Chapter Thirteen
Gracie
“Promise me you won’t do anything too crazy,” I said on my phone as I went up the steps at the office so I didn’t lose the call in the elevator.
“I will make no such promises,” Layna said, as I knew she would.
“Fine. But don’t make anyone have to fly out there to bail you out.”
“I can probably manage that. And while I’m away, I need something from you.”
“Oh, okay. Sure. What is it?”
“I need you to go to the clubhouse—”
“Okay,” I prompted when she paused.
“Walk down the hallway… open the door… go in… lock it behind you… and ride Perish until you see through space and time.”
“What?” I sputtered. Actually sputtered. Coffee and everything. I should have known better than to drink something while talking to Layna.
“Oh, please.” I could hear her eye roll.
“There’s nothing—”
“I know the walk of a man with blue balls, Gracie. And the look of a woman’s top when it’s been yanked down.”
“It’s not—”
Not what?
Not what she thought? It was.
Not going to happen again? That was probably true, as much as it pained me to admit.
“It is. I mean, that man was watching you dance like you were the most precious thing he’s ever seen.”
“Layna, please,” I said, closing my eyes tight as I leaned against the wall at the top of the stairwell. “Don’t make this worse.”
“Make what worse?”
“Look, whatever may or may not have happened,” I started, and reminded myself that it was more ‘may not have’ than it was ‘may have,’ “it’s over.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
There was a long pause.
“Did he say that?”
“Sort of. He said he was no good and that there were rules for a reason.”
Layna’s snort was possibly the only thing that could make my lips curve up right then.
“Don’t you just hate it when men think they not only know what’s best for you, but can make decisions for you?”
“Yeah,” I agreed, blinking back the stupid, useless tears. I was going to get my tear ducts removed if they didn’t stop it.
“Want me to turn around, catch a cab, and come back to beat his ass for you?”
“No.” Then, with a little more conviction, “No. It’s for the best. It was just, you know, a little attraction. Likely just because he saved my life. I mean, he isn’t even my type.”
“I’ll say this with all the love in my heart, Gracie Goose, you have shit taste in men.”
“I want to object to that,” I said.
“But you know I’m right.”
“I do not have a good track record.”
“Can I just make one little suggestion and then I’ll shut up about it? Mostly because I need to board this flight, because you know I have a lot to say…”
I ignored the three bleeps my phone let out. Incoming texts. Likely from caterers. I could deal with them later.
“Okay.”
“I’ve seen you with all your boyfriends in the past. Even the ones you loved who claimed to love you. And I’m not saying this next part to be harsh, just to give you a perspective shift…”
“Alright.”
“I’ve never seen any of them look at you with the wonder I’d seen on Perish’s face. Just… don’t disregard that. Okay. The gate agent is giving me the stink eye. I have to go.”
“Call or text me as soon as you land.”
“Will do. Love you, Goose.”
“Love you too.”
With that, I ended the call and slipped my phone into my bag without a second glance.
I didn’t want her words to sink in. I didn’t need more reasons to be sad about a situation I was trying to put behind me.
There was no stopping them, though.
Suddenly, I was transported back to the clubhouse, to catching sight of Perish sipping the dregs of my margarita as the girls and I danced around to some silly pop song that, for reasons I didn’t even remember anymore, was ‘our’ song.
I tried not to look at him, to make it obvious to anyone how much I wanted him the second I saw him again.
So I hadn’t seen what Layna had.
That didn’t mean that I doubted her, though.
If there was one thing you could usually say about that particular cousin of mine, it was that she was observant. It was part of what made her so damn good at card games. She could spot even the smallest tell. Because her livelihood depended on it.
So if she said she saw wonder, I believed her.
But that only made the whole situation worse.
We were both interested.
We were both also painfully aware of the reasons it couldn’t go any further.
I took a sip of my coffee.
It had been the perfect color, flavor, and sweetness.
But it tasted like sawdust on my tongue.
With a grumble, I tucked it in the crook of my arm, yanked the stairwell door open, and moved out onto my floor.
