The American Soldier Collection 3: Amazing Grace (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (9 page)

He watched her on the TV and then standing there by the door so hurt, so sad, and scared all he wanted to do was take her away from all this.

He needed to get her away from here. Her life depended on it.

“Sandman.” Grace softly said his name as he turned and walked to her. She sat on a cushioned folding chair looking drained and exhausted but wanting to talk.

He squatted down next to the chair, still towering over her petite size, reminding him how feminine and delicate she was. She needed protection. He took Grace’s hand into his. He spoke to her softly, quietly, and she was thankful for his kindness.

“I can’t leave my family, Sandman. I can’t run away from this…From them again. I don’t know why this is happening. I just don’t understand it. My mom….Oh God, my mom needs me. I need her, too. I’ve been away for so long. This isn’t fair. I’m not going and you can’t make me.” She wiped an escaping tear from her eyelash.

Sandman felt terrible and this was definitely a bad situation. He knew his main priority would be to protect her and he wasn’t confident that he or his men would be able to accomplish that if she stayed here.

“Grace, honey, I know this is terribly difficult for you and for your family but…” He couldn’t continue his sentence as Grace began to speak.

“No buts. I’m not leaving my family.” She looked away from him, determined to fight him every step of the way. Sandman needed to come up with something fast or Grace could refuse his protection completely and that would be suicide.

“How about a compromise? If things stay the same for a while, if this killer doesn’t try to contact you, try to hurt you in any way, and as long as I feel your life is not in danger, then we can stick around here. How does that sound?” he asked her.

Grace looked at him and smiled as she squeezed his hand.

“It’s a deal. Thank you.”

He smiled then walked out of the office to join the other agents.

* * * *

“Donald, when did you get into all the political stuff and building the low-income housing?” Grace asked Donald as he leaned against his desk.

“Oh about two years ago. Actually, it was after everything that happened with your family. As we were searching and investigating, I came across a family living in the back of their minivan. It upset me. Then I found out there were others out there, too. I couldn’t believe that this town, this suburb, had people living on the streets. Anyway, one thing led to another and I found out about a government-funded program for the poor. Your mom actually helped me find some jobs for the people so they could qualify to be part of the program.”

“That is fantastic. So was that the affordable housing project that is still being constructed right now?”

“Yes. We received approval for an extended set of seven units. As you probably saw the other day when you visited your mom’s place, it’s a great location. Despite some negative remarks and feedback, the program has been working for the last year. I can’t foresee it causing any other issues.”

“What kind of negative feedback?” she asked, wondering how anyone could find anything wrong with such a program that helped those in need.

“Just some complaints, a bit of freak accidents during the construction, but nothing too crazy.”

“Freak accidents?”

“Yeah, some things went wrong during construction, then there were lumber deliveries that were set on fire, things like that. It shocked most of the citizens of the area.”

“That’s terrible. Well, I’m glad that it all worked out. There haven’t been any problems since?”

“No, and I’m planning on helping with another project over in Colton, two towns over. They’ve been approved for the same program and set up.”

“Excellent. Well good luck with that. Let me know if there’s anything I can assist with while I’m here. Well, if I can,” she added and he smiled as they walked out of the room.

* * * *

The mail had been delivered to the offices, and a stack of envelopes as well as a box were placed on Donald’s desk. Grace was standing by the window looking out at the chaos the killer was causing. She hadn’t even looked at the person who delivered the mail. She didn’t want anyone identifying her as the woman who found her dead sister and the one a killer was after. People might believe she was at fault or somehow responsible.

Everyone had cleared out of the room to give her a few minutes alone. That alone time made her feel more insecure than anything.

Just as she had noticed the box, Donald walked back in.

“Are you doing okay, hun?” he asked her as Grace walked toward the door. She peeked outside and saw Sandman talking to her brothers. She was sure they were discussing her new living arrangements as well as the compromise she and Sandman had already discussed.

“I’m okay. I can’t believe this is going on. I wish I knew more or could do more. I don’t know, maybe there’s something I can help with to stop this person. I don’t know,” she told him as he stood next to his desk.

“What more could you do? I think it’s a good idea that you stay with Sandman. This killer is bad news and I don’t think you’re safe. Sandman is highly qualified and seems very alert and confident.” Donald picked up his mail, then saw the brown box. She noticed his expression changed and he appeared annoyed.

“What is it?” she asked him.

Simultaneously Sandman came through the door as Donald looked at the return address on the box he held in his hands.

“Where did that come from?” Sandman asked.

In the same instant there was a large bang and once again Sandman was tackling Grace to the floor just as she covered her head with her arms.

There was a lot of smoke and everything she heard echoed. She was having trouble breathing as she gasped for air but with each inhale the pain in her chest became worse. Her arms and her neck ached. She saw some blood and little black tacks were sticking in her arms, her neck and her hair.

Sandman was asking her if she was all right and she could tell he was panicking as he looked at her arms.

Officers were rushing in wearing gas masks and offering one to Sandman, which he gave to her first.

Jim was by the desk next to Donald who lay on the floor.

She was breathing into the mask as she heard the fire alarms going off inside the building. Everyone was in a panic around them.

