Saving Grace (Watchdogs, Inc Book 1)

by Mia Dymond

  Grace patted Mrs. McGuire on the shoulder. “I’ll call you with all the particulars.”

  Once she and Harvard sat back behind the tinted windows of his truck, Grace welcomed a wave of optimism. For the first time since the whole ordeal began, she felt that it was well on the way to being over.

  “I can’t leave you alone.” Harvard’s deep voice interrupted her silent relief. “Do you want to come back to the compound and relax by the pool while I brief the team?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll leave the strategy to you. Would you mind dropping me off at Bailey’s office?”

  “Of course not, as long as you’ll stay put until I come back for you.”

  “Promise. After all, we’re going on a stakeout tonight.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “Do I really need to wear black?”

  “No.” He lifted her hand and kissed the backs of her knuckles. “That would distract me. Besides, you’d blow our cover.”

  “I’m glad Mrs. McGuire was agreeable,” she said as she dug her cell phone out of her bag. “It won’t take me but a few minutes to arrange this.”

  While Harvard drove to the travel agency, she punched a familiar icon on her contact list and then waited for the call to connect.

  “Grace Portland for Henry Davis, please.”

  Within a few seconds, Henry answered and she outlined her request. As she suspected, he reciprocated with exactly what she needed.

  “Thank you, Henry,” she said finally. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She disconnected, tossed the phone back into her bag, and then smiled at Harvard. “The action is scheduled for two o’clock p.m. tomorrow at the Hummingbird Bay Convention Center.”

  “Can we get the word out fast enough to draw bidders?”

  She nodded. “Believe me, people want this piece of jewelry. Henry will post a notice on Facebook and send an email blast. It won’t be hard to find bidders.”

  “You’re a miracle worker.” He grinned as he turned a corner.

  “Not really. There were two key words in my request: Mrs. McGuire and peacock.”

  “The jewelry is really that desirable?”

  “Yes, there’s no other like it.” She winced. “I just hope no one outbids the suspect.”

  “It’s appraised at a million, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “No one will outbid him. We’ll set the reserve at five million.”

  Satisfied, she wiped that worry from her mind. No one in his right mind would pay that for the brooch – unless he was desperate. “What exactly are we doing tonight?”

  “Chasing a cheater,” he said as he parked at the curb in front of Royal Travel.

  She leaned into him and placed a lingering kiss on his lips. “I’ll be ready.”

  While her whole body tingled, Grace entered the travel agency and then took her usual seat in front of Bailey’s desk.

  “Hi.” Bailey grinned. “You look like you had a pretty good day.”

  “I did. Harvard and I talked to Mrs. McGuire this morning and she’s agreeable to auctioning the peacock. I made the arrangements on the way over.”

  “Good. I’m glad Harvard has a plan but I’ll be honest, Grace. It makes me nervous for you to be anywhere around someone who might harm you.”

  “I’m nervous too,” she admitted, “but I trust Harvard. And, I’m ready for all this chaos to go away.”

  A moment of silence passed before Bailey dropped the next bombshell.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Oh, Bailey!” She sat forward. “I appreciate that but I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Why? You said you trust Harvard and I do too. Besides, you don’t have a choice.” Her friend tilted her head to one side. “I’m going.”

  Grace knew better than to argue. Bailey was like a bulldog; once her mind was made up, there was absolutely no changing it. Yet, if something did go wrong and Bailey ended up injured or worse, she’d never forgive herself. She swallowed a brief moment of panic before reason set in. Harvard, Ice, and Diesel would never let that happen.

  “Have you told Ice?”

  “Why would I tell him?”

  “I don’t know. Courtesy, maybe?”

  “No, I think I’ll surprise him.” She dragged her index finger across her lips as if zipping her mouth. “Mum’s the word.”

  She didn’t bother to tell Bailey that she could zip her lips all she wanted; Ice most likely wouldn’t be surprised.

  “Guess where I’m going tonight?”

  “You get to go out?”

  She nodded. “Guess.”

  “Skinny dipping?”

  “No.” She giggled and rolled her eyes. “I’m going on a stakeout.”

  “Really? Where?”

  “I don’t know. Harvard says we’re chasing a cheater.”

  Bailey raised one finely-sculpted eyebrow. “I think you’re excited about your adventure.”

  “I am.”

  “What I don’t know for sure, though, is if you’re excited about the event or the man you’re going with.”

  Grace let a sly smile split her lips. Honestly, she couldn’t care less where she went as long as Harvard went along.

  “Both.”

  “You’re in love with him.”

  She paused at her friend’s conclusion. She was definitely physically attracted to Harvard but deep inside that delectable body, the man inside attracted her even more. The man who respected her thoughts and desires, the man who protected her, the man who showed her that structure and routine were both acceptable and sexy. Did she love him?

  “I think I am,” she answered slowly. “Is that crazy?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “I haven’t known him long.”

  “So? Last I checked, there was no timeline on love.”

  Grace released a long, slow breath. “Maybe it’s just a bad case of hero-worship.”

  “Nuh-huh. I see the way he looks at you and you, at him. You, my friend, have been bitten by the love bug. L-O-V-E.”

