Finding Grace (25 page)

“But, Grace—”

“Don’t you ‘but Grace’ me. Let it go, Jack. For me.
Maybe I’ll knit you another sweater.”

“Aw, Grace—” The huge man had turned to the petite
woman on the bed and his voice had an incongruous pleading quality
to it.

She went on in that voice that didn’t match her
appearance, either. “Listen Jack, I have enough to put behind me
and enough trouble doing it. I won’t have anything else on my head.
Now, say you promise and come hold me.” She gave him a crooked grin
that would have stopped a LAWs rocket.

The general didn’t think any man could have resisted
either her wisdom or her charm at that moment. He sure hoped Dagger
couldn’t.

Dagger only hesitated for a blink before stepping
back to the bed and scooping the remarkable Dr. Thorne into his
arms. “Okay, Grace, I promise.”

The general’s smile was one of true respect. If
anyone could handle Jack Daggery, the little pixie could.

He kept smiling when she said, “Now, when can I get
out of here? I hate hospitals.”

Florence appeared suddenly. “Slow down, angel, you
can’t just fly out of here. You gave us quite a scare, you know.
We’ll need to run tests and—”

Dr. Thorne cocked her head. “Hey, I know you, I know
your voice. You sang to me. You washed me. You were gentle.”

“I know you, too, angel. You came to me in a dream.”
Looking up, Florence went on, “Now all you men have welcomed her
back, you can get on out of here. The doctor’s what she needs.”

She shooed them all out of the room like a bunch of
young children. And they all let her.

* * * *

“Well, what’ll it be, Major? Are you going to accept
your new assignment?”

Darmfelder sputtered. “General, sir, isn’t there any
way we could—”

“No, we couldn’t. I can’t even bear the sight of
you. Your answer. Now, Major.”

“I, uh, I accept.”

The major dropped his head in defeat and Dagger
tasted disappointment. If only he’d refused and been stripped of
his commission, it would have been so easy to…Oh well, he had
promised Grace.

He was standing just outside the door into the
lounge. He’d recognized the major as the passenger he’d locked eyes
with in the SUV that had taken Grace away from him that day. The
worst day of his life.

Dagger caught both the general’s and Paul’s looks of
apprehension when he trailed the major to the elevators. He signed
Paul not to worry. Too much.

The major was apparently so busy feeling sorry for
himself that it wasn’t until it jerked to a stop mid-floor that he
woke up and realized he wasn’t alone in the elevator. The flicker
in his eyes told Dagger that he was remembering him now, from that
awful day and from just a few minutes ago when the blinds had
opened. The way all the blood drained from his face told Dagger
that the man finally had a clue that his life was hanging by a
thread. He took some satisfaction in the terror he saw in those
beady little eyes, more in the dark streak spreading down the leg
of his uniform.

The major opened his mouth, but Dagger took a step
toward him and only a little whimper came out.

“I can’t tell you, you sick piece of shit, how
greatly it pains me that Grace made me promise not to wipe your
worthless life off the face of the earth. On the other hand…”
Dagger almost smiled as the look of relief on the major’s face
dissolved. “Nothing was said about grievous harm.”

He paused to let it sink in and consider the options
himself when an unpleasant odor began to permeate the elevator. The
stink was bad, but if he had to let the major walk out of the
elevator, not crawl on his belly like the little worm he was, at
least everyone would be able to recognize it. It wasn’t much, but
it was something.

Ignoring the smell for a moment, he gave voice to
the natural progression of his thoughts. “The only problem is, see,
once I start to hurt you, I don’t trust myself to be able to stop.
It would just be too…satisfying. So,” he sighed, “I guess I’ll just
have to content myself with continual knowledge of your
whereabouts. You know, just in case something should happen to
Grace. Or in case you get within a thousand miles of her. Or I just
forget the promise. And, in case you might forget, I’ll leave
little reminders now and then.”

He continued to mumble to himself as he restarted
the elevator and got off on the next floor. “Damn, I don’t know how
she does it, wrangling these promises out of me.”

