Give Me Grace

  He just sat down when Gabriella opened the door and strode in. I took the seat beside him and she barely spared me a glance before focusing on Casey. “Casey Zachariah Daniels?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m Detective Valdez,” she told him, placing the folder on the table in front of her without sitting down. Gabriella chose to stand, casually putting her hands in her pockets as she watched Casey carefully. “I’m in charge of the Paterson case.”

  I sat forward, interested to see how she would handle the interview. She started by reading him his rights and offering a lawyer.

  “No,” he replied, staring her down. She didn’t blink. “I don’t want to waste time with a lawyer. Let’s get this over with.”

  “Okay. Good. We’ll start with going over the events of yesterday, from the moment you woke until the last thing you can remember.”

  Casey eyes flicked to mine and I read the silent question in them. “You can trust Detective Valdez.”

  Clearing his throat, he ran through his day, Gabriella peppering him with questions along the way until he got to last night’s party.

  “You and Grace argued,” she recounted, flicking through pages from the folder on the table. She ran her eyes over the report in front of her then cocked her head at Casey speculatively. “You got violent. Tell me, do you always get violent when you’re drunk?”

  Casey slammed to his feet. “You bitch!”

  “Hey!” My protective instincts kicked into gear and I planted a hand on Casey’s chest, shoving him back in his chair. His glare shifted from Gabriella to me. I held his eyes. “Not helping. Just answer the question.”

  “Déjame manejar esto o salir!” Gabriella snapped at me. “Let me handle this or get out.”

  I held up my hands, re-taking my seat with an arched brow. “Seguir adelante,” I replied with my small knowledge of Spanish, telling her to go ahead.

  Nostrils flaring, she looked back at Casey, waiting.

  “No. I don’t,” he replied, answering her question.

  “So what were you arguing about that caused this … unusual reaction from you? She cheat on you? Steal? Lie? Threaten you?”

  Casey drew a deep breath before facing Gabriella with expressionless eyes. I knew that look. Whatever was underneath it hurt like a sonofabitch. “That’s none of your business,” he told her.

  Gabriella slapped her hands down hard on the table and jammed her face right in his. “Grace is now my business, comprende? You withholding information will only drag this process out!”

  Casey’s jaw ticked. “Grace has cancer,” he bit out. “I only just found out.”

  I closed my eyes. How many hits could one man take before he just couldn’t get up anymore? Did Henry know? Wasn’t that how their mother died?

  “And that made you … angry?” Gabriella continued, inflecting her tone with incredulity.

  “Yes. She lied to me about it. I only found out last night after talking on the phone with John, her best friend,” he explained.

  “Even still, you don’t think your reaction was excessive?” She flicked through another page of her report and read out a small section. “He threatened to ‘rip my head off,’” she quoted, “says an eyewitness to your outside argument.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Casey growled, jerking angrily in his chair. “He was taking a photo of us arguing on his phone.”

  I looked at Gabriella. “I would’ve threatened the guy too if I’d seen him do that.”

  Her gaze went from me back to Casey and she shrugged. “I probably would’ve bypassed the threat and just gone straight for the punch myself.” I didn’t doubt her despite the casual delivery of her comment. I’d seen Gabriella in action from our training days on the mat. She was able to take out even the biggest guy in our class without breaking a sweat. Flicking over another page, she drew a deep breath. “So let’s go back to Morgan. You say she was at the bar?” She checked some of her scrawled notes, reading from them out loud as she spoke. “After having said to you that very same day, ‘I don’t take kindly to being backed into a corner,’ which came just before you backed her into that very same corner by giving her a two day ultimatum?”

  “That’s correct,” Casey confirmed.

  A knock came at the door. Gabriella walked over and opened it to one of the junior detective’s on her team. Casey stiffened beside me and we watched as he muttered something in her ear. Gabriella’s face gave nothing away as he spoke and when he finished, she nodded once, shut the door, and returned to the table.

  “We have security footage in custody of your interaction with Morgan at the bar. You’ll need to excuse me so I can view it.”

  I began to stand.

