Finding Grace (18 page)

“Thank you, Jack. I appreciate your, ah, sentiment,
and your sympathy. I think I could get over it if they would just
catch whoever did it and lock them up. It frightens me to think
that he’s—or they’re—still out there.”

* * * *

“You’re awful quiet, Jack.” They’d been moving
slowly through the morning stop-and-go traffic. Now that the caddy
was back from the detailer, Thorne missed the iPod jack it was
lacking.

“Sorry, Grace. I was just thinking about what Trent
told me, his boyfriend’s murder and that fucker Griggs not
listening to him.” He did not tell her how the conversation had
started.

“Trent told you about that? Really? He wasn’t
exactly trusting, even before William’s murder. It’s been really
hard on him. I’ve been meaning to talk to Captain America about
investigating the case, now that he’s all grateful and everything.
He did put Griggs on Traffic for me. Farley drove me by one night
so I could flip the bastard off. It was pretty satisfying. If I’d
known he was the one who dissed Trent, though, I’m not sure I’d
have settled for a mere gesture.”

Dagger felt a twinge when he thought about Grace
riding with Farley. The pretty bastard had always been the biggest
player on the team when it came to women. He didn’t want to think
about it.

“Traffic, huh? Cops hate Traffic. Remind me to stay
on your good side. Fine, you can talk to Captain—ah, Lieutenant
Rigby about the murder, but I’m gonna have to have a little
one-on-one with Griggs myself. That spineless sonofabitch fucking
hit you. You were handcuffed and he hit you!”

Dagger’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.
He’d probably have killed Griggs if he’d been there. He sure as
hell wanted to.

“Don’t, Jack. Please. That little prick is
so
not worth the trouble you’d get in. Besides, I don’t want Captain
America’s back up when I ask him to investigate the murder. You
know how cops protect each other. I just need some time, a lead,
something to take to him so he’ll open an investigation. Nothing
has come to me so far.” She paused for a beat before she said, “But
it is really sweet of you to offer. I’ve never had anybody, um,
that would do something like that for me.”

Her smile was so real that Dagger knew she was
telling the truth. It made him want to pull off the road, take her
in his arms, and hold her tight. It wasn’t the first thought he’d
had in the past week or so that scared the shit out of him.

Before they got out of the caddy, she reminded him
to be very careful not to call her Grace.

It wasn’t that difficult for either of them since
she spent most of the day in her office. The week settled into an
after-work rhythm of stopping at Tron’s, visiting Jefferson and
making stops to supply her fridge with proper provisions. Dagger
shaved at work and squeezed a few changes of clothes between the
sacks of yarn in her closet. Their nights were spent loving and
talking and falling asleep peacefully in each other’s arms.

It was the best week of Dagger’s life.

* * * *

Paul called her into his office on Friday afternoon.
“Good news, Thorne. I’ve just been notified that the patent office
received the applications for your designs. Apparently that lawyer
you recommended knows her stuff. It was my understanding that
patent searches take a lot longer. I have to tell you, though, I
don’t feel right about Blackridge’s name on all three of them. The
only one you actually designed here was the encryption for our
satellite phones. Those other two are all yours.”

The patent attorney had hinted that the patents were
worth a great deal of money, even more than he’d suspected.

“Look, Paul, when you found me I was working
catering jobs for less-than-minimum-wage cash just so I could keep
a low profile and stay out of that Swiss account of mine as much as
possible. Never mind my, ah, unofficial departure from jail.

“I develop because it’s my nature, just like you
protect shit because it’s yours. You put those patents through
without my name on them and everyone benefits. They never would
have seen the light of day if you hadn’t stuck your neck out and
taken the risk of bringing me on. This kind of technology becomes
obsolete pretty fast. Besides, it’s not like you’ve sold the
patents yet, right?”

Letting a sigh out through his nose, Paul shook his
head. It was hard to argue with her logic, even though his sense of
fairness told him he was being manipulated.

