Saving Grace

by Stacey Espino

  “Nothing’s changed really. Everyone’s hard at work. Mom has a new place in the city. Dad’s getting by. Got him a Web site now.”

  “Really?” She laughed at the thought.

  “Really. I’m determined to get the old man into the twenty-first century. Looks bad on me if I don’t.”

  “What about Scot?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  She crawled up his chest, her forearms resting against him. “Yes, I do.”

  “Well…Scot was doing okay until the woman of his dreams fell into his lap, then disappeared in the night after he gave her his heart. When he thought he’d get her back, she dropped off the map, and all the computer expertise in the world couldn’t track her…until two days ago.”

  “I’m sorry. I had no idea. If I had had a clue you still wanted me…”

  He placed a finger on her lips. “Remember. The past is the past. Today is the first day of forever.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Rays of light peeked through the curtains, highlighting Scot’s bare back as he slept. Grace studied him, the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, the shape of his shoulder blades, and the curve of his backbone. She sat up in bed, remembering she had to get to work, but then realized everything had changed since last night. She felt bad for putting those beautiful roses through the garbage disposal now she knew they were from Scot. At least she had peace knowing it wasn’t Ken stalking her.

  She nudged Scot awake. He grumbled and rolled to his back, but a slight smile pulled at his mouth when he squinted at her.

  “Scot. One thing’s been bothering me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The lemon. How did you know about the lemon?”

  “What lemon?”

  Grace’s chest tightened. Surely Scot was just half asleep, unable to recollect. It had to be him who placed the lemon on her driver’s side seat.

  “The lemon you planted inside my car yesterday. Same as the flowers.”

  “I told you I sent the flowers. I don’t know anything about a lemon.”

  He dismissed her ranting, stretched, and disappeared into the en suite bathroom. She heard the water running from behind the closed door, like magnified static. Her nerves caught fire. Lemon equaled Ken. She sprinted to the window of the room and peered out the cracks in the curtains. Nothing. She checked the locks on the suite and spun around, trying to get a handle on her situation.

  “Scot!” She pounded on the bathroom door, her heart in her throat.

  He pulled open the door, standing with both arms outstretched on the frame, a white towel wrapped around his waist. “What’s the matter?”

  “The lemon. It was Ken. He found me, just like you did. It must have been the restaurant Web site.”

  “Why would he want to find you?”

  “The guy traded me in a wife swap, drugged me, and kept me a prisoner. He’s capable of anything, and I know damn well he wants revenge for the divorce.”

  “Don’t worry. He won’t find you again. We’ll be out of here within the hour and back home by tonight.”

  Grace exhaled. She needed Scot on her team. She couldn’t do this alone. Not again.

  * * * *

  They made it to the airport without incident. Grace sat tense the entire trip, looking out the car windows, convinced Ken followed.

  Once onboard the plane, she slunk into her seat, feeling like she had crossed a finish line after running for miles. Just like the day of the wife swap, being on the plane brought safety and comfort. As soon as Scot finished stuffing their carry-on luggage into the overhead compartment, he took his spot beside her. His hand rested on hers, and he awaited her reaction.

  “I’m okay. Really.”

  “You don’t look good. You haven’t looked good since this morning, and I don’t like it. That ex of yours is starting to irk me.”

  “Starting?”

  Scot squeezed her hand to reassure her all would be well. Although she wanted desperately to believe it, she wasn’t naïve enough to think this was over. Ken knew about the ranch. He’d been there himself. Surely he’d put two and two together and come looking for her. They’d have to stay at Scot’s apartment to stay off the radar, at least until things blew over.

  When they arrived at their destination, they exited the plane together. It would be night soon, so they had to get a move on before blackness blanketed the rural landscape. Grace didn’t expect to see Trevor waiting on the runway beside the white pickup truck. She froze until Scot urged her to move forward.

  “What’s Trevor doing here?” she asked.

  “I told my dad to send a ride for us.”

  Scot seemed quite comfortable with the arrangements. Did he not realize how awkward it would be for her? “But, Trevor?”