Chapter Seventeen

Thorne woke to the feel and smells of her own bed,
her own apartment, her own Jack. It had all just been a bad dream.
She dozed for a few more minutes before reality circled back and
bit her hard, right in the middle of her chest. It was strange
that, of everything that had happened in the last three weeks, all
she could seem to think about was Jack’s rejection last night.

He was holding her awfully tight for someone who
didn’t want her, though, and she had to move very carefully not to
wake him. She was thankful the shower was only a few steps away.
God, but she was weak. It took everything she had to get cleaned up
and dressed.

Sitting against the wall watching Jack sleep, she
ran a hand through her hair. It was too long; it dragged against
the collar of her shirt and irritated her. She knew she wouldn’t
make it to the barber and back, not today. She couldn’t make it to
the bus stop to get to work, either. Her stomach reminded her that
food was a problem, too. She was afraid to open the fridge.
Everything except Jack’s beer would have gone bad by now.

It vexed her to realize that, for the first time
since she could remember, she really needed someone.

The doctor hadn’t wanted to let her go, but Jack had
taken her side and that had been the end of that argument. He’d
carried her all the way out of the hospital, into the rented SUV,
through the airport, onto Blackridge’s cool jet, and then into her
apartment last night.

It had made her feel so…so safe and loved. And that
terrified her.

Especially after what happened last night. It had
started with the conversation, and
that
had started when
he’d laid her down in her own bed, which had felt simply wonderful.
She’d thanked him for rescuing her and asked how he’d been able to
wake her. It shouldn’t have been a big deal.

But after some hemming and hawing, he’d admitted it
had been with a kiss. He’d seemed…embarrassed, or something. So
she’d tried to make light of it, pointing out that the ugly scars
she knew he’d seen made her the beast in the fairy tale. He hadn’t
smiled; he’d closed his eyes. Well, the others hadn’t even been
able to look at her, though they’d seemed glad enough to see
her.

Then she’d asked him if he’d found out how she’d
gotten those scars and Jack had told her what Paul told them. So
they all knew. If she hadn’t already faced some of them, she didn’t
think she’d have been able to face any. It would be hard enough as
it was.

There was only one nightmare left: the one she knew
she could never face. The one where Jack saw her naked—saw the
scars that made the manacle marks look cute, the ones that covered
so much of her body. The look on his face in the dream was what
haunted her. She always woke up screaming from that one.

She hadn’t dreamt last night, though, because he’d
stayed, because she’d asked him—knowing he would because he felt
sorry for her, because she was one of the team, because he felt
obligated. How sick was that?

He hadn’t answered, just turned out the light and
slowly undressed her. After weeks without it, his touch had made
her burn and ache so fiercely she’d had to fight like hell to hide
it when he’d just kissed her like a sister and crawled in next to
her, falling into a light snore almost as soon as his head hit the
pillow.

After a few quiet tears, she’d been out like a
light, too exhausted herself to dwell on the fact that Jack no
longer desired her.

But today…

His eyes had just opened, and for some reason she
couldn’t fathom, he looked pissed.

* * * *

Dagger stretched and felt Grace’s absence. His eyes
flew open in panic only to meet hers across the room. The infernal
woman was already showered and dressed. And, from the pale, drawn
look of her, it had damn near wiped her out, too.

“What the hell, Grace? Why aren’t you still in bed?”
Where he’d so carefully put her last night after she’d actually
asked him if he wanted to stay. Like wild horses could have dragged
him away.

He’d undressed her in the dark, because he knew it
made her feel safe. He let out a sigh, remembering how the release
of each button, the removal of each piece of her clothing, had made
it harder for him to breathe. How, by the time he’d slid her jeans
and panties down her legs, he’d been hard and aching. How his lips
had brushed hers, just before he’d caught himself and realized what
a selfish asshole he was. She’d been out of a coma less than a day
and he’d been about to savage her into next Tuesday.

