Chapter Eight
Steam still clung to the mirror as Grace worked the fresh bandages into place. Her ribs ached but not as sharply as the night before, and her arm felt steadier. She was more exhausted than in pain, worn thin by too many hours without rest.
Even when she had managed to close her eyes, sleep had been elusive. Not just because of the news about Denny’s DNA showing up on the mask, but because every time she drifted, her mind had reminded her that Beck was just across the hall.
She tugged on clean clothes, brushed back her damp hair, and stepped into the hallway. The smell of coffee and something savory pulled her forward. When she reached the kitchen, Beck was already there. Plates waited on the counter, and a skillet still sizzled faintly on the stove.
Bandages was there, too, chowing down on his breakfast from his kibble bowl next to the back door. The cat looked up at her in that mildly annoyed, disinterested way that only a cat could manage.
“Morning,” Beck said, reaching for the coffeepot. He poured her a mug without asking, sliding it across the counter.
“Morning,” she murmured, wrapping her fingers around the warm cup.
He studied her with those steady blue eyes. “How are the injuries?”
“Better,” she said honestly. “I changed the bandages and used the antiseptic cream you gave me.”
Beck gave a short nod, as if filing that information away, before setting a plate in front of her. Eggs, toast, and bacon, all arranged with surprising care.
Grace sat, her stomach tightening in a way that had nothing to do with pain. Being here like this, with him, felt too easy. Too familiar.
And far too dangerous.
Beck fixed his own plate and carried it over to the breakfast nook.
Grace followed with her coffee, settling into the small space across from him.
The first bite of bacon nearly made her groan.
She hadn’t realized how empty her stomach was until food finally hit it.
The warmth spread through her, grounding her in a way little else had managed since yesterday.
Beck dug into his own food, then said, “Denny’s interview is still on with the sheriff for nine this morning. That’s about two hours from now. Elena’s and Silas’s interviews will be after that.”
Grace swallowed her mouthful, her appetite momentarily dimming under the reminder. “Back-to-back.”
He nodded. “The sheriff said she’ll let us know if there are any confessions or breakthroughs, but Elena’s lawyer is already playing defense. He insisted that you and I not be allowed to observe her interview.”
Grace tightened her grip around her fork. “So she can spin her own story without us calling her out.”
Beck’s expression stayed calm, but the sharp edge in his gaze told her he was thinking the same thing.
The food on her plate suddenly felt like a fragile peace before the storm.
Beck set his fork down, his eyes steady on hers. “I want you to stay here until all of this is resolved.”
Grace took a sip of coffee, buying herself a second before answering. “I do have a security system at my place in San Antonio.” She paused, then nodded. “But you’re right. I should be here. The local cops are the ones handling the investigation, and I’d rather be close.”
“Good,” Beck said simply.
“Good,” she repeated. Best to have that settled. Grace glanced at him, then asked, “Any updates from Noah?”
The flicker of frustration that crossed his face told her the answer before he spoke. “The lab didn’t find anything in the truck where the mask was left. No prints, no fibers, nothing. And so far, nothing’s turned up at the cabin where we were ambushed.”
Grace pushed her eggs around with her fork, the lack of progress gnawing at her. “So we’re still chasing shadows.”
Beck’s jaw tightened. “For now. But something will break. It always does.”
Their gazes connected across the small table, and for a moment the rest of the room faded. Grace saw it in his eyes, the worry he tried to hide, but also the heat he did not bother to mask.
She couldn’t regret those kisses, but they had complicated things more than she cared to admit.
Beck must have read her thoughts because his voice was quiet but certain. “When this is done, when we catch whoever is behind it, I’d like to spend some time with you. No strings attached.”
Grace’s lips curved before she could stop them. The idea of time with him stirred something she had not let herself feel in years. “I’d like that,” she said softly.
But inside, she was not kidding herself. With Beck, there would always be strings. Not the kind he tied around her, but the kind she tied around herself.
It had been the reason she walked away before. After that disastrous op, she had not been able to live with the nightmares, not with Beck as a constant reminder of everything they had lost. To survive, she had walked away from Strike Force and from him.
But sitting across from him now, warmth lingering from his words, Grace silently admitted the truth. She did not want to walk away this time.
The silence stretched, warm instead of heavy, and Grace found herself wanting to keep it that way. Still, a smile tugged at her mouth as a memory surfaced.
“Do you remember that surveillance op in Dallas?” she asked, her voice teasing.
Beck lifted a brow. “The one where you insisted the suspect was holed up in that motel room, and we waited six hours only to find out it was a honeymooning couple?”