  “Maybe so.” Grace gave her friend a mischievous grin. “And if you’re right, you better hope it’s not contagious.”

  ***

  For the first time since the whole sickening ordeal began, Harvard sat in the brain center at Watchdogs, Inc. with a cautiously hopeful outlook.

  “Grace and I met with Eileen McGuire this morning,” he relayed to Diesel and Ice. “We might actually have a lead.”

  He repeated the kitchen scenario he pieced together earlier, almost ready to believe it.

  Diesel pounced on the Intel like a hungry lion. “Who else was in the kitchen?”

  “Since we can’t say exactly when the transfer occurred, we can only suspect everyone with access to the house.”

  “Grace and Mrs. McGuire reviewed the sketches more than once in the kitchen?”

  He nodded. “In fact, that’s the only place they ever reviewed them.”

  “And no one noticed the gaudy jewelry lying on the counter?”

  “Apparently not. When Grace spoke to the staff, the butler and the housekeeper claimed Mrs. McGuire tends to be careless about where she leaves things. The chef even stated she regularly finds keys in the pantry and jewelry in kitchen drawers.”

  “What about the valet?”

  “Tate’s story is the same. She leaves items in all the vehicles.”

  “How well do the staff know Grace?”

  “Enough to carry on a conversation, but she doesn’t interact with them much when she works. She and Mrs. McGuire work side-by-side and she communicates solely with her about the project.”

  “How well are they paid? Anyone upset about money?”

  “Hardly.” He grinned. “I may consider a change in occupation.”

  Diesel raised an eyebrow. “Right. You can’t even manage your own office.”

  “I can’t get past the thought that it’s an inside job. The house hasn’t been breached and according t
o Mrs. McGuire, no one unusual has been on the premises.”

  “Yet, we have the piece.”

  “And we’ve had it all along. The attacks on Grace prove to me that someone knew, or had reason to believe, that the peacock wasn’t in the house and that she had it in her possession. To me, it all points to six people: Mr. and Mrs. McGuire, Louisa Alvarez, Richard Worthington, Ellen Mason, and John Tate.”

  “Any one of them had access to the jewelry.”

  “I’m fairly confident we can rule out the valet. Tate spends most of his time with Joseph McGuire and outside the property.”

  “What about the house security system? Any recordings?”

  He shook his head. “Mrs. McGuire insists her staff is trustworthy. The cameras record twenty-four hours, but only outside access. The inside of the home is only monitored in the event the house is empty, which is a rare occurrence. I hacked in – there’s nothing out of place.”

  “All background checks are clear. No one has criminal history.” Ice raked his fingers through his hair. “All credit reports are satisfactory. No money issues I can identify.”

  Diesel nodded. “Any thoughts on our perp?”

  “He’s desperate enough to search high and low, but I get the impression he’s hesitant to confront Grace.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he hasn’t hurt her – yet.” He cringed at his conclusion. “I’m not willing to wait for that to happen.”

  “That leaves the auction. Is McGuire agreeable?”

  “Yes, as long as she doesn’t lose the brooch. I recommend a reserve of five million.”

  “Done.”

  “Grace scheduled the auction for two o’clock p.m. tomorrow at the Hummingbird Bay Convention Center on Third and Meadowlark. There is a room in the very front that will accommodate approximately one hundred people.”

  “Can we lock the place down?”

  “Once the doors are wired, I can write an app.”

  Diesel reached for his phone on the table next to him and pressed buttons. “I’m sending a team now.”

  “Do we have a back-up if our plan backfires?” Harvard fully anticipated his friend’s question; Ice never could get past what-if.

  “It won’t. Obviously, the perp is desperate. Desperate enough to risk recognition by breaking into Grace’s house and office. Someone will meet that reserve and I’m willing to bet it’s someone we recognize.”

  “Where is Grace now?”

  “With Bailey at the travel agency. She’s going to help me with some surveillance tonight.”

  “What about Bailey?” Ice squeezed the bridge of his nose as if he really didn’t want to know the answer to his question.

  He smirked. “That, my friend, is a question for you to answer.” He stood and headed toward the doorway. “I’ll forward the app. Let me know if I need to do anything else before tomorrow.”

  Several hours later and under the darkening evening sky, Harvard parked his truck in an empty space at the Howling Coyote and sat with Grace behind tinted windows as they waited for the mark to make an appearance. The brick building that housed the nightclub occupied approximately half of the city block with valet parking in the front and the parking lot in which he and Grace currently parked in the back. A silhouette of a coyote with his head tipped backwards, and filled with bright blue neon gas, glowed above the front entrance. An equally bright yellow, full moon hung over the animal.

  Several groups of women dressed in short skirts and tank tops giggled and tossed toothy smiles at the bouncer just outside the entrance as they made their way inside. Groups of interested men followed closely behind. Each time the door opened, loud rock music filled the atmosphere; to him, it appeared the party was in full swing. According to the client, her husband frequented the establishment religiously on Thursday evenings – ladies night, she claimed, and from the clientele he witnessed so far, the guy would have plenty to chase.

