, dry off and reach for
the hair dryer attached to the wall. When that is done, I dress in jeans and a
tank top, strapping the gun and holster on before I sit to pull on the
low-heeled boots and tuck a small caliber backup he produced yesterday into it.

Yanking the room’s door open, I squint into the bright glare
of the morning sun. Stepping out, I pull it shut behind me, but I don’t get
far.
Roddy
stands before me, arms crossed over his
chest, and glaring down at me. He left me a freaking bodyguard? I’m gonna kill
him.

“Not this time, beautiful. Walker chewed my ass this morning
for letting you just go across the street last night.”

I sigh wondering what it will take to convince him to let me
go. Or trick him into doing it.

“Look. I’m not just Walker’s girlfriend.” I hesitate the
briefest moment over making that claim. “I’m a private investigator. I was
hired to do a job here in Birmingham. It doesn’t have anything to do with
y’all.”

He cocks an eyebrow. It is obvious he already knows who I
am. “Hugo’s murder doesn’t have anything to do with us? With Walker?”

I roll my eyes and fall back on sarcasm to hide my
curiosity. Has Walker filled him in? Or does he know about my job from some other
source?

“Afraid I might burn your boy?”

“More afraid his enemies might burn you.”

I blink. He keeps surprising me. But before I can frame a
suitable reply I see two men approaching from behind him. Both hold side arms
next to their thighs. I nod and he turns his head to look.

“Run, Grace,” he says softly.

“No way. I can help.”

He glares at me. “Stone cold killers, both of them. You
won’t be any help to Walker if they kill you or capture you here.”

Still I hesitate. It goes against my nature to leave someone
at the mercy of two armed thugs.

“Run,” he growls and spins around to face them.

I run. Right into the arms of a third man who is waiting
around the corner. He grabs my wrists and wraps his other arm around my
shoulders before I can struggle free. He holds me facing the opposite direction
I came from. I can’t see
Roddy
, but hear grunting and
the sounds of flesh hitting flesh. I bite down on my captive’s arm. Hard. Taste
blood.

He yelps and releases me, but my triumphant escape is short
lived. I make it two feet before one of the other men grab me. One swings at me
with his fist but I see it coming soon enough to not take a direct hit. It
glances off my crown, but the force behind it is enough to make my senses reel.

“Enough. Or we finish off your friend over there.”

I twist to look over my shoulder and see
Roddy
lying still on the sidewalk. Damn. He shouldn’t even be there. Walker dragged
him into this. I close my eyes, remind myself that he is here to protect me
because I refuse to let Walker order me around. No. No, I won’t go there.
Roddy
is a big boy. He knew he was getting into something
dicey. No longer struggling I open my eyes and let them lead me to a car near
the office. We have to pass
Roddy’s
prone body and I
watch carefully, desperate to see the rise and fall of chest that indicates he
still lives. Finally, when I’m passing just by him, I do. The relief is
intense. I don’t want to be responsible for someone’s death. They shove me into
the car.

“Where are we going?”

“You shut up.” The driver glares at me in the rear view
mirror. His forehead is cut and blood
drips
into his
eye. I feel a malicious glee seeing it. Score one for
Roddy
.

“You’ll want ice and stitches for that,” I say with sugary
sweetness.

“Shut up or we’ll shut you up. Instructions were to bring
you alive. Nothing about messing up that pretty face.”

I shut up. Less because of the threat and more for the
lecherous gleam I see in his eyes. My skin crawls. Rape is
so
not on the
day’s agenda. They drive and after a few turns I know where we’re going. I woke
up this morning with my memory of my last visit to Birmingham firm in my mind.
This is the way to Hugo Beaumont’s old house.

We stop at the curb in front of the house and the man
sitting next to me in the backseat pushes me out and follows. The car with the
other two thugs speeds off. I cock an eyebrow. Hired for one job only? If that
is the case, what about the one behind me?

I look around the overgrown yard as I approach the front
door. I haven’t asked where Walker has been all morning and now I’m certain I’d
somehow already known. I just hope he’s all right, still alive. The thought of
him being otherwise freezes me in place on the steps until I feel the barrel of
a gun jab me in the middle of my back.

“Inside.”

