Finding Grace (20 page)

One glance around the room told Thorne that doubts
were escalating and some were even solidifying into convictions. So
much for trust, for acceptance. It had all been a pipe dream
anyway, hadn’t it? Even Jack had walked out on her.

The relentless jangle of the unanswered phone
clamored for attention, but no else seemed to hear it. Maybe it was
only ringing in her head.

“It’s all twisted facts and conjecture. He doesn’t
have any proof. Paul, tell them—”

But the asshole never gave him a chance. “That’s
your defense? Grace, dear, I don’t need proof. I just needed to
make sure that the right people understood just how dangerous a
traitor you are. The Patriot Act gives us a lot of leeway these
days.”

His ramrod posture softened and his face contorted.
Probably with the effort it took to appear sympathetic. “Of course,
I can understand why you would have wanted those men dead after
what they did to you. The doctors said you’d never recover. Just
goes to show how wrong they can be. Care for a cigarette?”

He took out a pack and tapped one out to her,
despite the men still gripping her arms.

“No? I didn’t think you would.” He lit it and took a
long drag before exhaling the smoke in her face. This time his
smile did reach his eyes.

Thorne tasted bile even before he lit it. Now she
knew why he’d always given her the creeps. He wasn’t just a bully.
He was a sadist.

She would have puked anyway…the nightmares of her
past colliding with the sickening reality of her present were too
much. The smell and the taste of the smoke only thickened the
nausea that rolled through her.

As it was, she could barely take comfort in her aim,
even though it was true.

Watching her puke drip down the major’s face, she
wished that she’d had breakfast, a large one. Then everything
turned gray and fuzzy.

* * * *

Dr. Thorne sagged between Darmfelder’s soldiers. She
could no longer see the look on Weston’s face. But after he’d
pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed away some of the slime on his
face, he certainly could. It was past time to take the damned woman
and go.

The blond hulk spoke for the first time since the
major had entered his office and presented him with the warrant for
Dr. Thorne’s arrest.

“Put it out, Major. Now. Before I make you eat
it.”

The voice was surprisingly cool, a voice used to
being obeyed. It reminded Darmfelder to wonder about the contents
of the sealed letter General Ross had insisted he give Weston along
with the warrant. The major ground his cigarette into the wooden
floor under the heel of his boot. There would be plenty of time
later to make Dr. Thorne sorry for all of this. Soon.

“Time to go, boys. Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse
us—”

No one was prepared for Dr. Thorne’s reaction when
his soldiers started dragging her toward the door.

One of his men grunted when her elbow flew into his
eye; the other howled as her heel connected with his knee. She
didn’t stop fighting, either, when his aide backhanded her, sending
her glasses flying across the room. No, it took both of his men
another precious minute to wrestle her to the ground and cuff her
wrists and ankles.

She was lying on her side now, breathing hard, a
welt already raising on her soft cheek. So pretty and broken. He
couldn’t help smiling.

Until the surprisingly resilient Dr. Thorne said,
“Hey, Major Asshole, you’re getting off on this shit, aren’t you?
Look at you—your hands all sweaty, that vein on your forehead
pounding, your pupils dilated, and if your dick wasn’t so small, I
bet we could see that it’s hard, isn’t it? You sick fuck.” She’d
said it low and hoarse, in between breaths.

But he still felt his face warming, burning. He
didn’t have to look around the room to see the crowd had turned on
him. His men felt it too. They seemed to have figured out that
everyone there besides himself and Dr. Thorne was larger than they
were, and probably former military besides. Although Weston’s time
in the military had worked in his favor up until this point, he
wasn’t so sure anymore. That training worked both ways.

Then Weston’s mass moved between them, blocking his
view so completely that he had to crane his neck upward to avoid
staring at the man’s Adam’s apple. He got as far as the clenched
jaw before he backed into the wall.

“That’s enough.” The voice wasn’t cool any more, but
it wasn’t any less commanding, either.

Darmfelder had to swallow several times before he
found his voice. “She was resisting arrest. My men only did what
was necessary.”

Weston went on like he hadn’t heard him.

