Chapter Nine
Callum had said too much.
Hours had passed since the sweep team had made quick work of Alicia’s house, inspecting around Callum, the two women, and three wary animals.
Hours had passed since he’d walked out of Grace’s bedroom after an honest moment.
He had said nothing that wasn’t true. But he had said nothing that would build her trust in him.
Nope. He’d left them both with the same question: Why had he said that?
At least the rest of the one-on-one time before his moment of oversharing had gone well. Definitely awkward, but fruitful. She’d produced every name and location that Dean needed.
Other than that, Grace had not had much to say, and he couldn’t get a read on her. She ran hot and cold, defiant and quiet. The conversations swung back and forth, and he was questioning whether it was in Grace’s best interest for Vivian to replace him.
Then again, there was no way in hell that anyone on his team would be the one to protect her. That reaction alone was enough of a problem that he needed to recuse himself from this assignment, but he couldn’t. She pulled him in like a moth to a flame.
The grandfather clock struck ten in the living room as Alicia and Grace cheered, sliding the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle into place.
“Finished?” he asked.
Stretching her back, Alicia preened. “That has to be a world record.”
Grace immediately dismantled the puzzle. Nothing stayed put in her life for long.
He wanted her to linger. He wanted to catch up, but that would only be more of the questions he’d run her through earlier.
Those had been clinical, procedural, and he wanted more depth.
What she thought and why. Not as it related to keeping a low profile, but how or why she made decisions.
Except that everything she did appeared to be only about hiding.
She worked.
She hid.
She moved.
She worked.
She hid.
What a crappy life.
Grace returned the puzzle box to a shelf and tidied the kitchen while Alicia let the dogs out for the last time before bed. Then they picked up their books and retreated toward the stairs, offering goodnights as they climbed.
Callum saluted them as they passed and settled onto the couch.
They’d offered to bunk together and give him Grace’s guest room, but the living room was better suited for keeping an eye out, and more importantly, he needed all the space he could get between him and Grace.
Sleeping in her bed? The chance of sleep would be next to zilch, even if she weren’t in it.
And the idea of what might happen if she were in bed with him? Jesus fuck, he didn’t need to think about that.
Callum squeezed his eyes shut. That did nothing to erase Grace from his wandering thoughts. Her lips had always commanded his attention. Not to mention the way she smiled with that silly, sassy mouth of hers.
The day washed over him like an ice-cold wave. Anything with her mouth was borderline inappropriate, considering the nervous way she moved through life.
The stairwell hall light switched off. Muffled bits of conversation floated through the air vents.
Grace paced in her bedroom as the grandfather clock ticked.
Finally, upstairs grew silent. He was alone in a dollhouse, on a couch with too many pillows, and hadn’t been more uncomfortable in his life.
Sleeping would present challenges. He eyed the pillow and blanket stacked at the end of the couch and would probably use them to make a bed on the pink carpet.
Callum didn’t move. His discomfort didn’t change because, hell, it wasn’t the sleeping arrangements that were the source of his problem.
Forty-eight hours ago, he hadn’t known Grace was alive.
Twenty-four hours ago, he hadn’t set eyes on her.
Now he had, and of all the women in the world, this was the one who made him wish things were different. Different ages growing up. Different circumstances with her ex. Different decisions on his part.
Maybe Grace wouldn’t have had Dominic as an ex if he’d asked her out first. Him and Grace. Hayden would have flipped his fuckin’ mind. At least back then. Would dating have been such a betrayal of their friendship, knowing what he had kept from Callum?
His phone chirped. He welcomed the distraction. The display showed an incoming call from the office. He answered.
“Ready for some good news?” Dean said with far more pep than the last time they’d spoken.
Relief settled in his chest. Callum moved to the large windows draped in a gauzy white linen and pulled back the poor excuse for privacy. “Absolutely.”
“I have the final report from the sweep team.”
Callum frowned. They hadn’t turned up anything inside Alicia’s. He’d assumed the same would be found outside.