  “Siéntate!” she snapped at me. “Sit your ass down! This is not your case.”

  “You can’t stop me from viewing the footage,” I replied, incredulous.

  Her nostrils flared. “I am in charge here. I can stop you from doing whatever the hell I damn please. Now you can wait here with Casey or I can have him placed in a holding cell. What’s it to be?”

  Goddammit. Gabriella wasn’t giving an inch. It pissed me right the fuck off. I shoved the emotion aside. Now was not the time.

  I sat down, my eyes hard as stone. “I’ll wait.”

  Casey made an unhappy sound and she shifted her gaze, softening just the smallest fraction. “Look at me, Casey,” she ordered. He met her eyes. “I’m going out there right now to brief my team. I’ll have them all working every possible lead to find Grace and I’m going to do everything I can to get you cleared. I believe someone has spent considerable energy setting you up, but what I want to know is, why? What do they get out of it? Revenge? Hmm…” she shrugged “…maybe, but I’m not buying it. If this is the work of the Sentinels, then it’s because you’re sticking your nose in where it’s not wanted, but then they would just kill you rather than Grace.” Casey flinched at her casual mention of killing Grace. “Something is not adding up for me, and it’s something to do with the death of your parents, isn’t it?”

  Gabriella tapped a finger against her lips. “Maybe releasing you might force them to play their hand. I need to talk to Burns,” she muttered to herself and strode to the door.

  “Wait here,” we were told and she left the small room.

  Ten hours earlier…

  I slammed the cab door shut, my pulse racing as the cabbie zoomed off into the street. I forced my eyes to the front because if I turned around and saw Casey standing by the kerb, I’d lose it. I’d tell the driver to slam on the brakes and I’d leap out and start running back, just like in the movies.

  Five seconds.

  That was how long I lasted.

  Twisting in my seat, I looked out the back window but there were too many people. I couldn’t see him.

  “It’s too late, Grace. I lose you and it’s game over for me.”

  “I’m sorry, Casey,” I whispered, turning back around. I was supposed to find myself in Sydney, let myself really live, before returning home stronger, ready to face treatment. I wasn’t supposed to find love and then destroy the man who found it right along with me.

  “Where to, love?” the cabbie asked.

  Oh God, really?

  He might as well have asked me to unlock the magical, sparkling door to the Fairy Kingdom and take him to meet the Queen of Mystical Beings.

  My head spun from the champagne and I closed my eyes. My first instinct was to head to the loft and I shot it down quickly. The look on Casey’s face had broken my heart. How could I go back when it was me who put it there?

  “Bitch,” I mumbled to myself.

  Where should I go?

  I opened my eyes, suddenly realising there was only one person who would understand and tell me what to do.

  Dad.

  Tears filled my eyes. I needed my dad.

  Resolving to catch the redeye flight to Melbourne, I directed the driver to Sydney airport and reached for my phone. I’d send Casey a message to te
ll him where I was. He might still be pissed at me for running off, but at least he wouldn’t worry. I could fly back in the morning and we could talk then.

  After digging in my purse, I remembered my phone was currently in pieces all over the function room of the Florence Bar. Another day, another pulverised phone.

  “Shit,” I muttered.

  “You okay, love?” the cabbie questioned, glancing at me in his rearview mirror.

  “Yes,” I lied. “Why?”

  Did I have something on my face? I brushed at my cheeks, finding them wet and realised I was crying. How odd that I didn’t even know.

  I wiped at my face with both hands, likely smearing makeup over my face. The press would have a field day if they caught me like this.

  “Why?” he echoed. “Because we arrived at the airport five minutes ago and you’ve just been sitting there cursing to yourself.”

  I shook my head, ordering myself to pull it together.

  “It’s been a long day,” I told him as I handed over the fare.

  “You and me both.”

  As I stepped out of the cab, he asked, “You need me to wait?”

  “I’m good, thanks. I’m catching a flight.” His gaze dropped to my dazzling evening dress, his eyes dubious. “It’s a bit of an emergency,” I explained.