  Grace’s soft voice seeped through his silent analysis. “Who are we looking for?”

  “Bald guy, slim, about six feet tall. Drives a red sports car with a license plate that reads MYTOY.” He focused on a side entrance into the parking lot. “And there’s our mark.”

  The man steered his toy into a parking place in front of the building that clearly read reserved and then exited the vehicle. Harvard lifted his phone and snapped several pictures.

  “You only need pictures of him entering the building?”

  “No, eventually I have to catch him in the company of a woman other than his wife.”

  “Eventually?”

  “We give him a few minutes to hook up and then we go inside.”

  “It won’t take long. We might as well go now.”

  “Trust me, he’ll take his time to avoid being caught.”

  “No, he won’t.”

  Curious, he moved his gaze off the front door and onto Grace. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  “I know him.”

  “You do?”

  She nodded. “Dr. Tim Peters, cosmetic surgeon to Hummingbird Bay’s elite. He’s been playing this game for a while.”

  “Go on.”

  “Martha, who I assumed hired you, is wife number three. At least she’s smart enough to get evidence.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “She hired me to re-work the house when they moved in.” She shrugged. “People tend to talk to me easily.”

  “But that’s her version.”

  “Yes, but I’ve seen him out countless times myself.”

  “You frequent this club?

  “No, he’s so bold as to take his women anywhere. I’ve seen him at Juan’s several times.”

  “Does he know you?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never met him.”

  “Did he ever see you at the house?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Hang tight.” Hot damn. He gave himself a mental pat on the back; his decision to bring her along had been brilliant. He exited the truck, walked around, and then opened her door. “Let’s go.”

  He tucked Grace’s hand in his as they entered the dimly-lit club, partly because he needed to touch her but mostly because he intended to send a very clear signal that she was off limits. He led her deeper into the interior and then paused next to the bar to acclimate himself to the layout.

  A variety of seating areas covered the edges of the room. Tables and chairs, a few booths, and sofas with square tables in front surrounded a massive tiled dance floor in the middle. The interior was dark, the only lighting provided by strobe lights and colored bulbs that flickered and pulsed to the tempo of the music. He waited patiently, moving his gaze over the clientele, until his vision adjusted to the lack of light. He grinned when his gaze landed on Peters with his arms wrapped around a sultry redhead at a corner booth in the depths of the room. If the other man thought he could hide in this place, he was sorely mistaken; Harvard operated best in the dark.

  He gave Grace’s hand a squeeze and then led her to an empty booth. He waited for her to slide in and then sat next to her.

  He pushed her hair to one side and then leaned to whisper into her ear. To anyone else, it would appear an intimate gesture. “Far left corner in the back. Is the redhead anyone you know?”

  “Told ya.” Her body gave a slight shudder and she smirked. “I don’t know her but that is definitely Dr. Peters.”

  “Think you can snap a few pictures?”

  “From here?”

  “No, you’ll have to get closer.”

  “How?”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

  She paused for a full second and then grinned. “I have.”

  “That was fast. What’s your plan?”

  “Their booth faces the ladies room. I’ll simply stand in the doorway and snap the pictures.”

  “You don’t think that’s a little obvious?”

  She bit down on her lower lip. “It worked in theory.”

  G
od, her mind only made her more sexy. “It will work with a few tweaks.”

  He slid from the booth, took her hand, helped her to stand, and led her to the back of the room. Once they stood just outside the bathrooms, he backed her against the wall and then stood in front of her.

  “I can’t see.”

  He placed both of his hands on her hips. “Patience, love.”

  He moved his hands long enough to flatten her palms against his chest and then resumed his hold on her hips.

  “My phone is in my shirt pocket,” he told her. “When I lean down to kiss you, take it out and snap.”

  “I think you just want to kiss me.”

  “Beside the point.”

  “Clever.”

  Clever? No. Aroused? Hell, yes. His cock wasted no time in giving her a full, respectful salute. He leaned down, desperate to taste her when her eyes suddenly widened.

  “The flash!”

  He chuckled. “I’m government-issued, Baby. We don’t need a flash.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Now hurry up. I want to do something other than take pictures.”

  He waited until she plucked the phone from his pocket and then lowered his head to the crook of her neck.

  “Do you have a visual?” he said low against her skin.

  “Yes.”

  “Point and click, sweetheart, nice and easy.”

  He pressed his lips against the soft skin of her neck, planting small kisses from the nape to the top of one shoulder, while he slipped one hand under her top. Her stomach muscles fluttered beneath his touch as he moved the backs of his knuckles over the tender surface.

  At the top of her shoulder, he opened his mouth, ran his tongue in several tiny circles, and then closed his teeth around a small patch of skin. Her quick intake of breath told him she was vested in the plan just as much as he. It didn’t matter to him how many pictures she snapped; he was content to make the stakeout an all-nighter.

  He closed his lips around the love bite and soothed it with a gentle kiss. “What can you see, baby?”

  “They’re kissing.”

  “Did you get a picture?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good girl.” He moved his lips to the other side of her neck and blew a soft breath there. “Anything else?”