I stab a finger at the floor. “This? You don’t thank me for this. I’m here because—” I cut myself off before I say something stupid. Something I won’t be able to take back.
“Please, finish your sentence.”
Instinct has me whipping around and pulling Kerri behind me, shielding her from the newcomer. But I instantly relax at the sound of the mature, feminine voice.
Standing in the archway, not twenty feet away, is Grace Ward. And damn me if I don’t feel like a filthy hoodrat caught with his hand in her daughter’s cookie jar. “I’d rather not,” I counter, hoping introductions will make her forget her demand.
Grace shuffles over, her fluffy white ballet slippers whispering over the tiles. I think those are what the fancy people call ‘house slippers.’ And here I am, still wearing my boots like a fucking savage. She’s an older version of Kerri, with the same honey-gold hair. Only hers is shorter and piled on top of her head in a droopy bun. On a better day, she’d look elegant in the fine cut of her cream blouse and navy slacks. Today, though, there’s a slightly disheveled touch to her as she stops and heaves a heavy sigh. “So,” she begins. “You’re the man who kept my baby safe.”
Not:you’re the thug from Mayhem.
Or:the criminal I warned Kerri to stay away from.
“That’d be me, ma’am.”
Her pink lips, with their hint of laugh lines, lift. Her blue eyes crinkle, accenting the faint crow’s feet at their outer corners. “It’s Grace.” She charges me and wraps her slender arms around me. Squeezing me in a surprisingly strong embrace. Fuck. It’s not awkward at all, having to angle my body to prevent my lingering hard-on from rubbing against her. “Thank you.” Then she steps back and inspects me. Literally. Takes my measure from head to foot. I’ve never bristled under scrutiny in my entire fucking life, but here I am, shifting my weight as she inspects me. “You’re right, Jellybean. He’s handsome.”
“Oh, God, Mom, seriously?” Kerri groans beside me, her embarrassment tangible.
I sputter out a laugh and realize it’s the first time I’ve laughed in years. Actually laughed with genuine mirth. “Thanks.”
“Coffee?” Grace walks over to a fancy machine with a grinder, frother, and espresso maker. It’s a whole event and reminds me of something out of a science fiction movie. If it could travel to Mars, I wouldn’t be surprised.
“Please,” I say, and Kerri takes my hand and pulls me along as we follow her mother across the kitchen.
Kerri sits me at the table before grabbing mugs, milk, and sugar. She and her mother work as a team. I mean, it may only be coffee, but still. The easy way they interact and how their bodies seem to gravitate toward each other proves how close they are—and it fucking kills me.
It kills me, and it makes me so goddamn…happy…at the same time.
When the coffee is ready, Kerri brings ours over. This kitchen table is the one thing I’ve seen so far that looks used. A place where her family comes together to eat, where Kerri probably did homework, and where there is now one fewer member to gather. That doom hangs over this house, and as Grace joins us, mug in hand, the heartbreak in her blue eyes cuts me from across the table.
“Thank you for…helping…with Patricia.” She tucks stray hair behind her ear. “I can’t believe this is something… Never mind.” She shakes her head and waves a hand through the air, as if wiping away whatever she planned to say. After a sip of coffee, she says, “She was a friend. We. No,I. I trusted her.”
Kerri’s eyes fry me when I tell Grace, “Patricia hurt a lot of people.”
“I know.” Grace stares into her mug for a long, pregnant moment, perhaps looking for the courage to ask her next question. “Isitdone?”
Itmeaning is Patti dead.
I lean back in my chair. “Yes.”
Still staring into her mug, she states, “After all the pain she’s caused…” Then eyes devoid of any compassion lift to mine. Rage is the only light flickering in them now. “I have to know justice was served.”
If I have any doubt that Grace and I would get along, my doubt is gone. Pain is a better glue to bring people together than a stupid fucking zip code.
“Malice stayed while the Order questioned Patti.” I take a drink of coffee while keeping my gaze on her. “Like I said, it’s done.”
Grace and Kerri never need to know how the Order pulled the confession out of Patricia Caldwell. According to Malice, it might not have taken long, but it sure as shit wasn’t clean.
But I add, “If it’s any consolation, she wanted you to know she was sorry.”
Grace takes another long, measured sip. Swallows. Then she slams her mug on the table. “It’s not.”
I give her a terse nod. “I didn’t think it would be.”
“I never want her name mentioned in this home again.” She slaps her hands on the table. “Anyway, Nate stayed at the hospital.” She looks at me and says, “You’ll meet him later. My son adores your brother.”
“I’ve heard,” I drawl. “Discord always wanted a little brother, so it works out perfectly.”