  “Well, good luck, love,” he declared and when I shut the door, he zoomed off into the night.

  I turned, starting for the entry of the airport when a strange scuffling noise came from around the side of the building. Deciding to investigate in case someone was in trouble, I followed the noise. My heels made a distinct clacking sound, so I hopped about on one foot and then the other as I shucked them off. I held up one of the heels in my left hand as a makeshift weapon and rounded the corner.

  There was no one there but I couldn’t shake the itchy feeling that something was very, very wrong.

  “Hello?” I called out, peering into the darkness.

  Nothing.

  “Hello?” I called again, my heart hammering in my chest. Inching forward, I raised my heel higher so whoever was out there would know I meant business.

  When I heard nothing back, I realised that Casey’s Batman tendencies had rubbed off all over me. I had no current aspirations to join the Badass Brigade and dispense vigilante justice across the streets of Sydney. Especially not if it meant cold, dark passageways that gave me the heebie jeebies. Eager to get inside the airport where it was warm and safe, I spun around and smacked into a big, hard chest. “Oomphf!”

  A set of huge palms caught my shoulders before I could land hard on my ass. I glanced down. Attached to one of those huge palms was a gun. When my mind froze in panic, my body took over instinctively, connecting my knee with a groin. The impact made me stumble backwards. I teetered before righting myself and when I opened my mouth to scream, a gun jammed against my forehead and a male voice growled, “Don’t even try it.”

  “Go fuck yourself,” I declared.

  Opening my mouth wide, I let out an ear-splitting scream.

  He backhanded me across the face. My head snapped sideways and my stomach pitched. Damn, that hurt!

  I blinked, dazed, as he took a step forward, the moonlight hitting his face. My eyes widened and my stomach pitched all over again. “Oh my God,” I breathed, taking in the familiar features with a pounding heart.

  “Grace, babe, you need to shut the fuck up, yeah?” He glanced behind me, his sharp blue eyes doing a quick scan. When he turned back to face me, it was just in time to catch me whacking him with the heel of my shoe.

  “What the fuck?” He held up his forearm, deflecting my aim.

  “You hit me!” I fumed, my blood pulsing with anger. I tried whacking him again. “You held a gun to my head!”

  His response was to grab both shoes from my hands and toss them sideways. I watched them sail across the passageway, bounce off the wall, and fall to the ground. My eyes returned to his.

  He used his gun to point at the ground by the wall. “Plant your ass there.”

  I folded my arms. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Fuckin’ do it,” he growled.

  I lifted my chin. “No.”

  After calling me a stubborn bitch, he firmly grabbed my shoulders and I was shoved to the ground, my back hitting the brick wall behind me.

  “Hey!” I started to get up and he held me there, his hands pinning me down. I strained to move until I thought my eyeballs would pop, but his arms packed too much strength and I was still recovering from my injuries.

  Realising I wasn’t going anywhere, I paused to catch my breath and glare up at him. “Ass.”

  He grinned and removed one of the arms that pinned me down to cup my face in his hand. The gesture felt almost tender. “You’re beautiful when you’re angry, Grace.” His fingertip ran a line down the length of my nose, his eyes following the path. Leaning in, he planted a kiss on my lips. I froze in shock, his tongue licking a line along my bottom lip before I could jerk my head away.

  “Don’t touch me,” I snapped.

  He grinned, his face close to mine. “I like a bitch with fire inside her.”

  “Then you won’t like me,” I said quickly. “I’m cold. People call me the Ice Queen I’m that cold.”

  His eyes crinkled and his chuckle rumbled deep and soft through the passageway. “Classy and fuckin’ sexy too.” The butt of his gun trailed down the side of my cheek, cold and more than a bit terrifying. “Casey scored the trifecta with you, didn’t he?”

  I pressed my lips together because he couldn’t be more wrong.

  He cocked his head. “You don’t think so?” A sound came from the end of the passageway and he turned swiftly, staring down into the dark. When nothing happened, he straightened and took a step back. “Move from that wall and I’ll put a hole in you.”