The guilt over that, and everything else, had
successfully tamped down his desire. She’d thanked him—thanked him,
for chrissake!—for rescuing her. She’d made him tell her about the
kiss. But he couldn’t tell her the rest, how she’d scared him
shitless, how much he needed her. Not after he’d failed her when
she needed him the most. Nothing he could ever do would make up for
that. And then she’d brought up those awful scars, made him
remember how she’d gotten them and he’d had to close his eyes so
she wouldn’t see the extent of his helpless rage.

His last thought had been that at least he could
protect her now and see to it she got the rest she needed, that
they’d sort the rest out later. He’d folded her gently in his arms
where she belonged, and fallen into a deep, Grace-given, peaceful
sleep.

Too deep, apparently.

He repeated, “What the hell, Grace? You should be in
bed.”

“I was, um, going to go into work, but—”

“Work! Grace, are you fucking nuts? You need at
least another day in bed.”
With me
.

“There’s no point in laying around, I’ll just get
bored and restless. I’ll get stronger faster if I push myself.
You’d do the same thing and you know it.”

She wasn’t just pale. Something else was wrong. She
was scared. And she didn’t want to be in bed with him. Fuck. He
wondered for the millionth time what that bastard Darmfelder had
done to her. He clenched his fists and swallowed his rage again. It
was of no help to either of them.

He fought for the right words. Words that had worked
before.

“I tell you what, Grace. I’ll take you to breakfast
and we’ll see how you do. Just give me a few minutes.”

* * * *

Breakfast at the diner that morning was a noisy
affair and no place for the kind of conversation Dagger wanted to
have with Grace. Not that she seemed to be in any mood to talk. She
was eating well, though, and that pleased him. By the time she’d
finished, she could hardly keep her eyes open. He overrode her
protests and insisted on taking her back to her apartment and
tucking her into bed.

* * * *

Thorne tried not to be too happy that Jack came back
that evening. He brought hot Tron’s and groceries, for which she
was grateful but not surprised—Jack could be pretty thoughtful. He
also brought more beer, which did surprise her. It meant that he
intended to stay a while. Just as she felt a warm glow growing, she
reminded herself that he was only taking care of her. After all, he
was too nice a guy to dump her when she obviously needed him.

The noises of the other tenants in the building
filtered through the silence while they ate. Thorne tried not to
think about how many more meals they might share here before she’d
be alone again.

“God, you really can hear the guy next door take a
leak.” Jack’s laugh didn’t sound very convincing to her. He was
probably just trying to make conversation and hadn’t meant to let
it slip that he wasn’t going to miss this place.

That’s what she was thinking when he took her hand
and said, “What’s wrong, Grace? What did that fucker do to you? If
he hurt you, I don’t care what I promised, he’s going to die a slow
and painful death.”

“Don’t worry about it. He didn’t touch me; he
doesn’t have the stomach for it. No, Darmfelder gets off on the
mind-fuck. The man does have a singular talent, though.” She
swallowed.

“Wait, you don’t have to tell me—not if it’s…I don’t
want to push.”

God, he looked so concerned, so sincere.

“No, after coming to my rescue like you did, you
deserve to know. And it’s probably good for me to talk about it,
just this once.” She took the time to create some distance in her
mind between the events and herself, so that it was like it had
happened to someone else.

She focused her eyes on an empty patch of wall. “He
smoked his cigarettes and made crude remarks. And yeah, it made me
sick. No big deal. Being confined was worse—the handcuffs, the
small room. I thought I was going to lose it. But what pushed me
into that dark abyss, Jack, was that I believed him when he told me
I’d never get away, that no one was coming for me.”

“God, Grace, how could you think that? Of course we
were coming for you!”

It hurt so much to remember, she could hardly get
the words out. “You weren’t there that morning. You didn’t hear how
that fucker twisted everything. And they believed him. You didn’t
see how they looked at me. Before…with those hell’s spawn, it was
different. I never had hope; there’d never been anyone who would
miss me enough to look for me. But with you and the team…To believe
in that and then have it ripped it away. It was too much, Jack,
just too much. I didn’t want to live any more.” She bowed her head
because she no longer had the strength to hold it up.