Finding Grace (33 page)

“I guess so. Now that you say it. All I could think
about was that I had no one, that there wasn’t anyone in the world
who gave a fuck about me except me, and I was doing a piss-poor job
of it and had no one to blame but myself. I knew I’d blown it with
you, too, but I couldn’t give up without trying one last time, in
person.”

“So you came here to fuck me over in person?” Dagger
drank his beer down, not expecting an answer.

“That wasn’t my intention, Jack. I was trying to
protect you.”

Dagger just sat there before he started laughing and
found he couldn’t stop. Before too long, Joe joined him.

* * * *

“Sure you don’t want to stay another couple of
days?” Dagger asked as they pulled up to the curb at the
airport.

“Nah, I think I’ve been enough trouble. Besides, I’m
getting old; I don’t think my liver could handle it.” He slapped
his brother on the back. “Say, I meant to tell you, nice sweater. I
never figured you for cashmere.”

“Grace knit it for me.”

“Knit it? Oh for chrissake, it figures. Sorry.” Joe
shook his head. “Say, maybe, if you’re not too busy, think about
coming out to New York for a visit. I promise I’ll show you a good
time. There’s tough clubs with shit music there too, you know.”

Dagger saw the hope in his smile and felt sorry for
him. “Yeah, sounds good. I’ll call you. Sure you don’t want me to
wait?”

“No, thanks, it’s a long flight. I’ll just stretch
my legs and get a few last breaths of fresh air.” Joe grasped his
hand and squeezed it hard before turning away.

* * * *

“So, you two patch things up?”

Joe jumped six inches off the bench he’d been
sitting on, watching planes take off. “Grace,” he practically
squeaked.

“Thorne, if you please. Shit, I’m not going to hurt
you, Joe.”

“Not like you hurt my brother, anyway, Grace. I
thought you were long gone. Portland, at least.”

“Farley bought that, huh?” Her grin didn’t reach her
eyes. “I never left town.”

“They all bought your show, baby—hook, line, and
sinker. They think you’re some kind of wounded angel.”

“But not you, Joe. I don’t fool you.”

“You say you love him, but you walked out on Jack
because you’re too scared to let him see you for what you really
are—damaged goods. You’re breaking his heart because you’re a
coward. So no, you don’t fool me.”

She pulled her knees up to her chin and hugged her
legs. “I know.”

“So why are you here? Come to gloat over the
carnage?” He forced a laugh.

“I didn’t have the guts to leave. I tried. Really,
Joe, I just want to know if he’s okay.”

“You mean you’re here to soothe whatever you’ve got
left of a conscience. You selfish little…”

He was looking at her, but she was watching a plane
coming in. Was that a tear on her cheek?

“Prove me wrong, Grace. Give Jack a chance. What
have you got to lose? The hellhounds are dead and there’s nobody
left to blame.” He got up and walked away without looking back.

He hoped she didn’t see him let go of the breath
he’d been holding. God, that had been hard. The hardest cross he’d
ever done. He hadn’t been prepared, either. At first, he’d thought
she was just some kid, a guy. But then she’d spoken with that
bruised voice. She looked so small, so fragile. And after he’d
finished with her, so broken. Jack would have killed him for
talking to her like that, and he’d deserve it. He could only hope
he hadn’t wasted the opportunity, that it was enough, that he’d
finally done right by his brother.

Chapter Twenty-One

Something wasn’t right. Dagger felt it even before
he unlocked his apartment door. He’d worked late and stopped at
O’Leary’s too, trying anything and everything to distract himself.
Mills was back in the office and had given him nonstop shit about
Grace. Farley had been subdued since Dagger’d come back to the
office after looking for her. The whole world was upside down.

He reached for the light because without it, he
couldn’t seem to see the mess. It had been there when he’d brought
Joe to the airport three days ago, and it should be there
still—unless the broken-heart fairy had taken pity on him and
cleaned up, knowing it might be years before he could make himself
do it.

Dagger flicked the switch and blinked. There wasn’t
really any such thing as a broken-heart fairy, was there? He’d just
made that up, right? So what had happened to the bottles and chip
bags, the pizza boxes and beer caps?

