by Maya Banks
The irony wasn’t lost on him. After he had spent a decade searching for Gracie, had she been in the same city? And for how long? Had she already lived here when he moved to Houston to take the job with DSS? After years of chasing his tail, how funny that he’d come across her in the line of his work.
As good as Eliza was, even she couldn’t make information materialize out of thin air. Information was scarce on the reclusive artist. Quite by luck Eliza had come across an obscure article in an art publication that had mentioned classes being held at the Sunshine Art Studio several blocks down on Westheimer. Three artists rotated through, teaching art to children who showed promise at a young age. One of the artists was the mysterious A.G.
And so here he was, a knot in his throat, his palms sweaty as he stared at the door. Minutes before, the studio had emptied. Smiling, laughing children had spilled from the doorway, all rushing to meet their waiting parents in the parking lot.
Now all was quiet. There were no other vehicles in the lot, which meant if Gracie was here she’d either walked to the gallery, taken public transit, or . . . someone had given her a ride. Boyfriend? Lover? Husband? Wade Sterling perhaps?
It set his teeth on edge to entertain the idea she belonged to another man and was forever out of his reach.
He huffed another breath and berated himself for being such a coward. All he had to do was walk through the goddamn door. Only a door separated him and . . . Gracie.
So why was he paralyzed with fear? Shouldn’t he be eager to confront her and find out what the hell had inspired her epic meltdown in the gallery when they’d come face-to-face for the first time since she’d disappeared from his life?
Or perhaps he was simply coming to terms with the possibility that if she was alive and doing well, working as an artist, it meant she’d chosen to leave him without a word. No breakup. No closure. While he’d been unable to move on, to get over it, she evidently hadn’t suffered the same.
He ran an agitated hand through his hair and then swore under his breath.
Get it together, dumbass. You’ve waited twelve fucking years for this. Just open the goddamn door.
He forced his legs to move, ignoring the tremble in his knees. The door loomed closer until finally his hand grasped the handle. All he had to do was . . . push.
He shoved instead, disgusted by his hesitancy.
Then he was inside. Instantly, he was assailed by . . . hominess. Everything he’d ever imagined of a home with Gracie in it. The colors were warm and soothing and yet light and airy. He sniffed the floral-scented air. Around him papers were strewn on tables or affixed to easels. Paint was splattered over the dropcloths and smudged on the small kid-sized desks.
Nostalgia floated through him as he remembered all the times he and Gracie had talked about children. Their children. Did she have children of her own now? He didn’t think he could bear to see a miniature little Gracie knowing he wasn’t the father. That Gracie had pursued their dream without him.
He nearly turned and walked right back out of the studio. He wasn’t sure he could bear to face the truth. That she simply hadn’t wanted a life with him. But he froze when a familiar voice sounded in the distance.
“Wade? Is that you? I’m washing up, but I’ll be out in a minute.” Zack went stock-still as laughter, beautiful feminine laughter, rose. It sent a chill, a shock, straight down his spine. And only further confirmed his suspicions about her association with Sterling. “The children were rather exuberant today so I’m afraid I’ll get paint all over your seats!”
Gracie.
His Gracie.
He’d know the sound of her voice—her laughter—anywhere, such a welcome change from the tear-stained, barely choked out words of terror from their “reunion.” He stood, frozen, waiting for her to come forward when what he wanted to do was tear down the door of whatever room she was in and demand answers to all the questions tumbling out of control in his mind.
He was tempted to just turn his back and walk away. Much like she’d done twelve years ago. But unlike her, he needed closure. He needed an end to the torture he’d put himself through over the last decade imagining her hurt, dead and a hundred other dismal possibilities. Ironically, none of his imaginings had been good. And yet it appeared she was doing just fine.
“Sorry I kept you waiting,” she said breathlessly.
And then she appeared and he drank in her appearance like a man starving.
She wore a paint-splattered smock that she was in the process of untying when she lifted her gaze and saw him.