  “A lot has changed since you left, Grace. We don’t fight like cats and dogs anymore. I think we have you to blame. You’ve somehow brought everyone together, made us better people for having known you.”

  The world sure moved in mysterious ways. Who would have guessed that her unconventional relationships with everyone on the ranch would somehow bring a lifelong feud to an end?

  “Good to have you back, Ms. Grace,” said Trevor.

  She noticed he wouldn’t look her in the eyes. When she turned to Scot for clarification, he whispered to her, “He still feels guilty about not bringing you back the first time. Conner too.”

  “Oh.” She felt bad they held on to guilt on account of her. That had to end immediately.

  “It’s good to be home,” she said as Scot entered the cab, sandwiching her between both of the men. Although she cared deeply for Trevor, she didn’t desire him as she once had. Her heart and soul were committed to Scot.

  Grace scanned the vast open fields as they drove toward the ranch. She missed these sights. Even the air smelled sweeter. The blue sky appeared richer, and the grass greener. This was where she belonged and wouldn’t try to convince herself otherwise again. A massive flock of birds passing by overhead blotted out the setting sun. Farmers must have been seeding their fields nearby.

  “I wouldn’t have come back last time, no matter what. You know that, don’t you? I had to find myself. I wasn’t ready to be rescued.”

  Trevor only grunted and tilted his cowboy hat to hide his face.

  “I’m dead serious, Trev. I don’t want anyone blaming themselves on account of me. I made my choices, and everything happened the way God intended. Besides…I’m here now, so no hard feelings.”

  “Good to have you back, Grace.”

  The only words he spoke were all she needed to hear.

  When they arrived at the ranch, Grace didn’t even think about her next actions. Her legs carried her inside on their own volition.

  “Mr. Wagner? Mr. Wagner?” she called out after bursting in the front door without knocking.

  When he appeared in the hallway, she ran to him, like a child to her father. He already chuckled by the time she wrapped herself around him, his familiar scent embracing her.

  “Had a feeling I’d be seeing you again. It’ll be nice to see Scot stop moping.”

  “I missed you. Missed everything.”

  He stroked her hair as the front door closed at the end of the hall.

  She could sense Scot’s presence before he spoke.

  “Ken’s looking for her again. I think we should leave the dogs out at night, until we’re sure things are safe.”

  Mr. Wagner nodded in agreement.

  “We’re staying here? Wouldn’t it be better to go to your place?” she asked.

  “This is my place now, Grace. I moved back home after you left.”

  The idea of Scot, Mr. Wagner, and Trevor all getting along for once pleased her to no end, but staying where Ken might come looking for her filled her with dread.

  “You have nothing to worry about. That man ain’t welcome on my property anymore, and all my boys understand that,” assured Mr. Wagner.

  A multitude of doors clos
ing, footsteps, and voices echoed down the hall. Trevor joined them, and so did Jenna.

  “Grace! You’re back!” Jenna ran to her, and then pulled her into a tight embrace. When Grace didn’t respond with the expected enthusiasm, Jenna held her at arm’s length. “Good Lord, you’re white as a ghost.”

  “Nothing to worry about, Grace. This is our turf. That makes a world of difference.” Trevor pounded his fist on his open palm.

  “If I ever see that a-hole again, he’ll wish he never messed with you,” added Jenna.

  Warmth and security surrounded Grace, and she melted into it and accepted what they offered. “Thank you. All of you.”

  Someone tugged her hair from behind. “Why don’t you take a shower? It’s late, and you had a long day.”

  Scot looked tired too, his dark blue eyes at half-mast. She couldn’t wait to get him into bed. “Good idea.”

  She said good night to her new family of sorts and escaped into the humid clouds of a hot shower. She savored the heat and massaging force on her back and neck. Stress really took a lot out of a woman. She didn’t rush, even though she wanted to join Scot more than anything. This was her chance to unwind, get some of her essence back.

