Saving Grace (Serve and Protect Series) (18 page)

“There you are!” he said, stopping several feet away.

Lord, he even
stood
like a cop. Quarter to quarter, his left shoulder facing her left shoulder rather than toe-to-toe. For some reason, she laughed. It rose in her chest, like an air bubble needing to escape.

“Dammit, Grace, are you okay?”

His sharp tone punctured her mirth. Pushing herself away from the support of the wall, she moved toward him. “I’m fine.”

“You didn’t see me pull up?” With a jerk of his head, he indicated the direction of the car parked immediately outside the doors. “When you didn’t come right out, I thought....” He broke off, shoving a hand through his hair. “Forget it. Let’s go.” He turned on his heel and strode out, the automatic doors sliding open just in time to prevent him from colliding with them.

Grace followed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I must have been looking for a black Pathfinder instead of a blue Corolla.”

He yanked her door open and stood there waiting for her to get in. She sought his gaze, perilously close to tears. It had been careless of her to scare him like that, but she couldn’t handle his anger right now.

Oh, Lord, it must be hormones. And if she thought
this
was hard, just wait until they were finished at the druggists. “I must be tired, I guess.”

His gaze seemed to soften a little, but the tension in his jaw didn’t slacken. “Just get in the car, Grace.”

They made the trip to the supermarket in silence. Just as well. The folded slip of paper felt like it was burning a hole in her back pocket. It wasn’t until Ray parked the Toyota in the lot that he spoke.

“Why don’t you wait here? I can run in and fill that prescription for you.”

“No, I’ll do it.” She released her seatbelt and grabbed her purse from the floor by her feet. “Why don’t
you
wait here?”

“Not a chance.”

Just give me some damned privacy!
she wanted to scream. But she couldn’t. Not without arousing even more suspicion.
Think, Gracie.
Unfortunately, nothing inspired came to her, so she turned to him and said, “You’ve got to stop treating me like an invalid, Ray.”

“Fine. You stop fainting, I’ll stop treating you like an invalid.” He scanned the parking lot around them, searching for danger, she supposed, then turned back to her. “If you insist on going in, we go together.”

“Okay.”

He released his seatbelt and patted his jacket pockets. Not feeling for his wallet like other men did, she realized. Feeling for his badge, his gun.

The thought made her throat close up. It was second nature to him. He loved being a cop and he could lose it all, because of her. Because of the damned mystery money she’d brought into their lives.

He popped his door open, unfolded his long legs and climbed out of the little car. Quickly, before Ray could get around to help her, Grace opened her own door and clambered out. He took her hand firmly in his and they crossed the parking lot. Their tattoos covered up by their jackets, they attracted very little attention.

Grace’s heart thumped so hard as they entered the store, she feared Ray could hear it. “Why don’t you buy us some snack food to take back to the hotel?” she suggested. “I’d kill for some yoghurt, or better still, some chocolate milk. Maybe some fresh fruit, too? I’m tired of fast food and hotel breakfasts.”

He grunted an agreement. “Yeah, be nice to have some real food. We can use that cooler we bought, fill it with ice from the machine back at the motel.” He eyed her. “You be okay on your own?”

She slanted him a wry look, hoping her relief didn’t show. “For the few minutes this’ll take? I think so.”

He nodded once, then picked up a shopping basket and strode toward the grocery aisles. Grace exhaled, then headed straight for the drug counter. Catching a pharmacy aide, she said without preamble, “I need a pregnancy test kit. Quick.”

The younger woman gave her a sympathetic look. “Sure thing. Let’s just have a look at what we’ve got.”

Grace knew she should ask for the pre-natal supplement, too, but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. While there was still a chance the doctor was wrong, she wanted to cling to denial.

“Try this one,” the clerk said. “They’re all very reliable, but this is probably the most economical.”

Grace thanked her, paid for the purchase, shoved the small box into the depths of her bag and went in search of Ray.

She didn’t get more than two aisles before her thoughts turned inward again. How often over the years had she thought about a baby?

Not often in the beginning, but more and more in the last year or so. But Ray had shown no sign that he shared similar ideas. Indeed, he’d seemed completely satisfied with the status quo. Reluctant, even, to change anything. Kids had always been something they both wanted ‘later’.

Her steps slowed. Could she have taken the decision for him? Might she unconsciously have been less careful with the diaphragm? Removed it too soon?

Maybe.

Did she really hope she wasn’t pregnant?

It’d be easier if she weren’t. She wouldn’t have to face Ray’s anger and the inevitable suspicion about paternity. She wouldn’t have to face her own doubts on that score.

But could she wish the baby away?

If she were pregnant with Ray’s baby, it might be all she’d ever have of him after this was over. He’d never forgive her for what she’d done, for betraying him, for leaving him. And God knows, she didn’t deserve for him to forgive her.

Answer the question, Gracie. Do you or do you not wish this possible pregnancy away?

She stopped dead in her tracks as the answer came to her. No, she didn’t. An incredibly powerful wave of protectiveness washed over her, bringing the sting of tears to her eyes. She’d fight tooth and nail to keep her baby safe.

“Grace?”

She started. Ray, standing right beside her, his shopping basket full.

“You okay?” He laid a hand on her arm. “You’ve got that blank look again.”

“Just tired.”

“Get what you needed?”

She nodded.

“I guess we’re all set, then.” He gestured to his basket. “Anything else you wanted, or will that do it?”

The basket overflowed with fresh fruit, milk, yogurt and cheese. There was even a bag of those peeled baby carrots she liked to nibble on. His consideration made her want to cry all over again.

“No, that’s great,” she choked, turning away.