Please God, if we survive this I’m done running from him,
from us. I reach for the door handle, twist and push it open. The house has
been abandoned for years and I squint in the gloom. The front room is empty.
The gun pokes me again and crossing the threshold I finally hear voices.

“Down the hall.”

I turn left and the voices become clearer.

“Finish it, Brady.” Instant relief almost brings me to my
knees. It’s Walker and he sounds okay.

Then Brady laughs.

“Soon enough. When the lady arrives. You should have known
better than to deal with her, to let her keep asking questions. You should have
known I’d have to take care of her, Walker.”

“So you’re the one who shot her.”

“No. That wasn’t me.” There is confusion in his voice, mild curiosity.
“Whoever it was bungled the job obviously.”

The gun prods me again and I walk to the door at the end of
the hall.

“Anyway.” His voice is cheerful now. “I’ll have the great
pleasure of making her suffer before I let her die. She’s caused me a great
deal of inconvenience. Watching should be a valuable lesson to you about the
risks of getting emotionally involved with a piece of ass.”

I push the door all the way open and see Walker across the
room. A line of blood trickles down one side of his face and he holds his left
arm tight over his chest. Not as well as he sounds then. His nod is so slight I
think I might have imagined it.

“You’re making a mistake there,” he says to Brady, holding
my gaze. He sounds bored but something dangerous flashes in his eyes. “She
isn’t anything more to me than a piece of ass as you so accurately phrase it.”

He doesn’t mean it. I
know
he doesn’t mean it. But it
cuts deep anyway. Brady picks up the gun lying on the desk.

“Oh well, in that case.”

It is now or never. I take a step backwards, fake a stumble,
catching myself with one palm flat on the floor. With the other, I draw my
weapon, rise and fire at the same time as Brady. From my peripheral vision I
see saw Walker attack the unnamed man. My shot is true. It hits him in the
center of his forehead and he falls to the floor. I know when I check he’ll
have no pulse. Brady is dead. His shot wasn’t as lucky and grazed my upper arm.
I felt the impact, but no sting. No pain. That will come later. I hear a grunt
somewhere to my side and spin around to help Walker. It isn’t necessary. He
stands panting over the still form of Brady’s man.

“Dead?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Knocked out.”

Now that it is over, I feel the tremors start in my hands
and move up. I clench my teeth against the need to shiver. Adrenalin side
effects. I’ve survived them before. Now won’t be any different. Except I know
it is less the adrenalin and more how close I just came to losing Walker
permanently.

The door bangs open behind me before I can pursue the thought,
before I can run my hands over him and assure myself he is alive and well, I
spin, raising my weapon as I move. I lower and drop it to the ground when I see
uniformed officers. A man in civilian clothes follows, barking out orders. He
approaches Brady’s body.

“
Dammit
. I wanted him alive.”

I’m guessing he’s a detective. He sets his hands on his hips
glares at Walker, then sweeps him head to toe with the gaze. He turns to look
at me and cocks an eyebrow, makes a show of noticing the gun at my feet.

“Nice shot.”

I grow cold. It is never easy to kill a man.

“It was him or me,” I say softly. Trying to convince myself
or him?

“Who are you?”

He steps forward and extends his hand. “Name’s Manning.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

What the hell is going on? He smiles slightly. “Guilty. It’s
a long story.”

I look at the dead cop on the floor. “I’ve got time.”

Chapter Seventeen

Grace

I have to piece everything together from a variety of
sources. We’ve been home for two days and I just got off the phone with Manning.
He tried Walker first, but he isn’t communicating with anyone. I think he’s
doing a job for Hunter. Sighing I stare up at the stars a moment before
reaching for the bottle and pouring another glass of wine. It is almost
midnight and I consider trying to call Walker again. He hasn’t strung together
two words since we’ve been back.

No one can prove Brady killed Hugo Beaumont, but Manning’s
team found the weapon that he used to try to kill him in Brady’s car. Turns out
he’d been expecting it and was wearing a vest. His murder was very carefully
faked. There are no charges against me in the shooting of one of Birmingham’s
finest. Or not so fine as it turns out.