And his stereo was playing music from that little AM
station on the end of the dial, the one that played such a bizarre
variety of music, all thrown together like the DJ was a drunken
monkey; the one that Grace liked so much.

His heart started pounding. He tried to call out her
name, but his mouth was suddenly too dry and only an odd croaking
sound came out. He crept to the bedroom but stopped short outside
the door. Soft light was spilling out from underneath it, along
with the warm scent of melting candle wax. With hurried and
unsteady steps, Dagger returned to the living room and unlaced his
boots with shaking fingers, sure that he wouldn’t be sane enough to
do it later.

* * * *

Thorne had heard him enter the apartment, had heard
him come down the hall, but she hadn’t heard him come in the
bedroom, nor could she see if he’d opened the door a crack because
she was lying on her stomach with her face to the wall, in all of
her naked and scarred glory. Damn him anyway for keeping his doors
so well oiled.

She heard him turn around—at least the fucking
floorboards creaked—and then the muted pounding of his boots on the
carpet, almost running back to the living room. He’d seen her, he
must have, and he couldn’t get away fast enough. Thorne froze from
the inside out and felt herself fracture. She couldn’t move, and
she couldn’t stop the tears. She didn’t hear him come back.

* * * *

Dagger waited until he had better control of his
breathing, because that wasn’t going to get any easier, either.
Then he let his eyes move leisurely over her beautiful body in the
light of the candles. There must have been two dozen of them. He
studied every muscle, every bone, every shadow, every crest and
every valley, and yes, every scar. His jaw clenched when he easily
deduced what had made most of them, and he knew he’d never be able
to stand the smell of cigarette smoke after this.

Then he saw her body shudder with a sob and
whispered her name. “Grace.”

She stilled and he went to her, strangely afraid
that if he touched her, she might disappear. So he bent down and
grazed just the nape of her neck with his lips. Then he kissed her
cheek and tasted the salt of her tears. She tried to turn, but he
pushed her gently down into the mattress and began to kiss her all
over. He kissed every mark slowly, lovingly, climbing on the bed
and straddling her when it suited him, before rolling her over and
enjoying that breathtaking view.

Her eyes were squeezed shut and she had tensed
again. There were even more scars, if anything, than on her back.
He could see now why she was so smooth, so bare, and a flash of
anguish seared his gut. Yet somehow, her scars made her even more
beautiful to him, even more rare and precious. He kissed each one
with infinite care, this time letting his tongue tease the silky
surface his calloused fingers had only registered as different, as
extraordinarily smooth. When he finally looked up at her face, her
eyes were wide, their silver glow contrasting with the golden
candlelight, and her lips were trembling.

Right up until he kissed them, Dagger was fine. He’d
been banking the fire, keeping its burn steady and even. But just
that one kiss had it blazing out of control, threatening to burn
him alive with his clothes on. Shit, why did he always forget to
get undressed? It didn’t help that Grace wasn’t letting him go,
that she was holding him tight against her, that her hands had
found their way under his sweater and the waistband of his jeans
while her tongue stroked his. She was moving against him now, too,
making those little noises in her throat. Shit, he needed to get
inside her as much as he needed his next breath—and at this point,
it seemed like the two were mutually exclusive. He moaned in
frustration and before he knew it, Grace had rolled him underneath
her, pulled down on his zipper and up on his sweater, her lips
nibbling each freshly exposed inch of his skin like she’d been
starving for it.

He was still pretty much dressed when she lowered
herself onto him, but he didn’t care. He was surrounded by Grace,
covered in her, and it had never felt better or more right. She was
moving slowly, sliding up and down to the rhythm of the song
playing on the radio. He knew she didn’t mean to tease him, to
provoke him, to drive him beyond all restraint. But she’d done it
and there was no help for it now but to turn her around and onto
her side so he could pull her back against his chest and drive into
her from behind as hard and fast as he needed to. When he touched
his mouth to her ear, to tell her how beautiful she was and how
much he loved her, she screamed and bucked and his fingers found
the ways he knew to make it last for her, even as he felt himself
exploding like a rocket that was never coming back to earth.

* * * *

Joe sipped his coffee and looked out the window of
Jack’s apartment. He’d never known his brother to take so long
shaving and getting dressed. But Jack had changed in the three
weeks he’d been gone. He was…maybe healing, if Joe wanted to think
about it.

