3. Grace
3
GRACE
H ours later, at five a.m., the windowless room at Boston PD felt like every cage I’d ever known. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and my mind was a broken record, replaying tonight’s horror show—Andie’s limp body, the frat boy’s cruel laugh, the familiar weight of the gun in my hands, and the feeling that someone was stalking me. Freedom was always an illusion. I traded one prison for another.
I grabbed my hair and pulled it, pacing the small room. The chipped green walls pressed closer with each passing minute, paint peeling like scabs from old wounds.
I shuddered, tears leaking from my eyes. What was happening to me? Andie’s assault brought back memories of Thea’s death, and the weight of ten years of survival was crushing my chest.
Oh my fucking God. Frat Boy had been raping Andie.
The image burned behind my eyelids, making me itch to put another bullet in him. Or any man who dared to rape a woman.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead as I clenched my fist.
Breathe, Grace. You’re fine. You saved Andie from that bastard.
I shook my head once, twice, three times and glanced up at the ceiling, inhaling a deep breath.
The fluorescent lights overhead flickered, reminding me of memories I couldn’t afford to relive. But they bombarded me anyway.
Gasoline and copper filled my senses as consciousness crept back in. Every breath felt like fire, every movement agonizing as pain ricocheted through every part of my body.
I blinked several times to orient my vision, my brain slowly clearing. The driver’s seat was empty, and the door was open.
“Thea,” I called out frantically.
I crawled off the floorboard of the passenger seat and cried out from the pain in my shoulder.
Why wasn’t I dead? I wanted to be. But maybe I had a chance. A chance for freedom. This was a sign for me to run. Or maybe this was all a dream.
I took several breaths, looked in the back seat, and my heart stopped. Thea, my dearest friend and ride-or-die sister, was on the floor behind the driver’s seat, her neck at an odd angle, eyes wide open, and face bloody.
Tears propelled out. Even before I felt for a pulse, I knew she was gone.
No! No! No!
When I confirmed my suspicions, I screamed at the top of my lungs. Where the hell was that monster? If he wasn’t dead, he would be when I got my hands on him.
I closed Thea’s eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry. This is all my fault.”
A deep baritone groan filtered into my ears.
Adrenaline, determination, and hatred that could fill up all the oceans on the planet had me stumbling out of the vehicle.
“John, where are you, you fucking monster?”
I was not going back to a cage. I would stab myself with a tree branch if I had to. Then I remembered the gun. I backtracked and checked the glove compartment. No luck. I felt around the floorboard.
I silently cheered when I pulled the gun from under the seat and unlocked the safety.
But when I turned, the bastard himself was standing over me. “You’re not going anywhere, you bitch.” I was surprised he could see with the blood coating his eyes.
The gun felt heavy in my hands, and I wasn’t sure if there was a bullet in the chamber, but I didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.
The sound of the shot echoed through the dense wooded area.
John stumbled backward.
I shot him again. Then again. Then again.
A faint voice was calling my name, hands gripping my shoulders, shaking me.
I gazed up at the tall man with salt-and-pepper hair as tears spilled down my cheeks.
Ted flattened a hand on my face. “Grace.”
“I couldn’t save her,” I cried. “I couldn’t save her. It was all my fault she died.”
“Hey, darling, Andie isn’t dead.” He wiped the tears from my cheeks with the pads of his fingers.
I threw myself at Detective Ted Hughes. He smelled of Old Spice, a familiar scent that reminded me of my biological father. But Ted was far from an alcoholic or abusive man. In fact, he was family. Ted was my brother Dillon’s father-in-law and head of the gang unit for Boston PD.
He rubbed my back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He guided me to a chair.
I slumped in my seat, trembling. Andie? I needed to see her.
Ted stuck his head out the door. “Jane, can you bring Grace some water?” Then he settled across from me. “Grace, look at me.”
I raised my gaze from my lap and was met with pity on his face. “Why would you think that Andie died?”
I picked at a nail, not wanting to dig up old wounds. A laugh broke out in my head. It was too late for that. Those old scars, the ones on my back from John’s whip, seemed to burn at just the thought of Thea’s dead body.
“Is Andie okay?” I asked as Officer Jane brought me a cup of water.
“As far as we know, she’s being examined at the hospital.” Officer Jane set the water in front of me.
I slumped in the chair. “I need to be with her. She shouldn’t be alone.” I knew that lonely, shocking, and panicked feeling all too well after nights of repeatedly being raped. “Please, Ted.” He had more clout than Jane.
He frowned. “Unfortunately, we need to hold you until you’re arraigned later today, Grace. It’s a crime to discharge your firearm within five hundred feet of a dwelling, despite your concealed carry permit. More importantly, you shot someone. You’re lucky the bullet hit his thigh and he isn’t dead. Still, I can’t get you out of this one.”
