Chapter Twenty-Six
The rest of the drive was quiet, but as the miles passed, Grace’s adrenaline high crashed. Her hands shook, and a tremor moved through her that she couldn’t control. She flexed her muscles, balled her hands, then shook out her fists. “I feel sick.”
Callum glanced around their new car. “Do you have any candy in your bag?”
“No.”
“Gum?”
“No.” A headache thumped at the back of her head. “Why? Are you hungry?”
“Your system could use a hit of sugar.”
“Maybe I could use an iced coffee.” That would wake her up but wouldn’t stop the shakes she could barely hide. Now that they were driving through a populated area, there had to be places they could stop. “Do you think we could find a coffee shop soon?”
“Eventually.”
It didn’t take long before they spotted an exit with fast food and coffee options. Maybe she was hungrier than she realized.
Her legs shook when they got out. Callum took her hand as they crossed the parking lot and walked into a coffee shop with a full bistro menu.
Grace leaned against him in line, her back to his stomach. His hands locked around her waist as they waited. This was sweet. It was real. It was entirely too cutesy for a man who looked like he was better suited for an action movie than suburbia.
They stayed locked together until they ordered, and he paid for their order in cash.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” She needed to wash the smell of gunpowder off her hands. It was probably in her hair and all over her skin as well. She’d have to see what could be done in the restroom.
His gaze skirted around the coffee shop, and she realized he was searching for a threat. Had he held her that way in line to keep her safe? Or because he wanted to? Doubts that hadn’t been there before were sprouting, and her jittery stomach turned upside down.
“Give me a second.” Callum knocked on the bathroom door and, not hearing anyone respond, opened it. His hand perched precariously close to his concealed gun.
“No one’s in the bathroom waiting for us. You don’t have to do that.”
He ignored her and checked the stalls. “Now we know for sure.”
“Please don’t do that, Callum. It makes me feel like a crazy person. No one knew we would stop here.”
He shrugged and semi-agreed, but left her alone in the bathroom.
She stood in front of the mirror and—whoa, she looked worse for wear.
Her disheveled hair was tangled on one side.
Dark circles formed half-moons under her eyes that looked like they’d been crying.
She actually hadn’t been crying. Maybe she’d teared up a few times. But not crying crying.
Grace scrubbed her hands in the soap that had little scent, then splashed her face with water. A little under-eye cream, concealer, and a hairbrush would go a long way in changing her appearance. She could do that in the car.
Grace returned to find Callum holding their coffees and food. She pointed to her hair. “You didn’t tell me I look like roadkill.”
He bent over and kissed her. “The hair thing makes me want to mess it up on my own.”
That put a little bounce in her step, and she took her coffee.
He snagged her around the waist, and laughing, she couldn’t remember ever feeling content and safe, despite every reason she should be jumping at shadows like he was.
Callum was right. They were a long time coming.
None of the awkward get-to-know-you moments had to play out.
They had already done so over the years.
They returned to their newly acquired—stolen?—rental car and, as Callum accelerated onto the highway, they polished off their sandwiches and sipped coffee like they hadn’t been in a gunfight hours before.
Then, she was suddenly more tired than she thought possible. Her eyelids were too heavy to hold open. “I’m exhausted.”
“Take a nap.”
“You’re not tired?”
“I’m used to adrenaline crashes. The caffeine’s probably done more for calming your system than you realized.”
That made little sense. Then again, Grace had a hyper friend who would always fall asleep after an espresso. The road noise lulled her toward sleep.
She woke up and didn’t know how much time had passed. They had pulled into an office parking lot. Grace rubbed her eyes as Callum pulled to the curb and parked behind a large SUV that was similar to the one she had shot.
“Ready to do this?” he asked.
Big black SUVs made her uncomfortable. She smoothed her hands over her legs. Of course, she was ready, but her nerves pitted deep inside her gut. She noted the two men in uniform by the front door. “Who are they?”
He pursed his lips. “Someone arranged for security. Not sure if it was Titan or the AG’s office or what, but we’ve had a shit day. Once you get inside, everything will be okay. We’ll learn what we need to know. They’ll get what they need from you, and it will all be over soon.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “Then what?”
His grin hitched into a beautiful smile that snapped her out of her nervous spiral. “A cute house. Flowers in the front. A little vegetable garden in the back. Someplace safe.”
Her heart climbed into her throat.
“You know the kind,” he continued, “like where we grew up. Friendly. Not too big. Not too small.” Callum tilted his head. “What’d you say? With lots of happiness and laughter.”
The nerves transformed into bits of sunshine warming her from the inside out. Grace nodded, words clogging in her throat. “That’s what I said.”
He nodded toward the building. “Come on. Let’s go.”
A person she hadn’t met before exited the SUV in front of them.
Callum left their car running and got out.
He gathered their belongings and met Grace on the sidewalk.
The other person got into their car without saying a word to Callum.
Their temporary car followed the big black SUV out of the parking lot.
“Where are they going?” she asked as they walked toward the tinted-glass office doors.
He shrugged. “Wherever cleanup teams go to clean up. Probably best we don’t know.”
The generic building reminded her of an office park with doctors’ and dentists’ offices. Dated but practical, with big windows like those in old schools and mature landscaping skirting the building.
Once inside, she eyed the directory of offices corresponding to the suite numbers. Accountants and tax services. Consultants. Lots of businesses that appeared to be last names with “and associates” tacked on. She didn’t have a good idea of which office they might need to go to.
Callum bypassed two more agents standing near the elevators and led them up a flight of stairs to the second floor.
The overhead light illuminated a clean but worn carpet.