Grace laughed, the sound surprising her with how easy it came. “Yes. You nearly swallowed your tongue when the woman came out yelling at us and wearing nothing but a towel.”
He shook his head, grinning. “You’re the one who had to do all the talking. I was too busy trying not to get punched by her husband.”
Grace sipped her coffee, still smiling. “In my defense, the intel was solid. No one told me our target had checked out two days earlier.”
Beck leaned back slightly, a glimmer in his eyes she had not seen in years. “You never did admit that op was a disaster.”
“That’s because it wasn’t,” she countered. “It was hilarious. And besides, we ended up with intel on a completely different case. You called it a win in the report.”
He gave a low chuckle. “I called it a win because I didn’t want Striker chewing us out.”
Grace tilted her head, feigning innocence. “So you lied?”
“I improvised,” Beck corrected, his grin widening. “Something I learned from you.”
Her laughter softened into something else, something that made her chest ache. She had missed this. Missed him.
Grace might have spelled out just how much she had missed him, but Beck’s phone rang. The sound cut through the warmth between them, and they both groaned when the screen lit up with Denny’s name.
Beck answered with clear reluctance, setting the phone on the table and putting it on speaker. “Martel.”
“Please don’t hang up,” Denny’s voice rushed through the line. “I’ve got something to tell you. Something I need you to pass along to Grace.”
Grace leaned forward, her pulse skipping. “I’m right here, Denny. I’m listening.”
There was a pause on the other end. Too long, too heavy.
Grace’s stomach tightened as her mind spun.
Was he hesitating because of what he had to say, or because he realized she was at Beck’s this early in the morning?
He was smart enough to put the pieces together, to figure out she had spent the night here.
Her grip tightened on her coffee mug. The thought of Denny picturing that made her skin crawl.
“Go ahead,” she said, pushing him to continue.
Denny finally spoke, his voice lower and more controlled.
“I’m being set up. A week ago, out of the blue, Elena showed up at my office.
Said she just wanted to catch up, but the whole visit felt off.
I swear, Grace, she must have gotten my DNA somehow during that meeting.
That has to be how it ended up on the mask. ”
Grace’s eyes flicked to Beck, searching his expression. Neither of them were sure they believed Denny. It was possible, but the timing was too convenient.
Beck’s jaw tightened as he listened.
“Think about it,” Denny went on. “Why the hell would I leave a mask sitting there with my DNA all over it? It doesn’t make sense. I wouldn’t have been that sloppy. Someone wanted you to find it.”
Grace exchanged a glance with Beck, uneasy. He had a point. It was odd that the rest of the vehicle had been wiped so thoroughly.
Still, another thought pressed against her mind. What if the mask wasn’t planted to frame him at all? What if it was left behind to make them doubt themselves, to second-guess everything? A ploy to make him look innocent while hiding something worse.
She kept that to herself, the unease settling deeper with every word Denny spoke.
“Grace,” Denny said, his tone shifting into something close to pleading. “I need you to talk to the sheriff. Explain to her that I wouldn’t try to kill you. She’ll listen to you.”
Grace’s pulse kicked up. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t give him that assurance, not when she was still sorting through everything herself.
Before she could answer, Beck cut in, his voice edged with steel. “You’ll need more than Grace vouching for you. The sheriff doesn’t take character references when there’s evidence stacked against someone.”
Silence stretched over the line, thick and brittle. Then Denny’s tone cracked, sharp with anger. “You always thought you were better than me, Culver. You always had the answers, always had Grace’s attention. Maybe you want me guilty just so you can play the hero again.”
Grace flinched at the venom in his words. She felt Beck’s gaze on her, steady but unyielding.
Denny’s breathing came harsh and fast through the speaker. “You tell the sheriff whatever you want, but I’m not going down for something I didn’t do.”
The line went dead, leaving Grace staring at the phone, her stomach knotted.
Beck typed quickly, giving Noah a heads up about Denny’s call. When he slid the phone back into his pocket, Grace’s own phone began to ring. She glanced at the screen. Unknown number.
Her first instinct was to ignore it. Could be spam, a wrong number, maybe even someone fishing for information. She hesitated, thumb hovering over the decline button.
Something in her gut told her to answer.
She pressed accept and lifted it to her ear. “Hello?”
For a heartbeat there was only static, then a voice she knew all too well spilled through the line, raw and panicked.
“Grace, it’s me. Jonah,” he blurted. “I need your help. I escaped.”