I’d been read my rights by the arresting officer, so I knew all that, but I had to ask anyway.
Jane took her leave as Ted studied me intently.
I fidgeted under his scrutiny as I gulped down water.
“Who were you talking about when I came in?” Ted probed, concern etched around the wrinkles in his dark eyes.
If I didn’t tell him something, he would continue to interrogate me, although I knew it wasn’t exactly his profession driving him to seek an answer but the father figure in him.
“Did Miguel get out of prison?”
Creases deepened on his forehead. “What? Miguel Rivera? The former leader of the Black Knights? No. Why are you asking?”
I shrugged, relief deflating my chest. Nevertheless, how could I tell him that I thought I was being followed? Or that I was crazy and it was all an illusion? Either of those scenarios would have him calling my brothers. What was I saying? I was sure Ted had already called either Duke, Dillon, or Denim because I shot someone. My guess was Dillon, since Ted was the closest to him.
But I wasn’t ready to voice my suspicions out loud. If I did, then they would be real, and if I knew Duke, he would go off the rails if he heard someone was stalking me. I was tired of putting him through hell. He was the one brother who still carried a large amount of guilt over what had happened to me.
“Grace, I asked you a question.” Ted’s harsh tone made me flinch. “Why are you bringing up Miguel Rivera?”
“I’m doing a thesis on sex trafficking, and Miguel is part of my research.” Part lie. Part truth. Before he could respond, I asked, “After you arrested Miguel, you didn’t locate John Smith’s body—he was the man who bought me—right? Or any other living relatives of his?” I knew he hadn’t but needed to hear it again.
“You know we didn’t.”
“Sure, but I also know that to spare me emotional trauma, you could’ve kept what you found a secret.”
He chuckled, but it wasn’t a nice sound. “If it puts you at ease, we found nothing on John Smith in the state of Missouri. You said yourself that the cops in the Ozarks were part of John’s clientele. So they didn’t give us anything to go on. Not even a dead body. In addition, Miguel never gave us anything on John Smith or his family.” He leaned forward, hands cupped on the rim of the table. “You’re safe, Grace. If there was a bounty on your head, like Miguel had bragged, don’t you think John’s family would’ve found you by now?”
I nervously played with a hangnail. “Yeah, you’re right. But I can’t help but think—how did Miguel know that I killed John Smith?”
Ted smoothed fingers over his mustache. “Miguel had a lot of contacts in the sex-trafficking world. What is really going on?”
Footsteps scuffed along the floor in the hallway.
My stomach dropped as Duke appeared in the doorway, disappointment etched into every line on his face.
I pursed my lips. I was hoping Ted had called Dillon, not Duke. I didn’t want to hear Duke tell me how reckless I was, though he would be right. I also didn’t want to argue with him and return fire with how foolhardy he’d been in selling illegal arms for the cartel, which had earned him a prison sentence.
Ted rose. “I’ll give you two the room.” He patted Duke on the back then closed the door on his way out.
My brother swiped a hand through his brown hair and occupied Ted’s chair. “What’s going on, sis?”
My life is falling apart. “I’m sure Ted already told you.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
I blew out a breath, crushing the paper cup. “I caught a frat boy raping Andie. I told him to stop, tried to tackle him—and see this?” I pointed at my eye, which was starting to bruise. I knew that only because I’d taken a trip to the ladies’ room. “He took a swing.”
Growling, Duke donned his big-brother hat that I knew all too well. He had always been the pseudo-father figure when we were growing up, since our dad cared more about alcohol than his own kids.
“You’re in serious trouble, sis. Let’s start with assault with a deadly weapon. That charge could land you in prison for a long time, especially if it’s proven you had every intent to murder.” He rubbed his temple. “Did you? Intend to kill the frat boy?”
I angled my head. “Really? If I did, he would be dead.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Well, you better hope you can prove that.”
Anger swirled around me like a raging summer storm. “He almost raped Andie!”
“I’m really sorry about Andie. Truly, I am. But was that reason enough to shoot him?” His tone softened. “You could’ve run for help.”
I reared back, horror stealing my breath. “Who was going to help? Drunk frat boys? If I left that room, he would’ve completely violated Andie.”
“He’s pressing charges, Grace.” He pinned his chestnut-color eyes on me. “Do you know who Frat Boy is?”
“I don’t care.” I pushed out a frustrated groan.
“You should.” His tone was even, but fear washed over him. Duke was hardly afraid of anything, except when threats and harm came to his family. “The boy’s father is a judge. The same judge who presided over my case.”
I didn’t know why I was laughing. Maybe it was the fate of the Hart family. We didn’t have luck when it came to the law. My brother Denim had ended up in prison for a murder he hadn’t committed. Duke had his own issues with the law. Now, it was my turn.