He didn’t. His roaming eyes landed on a hot red
sports car with a big white ribbon tied around it sitting in the
parking lot.

His brother walked into the living room, still
buttoning his shirt. “Have you seen my shoes, Joe?”

“Say, Jack, isn’t that your parking spot?” He tried
to keep a straight face.

Jack walked into the kitchen and peered over his
shoulder.

Joe could practically see his brother’s jaw drop,
those big fists rubbing at his eyes.

* * * *

It was still too cold to be standing outside in his
bare feet, but Jack didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy looking
at the Ferrari parked right there in his spot.

“You’ll be needing these.” Joe tossed the keys and
Jack caught them.

“Joe?” Jack’s hands were almost shaking when he
unlocked the door.

“Don’t look at me, I’m a cheap bastard. Keys were
hanging around your door knob.”

He was happy for his brother, he really was. Okay,
and jealous, too. He was a big enough man to admit that. Poor
little Grace had turned out to be loaded. Who’d have guessed?
Thoughtful and generous, too, apparently.

Still, it was fun watching Jack. He was like a kid
in a candy store, sitting behind the wheel, checking out the
cockpit. When he turned the ignition and listened to the engine
purr, the smile of pure joy stretching his mouth made Joe glad he
was here to see it.

The stereo was elegantly installed and probably cost
half again what the car had. There was no note, no card, just the
strategically placed iPod dock.

“Grace,” was all Jack said.

Joe had to laugh. “Wipe that shit-eating grin off
your face and finish getting dressed. You don’t want to be late, do
you?”

He grimaced, thinking it made his steak knives look
pretty shitty.

* * * *

Trent surveyed the men standing around the small
chapel. “Good Lord, I feel like I’m in
Land of the Giants
.
Farley, dear, who is that handsome man in the tux?”

“Dagger’s brother, Joe. I still wonder why he’s best
man. I was sure it would be Paul.”

“Silly, Paul’s giving her away, of course. The man
does have Jack’s eyes, now that you mention it, but the resemblance
definitely stops there. Thorne told me”—Trent lowered his voice to
a loud whisper—“that it was Joe who got them back together.”

“Really? Sure seemed to me like he was the one
who—”

“Shhh. Say, do you think he might be…?”

“No, Trent, I don’t. The way he keeps looking at
Katherine is fixing to get him killed.”

“Well what about that big fella standing in the
corner, he’s awfully cute.” Trent smiled and batted his
eyelashes.

Farley looked over at Mills. “Yeah, you go tell him
that, but I wouldn’t stand too close when you do it.” Farley
grinned.

“Oh, you are terrible.” Trent continued to search
the small crowd. “Our police lieutenant certainly looks as nervous
as a bride, but that may have something to do with the way that
winsome redhead he’s with keeps eyeing the proceedings like she
wants to be next. Oh, I just love the drama at weddings, don’t
you?”

* * * *

“Grace, you look like an angel. That ice-blue
silk-satin is positively divine with your eyes and hair. And the
lace choker and wristlets are the perfect finishing touch.”

“I don’t know, Katherine, this gown is so tight I’m
afraid to bend over. I guess that’s why they call it a sheath, huh?
Not that I don’t appreciate you helping me pick it out. As for the
lace, well, many non-angelic words were spoken in the process of
knitting it.” Thorne grinned.

“Now, if you’ll just let me put on a little blush
for the photos…” Katherine dug in her purse.

“Photos?” A wave of panic hit Thorne.

“Yes, photos, so you and Jack will have something to
pull out and look at when you’re old and gray.”

“But I’m already gray.” Thorne protested, eyeing the
compact in Katherine’s hand.

“Platinum, dear, and don’t let anyone tell you
otherwise.” Katherine deftly applied the blush and pulled out a
tube of lipstick. “Now stop fidgeting and turn around so you can
look in this mirror and see for yourself how beautiful you
are.”

Thorne gulped and turned slowly. She would have held
her breath longer, but the tight fit of the gown made it difficult.
She stared at her reflection and thought about the things she’d
been through, the things she’d searched for, the things she’d
learned about love and trust.