After their first confrontation, he should have been prepared for her reaction, but a small part of him had hoped that it had simply been the shock of seeing him so unexpectedly. But he wasn’t prepared, and it hurt his heart to see how she looked at him even now.
She froze. Went so still he wasn’t even sure she was breathing. And just as before, fear—honest-to-God terror—entered her wide, shocked eyes.
She backpedaled hastily, throwing her hand out behind her to find the door she’d just appeared from. She stumbled, righting herself by planting her hand against the now-closed door, leaning heavily on it while scrambling for the handle as if desperate to put that door between them again. To lock herself away from him.
She was terrified of him.
What the ever-loving fuck was going on?
“Gracie,” he said hoarsely. “It’s me, Zack. For God’s sake, I’m not going to hurt you. Do you have any idea what it’s like for me to see you? Alive? Well?”
His initial shock was quickly replaced by anger as everything welled up. All the fear and grief he’d lived with for so long. And to be greeted like this? As if she hadn’t been a major part of his life. Like he hadn’t loved her for most of his life, and she wasn’t the only woman he’d ever loved.
“My God, I thought you were dead, or hurt or somewhere out there suffering, that you needed me,” he ground out. Jesus, he felt like a complete fool for thinking she’d ever needed him. What had changed? She’d been his world and he thought he’d been hers as well. He needed to know why. Didn’t he deserve that much, at least?
“You disappeared off the face of the earth. What was I supposed to think? Didn’t I at least deserve a goodbye, have a nice life?” He nearly choked on the last part. “Not even a ‘fuck off,’ or ‘see you later’? No, you just disappeared, leaving me to think the worst. For twelve fucking years I’ve thought the worst. For twelve fucking years I’ve gone to bed every goddamn night sick at heart because I thought I had failed you in some way. That I hadn’t been there when you needed me and that some sick fuck had hurt you, kidnapped you or murdered you. And all this time you’ve been happy as a lark, painting and moving on with your life while I’ve spent the last twelve years turning the earth over looking for you?”
She was pale as death and looked as though she was going to be sick. She was actively seeking escape routes, her gaze darting quickly but never meeting his, and God, he didn’t think he could bear to see the fear in those eyes again.
Why the fuck was she afraid of him?
“Get out,” she rasped, tears choking her voice. “God, just get out!”
Tears welled in her eyes and silently slid down her cheeks, and despite his rage and sense of helplessness, his insides twisted, because no matter that she obviously had dumped him and moved on, his first instinct was to comfort her because damn it, he couldn’t bear to see her cry. Couldn’t bear to see her hurting.
And the fact that he was evidently the cause of her distress?
“What the fuck is going on here?”
Zack whirled around in response to the male roar to see Wade Sterling standing just inside the studio, a murderous expression on his face. But as his gaze drifted to Gracie, his expression immediately became one of concern.
And what really pissed Zack off was that Wade immediately crossed the room positioning himself solidly between Gracie and Zack, and then, keeping his eyes on Zack the entire time, he firmly pushed
her behind him. Just as he’d done at the gallery. A clear protective measure, as if Gracie needed protection from Zack. Of all people, Zack.
Sterling’s stance was aggressive as he stared Zack down, clearly poised for a fight. And Zack was spoiling for one. There was nothing more he’d love than to knock the bastard on his ass so he’d take his hands off Gracie. But he couldn’t afford to lose his shit a second time because God help him, he might not get a third. She might do just what Eliza had predicted and run. He couldn’t lose her again. Not after finding her after so very long. Once had been devastating. Twice? He wouldn’t survive. Not this time, under these circumstances.
“Why the fuck are you so afraid of me, Gracie?” Zack asked quietly. “You at least owe me that much.”
Gracie emitted a strangled sound and it only served to further piss Sterling off. She wouldn’t even get out from behind her “protector” long enough to look at Zack, much less offer any sort of explanation.