“You think this is funny, Grace?” Duke straightened in his chair, nostrils flaring. “Do you want to spend time in jail? Because between Judge Dixon and the DA, who is not a fan of the Harts, both will go to great lengths to ensure you’re behind bars.”
The idea of living in a small space sent shards of glass through me. I wouldn’t survive for a second. Still, I wasn’t thinking of jail time. I had to protect my friend.
Silence ticked for a beat.
“You know that your concealed carry permit is only for self-defense. And what’s going on with you?”
I bit my bottom lip. “I don’t understand the question.”
“Fallyn thinks something happened to you. When she saw you on campus, you walked right by her, which is unlike you. She even called out to you, and you didn’t respond.”
Fallyn Williams Hart—former ATF agent, who’d gone undercover to nail Duke to the wall, turned college professor, and married Duke. I hadn’t seen that coming. Neither had my brothers.
“What is she now? A profiler?” I volleyed back in a sarcastic tone. “I don’t need her reading me.”
“So you didn’t hear her or see her?” Duke asked.
I tugged on my ear, lowering my gaze to my lap. “No.”
“What are you hiding, Grace? I know you well. You play with your ear when you don’t want to tell me something.”
If I told him that I thought someone was stalking me, he would immediately have bodyguards on me twenty-four seven. Exactly like he had before he’d gone to prison. I couldn’t handle someone watching me, even if it was to protect me. Besides, I was skilled in self-defense and a host of other ways to protect myself.
“Talk to me, Grace.” His tone was warm and pleading. “Are you having night terrors again?”
My head shot up.
He gave me a sad smile.
What had happened to me was my burden to bear. Not his. Not Dillon’s and not Denim’s. I made the choice to leave home. I made the choice to believe Miguel Rivera. Sure, I could blame my brothers for leaving me with our father, but they had to build lives of their own. If Dillon, Denim, or Duke had stayed, then they probably would’ve killed our father, which was one reason I had left as well.
“Grace?” he probed, with pity dripping in his voice.
I held up my hand. “Don’t. I love you. But you can’t help me.” My muscles tightened. “You can’t take away my memories. You would never understand, Duke. You’re a man, and not one man on this planet would understand how a woman feels when she’s being raped or the aftereffects that we live with for the rest of our lives.” I shuddered out a painful breath. “I’ll be scarred both physically and emotionally until the day I die.” Tears poured out. “I’m afraid I’ll never have a happily ever after with a husband and children. I’ll never have what you, Denim, and Dillon have.” I poked my finger in my chest, repeatedly. “I fight every freaking day to keep the past from bombarding me. You guys would never understand. So I don’t care if the frat boy was the president’s son.” I sniffled and hiccupped. “I will not stand idle and witness a rape.” I slapped a hand on the table. “I will not. Andie doesn’t deserve to live with the pain I live with.”
He was kneeling in front of me before I could blink. “Sis, take a breath.”
I gulped in air. “What would you have done if you walked in and saw a big asshole raping me?”
He paled. “Kill him.”
“Exactly,” I said, dashing away tears.
He placed gentle hands on my knees. “Look, you’re right. I will never understand how it feels to go through something as horrific as what you’ve gone through. But let me in. Talk to me. You’ve never told me what happened to you. Is your therapist not helping?”
I gave up my therapist years ago, unbeknownst to my brothers. “No one will ever be able to rid me of the memories of my past, Duke. And I will not subject you, Dillon, and Denim to the details of my captivity. The scars on my back sent you guys into a frenzy as it was.” I shivered as though I could feel the sting of the whip lashing my bare skin over and over again.
He growled, pain tightening his features.
I blinked several times to stop the tears from flowing. Seeing my brother’s sadness beneath his rage was gutting me. Damn it. I’d built a wall around myself, but the damn thing was crumbling.
“Stop, Duke,” I said in a gentle tone. “I’m fine. I need to see Andie.” She shouldn’t be alone. I was sure when she woke up, she would be in a state of panic. “I want to take her to Dillon’s shelter.”
Our dorm had prying eyes and big ears. Andie didn’t need the attention, no matter how much the girls wanted to console her.
He rose. “You’re not fine.”
It was my turn to snarl, but luckily, Ted came in, distracting us from a potential argument.
“Duke, you should call your lawyer. Grace’s arraignment is scheduled later today at two p.m.”
Fun times ahead.
“I called him before I got here. He’s on his way down,” Duke said.
If anyone could get me out of this situation, it was Kelton Maxwell. He had an impeccable record and knew how to argue for his clients.
But that was only one problem because the truth was—something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones. I just didn’t know if the danger was real or if I’d finally lost my grip on reality completely.