Safe at Last (Slow Burn #3) (14 page)

“Do you think you could get down some soup? It’s nice and hot but not so hot it’ll burn your mouth. I’m sure your lips are pretty tender. It had time to cool off a bit on the drive over.”

Gracie nodded. “That sounds nice. Thank you.”

“Zack,” Eliza called softly. “Can you bring the soup over?”

Gracie’s gaze immediately tracked the room and she froze when it settled on Zack. A hurt, confused look simmered in her eyes and she glanced at Eliza as though she’d been betrayed by the other woman.

“Hon, don’t look like that,” Eliza said. “Zack is a great guy. He asked me to come. He thought you might feel better with another woman here. And hey, we need to even the odds at every opportunity, don’t you think?”

“Are you his wife?” Gracie asked, her stare returning to Zack.

It was the longest she’d ever looked at him at one time. She seemed to study him dispassionately. Almost as if she were analyzing him. What astonished him, though, was the look of pity she gave Eliza when she asked if Eliza was his wife. God, just what sort of sick fuck did she think he was?

Eliza let out a laugh. “Wife? Oh Lord no. I love him to pieces but we’d kill one another in the first twenty-four hours. We work together. Have been for a while now.”

Her expression grew confused again. He could see questions in her eyes but she closed her lips in a firm line and turned her face away from them both.

With a sigh, he held out the soup bowl to Eliza, and when she took it, he walked around to the opposite side of the bed so that Gracie was between them. Gracie averted her gaze to the ceiling as if shutting them both out.

One eyebrow cocked, Eliza shot him a quick look that clearly said,
What now?

Zack pulled up the only other chair in the room and sat so close to the bed that he could prop his arm on the rail.

“Eat, Gracie. Eliza won’t bite. She’s the very best kind of person. If you won’t believe it of me, at least give
her
the benefit of the doubt.”

But first he needed to elevate her bed so she wouldn’t be wearing her meal.

He fiddled with the buttons on the side of the bed until he found the one that raised the head.

“I’m going to lift you up a bit so you can eat,” he said. “Let me know when to stop and tell me if it causes you more pain.”

Not waiting for a response, he pressed the button and a whirring sound started as the head half of the bed slowly elevated. At the first movement, Gracie’s hand flew to the railing as if to steady herself. Then she relaxed more, waited a moment and said, “That’s good.”

She sagged against the pillow and took several shallow breaths.

“Hurt?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. It’s . . . better, actually.”

What a concession it must have been for her to speak directly to him. It beat screaming at him, or accusing him of doing whatever the hell it was he’d done, but then again, her yelling at him would be better than this icy silence between them.

He was silently begging her to talk to him. To tell him what had gone so horribly wrong in their relationship.

“Think you can handle it or do you want me to spoon it to you?” Eliza asked gently.

A rose color bloomed in Gracie’s cheeks, or at least the few places she wasn’t colored purple. She lowered her gaze as if shamed. Then she looked back up and slowly reached for the bowl.

“I can do it,” she said quietly.

She wiggled just a bit, repositioning herself before taking the bowl from Eliza’s grasp. Then she sank back down against the bed, seemingly exhausted from such a small task.

He was absolutely going to heed the doctor’s instructions to a T. And he’d use her period of recovery to wrestle whatever demons she had. Not to mention his own, since it was obvious that
he
was her demon.

Each spoonful was painstakingly and slowly rendered. The hand holding the spoon shook, splashing some of the soup onto the sheet covering her lap.

Eliza immediately rose and ducked into the bathroom to get a towel. Then she placed it over Gracie’s lap so any further spillage wouldn’t get the sheets wet.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Eliza asked after a long period of silence.

Gracie was so shaken from her question that she dropped the spoon. Thankfully she’d already sipped the contents and had been on her way for another spoonful.

“The police have come by already,” Zack interjected. “They asked me to call them as soon as she woke up so she can give them a statement.”

Gracie closed her eyes and a thin stream of tears leaked down her bruised cheeks.