“I owe you?” she said with a sob. “God, just leave me alone. Haven’t you done enough? You think I owe you anything after what you did? You ruined my life! You betrayed me. God, I can’t even wrap my head around why you’d even bother to look for me unless that once wasn’t enough. Or maybe you just wanted to finish the job.”
She completely broke down, her composure melting. Sterling half-turned to put his arm around her in a gesture of comfort and when he looked back at Zack, there was absolute fury in his eyes.
“Look, I get it,” Zack bit out. “You’ve moved on. You have a boyfriend, lover or whatever. But I have to say you have a shitty way of breaking things off with someone you supposedly cared about.”
Sterling cut off any response Gracie might have made, though Zack doubted she would have responded because she was openly crying. It was a knife to Zack’s heart. In all the ways he imagined seeing her again, this was never the way he imagined it going down.
“Gracie and I aren’t romantically involved, not that it’s any of your goddamn business,” Sterling bit out. “I’m her friend. And as her friend, I look out and protect what is mine. You’ve got two seconds to get the fuck out of here and so help me God, if you come within a hundred yards of her ever again I’ll slap a restraining order on you so fast your head will spin. If you violate that restraining order, I’ll spend every dollar I own to ensure you never see the light of day again.”
“You and what fucking army?” Zack said in a deadly quiet voice. “If you’re her friend, then this has nothing to do with you. This is between me and Gracie and you need to butt the hell out. I’m not going to hurt her. Jesus Christ, I’d never hurt her. I loved her. I’ve loved her forever.” His voice cracked as he said the last, and he broke off to save himself the humiliation of breaking down in front of them both.
“You disgust me,” Sterling sneered. “It’s obvious she wants nothing to do with you, so take the hint and get the hell away from her and stay away.”
“I’d rather hear what Gracie wants from Gracie,” Zack said pointedly. “She owes me that much.”
For the first time, Gracie stepped to the side of Sterling, her face red and tear-stained. Zack’s heart clenched and his fingers curled into tight balls at his sides. He stared at her, really stared, absorbing every detail about her.
She’d always been beautiful but now she was even more so. Hauntingly so. She was thinner. She’d lost the glimmer of youth in her face and her eyes looked so much older than he remembered. As if she’d endured hell and back and had aged far beyond her years.
Her hair, which had always been shoulder length, with layers and bangs, was much longer now, the bangs gone, and as he studied her further, he realized she was really thin. There was a fragile, delicate air to her that had never been present even when she’d lived and endured terrible conditions.
His gaze narrowed, because where before she’d always had a glow about her, despite the abovementioned living conditions, and she’d always been quick to laugh and had always been happy, she looked nothing like that now. What the hell had happened to her? What was all that bullshit about him ruining her life? His mind was ablaze with questions as all she’d said finally sank in.
She was quiet and subdued, as if the light inside her had been extinguished. She looked . . . sad. Not at all like his Gracie.
What the hell had gone wrong? What was she thinking, remembering? And why did his heart feel like it was shattering into a million pieces? Where was the self-righteous anger he’d felt just seconds ago? Why had it suddenly fled and left him with the feeling that the truth—whatever that was—would likely kill him? That he might never recover from the ugly revelation?
She lifted her gaze, almost as if she were having to force herself to look at him, to keep her gaze connected to his. There was so much sorrow in the depths of those sweet brown eyes that it took his breath away. And hurt. So many negative emotions that Zack felt them like hurled daggers.
“Please leave,” she begged softly. “I never ever want to see you again. That’s me speaking, Zack. Not Wade. Not anyone else. It’s me. Think whatever you like, but don’t you ever touch me.”
Touch her? He hadn’t been close enough to touch her. He could understand the never seeing or talking to her again, but why would she tell him never to touch her?
Something was terribly wrong and it frustrated the hell out of him because it was obvious that nothing was going to be accomplished today. For one, there was this fiercely protective guard dog looking for the world like he’d love nothing more than to beat Zack to a bloody pulp. As if this smooth-talking rich asshole had a chance in hell of taking Zack down in a fight.
