19. Brian
19
brIAN
T wo hours later, I walked into a quiet hotel suite, eyeing the closed bedroom door. I listened for a second, but it was dead quiet.
A light glowed from the table by the window, and a blanket and pillow were stacked on the couch with a note. Thank you. I’ll try not to wake you when I leave in the morning. Grace.
If the roads weren’t clear, she wasn’t going anywhere.
I kicked off my shoes, unbuttoned my shirt, tossed my phone on the couch, and grabbed a bottle of water out of the mini fridge.
Dropping down on the couch, I downed the cold liquid, feeling sleep coming on. I leaned my head back against the uncomfortable sofa and stared at the ceiling, my thoughts all over the place but mainly on the phone call I’d just had with Detective Stuart.
He’d still had no luck finding Sabine or her son, Harris. And he couldn’t keep pouring his time into helping me. He was working on another case that needed his attention. So I’d booked a flight to Nashville.
I could just say fuck the folder . I could always get another birth certificate of Fran’s. Bank statements weren’t that important, although the account numbers were on them. My criminal mind was weary too. A good hacker could do just about anything, like drain my accounts.
But neither Sabine nor Harris struck me as a hacker, although I didn’t know that much about Harris. On top of that, there were two other items in the folder—a picture that I cherished and Social Security cards, Fran’s and mine. Identity theft was huge, and Sabine had always been desperate for money, in particular to pay for her sister’s medical bills. I needed to check my bank and credit card accounts.
I opened my bank account app on my phone. I blew out a sigh that I still had the money from the sale of the restaurant in my checking. My savings showed a balance of nine hundred thousand, which was correct. What I didn’t have access to on my phone were my offshore accounts that I’d set up many moons ago from working in the drug trade. I had a boatload of money in them. But there wasn’t a paper trail of those accounts in the folder Sabine had.
A scream tore through the suite, making me forget my problems. I leapt to my feet and ran into the bedroom. I stopped cold, my heart in my throat as the air left my lungs.
Grace was thrashing around, punching and kicking as though she were being attacked.
Frozen to a spot beside the bed, I wasn’t sure what to do.
“Get off me, you bastard,” Grace yelled. “I’ll kill you one day.” She flew up to a sitting position, breathing heavily, mumbling, and crying before her eyes flew open, looking as hollow as if she’d awakened from the dead.
I waved a hand in front of her, but she didn’t blink.
Fran had had nightmares in middle school, but I was pretty sure Grace wasn’t having a nightmare. Fran woke up from them. Grace seemed to be trapped in a constant state of terror.
My pulse pounded in my ears, sounding like several bombs being detonated in rapid succession. I turned on the light on the nightstand then attempted to wake Grace by gently touching her shoulder.
“Baby girl,” I whispered. “It’s me, Brian.”
She yanked away from me before she threw a punch in my direction, narrowly missing my nose.
Think, man. The problem was I couldn’t.
Grace sighed, closed her eyes, and lay on the pillow.
I hung my head, relieved that whatever fight she’d been having had stopped.
Duke had told me about her nightmares, but he never witnessed one. That award went to Dillon when Grace had lived with him and his wife, Maggie. I padded out of the room, leaving the door cracked open, grabbed my phone, and called Dillon.
It was after eleven p.m., so he might be in bed, but I didn’t care.
The line rang twice before he answered. “Brian?” Surprise coated my name.
Understandable, since I’d never called Dillon at this time of night. Duke, for sure.
I blew out a breath. “Your sister is with me in my hotel room in Connecticut. She came to Fran’s banquet. It’s not what you think.”
“Dude, just tell me.”
“She woke up fighting and screaming, with fear in her eyes. She was looking at me but not really. I hear you’ve witnessed her nightmares.”
“Fuck,” he said, groaning. “They’re not nightmares but rather night terrors. Extremely intense. It’s best not to wake her. Otherwise, she could get more agitated.”
“Like try to punch me.”
He laughed, albeit nervously. “She had quite a lot of them early on when she first escaped captivity. But something is going on with her, and she’s not telling me, Duke, or Ted.”
“Yeah, Duke thinks she’s afraid of something or someone. I heard she asked about Miguel Rivera.”
“We find it odd that she did after all these years.”
I peered through the small opening in the door. “She’s asleep now. But if it happens again, what should I do?”
“Let her ride it out. She won’t remember anything. I would recommend lying next to her while she’s in a calm state of sleep and comforting her in some way. That always seemed to help when she was living with us. Maggie and I would take turns. Also, on occasion, she’s been known to sleepwalk.”
