Chapter Twenty-Four
Grace
The tension suddenly filling the room threatens to suffocate me. Under the table, I try to reach for AJ’s hand, but he’s on my left, and my fingers find only air.
He stiffens, as if he can sense my growing panic, and scoots a little closer to drape his arm around my shoulders.
Parker nods in my direction. “The minute we take Grace to Austin Memorial for that neurology consult the doc wants her to get, this stops being our op. APD will grab it. We’ll be benched—again—while they stumble around trying to figure out who did this to her.”
Who did this to her.
She says the words like I’m a puzzle they can solve.
Find all the missing pieces and voila—I’ll be whole again.
But I’m so much more than missing pieces.
And even if every one of them fits back into place, I’ll never be the person I was before.
I didn’t deserve to wake up here with a broken brain.
Or a missing life. Or with three years of horrors I may never remember.
“Seein’ a neurologist won’t be a problem,” Connor replies. “We can find a doc we can trust. One who’ll see Grace off the books.”
I wish I felt comfortable enough to ask him how. Luckily, AJ does it for me.
“Care to explain?”
After he finishes the last of his Coke, Connor runs a hand over his thick brown beard. “Pritchard. Well, or McCabe. One of them will have a contact we can trust.”
I don’t know these names, but the way he says them—and the way AJ, Jasper, and Parker react—gives me the courage to find my voice.
“Who’s…Pritchard?”
Connor’s slow smile should reassure me. It does in some ways, even if I don’t understand why. There’s a quiet confidence about him. I wonder how long he was in the FBI. And what he’s been doing since.
“Major General Austin J. Pritchard. Retired,” he says. “He used to run the Joint Special Operations Command.”
“I d-don’t…know wh-what that is.”
“JSOC is the highest military organization in the United States. Pritchard was forced out last year after he went off book and rescued his sister and her guy from some shit down in Venezuela,” Connor explains. Something dark settles in his gaze. Whatever happened…was terrible.
“A few months later, Ryker McCabe—the biggest, baddest sombitch to ever serve in the United States Special Forces—suggested Pritchard do somethin’ with his life besides worship the ground his fiancée walks on.
So he did. Started recruiting.” Connor smirks.
“The man done rolled up to me with the most cliché line ever.” His voice changes, his Texas drawl fading, and a thick, New England accent taking over.
“‘We help people with nowhere else to turn.’”
“Pritchard needs to hire a PR firm,” AJ mutters. “That’s terrible.”
Connor chuckles, the sound thin, but there’s still a hint of amusement in his grim smile. “Terrible, but accurate. Pritchard’s got a few of us now. Griff, who was CIA before he was injured; Zephyr, one of the best hackers in the country besides McCabe’s wife; and me.”
“Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?” Jasper asks. “He offered me a job two hours ago.”
AJ stares at his twin for a long moment. “And you took it without even talkin’ to me?”
“Five extra minutes in this world don’t give you the right to talk me in—or out—of anything.” Jasper scoots his chair back a few inches and crosses his arms over his chest. “And you were busy. So, yeah. I took it.”
With a shake of his head, AJ mutters, “You’ve never even met the man.”
“He chartered a plane so we could get down here without border patrol knowin’ a fucking thing. That tells me all I need to know about the kind of guy he is. And the kind of work he’s gonna ask me to do.”
I don’t understand the tension radiating from the two men. Only that they’re staring one another down in some testosterone-fueled pissing contest while Connor tries to smooth things over between them.
Turning to Parker, I whisper, “What’s going on?”
She blows out a breath. “It’s a long story, and one you should probably hear from AJ. They’ve had their issues the past few years, but for most of their lives, they were tighter than two rusted lug nuts. They’re just finding their way again.”
“I’m tryin’ to look out for you!” AJ snaps. “I failed once, and I won’t let it happen again!”
Parker pushes to her feet. “Stop.” Silence falls over the room, the brothers’ jaws snapping shut in an instant.
“Grace is tired. Hell, we’ve all been chewed up and spit out twice over today.
We’re done for tonight. We have four hours tomorrow to figure out how we’re gonna keep the world from knowing she’s alive until whoever took her is six feet under. ”
She’s so certain. So absolutely confident they can keep me safe. Connor nods. AJ and Jasper share a glance, jaw muscles tightening in mirror images of one another. They believe it too.
“Six feet under…in pieces,” AJ says.
Jasper snorts. “There won’t be enough left of them to bury.”