Eliza immediately took the hand that had been holding the spoon and she squeezed it but didn’t let it go. Instead she rested their linked hands on the mattress at Gracie’s side.

“Would you prefer then to wait until they arrive so you don’t have to repeat it?” Eliza asked.

“I don’t know anything,” Gracie said in a bleak voice. “One minute I was there. Alone. The next minute they were there. I don’t even remember most of what happened afterward. Just the horrific fear that it could happen again.”

Zack immediately stiffened. “That
what
could happen again?”

Gracie closed her eyes and the hand Eliza held went white as she squeezed Eliza’s. Hard. But Eliza didn’t even flinch or act like she noticed.

All the color had leached from her face and she looked very much like she was going to be sick again. Eliza must have picked up on that fact as well because she immediately made a grab for the basin by the bed.

She merely slid it onto Gracie’s lap, taking the bowl that was still half full and putting it away.

“Gracie?” Zack prompted. “What could happen again?”

“In my worst imaginations did I ever think you capable of the things you’ve done, but to sit there and act like you don’t know, that you’re innocent . . .”

She turned her warm chocolate eyes on him, emotion simmering, shiny with unshed tears.

“Why, Zack? Did you hate me
that
much? Could you not just have broken up with me? Were you afraid I’d turn into some psycho stalker? Or were you worried I would make you look bad when you entered the pros? God, what you must have thought of me.”

She turned away again, tears running in endless streams. Zack was so dumbfounded by her barrage of heated questions that he couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. Eliza immediately found his gaze, her question evident but not vocalized. Did he want her to leave?

As much as he’d like her to do just that so he and Gracie would be alone to hash everything out, he knew that if he rushed this, he was going to lose big. He had to gain her trust in some way. No matter what it took.

He gave a quick shake of his head but kept his gaze fastened on Gracie and her tear-stained and bruised face.

“Gracie, look at me please,” Eliza said in a firm but gentle tone.

With seeming reluctance, Gracie complied.

Eliza gave her hand another squeeze. “Listen to me, hon. I don’t know what happened in your past. Only you know that. But what I do know is that Zack has looked for you—thought about you—every day for the last twelve years. He’s a good man. The very best. And he’s worried about you for so very long. Will you at least talk to him?”

“I just want to forget.
Everything
,” Gracie whispered brokenly.

His heart was in his throat. No matter that he knew he hadn’t done anything wrong.
Gracie
thought so. She was convinced. Heartbreakingly so. How awful must it have been that she hadn’t even confronted him about it twelve years ago? And she couldn’t bring herself to even talk about it. She hated him. She wanted
nothing
to do with him.

He surged upward from his chair and stalked to the foot of the bed, his hand gripping the back of his neck. He closed his eyes in utter frustration and despair. He was getting nowhere fast. He’d never wanted anything as badly as he wanted her trust. Her love. How the hell was he supposed to get both back when it was clear she neither trusted nor loved him?

“I’m tired,” Gracie whispered. “And I hurt. Can you push the call button?”

The question was obviously directed at Eliza. She never even looked his way while she made her request. Even so, he pushed forward and pressed the button himself.

For the briefest of moments their gazes locked as he once again stood to his full height. Her lips trembled and her eyes were still glossy with tears. The look of defeat in her features nearly unhinged him and broke his heart at the same time.

“Listen to me, Gracie,” he said in a quiet, firm voice.

He waited until she finally lifted her gaze to his, and he winced at the stark emotion in her eyes. The bareness. Like a desert.

“I need you to talk to me, but I understand that right now you’re upset and you’re hurting. But I’m not going away. Not until we have this—whatever this is—worked out between us. I won’t allow you to walk away from me again. Not when I’ve looked for you for so damn long. So here’s the way it’s going to be. While you are here, in this hospital, I or someone I work with will be with you 24/7. And when you’re discharged, you are going home. With me.”

She let out a strangled protest and he gently touched the tip of his finger to her swollen lips.

“Shhh, and hear me out.”

She went silent and he let his finger fall away instead of tracing the outline of her lips and imagine what she tasted like, if she still tasted as sweet as she had the last time he’d kissed her. Only, he hadn’t known it would be the last time. If he could only have that moment back.