“You’ll want to listen very carefully now. First,
I’m going to remind you that your warrant was issued by the Army
JAG and that Dr. Thorne is a civilian. These men are your personal
guard, not MPs. If you didn’t have that letter from General Ross, I
never would have let you in the door. And I sure as hell wouldn’t
be letting you out. Second, and this is the part you don’t want to
miss—”

Her voice was so soft no one would have heard it if
it hadn’t suddenly grown so quiet in the room. “Let it go, Paul,
please. This would have happened sooner or later. Major
Pain-in-the-Ass here is obviously well-connected. Besides, it’s not
like I was really ever part of the team anyway, right? There’s, um,
some presents I made for you all in the big box under the table in
the corner. Yeah, there’s one for you too, Mills. If you don’t want
them, just give ’em to the shelter. Oh, and tell Jack…God, tell
Jack that I said I was sorry, that I didn’t mean it.”

Jack?
Oh yes, that was the name of Weston’s
partner. No one of consequence, the major reassured himself. But
the murmurs were growing louder and the room seemed to be
shrinking.

“Now, gentlemen, I suggest you take Dr. Thorne’s
advice. I’m sure you don’t want to do anything you might regret.”
He said it with as much dignity as he could, considering his bowels
had constricted dangerously.

Weston’s hand felt like a vise around his arm when
he tried to move past. “This isn’t over, Major. And when it is, I
promise you’ll be the one with regrets.”

As soon as his seatbelt clicked in, the major told
his driver to get the lead out. He barely heard the man on the
sidewalk curse when the SUV hit a puddle and covered his big frame
in gray slush, but he’d never forget the menace he’d seen in the
man’s eyes.

* * * *

“Just fill out these forms. You can sit over here.
Need a pen?” The desk sergeant spoke the lines as if this were just
another stolen vehicle report, not the tragic loss of Dagger’s
beloved caddy.

The walk to the station had calmed him, though,
given him some perspective. Sure, it was a bummer about the car,
but it was just a car. Compared to the loss of Grace, it was
nothing. And no amount of denial was going to change that. Whatever
prompted her fears, it obviously wasn’t something small. He’d
pushed too hard too soon. He’d let his own shit get in his way.
What if she just climbed back in that thorny shell that she’d
apparently been living in for years, and never spoke to him again?
What if she just up and quit Blackridge? Shit, Paul was going to
kill him—and he’d let him, too.

He slammed his fist down on the desk without
realizing he’d done it. The sergeant looked at him like he was
wishing he’d paid more attention during those community service
lectures all public servants had to sit through.

The uniform came out from behind his desk, walked
slowly over. “1977 Cadillac Eldorado. Wow, no wonder you’re so
upset—” he scanned the form “—ah, Mr. Daggery.”

Yup, definitely community service lecture tactics.
“It’s not the fucking car I’m pissed about,” Dagger growled.

“Hey, what’s going on—?”

It was Lieutenant Rigby. “Uh, Dagger. To what do we
owe this pleasure?” His attempt at humor was lost on Dagger.

But at least the desk sergeant looked relieved.
“Some dumbass stole his car.”

“The caddy? Stolen? I’ll never understand why you
drive that beautiful machine in a Seattle winter.” He shook his
head. “Where’d you have it parked? I’d think you’d at least keep it
in a garage overnight.” He glanced over the form and frowned.
“Wait, this is Thorne’s address.”

“So fucking what if it is? We’re consenting adults.
Why does everyone seem to think…” Dagger’s voice was rising again.
He was losing control and he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to do a
goddamn thing about it.

* * * *

Luke had heard a familiar, if not necessarily
welcome, voice coming from the from the front desk and come to
investigate. The sergeant looked relieved to see him.

“Say, Dagger, why don’t you come into my office, sit
down, have a cup of coffee?” Luke nodded to the sergeant, who
seemed a little less relieved to find out the man was staying. He
could understand that. Dagger was scary enough when he wasn’t
upset.

They sat down in the office and he pushed a mug
toward the huge tattooed mitts Dagger was holding his head up with.
“It sucks, but it’s hot.”

Dagger lifted his head and sighed as he shook it
slowly. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. It’s just that she drives me
fucking crazy. We had a fight. I…”

Whoa. This could not be happening. Not to him and
certainly not with a man like Jack Daggery. And definitely not
about Thorne, a woman of such unfathomable fragility and courage
that his heart ached when he thought of her. A woman to whom he
owed more than he could ever repay.