“The external sweep showed the same thing as the one inside the house. Absolutely nothing. No cameras. No listening devices. Nothing transmitting outside the home.”
The anxious band around his chest loosened. “Good. Great.” But Callum worked the information over in his head and still wondered why Dominic had shown his hand. It had to be more than creating fear and warning Grace away from the feds. “What else?”
“Now for the bad news.”
His head dropped back. The modicum of relief vanished. “How bad?”
“On the surface, it seems like small potatoes, but…” Dean let out a deep sigh. “Considering Marino’s resources, I’d say we’re dealing with a problem.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“After Vivian asked me to find Grace, I tracked her down with the help of a client she’d submitted work to. Backtracked the IP address to the library, and you walked into a big shiny pile of luck.”
“If mace in the face is lucky.”
“Best we can tell, Marino didn’t have the same luck or access.
How did he find her? Maybe he accessed her online accounts and tracked her location from there.
But Grace uses a VPN, changes passwords almost daily, and has two-factor authorization or authenticator apps set up for everything.
He could have installed malware once upon a time, and it’s embedded in an online account. He could—”
“Dean, man, don’t walk me through the possibilities. Just tell me how he did it.”
“That’s the bad news. I don’t have a clue.
She doesn’t have a single dedicated device.
She uses burner phones. No online presence except for her freelance work posted on aggregator sites—which were uploaded via freelancers she hired through a VPN.
” He laughed. “Grace Willoughby had her location and online safety locked down like a pro. I wouldn’t have mapped her as quickly as I did if she hadn’t given us intel. ”
“I thought she was just an artist.”
Dean laughed again in that way Callum could tell he was shaking his head. “She’s mastered the art of hiding online.”
Interesting. He never would have pegged her for that.
Perhaps he didn’t know her as well as he’d thought.
Three years of an age gap made a difference growing up.
She arrived at middle school when he walked into high school.
He and Hayden were seniors when she was a freshman.
Then they’d grown up, and she’d had all of his attention. Callum had taken pains to ignore her.
The call ended. Callum lay on the couch and listened to the grandfather clock softly ticking. He didn’t bother to make his bed yet. The night was still young, and his thoughts were all over the place. He tucked the pillow behind his head and tried to envision Dominic’s next move.
Hesitant footsteps padded down the stairs. His skin prickled with a hyperawareness of Grace.
She padded into the living room. “Are you sleeping?”
He eased up as she rounded the far side of the couch. “Hey. No, I just got off a phone call and was thinking the conversation over.”
Her hair was loose over her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face. In her flannel pajamas and a robe, without her fidget bracelets or protective friend by her side, she looked like the woman he’d known before her ex-husband entered the picture. “Can I sit with you?”
“Sure.” Callum waited until she’d pulled Sherlock into her lap. “Can’t sleep?”
The cat nuzzled against her fluffy robe and purred. Her fingertips smoothed down Sherlock’s neck. “I didn’t try. I have too much on my mind. I was going to read something, but then I couldn’t focus.”
“Glad you came down here.”
Her eyebrows scrunched as if she weren’t sure she should have joined him.
“I’m sorry I had to ask you those questions.”
In the dim light of the living room, finally, she lifted her eyes and locked on his.
Hours of fighting for them, and now that he had them, he didn’t know what to do.
Words caught in his throat. A lecture, a security plan, anything about her safety should have been easy to discuss, but he didn’t want that, and she didn’t need it.
The silent house hummed around them. His pulse sped up, and swallowing, he liked the little beat of excitement that came from sitting next to her.
This wasn’t the right time to notice her the way he was, but the right time had never come along.
Every time it had, he had shoved it away, and look where that got them.
The corners of her lips upturned, almost as if she had an inkling of his thoughts. Grace tipped her chin down. “Are you tired? Do you want to be left alone?”
He would say anything to keep her on the couch with him. “My sleep schedule has been wrecked. On a job. Off. Travel, one night’s sleep, and here I am.” He was talking too much. “I don’t need that many hours a night. But when I’m ready, I’ll sleep like the dead.”