Ray narrowed his eyes as Grace bolted for the cashier. Following her, he plunked his shopping basket down on the conveyor belt. Grace unloaded the stuff quickly while he dug the cash out of his wallet to pay for it.

Two minutes later, they were back in the car. Just as she had for the ride from the hospital, she sat rigidly in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead. Sighing, he slotted the key in the ignition and the Toyota sputtered to life.

She was hiding something. Something the doctor had said, no doubt. He thought about asking her flat out, but the uneasy feeling that she might come unglued if he forced the issue dissuaded him.

Checking his mirrors, he backed out of the parking spot. First chance he got, he was going to look at those prescriptions to make sure she really did get something to help.

Though he couldn’t imagine what the doctor could prescribe for the after-effects of concussion. He’d had a couple of hard knocks himself over the years, and it didn’t seem to him like something drugs could help, beyond painkillers. But Grace didn’t complain of headaches anymore. All she’d mentioned was feeling tired.

Unless it wasn’t from the concussion at all.

Ray mulled that idea over as he nudged the car into traffic. Maybe the doc was treating her for anxiety.

Damn! Bet that was it. Getting shot at, having to flee, seeing their house on the six o’clock news with cops and firemen tramping through it. Not to mention all the stuff that had come before. Was it just over nine days ago? The Gawd-awful scene in the kitchen when she’d told him she was leaving, the trauma of the car accident, the frustration of the memory loss....

Now,
that
he could understand them medicating her for. Plenty of people turned to pharmaceutical help when things got hairy. He’d never done it himself, but he couldn’t say he blamed anyone who did. He was all for whatever helped you cope, as long as it didn’t get in the way of the job.

The job.

Braking for a stop sign, he fought off a burst of anxiety at what the guys back at the precinct must be thinking right about now.

Don’t go there, Morgan.

His only job right now was to keep the two of them safe until Grace regained her missing memories. Easy assignment, compared to Grace’s job, which was to remember.

Of course, being all twisted up with nerves probably wouldn’t help her recollection any. He’d been trying his damndest to bury his own hurt and anger to help her relax, and he thought he’d been doing a pretty good job. He could have sworn she’d unwound pretty good at the seashore today. But then she up and fainted, scaring the bejesus out of him.

Maybe this was what she needed. Maybe a little Prozac or whatever they used these days would help her unbend enough to recover those missing days.

“Ray, you missed the Harbour bridge.”

Damn
. “No problem. We’ll take Reversing Falls.”

Back at the motel, he parked in front of the office, ran inside and paid cash for a second night. The clerk tonight was a new one, a young woman. A young woman who clearly liked men in baggy-assed pants, ragged jackets and girly jewelry. As she handed him his change, she took a second too long to let go of the bills.

For chrissakes
. All he wanted was to yank the money out of her hand and get back to his room. Instead, he returned her appraisal. Not too much‌—‌he didn’t want her thinking he was seriously coming on to her. But neither could he afford to let his genuine lack of interest show. She was a sweet young thing, all right. If he erred too much either way, she’d remember him.

“Workin’ the graveyard shift tonight?” he asked.

She inclined her head, brushing her bangs back in a casual way she’d probably perfected in front of a mirror. “Get’s pretty dull after midnight.”

“I’ll bet.” He grinned. “If my old lady wasn’t such a light sleeper, I’d bring you a coffee and keep you company.”

With a wink, he turned and walked away. As he crossed the lobby, he strove for that cocky gait that came so naturally to the punks on the street. Feeling her wistful eyes on his back, or some part of his posterior anatomy, he strolled out.

As he approached the old Toyota sedan, he felt another pair of eyes on him. Grace’s.

“Better,” she said when he’d slid behind the wheel.

He turned to her blankly. “Huh?”

“The walk. I think you’re finally getting it.”

He blew out a breath. “I don’t get it. What’s with the whole baggy pants thing? And what’s all this for?” He grabbed the fabric of the oversized t-shirt he wore and pulled it out a good eight inches. “I could get another friggin’ person in here.”

“Ah. Female clerk. She give you the eye?”

He glanced at her. Though she still looked drawn, the ghost of a smile played about her mouth.

“Can’t imagine what’s to look at. Certainly not my ass,” he groused. “The crotch of these things is damn near to my knees.”

The corners of her lips kicked up a little, but the half-smile faded quickly, leaving her expression tight again. No question about it, she was definitely worried about something.

When they got back to the room, Ray did a quick walk through, flicking on the lights, checking behind doors, sweeping back the shower curtain, checking windows. Well used to his routine by now, Grace waited for the all clear before entering.

Once inside, she headed straight for the bathroom, not even pausing to drop the small pharmacy bag. Damn. He’d have to wait until she vacated the bathroom before he could snoop. Or maybe he could slip in while the shower was running?

Nah, no hurry, he decided, picking up the TV remote. Flipping to the headline news channel, he sat on the edge of the bed to read the headlines as they scrolled across the screen to the accompaniment of soft rock from a local radio station. The stock report was followed by entertainment news, then sports. Top stories should be up next on the endless loop.

Blue Jays over the Yankees in a nail-biter. One piece of good news, anyway.

Recognizing the distinctive guitar of Jeff Healey in the background, he tapped the volume button on the remote a couple of times. Now that was music. Not that God-awful pseudo-R&B pop crap that clogged the airwaves these days‌—‌

A crash from the bathroom brought him to his feet.

“Grace?”

No answer. Had she fainted again? Dammit, he should have insisted on going in there with her and to hell with her modesty.

A second later, he was at the door. Twisting the knob, he tested it with his shoulder. Locked, but he could force it without breaking a sweat. Of course, then he’d have a broken lock to explain. Or he could take an extra fifteen seconds and jimmy it.

“Grace, you okay in there?”