“The men who attacked you went after you because of me—because of the people I work with. And you aren’t safe as long as they’re out there. Targeting their next victim. And I will not allow you to be at risk. Someone will have to go through me to get to you. Now, we can do it the easy way, which is you agreeing to come with me. Or we can do it the hard way and I carry you out of here.”

“What kind of people do you work for?” she asked, fear sparking in her eyes.

“The best, Gracie. The absolute best. Eliza works with me.” He nodded in Eliza’s direction. “I work for Devereaux Security Services. We protect people. Provide security. Any job that requires muscle and high technology.”

“Ironic,” she bit out, her eyes flashing with fire for the first time.

Well, he’d take anything over the fear and utter desolation that had seemed a permanent fixture in her soulful brown eyes.

She lifted her chin a notch higher, and she stared directly at him.

“Is this your penance?” she asked softly.

He swore violently, barely able to keep the blistering epitaphs from erupting off his tongue. He breathed in through his nostrils for a few moments as he sought to keep his temper in check.

He’d never been angry with Gracie. Never had a reason to. He wasn’t sure he had a reason
now
but the anger was there all the same.

“Tell me what the hell it is I supposedly did,” he demanded. “It’s kind of hard to defend an action when you have no clue what it is!”

“Are you for real?” she asked incredulously.

Eliza leaned forward, interrupting the tense exchange. She squeezed Gracie’s hand in a gesture of reassurance but Gracie appeared to be as angry as he was. Again, he’d take that over defeat and sorrow any damn day of the week.

“Gracie, in order to atone for one’s sins, one has to know what sin has been committed,” Eliza said quietly. “You and Zack obviously have very differing accounts of what happened twelve years ago. Talk to him. Tell him why you’re angry. If nothing else, tell him to go to hell, but at least give him the opportunity to defend himself. Surely he deserves that much.”

“Deserves?”

Gracie’s voice cracked under the weight of emotion and tears rapidly filled her eyes once more.

“He deserves. God, that is so . . . I don’t even have words!” Gracie said tearfully. “I sure as hell didn’t deserve what he did to
me
—what he had
done
. I can’t even think about that night or I get sick to my stomach.”

As if to drive home her point, she gestured wildly for the basin, which Eliza promptly shoved onto her tray, just as Gracie heaved the contents of her stomach inside it.

THIRTEEN

ONCE
again, Zack had been forced from Gracie’s room while the nurse did an assessment and made her more comfortable. Eliza stood next to him, watching the goings-on through the narrow glass panel above the knob.

She shook her head, her eyes awash with sympathy. “I don’t know what to say right now,” she murmured. “I can’t even imagine. I’m so sorry, Zack. This has to be hell for you.”

“Evidently it’s hell for her too,” Zack said bleakly.

He rubbed his face tiredly, lack of sleep fast catching up to him. Maybe he’d never sleep again. How could he when whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was terror blazing in hers. The shadows under her eyes. How utterly fragile and breakable she appeared.

Breakable
.

No, that wasn’t accurate. She was already broken. Anyone with eyes could see that.

God, it scared him to death to see her in such a state. What the hell had happened twelve years ago? He was getting damn tired of the issue being dodged and Gracie’s refusal to let him in on the big goddamn secret. Especially when he seemed to be the only person who didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

“I wonder if you shouldn’t have a psychologist brought in,” she said in a low voice, ensuring it didn’t carry through the door. “She looks so . . . fragile.”

“I’ve used the exact same word to describe her more than once since seeing her in the art studio.”

“It’s evident she truly is frightened. Whatever it is she thinks you did is very real to her.”

“Tell me about it,” he muttered. Then he cupped the back of his neck and dug his fingers into the aching muscle. “Can you do some looking? You know where I’m from. Where we’re from. Can you go back twelve years or around that time, before and after the last time I saw her, and see if anything pops up? Something major? If it happened in our pissant little town then you can be sure it was all over the bloody place.”