Then there was the fact that Gracie couldn’t even look at him. She was white as a ghost, shaken and obviously terrified. Of him, goddamn it.
All she’d said slammed into him like a bullet. He’d ruined her life. He’d done this awful thing and then the part about finishing the job?
The accusations she’d hurled at him swarmed in his mind like angry bees. He forced himself to look her calmly in the eyes and he took a step forward, which immediately made Sterling bristle.
“Read my mind, Gracie,” he said softly. “All you have to do is read my mind. Whatever it is you think I’ve done, just look inside my mind. You’ll get your answers, though it’s evident you don’t think I deserve them.”
She closed her eyes, tears streaking down her cheeks in never-ending rivulets.
When she reopened them, there was raw, naked emotion.
“Even if I could, I wouldn’t,” she said, her voice cracking under the strain. “God, I never want to see into anyone’s mind again. That’s the only thing I can ever thank you for, because you took that from me too.”
Her response took him aback. What the fucking hell was that? What did she mean he took her ability? There were so many questions tumbling through his mind that he had to make a concerted effort not to go off on a tangent, demanding answers right now.
But the last thing he wanted was a goddamn audience for what was certain to be a highly volatile conversation. Patience was not a virtue he possessed and this was frustrating him to the point of madness. So instead of bombarding her with the questions that were nearly tearing his lips off, he made his next statement with firmness just to make damn sure that the pussy Sterling didn’t miss the message that Zack in no way would be deterred in his pursuit of the past and what went so horribly wrong.
“We need to talk, Gracie,” he said grimly. “Without your little watchdog standing guard. You name the time and place. I don’t care how public it is, if that’s what will make you feel safe with me.” He damn near choked on those words. Hurt her? Wanting her to feel safe from him?
“I’ll even have the goddamn police present if that makes you feel better. But whatever the hell it is you think I did to you, I can tell you that you are dead wrong. And if it takes the rest of my goddamn life, we will have this conversation, Gracie. I won’t give up. I won’t go away. I won’t forget. I’ve waited twelve years f
or this moment, and I’ll be damned if I walk away from you like you walked away from me.”
NINE
ZACK turned the corner of the street a few blocks down from his apartment, sweat sliding down his spine. He’d pushed himself harder than normal, and his usual two-mile run had turned into three. It wasn’t until he’d seen the sign for his bank that he realized he’d far surpassed his routine run.
Not even taking a moment to rest or cool down, he propelled himself onward, blanking his mind to his inner turmoil as he made the jog back to his apartment.
The entire night before he and Eliza had searched exhaustively for leads on Gracie, and she’d been right here under his nose all along. Then for a second time, his quest for the truth had been stymied when he’d confronted her earlier today in the studio. He’d been put off, thanks to Sterling’s interference, twice. He’d been forced to retreat and wait for a better opportunity, though now that Gracie was tipped off to his presence and very unwelcoming of it, he wondered if she’d tuck tail and run. As she’d apparently done before.
Which meant waiting. More waiting.
Goddamn it, but he was tired of waiting. He’d waited twelve fucking years for this moment. He was further frustrated because it wasn’t as though he no longer knew where Gracie was. She was here. In this city. So close and yet so far away.
Never had he imagined their reunion would go as it had. She’d been afraid of him. Hell, not afraid, she’d been absolutely terrified.
His mind kept yanking him back to the look on her face. No shock. No pleasant surprise. No greeting for the man who’d loved—and searched for—her for more than a decade.
Why?
He knew he was missing one giant piece of the puzzle here. But hell if he knew what it was. If only she would talk to him. Give him something. Jesus, didn’t he deserve more than what he’d gotten? She acted as though she were the wronged party here. But he sure as hell hadn’t run out on her and left her to wonder if he was even alive for twelve goddamn years.
He’d given her everything. His heart, soul. He’d promised her forever. And he’d goddamn meant it. Not many college kids knew exactly what they wanted from the future. But he had. From the moment Gracie had entered his life, he’d had absolute focus. He’d known that his life would forever revolve around her.
