I expect to find a sea of worry in his gaze. But when I open my eyes, I see only love.
“There you are, darlin’. You can relax now. That’s the whole of it. Everythin’ we know for sure. Everythin’ we’re still tryin’ to piece together.”
I turn to the bulletin board. I thought all the notes and clippings and scribbles were just horrors to be feared. And in some ways, they are. But they’re more than that.
They’re love. Desperate, raw love.
And knowing that gives me the strength to face them.
Chapter Forty-Five
AJ
I pull the duvet up to Grace’s shoulders, lean down, and press a kiss to her forehead. She agreed to rest when I promised her I’d not only help her wash her hair before the press conference, but I’d do it naked.
I’d worried hearing the evidence we’d gathered would break her. But it might have made her even stronger.
Slipping out of the bedroom, I unlock my phone. Connor picks up on the first ring.
“What happened with Hardison?” I ask as I close myself back in my office.
“Harris was fixin’ to hand the case back over to APD,” Connor says. “But when Hardison came in this mornin’, he was going on about how badly they done fucked up last time and how the Rangers were gonna show ‘em how it was done.”
Worry prickles along my spine. “I ain’t about to argue with him about APD’s shoddy police work, but does Hardison have any idea why he changed his tune?”
“Nope. And Zephyr hasn’t found anything on his computer. But with all the angles she’s workin’, can’t say I’m surprised.”
A ball of ice settles in my gut. “This don’t feel right. Harris handed the case to APD—and shut me out—less than forty-eight hours after Grace was taken. Why would he be so territorial now?”
“That’s the million-dollar question,” Connor says. “Outside of the twenty minutes he spent with me, Hardison’s been stuck to Harris like glue all day. He’s got good instincts, AJ. Almost as good as Parker’s. If there’s somethin’ to find, he won’t stop until he digs it up.”
With a sigh, I sink into my chair. “You’ll be there? At the press conference?”
“What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I’ll be there. Are you okay?”
I stare at the crime board leaning against the wall. “I…hadn’t told Grace about the oleander poison. Or…anything, really. Until an hour ago.”
“Shit,” Connor mutters. “I’d read you the riot act for keepin’ all that from her, but it sounds like you’re beating yourself up enough already. How’d she take it?”
“Better than I would have.” I run a hand through my hair, tugging hard enough a few strands come loose in my fingers. “But…fuck, man. After tonight, the whole world’s gonna know she’s alive. How long until they come for her again?”
He doesn’t answer right away. That ain’t good.
“I can pack a bag. Take her up to the cabin. It’s got a decent security system.” My voice, already rough around the edges, cracks. The last time I went to our grandfather’s cabin on Lake Livingston, it was to save Jasper and Emi from a mess of cartel hitmen. If I’d been even two minutes later, they’d both be dead.
“No. You can’t make Grace leave her home. Not when she’s still findin’ her way back. Plus, you’d be all alone up there.”
“Even here, it’s half a mile to the nearest neighbor. I’ve got security cameras at the front and back doors, but?—”
“That ain’t enough,” Connor says, his voice calm and steady. “But I’ve been workin’ on a solution.”
“You… What kind of solution?” The man’s already done so much for us. He claims we’ll never be square. But helping to save him and his family was my fucking job. This? It’s a hell of a lot more.
“I called Graham.”
It takes me a second to place the name. “Your brother’s guy?”
“Yeah. He’s part of Ryker McCabe’s K&R team in Seattle. Their logistics specialist—a former Navy SEAL—is married to the woman who runs Emerald City Security.”
