Chapter 23 #2
“You look…” I trailed off, tried again. “You look like something people start wars over.”
“Not helpful, Lunchbox,” she said, but her smirk told me it was.
Still, I didn’t like this.
Not just the dress. Not just the heels. Not even O’Rourke, who I trusted about as far as I could throw him—and considering the guy was built like a water heater filled with bad decisions, that wasn’t far.
It was the whole damn setup.
There wasn’t much room for a weapon in that dress.
This wasn't that kind of mission. She couldn’t go in armored to the teeth.
She needed to play the part: arm candy, not assassin.
Which meant her only weapons were what she could say, how she could move, and the hope that O’Rourke didn’t screw us all sideways for whatever price someone had whispered in his ear.
Grace could handle herself. I didn’t doubt that. But I hated the idea of sending her in alone—like this.
“Turn,” I said, motioning with two fingers.
She gave me a look, but spun slowly, her movements smooth even in those ridiculous heels. I scanned the length of her back, waist, hips, ankles. Nowhere to stash anything heavier than a lip gloss tube.
"You're stalling," she said.
“Damn right I am.” I scrubbed a hand through my beard, brain working overtime. “You don’t have any way to protect yourself if things go sideways.”
She patted the small clutch in her hand. “No taser, but I have all the bugs and the little pellets Alphabet wants me to drop. Just like we agreed.”
I really hated the lack of a weapon for her.
Like—despised it.
“I’ll talk my way through it,” she said, easy. Confident. But I still caught the flicker of nerves behind her eyes.
That sealed it.
"Stay here. Ten minutes."
I didn’t wait for her to argue. Just turned and headed for my gear.
It was new, most of it repurposed, but Voodoo had done a full supply run.
We didn’t have everything here, so we made do with what we had.
I had enough to cobble together a decent bench, and enough tools to build or break damn near anything in a pinch.
What I needed was small. Concealable. Something we could use to keep O’Rourke in line. Something that didn’t look like a weapon, but was one.
I found the casing for a magnetic RFID patch—a leftover from something—and started modifying it.
Stripped out the original tracker guts, replaced them with a micro-shock circuit, not enough to kill, but plenty to get someone’s attention.
Especially if it was placed near the base of the spine.
Added a remote trigger, paired it to one of our encrypted comms channels.
Took longer to solder than I liked, but it needed to work, not win awards.
By the time I came back out, Grace was sitting on the edge of the couch, scrolling through her phone like she wasn’t about to walk into a lion’s den. She looked up as I held out the patch.
“Another tracker?” she asked.
“Better.” I motioned for her to stand. “Turn around.”
She hesitated a beat, but complied. I peeled back the top layer of the dress just enough to press the patch to the inside, at the base of her back, right above the zipper. It held fast—good. Seamless. Invisible. I smoothed the dress back over it and stepped away.
“What does it do?”
“If O’Rourke even thinks about turning on you, I hit this button—” I held up the trigger “—and he’s on the ground, pissing himself. Doesn’t knock him out. But it hurts like hell.”
Her mouth curved. “You turned me into a remote-controlled cattle prod?”
“Think of it as a shock collar,” I said. “Except it’s for the asshole walking you in. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you. Probably only good for one or two uses, but that should be enough.”
“I love it,” she said, with real warmth. “And I love that you’re paranoid enough to think of it.”
“Not paranoid. Just prepared.” I hesitated, then added quietly, “You get in trouble, you stall. Long enough for us to get to you.”
“I know.”
I nodded, jaw tight. “I still don’t like this.”
“You don’t have to,” she said gently. “You just have to let me do it.”
I looked at her again—really looked. She’d taken a couple of hours and gone to a salon. Voodoo had covered her while she got her hair, cosmetics, and nails done. She’d said something about her eyebrows and lashes, but she was just—stunning.
“Gracie?”
“Hmm?”
“When we get a free night, feel like getting all dressed up and let me take you out? Like for a real date?” I hadn’t really done anything like that with her and… I wanted to know more about what she liked.
Fuck, I just wanted her.
“Yes.” No prevarication, no caveats, and no conditions. Just a simple acceptance.
“You come back in one piece,” I ordered. “I mean it, no scratches or bruises. Hell, I don’t want even one hair out of place.” Damn, I was starting to sound like Bones.
She leaned up on her toes and kissed my cheek. “You’ll all be there to make sure I do.”
Damn right I would.
BONES
NOW
LOCATION: VAN ON THE INTERSTATE
Everything hurt, but a soft hand held mine and it was the first thing that registered as awareness snapped through me. There was a trick to waking without alerting any potential observers, but my last memory was Grace giving me hell, so I just opened my eyes.
Voodoo was right there and he had a hand on my shoulder before I could move. It was dark, we were in a vehicle, and on the road. Voices carried from the front—Alphabet and Lunchbox. Where was…? Voodoo cut his gaze to my left and I turned my head.
She was curled up right next to me and it was her hand in mine. Hair disheveled with wisps tangling everywhere, she was stunning.
“She’s fine. You’re out. That operation is shut down. I’ll brief you on the particulars later.”
“O’Rourke?” I asked in a rough voice, but I kept my gaze on Grace. She’d walked in there to rescue me in a goddamn sexy dress and pair of stiletto heels I wasn’t sure whether to kiss her or spank her. Probably both.
“We dumped him… alive. For the moment. We can change that if we decide otherwise, but we wanted him gone.”
Acceptable. For now.
“I want a full debrief.”
“You’ll get it,” Voodoo said, his tone implacable. “After you rest. We’re heading back to base. We all need the break to retrench and get ready.”
Grace.
Grace needed to get ready for the next part and I lifted her soft hand up to rest it against my chest and held it there. Everything hurt, even my palms. But I wasn’t letting her go.
Wild thing had walked in there like she was badass on a mission.
“Bryant,” I said in a low voice.
He sighed.
“You can kick my ass as soon as you’ve healed up. I made the call. She handled it.”
I nodded. Good to know he understood.
But at the same time. “Thanks.” Then I raised my voice. “Thanks for coming for me.”
“Always.”