Well, he’d certainly been right on that count. Because even when she’d disappeared, everything had revolved around finding her again.
He’d planned their lives together to the nth degree. He wanted her to have everything she could ever dream of. Though he planned to always take care of and provide for her, he knew an education was important to her. Her circumstances embarrassed and shamed her. He hated that, hated that he couldn’t take that away for her. He didn’t care if she had a degree or not. He knew he’d make good money playing pro ball and that she and their children would never want for anything he could give them.
But at the same time, he wanted her happy. And so they’d talked about her going to college after she graduated from high school. They were young. Had all the time in the world—or so he’d thought. No need to rush anything. He wanted her to have security. So she’d attend college, earn her degree, and only after would they think about having children.
Honestly, waiting to have children wasn’t an issue for Zack. Yes, he had it all planned. But he wanted those years with Gracie—just the two of them—before they added children to their family.
Maybe he’d been so wrapped up in the future that he hadn’t been paying enough attention to the present. Obviously something had gone extremely wrong. Something he’d been oblivious to, because he’d never seen this coming. He’d never forget the shock of finding her gone. Vanished. And the incessant question, one he’d hammered on repeatedly for the next twelve years. Why?
By the time he jogged through his complex toward the east wing, which was made up of three-level town houses, dusk had faded to night. His breath blew in a cloud and the evening air brushing his sweat-glistening skin caused a cascade of goose bumps over his arms.
He slowed to a walk when he neared the gate leading to his unit. Though the town homes were connected, the front and back yards were separated by privacy fences. And the gate at the end of the paved walkway to his front porch was opened via a security code.
He frowned when he saw the display was completely dead. Just what he needed. To be locked out of his own goddamn apartment. Frustration coiled through his blood like a venomous snake. He slammed his fist against the gate with an emphatic curse.
To his surprise, the gate wobbled and opened a few inches. Zack frowned, wondering just how good the supposedly high-tech security features actually were in this joint. Well, he wouldn’t bitch too much. Having the gate open saved him the hassle of contacting the manager and being able to get into his own goddamn house.
His motion-activated lights were obviously a victim of whatever was wrong with the gate. A prickle of unease raced up his spine. His head came up, his nostrils flaring as he scanned the dark exterior of the house. The light was on in the midlevel TV room. But the outside light that illuminated the steps to the porch, and which he always left on, was off.
Cursing the fact that he didn’t have his pistol, he paused at the bottom step. From his periphery, a shadowy form came into focus. His head yanked in that direction and he tensed, prepared to defend himself.
He blinked to narrow his focus and realized that he was looking at a person, obviously unconscious—or dead? Sprawled a few feet from the bottom step, hidden from the street by shrubbery, was a human body. It had to be a woman or a very small man. The only thing readily visible was two bare feet.
His pulse accelerated and he rushed to the body, his chest hammering in fear as he reached to turn the person over. The head lolled as he rolled her to her back and then all his breath left him when he saw who the person was. Oh God. Oh God. No. Please no.
“Gracie!”
Her name escaped him in an agonized cry.
His heart nearly exploded in his chest. He let out his breath in a long, visible cloud. His vision swam with moisture and he blinked, needing to see how badly she was hurt.
Oh dear Lord. She was beaten. Badly. Bruises marked and colored her swollen features. Dried blood was smeared down her chin and neck. Worse, her hands were tied behind her back. She’d had no way to defend herself. No way to ward off the blows she’d received.
Bile rose in his throat and it took every ounce of strength not to throw up. Tears burned his eyelids. His hand shook violently as he fumbled at her neck for a pulse. Let her be alive. Don’t let him have found her after twelve long years only to lose her again.
With his other hand, he gently smoothed her hair from her face, wincing when he saw the extent of the bruising. God, where could he even touch her? What if she’d sustained internal injuries? She could be bleeding. He could still lose her!
He nearly wilted with relief when he felt the faint, erratic patter of her