“If you’re done being stereotypical over-the-top men?” Parker shakes her head. “Connor? Jasper? You’re on clean-up duty. Then take the good doctor up on his offer of that pull out couch. AJ? Take Grace back to her room. If I see any of you before three a.m., you’ll be sorry.”
The men all mutter apologies and rise in unison while I stare up at Parker in awe. “That was…amazing.”
She offers me a wink and a smile. “They just needed a kick in the ass. Ain’t no thing. You remember what I told you earlier, okay? You need me, I’ll be in the hall right outside your room. Though, I suspect AJ’s gonna sleep in that recliner, so you’ll be just fine.”
As AJ helps me into the wheelchair, I hold onto the shred of hope I’ve found among family. If only I could find my memories there too.
AJ
“Remember,” Alejandro says, pulling my focus away from the door to Grace’s room, “headaches, double-vision, nausea, ocular phantoms, slurred speech, or worsening of the vertigo could be signs of a brain bleed.” He presses a USB drive into my palm.
“Here are her medical records. But if you tell anyone where she was treated—”
“Doc, you saved her life. That’s a debt I’ll never be able to repay. I’ll take the secret of this place to my grave.”
“We all will,” Jasper adds. “You ever need a favor—any favor—you give us a call.”
Reyes chuckles. “I have everything I need, right here.”
Despite his smile, it’s obvious he knows what my brother just offered him.
A way out of the cartel.
Before Jasper can say another word, the door opens.
Parker has an arm around Grace’s waist, but my wife is walking mostly under her own power. Her hair is pulled back in a loose braid, a piece of thin, stretchy gauze—pink this time—fashioned into a headband to hide her stitches.
I can see the tension in her shoulders. The way her left leg trembles with each step. But she’s stronger today than she was yesterday, and that’s what matters.
The yoga pants practically hang off her. God, she’s so thin. And a hint of fear hides in her blue-green eyes.
But her smile, shaky as it is, hits me like a punch in the gut.
I never thought I’d see it—see her—again, and now she’s standing in front of me after all she’s been through with a genuine smile on her face.
“Sorry that took so long,” Parker says. “Grace really wanted to wash the blood out of her hair.”
“You look beautiful, darlin’.”
“I’m a walking bruise,” she says softly.
Her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt, like the long-sleeved Henley is all that’s keeping her upright.
I pull her close, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and letting her lean against me. “But you are walking.”
For a moment, I just breathe her in. Even the plain, industrial soap and the vague hint of antiseptic can’t hide the scent of her skin. Of the woman I’ve loved for more than twenty years.
When it’s just me—or Parker—Grace’s personality is starting to peek through. She talks more. Breathes easier. But around Jasper and Connor, she quiets. Withdraws. I haven’t pushed her to understand why, though I have my suspicions.
My brother and Connor give her space, heading for the cars with Parker close behind, her stride easy. But that’s all a ruse. She’s always alert. Always watching. Always ready for the worst.
The people who hurt Grace are still out there, and no one’s pretending they’re not.
The doctor takes Grace’s hands, kisses both her cheeks, and murmurs, “Vas con Dios. I will keep you in my prayers.”
Grace blinks back a tear and nods. “Thank you. For…everything.”
“You owe me nothing, my dear. Your husband will take care of you now. His heart is steady, and I believe it beats only for you.”
She glances up at me, so many emotions flickering in her eyes. She trusts me, of that I’m certain. But she’s still afraid. Still suffering from the heavy weight of not remembering the man I used to be to her.
The man I still am.
We step out into the morning light. It’s too bright, and Grace flinches. I reach for the sunglasses Parker shoved into my hand earlier and slip them over her eyes. Grace releases a slow breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly.
“You okay?” I ask, supporting her weight as we shuffle slowly toward the SUV.
She stays quiet for another few steps. “I…don’t know. What if I walk into that house and feel nothing? What if I never remember?”
I stop, turning her with her back to the sun so she can look me in the eyes. “Then we start over. We make new memories. Ones no one will ever get the chance to take from you.”
“But…AJ…?”
“Yeah, darlin’?”
She leans into me, her entire body trembling. “We don’t know who took me. Or why. What if they try again?”
I blink, seeing nothing but Grace in that bloodstained white dress, her wrists and ankles bound. Anguish, determination, and rage pulse through my veins. “Let them come, darlin’. It’ll be the last damn thing they ever do.”
Holding her close, I try to memorize everything about the woman she is today. Her strength. Her courage. How she feels in my arms.
We can’t stay here. The longer we’re out in public—even in the middle of nowhere—the more likely someone will see something they shouldn’t.
Still, I can’t rush her. We lost almost three years. I’ll give her every second she needs now.