  When she finally stepped out into the cool air of the hallway, a towel wrapped around her, she instantly noticed the quiet. She expected some people to still linger in the family room or be tinkering about in the office or kitchen. It struck her as odd, but she padded in soft steps to her old bedroom. She wondered if Scot left it the way she remembered, or if it now had a masculine feel. Either way, she didn’t care.

  The bedroom stood empty, no sign of Scot. Her initial reaction: disappointment. She took the time to get dressed since all her clothes still filled the drawers. The room hadn’t changed at all, as if Scot had every intention of getting her back.

  “Scot?” she called down the hallway after dressing. With brush in hand, she wandered toward the family room while brushing her hair. A welcoming fire crackled, but no signs of life.

  “Jenna?”

  No replies, no sounds. She couldn’t imagine everyone would be outside past dark. Passing the arched wall into the kitchen, she noticed how all the surfaces sparkled. Pete took good care of his kitchen. She couldn’t wait to see him in the morning.

  The double glass doors at the back were slightly ajar. The cool draft chilled her moist skin and gave her goose bumps. She set her brush down lightly on the wooden table and stepped closer to the doors. The cowboys used this entrance to get their meals and head back to their trailers. Maybe Trevor hadn’t closed them tight when he left.

  “Mr. Wagner?” she whispered into the darkness, holding the door open a foot wide.

  Her senses turned on high alert, and she listened for any noise out of the ordinary. An eerie silence greeted her, spurring her to shut and lock the door. She planned to check the front of the house to see if all the trucks were parked, but the figure standing in the middle of the kitchen brought her to a halt.

  “Grace.”

  Ken smiled cruelly. He had lost some weight since the last time she saw him. Wearing a black leather jacket over a white polo shirt and khakis, he leaned against the kitchen island and watched her. Her eyes darted to the telephone sitting on the counter near him, but he didn’t miss it. With a quick jerk, he pulled the wires from the wall. She flinched.

  “Where is everyone?”

  He scoffed. “Don’t worry. My men are keeping them busy running around in the dark. Nobody knows I’m in here. It’s just you and me.”

  Her chilled skin and frantic nerves sent her body into violent shivers. She hugged herself, trying to keep it together. “What do you want, Ken?” she asked, attempting to sound angry and controlled, but it came out more like it felt, fearful and pathetic.

  “I thought it only fitting to pay you a visit after everything you’ve done for me. You know, after you left, your father wanted nothing to do with me. He went on to trashing my name at the golf course and country club, and I lost half my accounts. Then I get a call from your lawyer, informing me that you’re taking me for half I had.”

  “My half,” she corrected.

  “Bullshit! I worked. I earned. You did nothing but sit on your fat ass all day.” He stood up, and Grace stepped back toward the glass doors. “You ruined my life. I was going to make something of myself, but you had to be a selfish bitch and steal every chance I had to succeed.” He laughed sadistically. “Don’t you see?”

  She shook her head.

  “I have nothing to lose, Grace. The one thing that keeps me up at night is imagining my revenge on you.”

  He pulled out a switchblade. Without hesitation, she turned, unlatched the doors, and ran out into the darkness. The spotlights were out, no doubt thanks to Ken and his hired goons. She briefly thought of dogs chasing her as she ran, but Ken scared her more, so she plodded blindly forward.

  “G-r-a-c-e.” He dragged out her name. A sadistic game of cat and mouse.

  She ran with outstretched arms in hope of not colliding with something and knocking herself out. Ken’s footsteps crushed the gravel-and-hay-littered yard toward her, as if the darkness didn’t affect him. Her breathing picked up to a frantic rhythm. Where in the hell was Scot, Mr. Wagner, anyone?

  Shouts rang out from beyond the barn to where the laborers’ trailers were parked. Then gunshots shattered the night calm, forcing Grace to her knees and to cover her ears. Her damp hair hung around her face like a wet veil. More shots, the sound carried, buzzed in her head, making the events seem surreal. She could feel the tremors in the ground, heavy footsteps. Muffled and chaotic shouts came from every direction, and she sat paralyzed by fear and unable to see.