She tried to pull the mask off. She wanted to make sure Donald was okay as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Each move, each motion causing tiny pinches of pain around her body. She realized she was covered with little black tacks. She felt that they were meant to cause her pain but not to kill her. She knew that, she felt it was what the killer wanted…to cause her pain. The way her mind instantly thought that the killer was responsible shocked her.

“Stay still, Grace, you’re covered with this stuff. Keep the mask on until the room clears.” Sandman told her as he held her close to him.

She noticed he had only a few of the same black tacks stuck in his arm and he had begun to pull them out.

She could tell he was angry and knew he felt responsible.

Maybe he felt like he should have noticed the box being delivered sooner. But who would have thought the same person who was killing women would also send a bomb to Donald? Could this be something different? A coincidence?

* * * *

Grace could have been killed and I was supposed to be protecting her. I promised her she would be all right
. He said to himself as John and Frank entered the room.

The air was clearing up and the paramedics were making their way to the office.

Donald had hit his head on the desk and was just regaining consciousness. He didn’t have any of the black tacks on him and they assumed the initial explosion scared him and as he jumped and dropped the box, the bottom of his desk took the hit.

Grace looked at the desk. He was sure that she could see the wood of the desk had hundreds of little indentations in it. The carpeting on the floor was covered with a bunch of black tacks that hit the desk, and then fell to the brown rug below.

Sandman and her brothers were kneeling in front of Grace looking over her injuries.

“Get these things off of me,” she said in a panic as she started pulling out the tacks.

“Be careful, baby, some of those are in there pretty good,” Sandman whispered, consoling her as he took her shaking hand to stop her from pulling out more tacks as her neck and arms continued to bleed. Her whole body was shaking, her lips were quivering and when she spoke her speech sounded shaky.

“Oh my God, Grace, what the hell happened?” John asked, filled with concern. Sandman couldn’t even imagine how he and Frank were feeling. This was their baby sister.

“We heard a large bang and then the place filled up with smoke. I couldn’t hear or see and then Sandman tackled me again,” she said in a quivering voice. He felt bad for hurting her, but he didn’t know what the explosion was or what would happen next. He went into protection mode instantly.

“There was a package on the desk. Donald was holding it, looking it over. I asked where it came from and as he looked up at me, it exploded,” Sandman explained to Frank and John.

“You saved my sister’s life again. We owe you man,” John stated very seriously.

“That bomb was just a message,” Sandman stated. “It wasn’t meant to kill anyone. He just wants us to know how vulnerable we are. He’s telling us he can get to Grace or whomever, whenever he wants to. He’s resourceful and I don’t like it one bit.” He got up off the floor and began giving orders to the crowd of officers and detectives.

The search was on for the person who delivered the package.

* * * *

The paramedics entered the room and Grace sent them to treat Donald first.

He was acting funny and she was certain that he had a concussion.

Grace on the other hand felt dizzy and light-headed. The paramedic told her it was a combination of the gas in the explosion and the trauma she was exposed to.
No shit trauma.

He had no idea what trauma the past few days had brought her. She wondered why the killer did this. What could he want from her? Who could he be? Her head was pounding as two paramedics removed the little black tacks from her arms and neck.

“You were lucky that one of these things didn’t hit you in the eye,” said one of the paramedics as he carefully removed each tack from her body then finally the last tack from her neck.

When they were all done, both Grace and Donald refused to go to the hospital to be checked out thoroughly.

“You should go, Donald. You might have a concussion.”

He appeared so serious and scared. He was looking for something in his desk files, and when she asked him what he was doing he told her “nothing.” She didn’t think it was nothing, but she wouldn’t push the issue. He was in a state right now and was trying to maintain his professionalism. She got that.

Grace was relieved that Donald was safe. She didn’t want to see anyone else get hurt.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Donald. I’m so sorry about this. You could have been killed.”

He stopped what he was doing and stared at her. He dropped the folder onto his desk, walked around the front of it, and stood before her.

“I’m a tough old bastard, don’t you worry about me.” She gave him a hug and he hugged her in return.

Grace sat down on a small brown-and-green-checkered couch. After being treated by the paramedics, both Donald and Grace moved to another office down the hall. Grace waited, knowing that at any moment Sandman would arrive and she would be going off somewhere with him instead of her family.

The room they were sitting in was a kind of resting area with no windows, a small love seat, and a few other single reclining chairs. In between the furniture were different magazines. Grace took notice of one in particular called
Guns and Ammo
.

Donald was filling a blue-and-white paper cup with water from a water jug that stood in the corner of the small room.

The door to the room opened and both Donald and Grace turned to see who was there.

Sandman entered looking tired and still rather annoyed. He was a huge man, intimidating, powerful looking and somewhat mysterious, like one shouldn’t underestimate his capabilities. She sure as hell was intimidated.

He smiled at Grace then got himself a cup of water. She followed him with her eyes, absorbing the way his dark jeans clung to his long, thick thighs. She could practically make out the muscles beneath the material.
Hell, I felt his muscles when he tackled me.

“Well we found out that a delivery person brought the box to the front desk. From there on it went from officer to officer until finally reaching your desk, Donald. I’m sure in about an hour we’ll find out everyone who touched it when it entered the building. As far as before the delivery person, we still don’t know. The bomb squad is gathering evidence still but believe this bomb was homemade. There was a timer, and activator, and, therefore, a person with knowledge of its contents had to have delivered it here.” Sandman tossed the paper cup into the recycling bin.