With Brady dead, informants start coming out of the
woodwork. There is more than enough evidence to prove he was involved in
extortion, drug dealing, and many more crimes. He was seen in a bar with Jonas
and Becker a few hours before Manning was supposedly killed. He believes Brady
hired them to break into his house. Once they’d gone, Brady waited for Manning
to come home to kill him. It was easy for him to then influence the
investigation, labeling it a burglary gone wrong and with plenty of physical
evidence to point the finger at Jonas and Becker. An elaborate plan, but one
that insured the murder of a police officer wasn’t looked at as closely as it
should have been. Brady had known exactly what he was doing when he made the
plan. Unfortunately, he hadn’t counted on Manning being smarter than him.

I’ll fill Walker in if he ever shows up. I hear the grass
rustle and a splash of water. Roscoe must be prowling. Feeling restless, I sit
my glass on the table and walk down the deck’s steps. My eyes adjusted to the
night long ago and I scan the waterline. If he is down there, he isn’t letting
me get a glimpse of him tonight.

I start to return to the deck, but at that moment the night
goes silent. Cicadas and night birds are eerily quiet. I turn slowly, searching
the shadows for the intruder who’d ended their chorus. When I finish a three
sixty and face the water again, a figure steps forward on the path from Lynn’s
house. I exhale a sigh of relief. Must be Trace out for a late night stroll.
Lynn has told me he tends to wander if he is having a rough night. But as he
approaches, I see it isn’t Trace.

He is bigger. Taller and beefier. He steps into a pool of
moonlight. No wonder I haven’t been able to give a final report to Carlos
Beaumont. He’s here. But why? He stops and I notice the glint of metal--a
chrome-plated pistol--in his right hand. I cock my head to one side, trying to
play it cool, hoping Walker comes home soon. And by soon I mean ten minutes
ago.

“Mr. Beaumont. What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. This is not finding my
father’s killer.”

“I’ve been trying to call you. John Brady killed your
father.” I pause. “He’s dead.”

“A lie,” he responds and I hear something sinister in his
voice. Madness. Insanity. His eyes glow in the moonlight. “Walker Graham killed
him. You would see that if you weren’t blinded by lust.”

Okay. Definitely crazy. I raise both palms in a placating
gesture.

“No. Brady killed him, Carlos,” I say softly, soothingly.
Where the hell is Walker? Hasn’t he sulked enough? “Brady was working for him.
They must have had some kind of major disagreement.”

He shakes his head. Lifts the gun.

“Liar,” he yells.

Well, if that doesn’t get Walker running the only thing that
will is a gunshot. It’ll be too late for me then. Everything happens so quickly
I don’t have time to react until it is over. Footsteps pound on the path and I
see Lynn and Trace running towards me. I catch movement from one side and,
thinking it is Walker, almost turn to warn him, but I stand frozen as Beaumont
lifts the gun to fire and Roscoe surges from the water.

The alligator bites his hand off just above the wrist and
Beaumont falls to his knees, howling his agony. Trace rips off his belt and
t-shirt, using the belt to tie a tourniquet below the elbow and the shirt to
try to staunch the flow of blood from Carlos’s ruined arm. Lynn speaks matter
of
factly
into her phone, calling for an ambulance.
Walker stands a few feet from me, staring, chest heaving and eyes filled with
raw terror. Roscoe has disappeared. The night goes silent as Beaumont passes
out and Walker steps forward. He pulls me close in a bone-crushing hug.

“That’s the third time I’ve almost lost you. You’re going to
make me old before my time, Grace.”

I tilt my head back. “You’re speaking to me again?”

He searches my eyes before responding. “I’d almost convinced
myself to let you go. None of this would have happened if you weren’t involved
with me. I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again.”

Idiot. I suspected as much. Unfortunately for him, he’s made
me open my heart. There is no way I’m letting him go now.

“My life isn’t usually this exciting,” I joke but quickly
turn serious. “But you made me love you, so now you’re stuck with me.”

His grin is slow in coming. “Is that right?”

“Yeah.” We hear sirens in the distance growing louder with
each second that passes. “It’s over.”

His hands slide down to the small of my back. “It’s over,
baby. And you’re staying.”

He makes it a statement but I see the question in his eyes.
I smile. “I’m staying.”