“Okay, I’m still seeing that Buzz Lightyear grimace
of guilt. So I tell you what, when you sell those patents, and I
really think you should—split the profits among the team.” Then she
dealt the final blow to his resistance. “Hey, you’re the one who
goes on like a scout leader about all of this team shit. So put up
or shut up, Paul.”

Shit. She had him and he knew it. “Fine, Thorne, if
that’s the way you want it.”

“Yeah, it is. And I don’t want you blabbing it all
over, either. They’ll think I’m trying to buy their affections.”
She smiled. “So, if we’re all done with this boring money shit, can
I go back to work now?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Nothing new there. At
least she was calling him Paul again. She seemed happier, and, for
that matter, so did Dagger. After that song and dance two weeks ago
about not wanting to give Thorne rides any more, he finds out she’s
a woman, does a one-eighty, and doesn’t seem to want anyone else
near her.

Paul didn’t want to think about the implications. He
couldn’t see any point in rocking a smooth-sailing boat. He’d deal
with it later. If he had to. Maybe after he talked to Katherine
about it. She was a whole lot better at this relationship shit than
he was.

In the meantime, there was another thorny issue—one
he didn’t want to think about any more than the other, but needed
to. The better part of the team was in town and Mills wasn’t. It
would be a good evening for Thorne to join the team down at
O’Leary’s. But how could he ask that of her, knowing what had
happened the first and last time she’d set foot in a bar?

Dagger had said he thought she must have gotten beat
up pretty bad. He had no idea. Of course, that was back when his
friend thought Thorne was a small gay man. He wondered if Dagger
had thought about it since he’d learned otherwise and drawn any
conclusions. Only one way to find out.

He pounded on Thorne’s door and opened it.

Dagger’s hand was still in motion, as though it had
been resting on Thorne’s shoulder. She was still pointing to
something on the display.

Paul’s eye twitched again. He couldn’t remember when
it had started doing that, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it had
been just after Thorne had started at Blackridge.

It was too much to hope that Dagger’s sudden
interest in the technical aspects of security was innocently
acquired. On the other hand, Paul had never known the big man to
come by his female escorts by wooing them with false interest. To
his knowledge, arrangements had always been much more basic than
that.

He cleared his throat.

Thorne looked up and smiled. “Hi, Paul. I was just
showing Jack some modifications I’m making to the comm unit to make
it more powerful and portable. With the satellite phones being
safer to use, there’s no reason the comms can’t take over more
serious stuff. I should have a prototype ready some time next
week.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing it.” He meant it,
too, but right now his mission pressed him to go on. “Say, what do
you think about joining the team down at O’Leary’s tonight?” He
directed the question to Thorne, but watched Dagger to see if he’d
put anything together.

His friend was completely focused on Thorne’s
response. Nothing certain to be found in that. Thorne just rolled
her chair back and put her hands in her lap. “Uh, sure, boss, I
guess I can’t put it off forever. From what Farley told me last
week, I’m less likely to be the subject of conjecture if I’m in
attendance.”

“You talked to Farley?” Dagger looked
displeased.

“Well yeah. He’s okay.”

Paul saw Dagger’s fists tighten. It couldn’t
possibly be jealousy, could it? The very idea of Dagger being
possessive of a woman was incomprehensible. And disturbing. He
added the answer to the list of things he didn’t want to know.

“See you both in fifteen then.”

His mission was accomplished, so why did he get the
feeling the trouble hadn’t even started yet?

* * * *

They were the first of the Blackridge team to
arrive. Thorne cursed inwardly when every head in the place turned,
and she felt unfriendly eyes follow them to the bar. She had to tap
Jack when he almost pulled out a stool for her. She’d made him
promise not to blow her cover in any way and he’d already almost
slipped up.

The bartender missed it. She could only hope the
rest of the bar had, too.

The round man with a bad rug just nodded and said,
“Dagger,” while he opened a bottle and handed it to him without
taking his eyes off Thorne. “And what’ll you have, ah…”

“Thorne.” She smiled tentatively. “Do you have any
ginger ale?”

The bartender and everyone who’d been
listening—which was pretty much everyone in the place—seemed to be
snickering.