The fuck . “Has she gotten medical help for this?” Duke had mentioned a time or two that Grace had seen a doctor.
“A therapist can only do so much,” Dillon said. “I know she’s in good hands with you. But Brian, if you ever have more than friendly feelings for her, please don’t hurt her. Because Duke, Denim, and I will beat you to a pulp.”
“Whoa! Where did that come from? She’s in my hotel room because I didn’t want her to drive back to Boston in the snow and all the hotels in the area are booked.”
“She has a thing for you, man. She always has. I’m cool with you two, but?—”
I recalled Grace mentioning exactly that.
“Duke isn’t.” I growled low. “I’m glad to hear that I have your blessing.”
“One more thing,” Dillon said. “Detective Hughes talked to Grace the morning she was brought in after she shot the frat kid. He heard her mumbling about blaming herself for someone’s death. When I asked her about it, she deflected. Can you talk to her? I think she’ll open up to you.”
“I doubt that. She asked for my help the first day I came to Boston, which was also the first time I’d seen her since Thanksgiving. She threw me off my game. But I told her I didn’t keep secrets from Duke. But after things got tense between us the other day, she said she didn’t need my help anymore. Whatever is bothering her, she refuses to ask you and your brothers for help.”
“That’s because she’s tired of us always in her business. Try again. I’m going to see Miguel. Ted is setting up a visitor’s pass at the prison for me. Miguel has never come clean about his clients, but Duke and I have a hunch.”
I walked over to the window. “Duke’s hunches are usually spot-on. Care to share?”
Duke had told me a lot about what transpired when Grace suddenly showed up after being missing for four years. Miguel found out that she’d escaped from the client he’d sold her to and hunted her down, claiming the family of the man who’d purchased her had put a bounty on her head.
But as soon as Miguel went to prison, the threat vanished—unless someone else had been watching Grace for the last ten years, biding their time for the right moment to strike. Then again, Grace was surrounded by bodyguards for most of those years until Duke had gone to prison.
“In the backs of our minds,” Dillon said, “we always thought the son of the man she killed could be a threat. Zane Smith was thirteen at the time.”
“Which means he’s twenty-three now,” I said, my jaw hardening.
“That’s right. Grace knows Zane could be a threat, too, but she’s not voicing it. If I know my sister, she won’t. She thinks she can handle anything. If Duke and I are right, we need to be ahead of this before Grace loses her life this time.”
“Is the bodyguard Duke hired recently still watching her? Because, if he is, he’s not in Connecticut. I know Knox. I haven’t seen him.”
“As far as I know, he is, but Grace has become quite savvy at ditching bodyguards. I’ll let Duke know she’s with you.”
I stared out the window. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
He chuckled. “Duke needs to allow Grace to make her own decisions about who she dates. I get where he’s coming from, but you two have a strong bond. Talk to him, Brian. He feels like you broke his trust.”
I could argue that Grace and I hadn’t done anything, but my issue with Duke wasn’t Dillon’s to deal with.
I massaged my neck. “I’ll talk to Grace, but I can’t promise anything. She’s as stubborn as Duke.”
He laughed then sighed. “Thanks, man.”
After we hung up, I stood at the window for a few minutes, thinking of how Duke would blow his top the minute he found out Grace was in my hotel room.
I couldn’t worry about that. Grace was more important at the moment. So I did as Dillon instructed and got comfortable on the bed, careful not to wake her.
The covers were drawn up to her waist as she lay on her stomach, her hands tucked underneath the pillow.
“What are you doing to me, baby girl?” I whispered as my gaze traveled from her pretty face down her neck, where she had the colorful hummingbird tattoo. Then I sucked in air when I saw her bare back.
Scars littered her skin. I heard that she’d been whipped repeatedly, but seeing the results brought out a need to hunt down the fucker who’d done it. Lucky for him he was dead. Still, if the fucker’s son was lurking in the shadows, he didn’t stand a chance if he dared hurt her.
I pressed on the stabbing pain in my chest as my thoughts took a sharp turn down a dark road in the dead of night. My innocent daughter came to mind. I knew Duke harbored guilt about Grace’s plight, but it never resonated with me as clearly as it did at this moment. I knew I couldn’t keep Fran under my control forever, but I really wanted to try.
Grace stirred, flipping on her side, her arm swinging out to land on my waist. Then she snuggled into me, tucking her head into my chest.
My heart skipped a few beats as a feeling of euphoria blanketed me. I could get used to nights like these when I had the most beautiful woman in my arms.
I rubbed her back. “I will never let anyone harm you again, and I will kill anyone who tries.”
As if she were the drug I needed, I fell asleep.