Anger flashes through my mother’s eyes. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself. You need to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I roll my shoulders and straighten my spine, refusing to back down. “I’m not here for you. I am here to support Kendall and the many other women like her who were forced from their homes and made to do terrible, horrible things.”
“We don’t know that she’s been forced to do anything. She could be dead, for all we know.”
I slap the words straight out of my mother’s mouth, but my second strike misses its target when an arm wraps around my waist, and I’m forcefully walked toward the closest exit.
“You did what you came here to do.” Grayson grunts when my fight to get out of his hold sees my legs and arms colliding with his tuxedo-clad body. The slap felt good, but I’m still furious, so I need at least another round. Perhaps even three. “Now it is time to walk away.”
Though he’s right, I’m as stubborn as a mule, and this stance has been years in the making.
I may not be able to get out of Grayson’s firm grip, but his impressive strength can do little to stop my vicious tongue. “I’m pregnant, Dad. What you called athatis your grandchild.”
Shock morphs onto my parents’ faces. My gall has surprised them. They expect me to be the good, obedient daughter, but I’ve changed. I found my strength, and I refuse to let them take it away from me again.
“And if you want any chance of being a part of his or her life, I suggest you remember that before you ever contact me again.”
The vibrations of the car’s engine are a soothing backdrop as we drive down the almost isolated freeway. The GPS states that we’ve only reached the one-eighth point on our trip from San Francisco to San Diego, and the miles stretch on endlessly.
I glance at Grayson, who is focused on the road, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel in sync with the beat of a classic song belting out of the radio. Though the tension from the gala still lingers, the open road brings a sense of calm.
I’ve spent the past hour processing everything that has happened so far this week. I could blame my rollercoaster moods on unfamiliar hormones, but that would be a weak excuse.
I want nothing to take away from this glorious victory. Challenging my parents’ authority was among the hardest things I’ve done. However, it ultimately proved to be an empoweringexperience. I am in control of my life, and the strength it inspires is addictive. The weight of their expectations was a constant burden, and at long last, I can secure an entire breath.
Upon noticing my gawk, Grayson breaks the silence that has been hanging heavily between us for the past hour. “You were right.” When I look at him as if to say,Which part?he smirks. “About calling your baby a that. I shouldn’t have done it. It was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
His apology shocks me. I didn’t flinch when he called my baby a that. It didn’t hurt coming from him. But it burned like a thousand tasers when my father said it.
When I tell Grayson that, he halfheartedly shrugs. “That’s because he’s family. He’s meant to have your back.” After a quick scrub of his hairless chin, he reveals the cause of his anguish. “But I’m meant to be your family too, Mace, and I shouldn’t have forgotten that, no matter how shocked I was.”
The bureau often says that the agents are family and we’re all in this together, but this feels different. He’s not speaking on behalf of the bureau. He is talking about him and me. Us. The emotions in his tone announce this, not to mention the guilt clouding his usually bright eyes.
When I smile at him, words beyond my ability, he does his famous flip-the-conversation-on-its-head ruse. “You were also right about your hunch while giving your speech.” He waves his hand at the glove compartment. When I open it, a file that a plain-clothed gentleman handed Grayson a second after he placed our bags into the trunk falls into my lap. “Sidney Fullick, a San Francisco native, traveled to Belize multiple times this year with two male associates. On the returning flight manifests, the guests who accompanied them on each trip are never mentioned.”
“How old are their victims?” I ask, too impatient to flick through the extensive file.
“Mid to late teens.” He gives me a minute to settle the swirls of my stomach with a handful of swallows before he continues. “We’ve placed an undercover on a flight Sidney scheduled to Belize tomorrow morning. He will follow them to their location and hopefully get us some answers.”
I sigh, relieved at how fast Grayson works when he gets a hunch.
With one touchy subject down, he moves on to another. “How are you feeling?”
“Cramped,” I murmur, my tone honest. We still have hours left on the road, but I already can’t feel my ass.
His laughter warms my chest. “I meant more about your speech… and perhaps your knuckles. You don’t slap open-palmed, do ya?”
As I glance at my swollen knuckles, I exhale deeply. “I’m a little worried.”
“Your hand isn’t broken. It will take more than cracking through a slab of silicone to break it.”
Now it’s my turn to giggle. “Not about the hit.” I twist my torso to face him, pulling the belt away from my stomach in the process. It’s been digging in for the last fifty miles. “About my speech and whether it will ruffle feathers.”
Grayson nods in agreement. “It will ruffle feathers, though that’s not necessarily a bad thing.” He glances at me, his expression both serious and playful. “Your Liam Neeson–inspired speech is already circulating on social media sites. People are talking about it and sharing it. Your sister’s name is out there, being spoken by the masses. That’s got to be a good thing.”
The idea of strangers judging my words makes me anxious, yet I agree with Grayson. Any publicity is good if it helps bring my sister home. The more people talk about her, the more likely it is to occur.
But I’m also worried. I’ve kept my name off any file that could disclose a conflict of interest. If the news spreads too far, it could have me removed from the case even faster than giving birth in bureau headquarters.
