Chapter Fifty-Four
AJ
Zephyr’s email comes through not long after lunch. Hours of flyover footage stitched together into a seamless slow sweep of east Texas. I check the run time. Five hours? I don’t know what the fuck we expect to learn from it, but I carry my laptop into the living room to start my search.
Grace is curled up on the couch with her sketchbook braced on the arm, tapping her pencil against the spiral binding.
The sight punches the breath from my chest. For so long, I thought I’d never have this again.
But we’re here. After everything we’ve clawed back from the dark, I’ll never take this for granted.
“Hey.” I sink down next to her and set the laptop on the coffee table. “This is the longest shot in the history of long shots, but in case I’m wrong, I could use another set of eyes.”
“And you want…mine?” She sets the pencil down, the furrow between her brows deepening. It’s been there since we woke up this morning, and I’m starting to worry.
“Always.” Leaning in, I press a kiss to her forehead, hoping to soothe whatever’s bothering her. “The plane was flyin’ at thirty thousand feet, so even if the bastards have a neon sign flashin’ ‘Cult Marks the Spot’ we won’t see it. But you’re an artist. You notice things other people don’t.”
She gives me the side eye. “You just want someone else to be as bored as you are, don’t you?”
I flash her a quick grin. “Maybe. Or maybe I just want to spend as much time with you as I can before Monday.”
The brief spark of humor in her eyes fades. “I wish you could stay home with me a little longer.”
“Me too, darlin’.” I wrap my arms around her, and she tucks her head under my chin. “Jas and Connor will be around whenever I can’t be. You won’t be alone. Not until we know the bastards who took you are six feet under.”
She nods against me, but doesn’t relax. “Don’t tell her, but I’m a little sad the chief lifted Parker’s suspension. She’d be more fun to hang out with.”
“She’ll be lucky if he doesn’t make her ride a desk for the next…forever,” I mutter. “And she’s too good for that.”
I should tell the chief to go fuck himself. But while we’re comfortable, we ain’t made of money. And what the hell else am I supposed to do? Being a Ranger is all I’ve ever wanted. Despite my asshole of a boss, I love the job, and I’m good at it.
We don’t move for several minutes, just soaking up each other’s warmth. But eventually, Grace sighs. “If you’re gonna force me to watch this boring-ass footage, at least throw it up on the television and make us some popcorn?”
I chuckle. “I think you mean ‘make us a bowl of salted butter with a side of popped corn.’”
Her smile lights up my entire world. “Well, duh.”
Every day, a little more of her sass shines through. The woman I fell in love with ain’t gone. She’s comin’ back one joke, one memory, one kiss at a time.
Once the popcorn’s ready, I set the bowl in her lap, kick off my shoes, and press play. Thousands of trees turn into a green blur beneath the AWAC’s camera. Pine, oak, and willow. Dense, tall, and endless.
After ten minutes, Grace stifles a yawn. “Well, I know what to put on if I can’t sleep at night.”
I bring up the menu and double the speed. Within a few minutes, the trees give way to prairie, and I slow things down again. Grace leans forward, her eyes fixed on the screen.
“Darlin’? Do you recognize this area?” I pause the video, watching her carefully.
“No. But there’s something…” She presses the heels of her hands to her eyes for a long moment. “I could see…for miles, I think. Nothing but grass, barely any trees…”
In the next moment, her entire body goes rigid. “Can’t stop running. Another few miles… I’ll find someone. They’ll call AJ…”
Fuck.
She’s trapped in her memories. Do I try to pull her out? Or see where this goes?
“It’s cold. God, it’s so cold I can’t feel my face. How much farther? It’s been hours.” She’s shivering now, her arms wrapped around herself so tightly. Every so often, she swipes at her face. “It’s too dark. Shit!”
The anguish in her voice tears a piece of my soul into shreds. I grab her hands, holding on tight. Grace struggles, and my fingers slip down to her wrists, right over her scars. She jerks away, cradling her hands to her chest.
“Grace! It’s me. It’s AJ.”
Her eyelids flutter, and tears tumble down her cheeks. “I tried to escape once. I ran for miles,” she swallows a sob. “It was so dark and cold. Everything hurt. They…caught me. God. Dragged me back. Tied my wrists…to a…a horse!” Her voice breaks, her entire body shuddering with each sob.
“Fuck me,” I mutter. “Grace, I will find them, and I’ll drag them by their balls until they’re beggin’ for me to put an end to ‘em.”
She won’t look at me. Her gaze is still fixed on the screen.
I shut the laptop, severing the connection to the TV. “That’s enough for today.”
Her eyes are glassy, and I’m not sure she can see or hear me. I scoot closer, snap my fingers, and Belle—who’d fallen asleep in front of the hearth, jerks her head up. In seconds, she’s crawling into Grace’s lap.
“Oh, God.” With a shudder, Grace wraps her arms around the dog and buries her face in Belle’s thick fur. “How could anyone be so cruel?” she sobs.
I don’t have an answer for her, so I do my best to hold them both until Grace’s tremors fade away.
I knock on Grace’s studio door. She closed herself in here hours ago, while I kept scanning the footage as the popcorn went soggy next to me. I can’t get her question out of my head.
“How could anyone be so cruel?”
Her scars are so deep, so thick, she must have been dragged behind that goddamned horse for hours. For what?
“Come on in,” she calls. Thank fuck her voice doesn’t sound as shaky as it did earlier.
She sits cross-legged in the chair, sun on her face, looking…almost at peace. Her sketchbook is open on the drafting table, with the beginnings of a vague, male face on the page.
“Who’s that?” I ask, rubbing gentle circles over her upper back.
Grace sighs. “The man who gave me…these.” She holds out her hands, and the sun turns the thick scars almost silver. “I can only see his eyes. The rest…I’m just guessing at.”
I ease the pencil from her clenched fingers and set it on the drafting table. “Then take a break for today.”
“I can’t. They’re still…out there, AJ. What if I stop right before I remember their names? Or why they took me? Or—”
Her left hand spasms on the page, smudging the curve of the asshole’s jaw.
“Shit!”
I take her hand, my thumb skating over her wedding ring. “You’re still healing, Grace. Workin’ yourself into exhaustion ain’t gonna help. Why don’t you rest for a bit?”
“I’m not tired. Or…not sleepy, anyway,” she says, a hint of defiance in her voice.
If I let her keep spiraling, she’ll still be digging for memories when the clock hits midnight.
“Okay.” I brush my thumb over her knuckles, then bring them to my lips. “If you don’t feel like resting…how about you let me take you out instead?”
Her brows lift, surprise flickering across her face. “Out?”
“A date,” I clarify with another kiss, this one to her palm. “You remember that picture from the Punch Bowl? You told Parker it looked like fun. I reckon we could both use some fun.”
She hesitates, chewing on her lip. “That’s…so public. What if—”
“I’ve got you.” I keep my voice even. Calm. “I’ll be carrying, and there will be plenty of people around. Anyone after you would be a damn fool to try somethin’ there. Even if they did…they ain’t gonna get to you without going through me. And I’m an ornery sombitch when I want to be.”
She laughs, though there’s still a hint of fear in her eyes.
“If we go now, it won’t be too crowded. Just enough noise and people and life to remind us what a normal Friday night feels like.”
“Normal,” she echoes, testing the word. Then, finally, she smiles. “I think I’d like normal.”