  “So put a hole in me,” I retorted and scrambled to my feet. Arms locked around me from behind before I could even run. “Dammit,” I huffed, pausing my struggles to take a breath.

  “Babe,” he muttered in my ear, his warm breath setting off shivers. “Gotta stop with the running. People want you dead. I’m tryin’ to fuckin’ help you here.”

  I spun in his hold and he let me. “By putting a ‘hole’ in me?” I air-quoted.

  “It’s either that or ask you to trust me. You gonna do that, Grace? Trust me?”

  I pursed my lips.

  “That’s what I thought. Now sit the fuck back on the ground and shut that sexy mouth of yours. I can still put a fuckin’ hole in you without making you dead.”

  His eyes turned flat and hard when I tried to stare him down.

  I glanced at the gun when the sound of it cocking reached my ears.

  I sat.

  “You have a lot to answer for,” I told him. “You better start talking. Fast.”

  “Scratch that,” he growled and crouched down, grabbing the small black duffel bag nearby. “You’re not a trifecta. You might taste sweet as fuck, but you’re a pain in the fuckin’ ass.” After unzipping the bag, he glanced over at me. “You got an off switch, babe?”

  “Fuck you,” I retorted. “And stop calling me babe. I’m not your babe.”

  His brow pinched with disapproval. “If you were, you’d know your place.”

  My heart hadn’t stopped hammering and when a set of surgical gloves were pulled from the bag and snapped on, I was sure it would explode from my chest. He tucked the gun he’d been waving in my face into the back of his pants and pulled out another one.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. Reaching back in, he came out with a small bag that looked like some kind of dark, liquid pouch. “And what’s that?”

  “It’s blood, and shut the fuck up.”

  “Gross,” I declared, scrunching my nose. That was a crap load of blood. Then my brow crinkled. “Whose blood?”

  “Yours.”

  “Mine?” I squawked. “How did you get—”

  “F
or fuck’s sake,” he growled, interrupting my outburst. Putting the pouch down, he jammed his hands back in the bag and came out with a roll of silver duct tape. Ripping a piece off, he slapped it across my mouth.

  “Mmmmmm!” I screamed from behind the tape when I was yanked to my feet. He grabbed my hands and taped them behind my back. The agony from wrenching my tender shoulder and arm brought tears to my eyes. The asshole shoved me back down.

  Picking up the pouch, he held it against the brick wall behind me and aimed his gun.

  What the hell was he—

  He fired two quick shots at the bag and I yelped from behind the tape, ducking my head. Blood sprayed out everywhere, the metallic smell of it filling the air. I jerked when it splattered my face and chest. Glancing down, I saw red flecks all over the dress that cost the equivalent of a small car. Mac would be pissed.

  I glared at him but he was busy ripping off the gloves. They went in the bag while he tossed the gun away. It landed with clatter, skittering across the concreted ground.

  I paused, staring at it. I knew that gun. I’d seen it in Casey’s hands earlier today.

  My eyes flew back to catch him taking off his black jacket and white shirt, both covered in blood. They also went in the bag. Then I was given a quick glimpse of a chest so wide it deserved its own postcode. Ridges of tattooed muscle filled my vision before a fitted black shirt went over his head. It was tugged down quickly.

  My eyes returned to the gun.

  Casey’s gun.

  Then to the blood spatter up the brick wall.

  My blood.

  He was setting Casey up for murder.

  Not just any murder.

  Mine.

  My body tensed, tears of anger burning my eyes. Why would he do that?

  He approached me again. Seeing the comprehension in my eyes, he crouched in front of me and used his thumb to wipe the blood from my forehead. “You know what I’m doing, don’t you?” I met his eyes, breathing hard through my nose. “People want you dead. I’m making it look like you are. I’m saving your fuckin’ life, babe.”

  By setting Casey up for murder?

  When he saw the question in my eyes, he said, “Casey’s messing in business that he shouldn’t. Tried warning you, Grace. The car. Planting the bomb in that cottage. Knew you weren’t in it, babe,” he added when my eyes went wide. Then his lips curved. “You were busy fuckin’ your man on the beach.”