She was just glad she was there with Jack. There was
no way she’d ever have been able to set foot in the joint if he
hadn’t been there. It wasn’t just the demons from her past his
presence kept at bay, it was the ones who hung out in places like
this.

Jack stood up straighter and glared at the bartender
until he gave her her ginger ale. The normal hum of the place
slowly returned. Farley came in with Paul, the others trailing in
behind them in ones and twos.

“Holy shit, hell must have frozen over—the little
freak has decided to come off his mountain and join us.” But
Farley’s smile was sincere. “Glad you could make it.” He thumped
her back hard enough that she had to grab the bar’s rail to keep
the chair from tipping her into it.

She saw Jack frown and glared at him. He turned and
propped his elbows on the bar behind him. His lips formed their
typical snarl, but he hadn’t said or done anything to give her
away.

Markham sat down on the stool on the other side of
her and began pumping her about Sarah’s kidnapping while Hawks
tried not to look half as interested in the story as she could tell
he was; they’d both been out of town on assignment when it
happened.

She was running out of small talk when she spotted
an arcade game machine in the corner with the word “Dance” on
it.

“Hey, what’s that?” she asked Farley, pointing.

“It’s one of those dance games. You move your hands
and feet like the diagram tells you to. Jeez, Thorne, you don’t get
out much, do you?”

“Not much, I guess. Too busy. No one to go with.”
She shrugged as casually as she knew how.

“Hell, Thorne, you go to bars to
meet
someone. I thought you people knew all about that, had your own
special clubs and everything.” There wasn’t a hint of snideness in
his voice.

She hadn’t really been prepared for that. Farley was
trying. Thorne wished she had some social skills to draw on. They’d
never been necessary in the academic world, or with Jack or Paul;
they just talked about real things. All she could think of to say
was, “I went once a few years ago.” She swallowed and pushed her
chair back. But instead of bolting out of the place like she would
have done if Jack hadn’t been there, she settled for saying, “Think
I’ll go check out that game.”

She took three steps and heard Farley say, “Kinda
grows on ya, don’t he?” and Jack’s grunt in response.

Thorne felt Farley watching her, just as she felt
Jack watching Farley—only he wasn’t smiling like Farley was. Why
wouldn’t Jack want Farley to talk to her, or watch her? The fact
that it pleased her made no more sense than the original
question.

At least the game made sense. The patterns revealed
themselves through the flashing lights and constantly changing
screen. The music left something to be desired, but she was
sufficiently delighted to have found such an engaging diversion
that she was willing to overlook it. Her body was more than happy
to have an outlet for all of its nervous energy.

She was so into the game and the progress she was
making that she didn’t realize the bar had quieted and people were
watching her until she overheard Jack ask the bartender about the
game. He didn’t sound any more pleased about it than he was with
Farley.

The bartender responded with, “Got it on sale a year
ago. My nephew talked me into it. He loves it—him and his buddies
use it all the time. You’ve just never seen him. Hey, here he comes
now.”

Someone in the crowd called out to the new arrival
that his high score had just been beaten.

Thorne took a moment to check out her fellow player.
She was immediately disappointed. He didn’t look very nice. And he
wasn’t alone. She felt a chill work its way up her spine.

One glance at Jack told her he agreed with her
assessment. She put up her hand in a gesture of warning. His eyes
flicked to hers, then locked on Paul’s. They nodded silently to
each other. Thorne marveled as some unspoken agreement spread
quickly through the Blackridge team.

The young man, heedless—or ignorant, more likely—of
the danger he was in, walked toward her. His first words
immediately confirmed her fears. “Think you’re so hot, you little
fag? Probably not good enough for the queer bars, so you come
around here putting your cock-sucking lips on the glasses we drink
out of. We don’t like your kind. You should see what happened to
the last one of you came around here.”

His little gang fanned out around him.

Thorne blinked behind her glasses and hopped off the
machine, feeling the chill spread to all her limbs. She knew with
an icy certainty that she was facing William’s murderers. Her voice
squeaked just a little when she said, “Sorry, I just never saw
anything like this. It’s great, isn’t it? Want to play a challenge
game? Or would you rather I just…”