This wasn’t anything like the meetings she’d had with investigators and prosecutors after Dominic had been arrested.
“I thought we’d be in some flashy government building. ”
“I always picture government buildings more like the DMV. Fluorescent lights and two-hour-long lines.” He shrugged. They stopped in front of a door with a Bastamonti and Associates nameplate. “Ready?”
They entered a generic office suite with large windows. An empty reception desk greeted them. Callum frowned. “Guess we have a seat.”
She folded onto the couch. He paced in front of the desk, typing on his phone. Despite the bright windows, the small space closed in on her. The stuffy air hung heavy. She needed to calm down. “You’re making me nervous. Or maybe it’s all the guys with guns waiting downstairs.”
Callum shifted his weight and shoved his hands in his pockets. Finally, he perched on the edge of a chair in the corner. “They were only making sure you got in safe.”
She was. They’d made it. As soon as she got that through her head, her anxiety would calm down.
A tall woman in flats, dark pants, and a blazer rushed out, smoothing her dark hair back. “Have you been waiting long?”
Grace stood, her stomach tying into knots.
Callum approached. “We have an appointment.”
“We’re expecting you. Follow me.” The receptionist walked briskly and gestured them into a conference room with more gusto than manners.
Grace took in the space with its plain walls and oversized windows.
A generic table with a platter of catered sandwiches was surrounded by chairs.
Folders and paperwork were piled at the head of the table.
“The sandwiches are fresh. Mr. Bastamonti will be with you shortly. He and the others had to take a quick conference call in his office. Is there anything you need?”
“I’m fine—” She wanted to splash water on her face and clear the apprehension from her mind. She couldn’t be worked up before the attorneys walked in. “Actually, could you tell me where the restroom is?”
Just as briskly as the receptionist had walked them into the meeting room, she stepped into the hallway, towering over Grace, and pointed the opposite way they had come, directing her to the far side of the office suite.
Grace walked away but turned, lifting her eyebrows as Callum trailed her. “You’re not seriously going to follow me into this bathroom, too.”
“Yeah—”
Several voices reached them as though a gaggle were approaching. The lawyers were coming. Her palms became sweaty. Nerves prickled down her spine. She needed to pull herself together. Callum’s phone rang. She rushed to take advantage of the distraction. “I’ll be back in a second.”
Grace didn’t give Callum time to respond and left.
She pressed her clammy hands on her shorts and wished she had more appropriate clothes. Did she even brush her hair? Yes, before she’d slept in the car. Quickly, she finger-combed it as her heart rate climbed. Calm down. This is okay. Nothing bad will happen here.
She followed the meandering directions. There had to be a more direct route to the restroom.
This place was nothing like the posh office space she remembered from meeting her attorney during Dominic’s trial.
That law firm had required a retainer that could have paid her lawyer’s child’s first year of tuition in college.
The hourly fee was just as exorbitant. She wondered how much she would pay for that office to send her former attorney here.
What if the attorney general’s office brought any of the agents she’d met with about the witness protection program? That would be uncomfortable. But they had to admit there had been huge missteps in protecting the witnesses who testified against Dominic.
Grace entered the bathroom and faced the mirror. With her palms on the counter, she braced herself for whatever conversation would come. She glanced at her reflection. “You can do this. You’ve survived worse.”
Today’s meeting would finally extricate Dominic from her life.
Then she would have the after with Callum.
She splashed water on her face as the bathroom door opened. The receptionist entered as Grace reached for a paper towel. “Are they ready for me?”
The receptionist turned the lock on the door.
“What are you—”
In a fluid motion, she slapped her hand over Grace’s mouth, stifling her scream. The woman yanked her with far more strength than Grace expected.
She struggled to get free. She kicked and screamed. With every ounce of her panic and fury, her legs thrashed. Her teeth snapped. Grace bucked and bit. She jabbed her elbows and stomped until she caught sight of their reflection.
The other woman had complete control. Stronger and certain of the way she held Grace, she was waiting for that moment of clarity when Grace realized she couldn’t escape. It happened in a flash.
Grace couldn’t get free. Her limbs gave up the fight, and the receptionist dragged her across the bathroom like she was a rag doll.
What are you doing? Fight.
She’d survived too much to go down this easily.
Grace fought all over again. Her kicks and swings were still as fruitless as before.
Her smothered cries for help went nowhere.
It didn’t take the woman much effort to cross the bathroom, releasing Grace long enough to open the frosted bathroom window.
Grace screamed, hurtling toward the door.
The receptionist clamped a hand over Grace again, dragging her the two measly feet she’d run. Far stronger than her, the woman lifted and shoved her out the window.
The free fall of freedom was short-lived. Grace smacked onto the mulch bed on the backside of the building. Air was crushed from her lungs.
She blinked.
Couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t gasp.
Time moved slowly, but the will to survive reinflated her lungs. Grace pressed onto her hands and knees, gasping for oxygen. Pain radiated through her body. She crawled through the bushes, choking for air, blindly scuttling away from the building.
Grace heard the receptionist land behind her.
She heard words she didn’t understand in a language she didn’t know.
She had to get away and fought to get to her feet, stumbling and staggering toward the sidewalk.
How long had it taken to get her out of the bathroom?
Thirty seconds? A minute? Not long enough for Callum to notice she was gone.
A man appeared ahead of her.
“Help.”
He eclipsed the summer sky, looming over her like a mountain.
“Help—”
He grabbed her. The receptionist hadn’t been gentle, but this man was rough. He tossed her over his shoulder as though she were nothing more than a garbage bag—limp and loose, barely able to yell for help.
Grace screamed again. She kicked. It didn’t matter. He tossed her into the trunk of a car and shut it.