Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
GRACE
The next few days were an exercise in patience, frustration, and at times, hilarity. It ran the full gamut of emotions, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do with all of it—or them for that matter. Goblin, AB, and I took a lot of long walks in the snow.
Oddly, when AB first invited me to go out in the snow, I said I didn’t have enough warm weather gear.
Voodoo disabused me of that swiftly. Apparently, a whole wardrobe had come in while we were away and the guys had found time to collect it.
Included in this wardrobe was an adorable purple and blue ski suit, insulated leggings, and warm, water proof boots. Everything fit.
Like fit almost exactly. He was so pleased with himself so I kept my creepy stalker teases to myself.
But seriously, how did he nail my size so accurately?
I liked the outfit, it was comfortable and made the walks fun.
It wasn’t so deep we had to wade through it, but it had been a long time since I’d been anywhere with snow quite this pristine.
Yes, I’d been to Banff, Zermatt, and St. Moritz.
I liked skiing, though I was a better snowboarder.
But there were always people and this… This place was magic in the snow.
The crisp air and the blanket of hush that lay over everything, made it easy to forget the bloody madness we’d been dealing with on and off for…
Months.
All at once, my mood plummeted and I retreated from the window where I’d stared out at the snow. Flames licked over the wood in the fireplace merrily crackling. With a sigh, I turned away to head to the kitchen.
I’d made it exactly nine steps into the kitchen. Nine. That’s how far I got before Voodoo, perched like some unholy gremlin on top of the fridge, shot me in the neck with a Nerf dart.
“Holy shit—why?!” I hissed, rubbing the welt like it was a real bullet wound.
“Situational awareness,” he said, grinning like the devil. “You’ve got the instincts of a day-old kitten, Firecracker.”
He tried to hand me a little plastic pistol. I stared at it like one of us had lost our damn minds. “Don’t you want me to learn to fire a real one?”
“Not with that reflex time. Maybe once you master the nerf, we’ll take you to the real thing.”
“You’re not funny,” I deadpanned.
Then he shot me again and took off with a whoop, after he leapt down from the top of the fridge and I chased him. I had no idea what Bones had said to them, but every single one of them was in on my training now.
The next time it happened, I was working on laundry. My laundry. I’d been innocently folding sports bras—bras—when Bones materialized behind me like a damn poltergeist and wrapped me up in a surprise wrestling hold.
“What the hell?!” I squawked, flailing.
“Get out of it,” he grunted, amused, as I elbowed him in the ribs. “If I were a hostile, you’d be in a van already.”
“If you were a hostile,” I gasped, still struggling, “I’d never have helped rescue you.”
“Too late now,” he practically purred against my ear. “Now get free, Dollface. The clock is ticking.”
Why did I love these guys again?
Legend got creative. Subtle.
I was standing by the mudroom door, boots soaked and fingers numb, just trying to knock the snow off my coat and feel something like human again. The house was quiet. Peaceful. Suspiciously so.
Then a blast of freezing water smacked me right in the side of the head.
I shrieked like a horror movie extra and spun around, slipping slightly on the mat. There he was—Legend—standing inside the kitchen with a gleaming stainless steel sink sprayer in one hand and the world’s smuggest grin on his face.
“Why—why are you like this?” I sputtered, wiping icy droplets from my ear.
“Water is a weapon,” he said, deadpan. “Never let your guard down near plumbing.”
He sauntered off like that was a normal thing to say.
Later, I tried to wash a mug and got blasted again. Turns out he’d rigged the sink nozzle to trigger when anyone touched the handle.
I was starting to think he missed his calling in psychological warfare.
At least once a day—once a day—someone snuck up behind me just to whisper “boo” in my ear like a six-year-old gremlin. I never caught who did it. I’d turn, heart pounding, and there’d be no one. Just air. Or a door swinging slightly. One time, a hastily discarded hoodie.
They insisted it wasn’t any of them.
Bones swore on his life. Voodoo said I was developing paranoia. Legend suggested I install a motion detector.
I was going to find out, one way or the other. My reaction time was getting faster, and when I did find out—well they were going to need a new set of teeth.
AB and I took Goblin out one morning. It was a beautiful day, cold but not so biting.
The snow fell lightly against the already white painted landscape.
It was almost holiday postcard perfect. Instead of the usual, we were debating movies.