“I can’t fucking believe this,” a woman’s voice snarled in the hallway after a door slammed. Her high heels clacked against the floor as she seemed to make a beeline for me in all of her gorgeous red suit-dress glory. “Are you single?” she asked, her icy blue eyes pinning me to the spot.
“I, uh, yeah.”
“Take it from me, keep it that way. Don’t give these men your youth to consume only to drop you for the next young, pretty thing.”
Ah.
So she was coming from the lawyer’s office.
In the short time I’d been renting an office, I’d overheard dozens of screaming matches and angry rants coming from inside the family law office.
I’m not proud to admit that I sometimes listened a little closer to see what everyone was so angry about.
One time, they were fighting over custody of the dog.
And, hey, fair. Another time, it was about a collection of coffee cups.
Which I figured had more to do with hurting each other than actual coffee cups.
“I hope you get everything you want in the divorce,” I told her.
“Well, I don’t think I’m going to get his balls. But I will settle for the house,” she said, exhaling hard, some of the anger deflating. “But seriously, don’t fall for a man who tells you he loves you. Only one who shows you he does. That’s my advice.”
With that, she walked off to the elevators. I turned to watch her confident stride and upright posture.
Until the doors were almost closed.
Then I saw her face crumple.
My heart ached for her. For all of us, I guess. Because we’d all been there. Fooled by a man with charming words but whose actions never proved them true.
That man was watching you dance like you were the most precious thing he’s ever seen.
And I was suddenly struck by how different Perish had been. Because his words never promised anything. But his actions had always shown how upstanding he was.
“Ugh,” I grumbled, shoving my hand in my bag to fumble for my keys.
I needed to stop.
My bag half-fell from my shoulder, and I shifted things around, trying to find the stupid keychain as I made my way to my office.
It was that distraction that made me not notice until I stabbed the key in the lock that the door wasn’t even closed.
My spine straightened.
Ice flooded my veins.
The keys dropped silently back into my bag as my hand reached for my bottle of pepper spray instead.
In my head, I could hear my uncles and cousins telling me to walk into one of the other offices, to call them, to let them go in and investigate.
There were just as many aunts and cousins, though, who reminded me that I was strong, independent, and capable of checking out my burgled office.
Sucking in a deep breath, I pressed my finger under the twist lock, then touched the trigger.
Then I pushed a shoulder into the door.
I was glad I’d thoroughly greased the hinges when I first moved in because the door was whisper silent as I moved into the threshold.
The lights were on inside, and it was a small enough space that I didn’t really need to worry that someone was hiding away behind a large piece of furniture.
I inched closer to the storage closet and whipped it open, even though I knew the thing featured floor-to-ceiling shelves that would have prevented anyone larger than a toddler from hiding in there. Make sure you clear the room, my Aunt Lo’s voice spoke in my ear.
So that was what I did. I stepped behind my desk.
Then, finally, crept toward the bathroom door, ignoring the way my pulse jumped and my lungs squeezed.
But when I pushed the door open far enough for it to knock off the wall behind, I was met with a small, neat little room. With nowhere for someone to hide.
I turned back, glancing around the space, wondering if maybe I’d misread the situation.
Nothing looked out of place.
Even my coffee syrups were lined up with their labels out, just as I liked them. My desk didn’t look rifled through.
My eyes zeroed in on a red pen sitting crossways over a lined notepad.
Maybe it was silly to fixate on that.
Sure, I usually set my pens back in the holder. But I’d been distracted lately. Maybe I’d left it on the pad.
Only… I didn’t really remember using a red pen at all.
And was my chair pushed out a little further than I’d left it?
I glanced back at the door and slowly made my way toward it, wondering if I’d just… not closed it.
No, I wasn’t careless.
But maybe the lock and the plunger and the edge bore weren’t lining up anymore. That happened once with my bathroom door, and I just… hadn’t noticed.
It wouldn’t have been a surprise. The office building was old. And I felt like I’d needed to fix a dozen little things since moving in: missing lightswitch plates, backward hot and cold taps, a crack in the window, holes in the wall.
The door was original.
It was probably due for some TLC.
Trying to shake the tension out of my shoulders, I moved back toward the desk, pulled out a cupholder, and set my coffee down.