He took a calming breath. “I guess you better call
me Luke. So, uh…you and Thorne, huh? How long…?”

The expression on Dagger’s face told Luke it had
happened fast.

“Um, we’ve been friends pretty much since Paul hired
her and then I saw her at the studio and God, Luke, she’s so
fucking beautiful, it hurts to look at her sometimes.” He’d said it
fast, like it might hurt less that way. Luke could tell it hadn’t
helped.

“She was, um, wearing a leotard or something, wasn’t
she?” He couldn’t believe Dagger would be talking the way he was if
he’d seen her. But if they were intimate…

Dagger’s head jerked up. “You know, Paul said almost
the same thing to me when I told him I’d seen her working out. And
you knew she was a woman, too. You both know more than you’re
telling me. Why? What’s the big fucking secret?” That gravelly
voice of his was rising again. “Does this have anything to do with
why she’ll never let me see her in daylight? That’s what we were
fighting about this morning—”

“I’m not surprised.” Luke hesitated before
continuing, “Look, Dagger, I didn’t find Thorne in CODIS because
she’s a criminal.” He took a sip of coffee and waited. And watched
the conclusion slam into Dagger.

“She was a victim,” he rasped. “About five years
ago, wasn’t it?”

Luke just nodded and watched the big man
closely.

“Did they catch the bastard? Were there any
suspects?” Dagger was rising, those big hands clenching into even
bigger fists. Luke had never realized how small his office was
until this morning.

Shit, he might have guessed Dagger would go this
direction. He would, if it were Sarah.

“Actually, Dagger, there were three. All convicted.”
He saw the look on Dagger’s face and quickly went on. “They’re
dead. There’s nothing for you to do but be patient with her. Give
her time. After what they did to her, it’s a miracle she’s still
alive and not in a padded room. That she’d ever want a man after
that, well, it’s beyond a miracle.” He hoped he hadn’t said too
much, but he’d said it for Thorne’s sake, so that Dagger would
understand and not pressure her.

Neither man was prepared for the explosion. The
scream was anguished, primal, deafening. Dagger’s fist penetrated
the nearest object.

Suddenly there was a cop in the room, his gun drawn
and pointing at Dagger’s head.

Everyone froze for a moment before Luke said,
“Officer Griggs, put your gun away. Now.”

“I was just on my way to talk to you about getting
out of Traffic when I heard the disturbance.” He was slow in
putting his gun away. He eyed Dagger and the big new hole in the
wall.

Luke repeated the command and Griggs finally obeyed.
Strangely, it didn’t ease the tension in the room.

Then Dagger said, “So you’re Griggs. I’ve been
meaning to talk to you and I’m in the perfect fucking mood right
now. Who says there’s no God?” The big man flexed his fist and
ignored the blood on his knuckles. “So, I hear you like to take
handcuffed prisoners half your size where there aren’t any
cameras.”

“Huh?”

Luke could see Griggs’s mind racing. So that was why
Thorne—

“You do it so often you can’t remember? Let me
refresh your memory: five feet, give or take, short purple hair.
Coming back yet?”

Dagger had found a living object for his wrath.

Griggs eyed Dagger’s clenched fists and made the
grave error of attempting a bluff. “Oh, that little freak. He
punched me first. What’s it to you?”

“What’s it to me, you pussy little twerp? I happen
to know that shiner you were sporting was the direct result of your
attempt to take inappropriate liberties with someone you were just
supposed to pick up for questioning. You want to try that with me,
Griggs? Maybe you’d like to take me somewhere where there’s no
cameras. Tell you what, I’ll even let you handcuff me first.”

What worried Luke most was that Dagger wasn’t
yelling any more. He was cool and collected enough not to give
Thorne’s gender away.

It was a serious accusation. Yet, rather than report
it, Thorne had only asked him to put Griggs on Traffic. If Luke
were honest with himself, he’d admit that he’d never have done it
if he hadn’t known Thorne’s reason for asking was a good one.
Problem was, Traffic was nowhere near enough of a consequence for
Griggs’s actions.