  Truck tires braking in the dirt and beams of light brought her head up. Dust swirled in the bobbing rays from the headlights, and dark figures moved about ahead of her. She crouched low, hugging her knees, hoping Ken wouldn’t find her in the melee.

  “Grace!”

  She thought Scot was calling her name, but couldn’t be sure. Regardless, her mouth failed to work. Her fear took hold of her and wouldn’t let go.

  More gunshots. It took a moment for her to realize the shrill screams following were her own. Tears streaming down her face made her vision a kaleidoscope of light. Confusion plagued her mind. She prayed for an end to the madness, for light, for Scot to be safe.

  “Grace!” Scot called her, but she remained immobile. He’d never find her without light, and she desperately wanted to be found.

  Gunshots. “He’s been shot!” Conner bellowed over the roar of truck engines. More footsteps, more commotion.

  “Call an ambulance,” Mr. Wagner called out.

  “Forget it. It’ll take too long. I’ll take him,” said Trevor. A truck door slammed.

  Reality settled into Grace, and she began to move. The threat past, all the cowboys who worked the ranch swarmed the area. Ken couldn’t hurt her now.

  She stood on shaky legs, wondering who was shot. In her heart, she knew it had to be her enemy, her ex. With him gone, her life could carry on in peace, but it didn’t bring her satisfaction. She didn’t wish death on anyone, even him.

  “There she is!”

  Conner ran toward her, only wearing blue jeans, all his badass tattoos exposed. He must have been asleep when the fighting started. He wrapped his warm arms around her, holding her close, leading her to the light of the trucks.

  “Is he dead?” she managed to whisper.

  “No, he’s still talking. You wanna say bye before they take him away?”

  Actually, she didn’t. Injured or not, she had no desire to ever see his face again. She shook her head.

  “I’ll bring her back to the house. Take him away.” Conner raised his arm as Trevor pulled away with the pickup truck. Mr. Wagner must have gone along for the ride, but where was Scot?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Her head remained turned over her shoulder as Conner directed her toward the house. She wanted Scot, but maybe he had gon
e to the hospital with Ken. Maybe Scot shot him?

  Out of the shadows, a dark figure brandished a weapon. Grace pulled away from Conner, pointing in the direction of the gunman, knowing she was the intended target. He turned around as a shotgun blast exploded, deafening her. Only one shot, no more. She patted her body, convinced the bullet hit her, but felt no pain. Conner stood beside her, unharmed. She followed his gaze to the gunman, who dropped to his knees, the headlights from the second truck highlighting his face before he collapsed to the ground. Ken.

  Her forehead wrinkled. She assumed Ken was on his way to the hospital with a mortal wound, not here lurking in the shadows.

  Jenna stepped out from behind the barn, holding a shotgun over her shoulder.

  “Told you I was a good shot,” she sang, kicking Ken’s body completely over without remorse. Grace had no doubt Jenna killed him. The hole through his heart came from expert, deliberate aim.

  “You’re the best, Jenna,” Conner said.

  “He won’t be bothering you ever again, Grace,” Jenna assured her.

  “Scot?”

  “He’s gone,” Conner said. “I asked you if you wanted to say good-bye.”

  “Oh my God. I didn’t know it was him who got shot. I need to see him.” Panic surged through her, not fear for herself, but panic that Scot may die without her by his side.

  “I’ll drive you.” Jenna tossed the rifle into the back of the idling truck with a clang and boarded the driver’s seat.

  Hoping she wasn’t too late, Grace ran around the side of the truck and hopped in.

  * * * *

  The hospital lighting stung her eyes. The sterile white environment and the smell of disinfectant made her stomach churn. Jenna led her in by the hand, taking charge when she could not.

  “We’re here to see Scot Wagner,” said Jenna to the receptionist.

  After shuffling through some papers and consulting her computer screen, she answered, “He’s in surgery. You can join the rest of the family in the surgical waiting area. Down the hall to the left.”