AB, it turned out, was a huge fan of old black and white classics and was determined to “educate” me. I was actually enjoying myself.
Then something smacked me square in the back just hard enough, I stumbled forward.
I turned slowly. Legend was a couple of yards behind us, holding another snowball, looking very pleased with himself.
I turned to AB, aghast. “Are there no rules?”
He shrugged. “Snow’s a gray area.”
“Does that mean you can help me?”
With a grin, he said, “Yep.”
As it turned out, despite growing up in Southern California, AB had a killer arm and I discovered what they meant about leading the target much to Legend’s chagrin.
AB never ambushed me. Never jumped out of a closet. Never wrestled me into submission.
What he did do was sit me down in front of a fake ATM—I had no idea where the hell they got this thing—and said, “Try to get this card reader to accept a blank card.”
“Why would I ever need to do this?” I asked, holding up a rubbery decoy card like it was radioactive.
“You wouldn’t,” he said, calmly. “Unless someone else needed you to. Or you needed to spoof access in a locked building. Or they hand you a decoy.”
“Oh. Right. Perfectly normal, everyday scenarios.”
He nodded, utterly serious. Then we spent hours like it was the toughest game of Operation I’d ever played. I did manage to spoof it once though.
Another time, he slid a thumb drive across the table. “That one just lights up. Don’t use it on your actual laptop.”
I blinked at him. “Where am I supposed to use it?”
With an innocent shrug, he said, “The guys have their own laptops.”
They did…
Since Voodoo started it, he was the one I nailed with the flash drive. Apparently he earned a pornado. His yelling at AB was epic. AB never ratted me out.
The best part of all: it was kind of fun.
After the eighth or ninth ambush of the week—I’d lost count—I almost had an epic meltdown. Even on shoots that took hours with the grittiest and most irritating photographers that stripped your soul of any kind of feeling, I’d never had a diva meltdown.
No, that came when Legend, of all people, rigged the hallway to spray shaving cream all over me when I opened my bedroom door.
It was creative, I’d give him that. I rarely slept in my room or slept in there alone, last night had been an anomaly.
But there I was, wanting coffee and hosed down in shaving cream that smelled minty fucking fresh.
A big plop of it dropped from my cheek to my shoulder, then slid down my bare arm to hit the floor. Bones frowned at me from the doorway to his room. I wasn’t sure if he was on his way back in there or on his way out.
“We have a workout this morning,” he said. The bruises that had littered his face had diminished from ugly blue-black to yellow-green. The ones on his body were still a little closer to the purple-green. Unfortunately, his burns were likely to scar in the handful of places he’d gotten them.
Not that he cared.
“You don’t say,” I said in a voice so calm, I barely recognized it. Ignoring the shaving cream that continued to drip off me, I passed Bones and then descended the steps. The quiet hum of conversation in the kitchen cut off abruptly at my arrival.
Legend’s eyes actually widened and Voodoo struggled to not spit out his coffee. Ignoring all of them, I headed for the espresso machine to make my own coffee.
“Gracie?”
“Yes, Legend?” I asked before starting the grinder to turn the beans into grounds.
He didn’t say anything until I had finished and tamped it into place. “You’re dripping… stuff.”
“Really?” I glanced at him over my shoulder and maintained a straight face as another glop rolled down my forehead, then along my nose to drip off onto the floor. “Wonder what happened?”
AB coughed. “You want one of us to make that while you…?”
When I shifted to look at him, he mimed zipping his lips.
Satisfied, I returned to making my coffee.
I didn’t say anything when Legend set the oat milk next to me.
I maintained my silence while the guys shuffled, and shared looks, and whatever secret communications they could manage while I had my back turned.
When my coffee was ready, I took a long drink with my eyes closed. The magic of caffeine, it was real. Another sip, then I took a breath before I pivoted to face them.
“Gentlemen,” I began and AB mouthed “oh shit” even as Voodoo straightened and Bones instantly went wary.
I couldn’t see Legend from this angle. There was more foam melting down that side of my face.
“Would one of you care to explain what exactly it is you think Mark Sinclair is going to do in that meeting that requires just this much preparation?”
I was extremely proud of myself.
I. Did. Not. Yell.
Not a single one of them answered, though all three of my four culprits focused on Legend. His trap, so his explanation. Fine.
I turned to look at him as well.