I dropped my bag onto the chair, hearing another buzz from my phone as I slipped my pepper spray back into its little sleeve for easy reach.
Then I made my way into the hall, opening and closing the door to assess the strength of the connection.
“Huh,” I mumbled as I moved back inside and slid the door closed.
I’d love to say I sensed something, heard, smelled, felt my spine tingle. Something. Anything.
But I would be lying.
I didn’t suspect anything was off until a hand slapped over my mouth as an arm crushed around my midsection, squeezing hard enough to make my breath catch and strangle in my lungs.
And right then, a moment too late, I knew what I’d forgotten to check.
The damn fire escape just outside the window.
The perfect hiding place.
I’d fixed how creaky the dang thing was because the heater was set to hell all winter, and I needed to crack it to be able to not work in a sauna.
So he’d just silently opened it and slid inside while I’d been fiddling with the stupid door.
Adrenaline swelled, and it took every drop of my training to allow me to think past the thundering heartbeat and sloshing feeling in my stomach.
This was actually not the worst hold to find yourself in.
My neck was not being choked.
I tucked it anyway, protecting myself from that fate. Then I pulled my legs up to my chest, catching the guy off-guard enough to have his hold loosen just enough for me to drop my weight back down, ducked low, and slip out of his arm.
I twisted, wrapping both arms around his leg around the knee, and pulled with all my might.
It didn’t take much.
I’d practiced the move on all my cousins, both male and female, and many of the giant guys over at Hailstorm.
If you had the right hold, they all landed flat on their backs.
So did this guy.
I didn’t turn around.
I didn’t grab something and beat him senseless.
Because there was one basic truth we all had to accept during training. And that was, no matter what, most of our opponents were going to be taller, bigger, and stronger than us.
So once you got the upper hand, if you had the ability to get away, fleeing was always smarter than fighting. We were told only to stay and fight if there was no other option, if there was no hope for escape or help.
So as soon as I heard his body crash to the ground behind me, a loud grunt escaping him, I stood up straight and ran straight for the door.
“Help!” I yelled, trying each doorknob as I passed.
But none of them turned.
Dammit.
I ran past the elevator, making my way toward the stairwell, yanking it open, then flying down, my heart pounding as hard as my footsteps on the concrete.
I couldn’t even hear if there were footsteps chasing me down. And I didn’t dare risk my footing by turning back to look. I just forced myself to go harder, faster.
Until I was on the lower landing.
I debated rushing out the fire exit, but it was alarmed, and I wasn’t sure dealing with cops was my best move.
I yanked open the door to the lobby instead, then rushed toward the door, flinging it open, and exploding out into the fresh air.
And there, running from the parking lot, was Perish.
Almost like I’d freaking conjured him myself.
“Gracie!” he yelled, doubling his efforts.
Neither of us slowed.
I threw myself behind him, hands clutching his shirt.
“Someone was in my office,” I gasped between breaths.
A growl moved through Perish at that.
His hands curled into fists.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No. He grabbed me, but I got away.”
“Fuck, I need to get you out of here.”
He sounded conflicted.
I couldn’t blame him.
My uncles and cousins would feel the same. Split by the need to protect me… and to get the bad guy.
“I can take myself to—”
“No,” he cut me off. “Where’s your car?”
“Right over… shit.”
“What?”
“I don’t have my purse. Or keys.”
“Bike. Now,” he demanded, starting to walk backward, his hand under his shirt, likely holding onto his gun in case he needed to use it. His head was swiveling, glancing around, looking for threats.
I glanced around, spotting the bike and beelining for it.
“Helmet,” he growled, still walking backward toward me.
I didn’t hesitate.
Because now that I felt protected, I could think a little more clearly.
Perish had been running toward me.
There was no way he could have known I was in trouble.
So there was some other kind of trouble.
I thought back to my cell, to the texts I had been ignoring, assuming they were work-related. But maybe it was the club.
Maybe the shit had hit the fan.
So by the time he got to the bike, I had on my helmet and had climbed onto the seat.
Perish paused only to holster his gun before jumping on and turning it over.
“Hold on,” he demanded in that deep growl of his.
Then we were off.