Fierce Gracie had never stopped fighting. Voodoo had told me how they found her. Showed me the evidence of her fear and her physical reactions. I’d also seen the signs of how she fought back in the bruises on her assailants and the scattered objects from the desk flung around the room.
Our brilliant, fierce, impossible-to-contain woman never gave up. She fought with everything she had and everything she was. That wounded creature I’d glimpsed in the bathroom was only the aftermath—she was already gathering up her pieces,rebuilding herself with the same stubborn fire that had carried her this far.
“Yes.” Her answer was straightforward, direct. She didn’t try to soften it or explain around it. “He was the one who had me set aside for him.” Her gaze locked on Bones as his expression rippled. For as long as I’d known the captain, I’d also respected his will and ability to contain his emotions.
“Him?” A grim question.
She nodded once. “Him.”
Bones blew out a breath. “You still want in?”
“I have to be in.” Utterly implacable in her determination. “I want answers. I want to hear what he says.” She drained the coffee. “I don’t have to like it. But I have to hear it.”
Instead of responding immediately, Bones glanced at Voodoo, their gazes locking for a pulse before he shifted it to me. Yeah, I got it. He wanted our opinions. Like Voodoo, I nodded.
She was correct. None of us had to like it, but she had more than earned the right to make this call.
“Then you will.” He rubbed his jaw. “Want something to eat? Or more coffee?”
She shook her head. “Not sure I can eat right now. You should have some coffee though.”
Normally, he’d have blown that off. But to my shock, a faint smile curved Bones’ lips and he nodded. “A half cup,” he said and I just stared.
“Gracie,” I said in a stage whisper, snagging her attention, “the Bones whisperer.”
It earned me an expected smack in the back of the head from Bones but Grace’s sudden smile was more than worth it. Even better, the light that flickered back into her eyes. Satisfaction flooded me, but before I could say anything else, my phone rang.
I glanced at the caller ID. “It’s me,” I said, answering. “Go.”
Lunchbox’s low voice cut through the line. “Still on Sinclair. He’s left the hotel and is now at a restaurant meeting four other men. I got photos for you. I’ll send them through.”
“Still taking his time, I see,” I muttered as my phone began to vibrate, but I moved to the laptop to take the messages there so I could run the images.
“He seems very determined to not head home. Think he doesn’t want to spend time with his houseguests?”
Couldn’t blame him for those musings. Voodoo and I had debated a similar thought after I got a look at Juarez. “Maybe.” I eyed the men in the photos. “These look like standard businessmen.”
“Unless he’s running with a different caliber of trash than we think he is, these are the types I’d expect to see with him.” Lunchbox had a point. “How is she?”
“Hang on.” I passed the phone to Grace. “It’s Lunchbox.”
She brightened a fraction as she took it. Her comm was out and when I glanced at Bones with raised brows, he patted his pocket. One nod.
“Okay,” Gracie said in a soft voice, scratching Goblin’s head the whole time in gentle short motions. “Yes.” Another pause. “I’ll be fine.” This time she frowned. “No.” Then again. “No.” A sigh. “We’ll finish here first then let Bones call it.”
She blew out a long breath then lifted her gaze to Bones.
“Yes, he’s right here.” A hint of amusement. Barely there, but still there. “No, I thought I’d make him guess.”
Voodoo’s expression relaxed and some knot of tension in my gut let go. Yes, she was fighting her way back to us. Bones didn’t rush her, just waited until she held the phone out to him.
The time we’d made him take to recover from his capture had paid off in other ways. The pair had developed their own language and Bones wasn’t quite so remote and separate. All good things.
Bones took the phone from her, never looking away from her face until the receiver touched his ear. The shift was instantaneous—the faint warmth he’d let her see blinked out, replaced with that cool, clipped precision he wore like a second skin.
“Go,” he said.
Lunchbox must’ve jumped straight in, because Bones’ jaw ticked once, that tiny twitch he only made when he was thinking three moves ahead.
