Saving Grace (Watchdogs, Inc Book 1)

by Mia Dymond

  The room cleared quickly, leaving only he and Worthington to exit the room – typically, an easy maneuver. And things moved smoothly until Grace suddenly reappeared in the doorway.

  He frowned. “Grace? You’re supposed to be in the office.”

  “I—”

  Although her lack of explanation bothered him, his thoughts took a whole different turn when another man stepped into view. Immediately, he validated his feeling of suspicion.

  The other man pointed a gun straight at Grace and shoved her into the room. Harvard uttered a mumbled curse as training kicked in and he released his hold on Worthington to extract his phone from his pocket and pressed a single digit. Immediately, the doors slammed shut. He took only half a second more to aim the camera and click.

  ***

  Ice frowned as he approached the office with Bailey, Diesel and the auctioneer, but without Grace. Somehow, she managed to slip away ahead of the crowd and away from him and if she wasn’t already in the office, Harvard would kick his ass. They rounded the corner and prepared to enter the office when he heard the doors to the auction room slam closed. He moved his gaze into the small room – the one that was currently empty. He squeezed his eyes closed and his senses went on full alert. It was official, Harvard would kick his ass.

  “Diesel, we’ve got action.”

  “Sonuvabitch,” the captain mumbled as he directed the auctioneer to exit the building. “We were just in there.”

  “I thought you said you had everything under control!” Bailey shrieked beside him. “Grace is inside that room.”

  He nodded while Bailey’s near-breakdown shook him. She was a force to be reckoned on a good day, he had no idea if he could handle a freak-out. Desperate, he took a page from Diesel’s book and opted for dominance.

  He grasped her elbow, guided her into the office, and urged her into a nearby chair. “Sit. She’s fine, Harvard is with her.”

  Diesel’s voice boomed in the hallway as he shouted commands to clear the area and he entered the office a few seconds later while he pushed buttons on his cell phone. “The perimeter is clear. The rest of the team is on the way and I’ve notified SWAT of the situation.”

  Ice nodded and looked down as his cell phone chimed to signal an incoming text message. As soon as he opened the message, a full color photo covered his screen. Adrenaline gathered in his veins as he glanced at Diesel. “Oh hell, the man inside is Bruno Nacario.”

  “Makes perfect sense now.” Diesel folded his arms across his chest. “Worthington owed him money.”

  “What?” Bailey eyes widened. “Who is Bruno Nacario?”

  Ice quickly gave her an answer. “A bookie.”

  “Mrs. McGuire’s butler owed money to a bookie?”

  “Most likely. We’re only guessing but it makes sense that if Worthington was here to bid on the peacock, he needed money. Nacario’s business is loaning money and he collects anyway he can.”

  “Wait. How do you know he’s in there?”

  “Harvard sent a picture.” He showed her the image on the screen.

  “We saw him at the McGuire home.”

  “You saw this man?”

  “Yes, the same day we found the brooch in Grace’s bag.”

  “And you didn’t recognize him?”

  “We haven’t bet much lately,” she drawled. “So what now?”

  Diesel issued the response that Ice knew she wouldn’t like. “We wait.”

  “Wait?” Bailey flew from her chair, impressively stable in her heels. “You want to wait? Grace is in there with a madman. I don’t want to wait.”

  Ice reached for her arm and guided her back down to the chair. “Sit down before you break an ankle. We have to be patient, Short Stuff.”

  He quickly mulled facts through his brain. Nacario was well-known in the underbelly of Hummingbird Bay, but not as a violent criminal. Normally, henchman took care of collection.

  He glanced back at Diesel. “Funny that he decided to take care of the debt himself.”

  “Must be a significant debt.”

  “He has a gun,” Bailey groaned. “What if he shoots someone?”

  Diesel gave the front entrance a casual glance as the sound of blaring sirens filled the air. “He doesn’t have much to gain by shooting anyone. He’s trapped inside with a man trained to kill without a weapon.” The captain shrugged as if the consequences were a given. “Things on the outside will be much worse if he makes that decision.”

  ***

  Harvard dug deep for control at the sight of the lunatic with his weapon trained on Grace. What the hell had Worthington gotten them into? He took a deep breath, prepared to get answers.

  “Grace, have you met your captor?”

  She gave a weak nod. “I don’t know him but I saw him at Eileen’s house a couple days ago.”

  “Meet Bruno Nacario, bookie extraordinaire.”

  Nacario gave an evil chuckle. “We meet again, Mr. Gray.”

  “You know him?” Worthington frowned at Harvard. “How?”

  Harvard never moved his eyes from Nacario while he explained. “He’s usually on the other side of the weapon.”

  “Speaking of weapons,” Nacario said, interrupted the introductions, “I’ll need yours.”

  He untucked his shirt, unsnapped his holster, and then laid his weapon at his feet. “You realize I don’t need it to take you out, right?” He kicked the piece and it slid toward Nacario.

  “Perhaps,” the other man conceded, “but you won’t.”

  “Quite a gamble on your part.”

  Grace frowned. “Richard? You wanted the peacock for yourself?”

  “I had no choice, Grace. I owe Mr. Nacario a very large debt.”

  “How did you even know I had it?”

  “You were the logical choice. I left it on the counter before you arrived and when you left, the peacock was missing.”

  “You ran me off the road and sent the letter?”

  “I only wanted the peacock. I never meant to harm you.”

  “What about my office and my house?”

  “Desperation,” Worthington mumbled.

  “Enough explanation.” Nacario tightened his hold on her shoulder. “I’d like the peacock.”

  Harvard didn’t hesitate to challenge the maniac once again. “Well, you see, that’s going to be a problem. We’re in here, the jewelry is locked in the safe back at headquarters, and these doors are sealed tight.”

  “Open them.”

  “Not possible.” He gave the madman a forced grin. “SWAT will break through shortly.”

  “I guess she means nothing to you.”

  “On the contrary, she means everything to me.”

  “Then you will provide the jewelry or I will use her as collateral instead.”

  The threat made him laugh. “How exactly do you think that’s going to work for you? We’re on lockdown, Nacario, and in approximately six minutes now, a whole lot of big ass guys with big ass guns will break in here while they shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “Not while I have a hostage.”

  “Your funeral, man.” He shook inside while he faked a feeling of nonchalance. “It’s SWAT. That’s what they do.”

  Nacario turned to Worthington. “You idiot. You said the piece was here.”

  “I had no idea it was a set-up,” Worthington groaned.

  Harvard continued to goad, intent on creating distention between the two other men. Divide and conquer – an age-old adage that proved true in most situations. “Sounds like you have the wrong hostage.”

  “Perhaps so.”

  Nacario moved the gun from Grace to Worthington and sneered. “I should’ve removed you from the operation days ago.”

  ***

  “Do something!”

  Ice grasped Bailey’s shoulder as her demand pierced his eardrums and she landed a decent punch to his left biceps. “Relax, we’re going to take care of this.”

  He watched in shock as the fire lef
t her gaze and her body relaxed in defeat. “Seriously, Ice,” she said softly, “you can’t let anything happen to Grace.”

  “We won’t. Just give us time.” He glanced at Diesel who appeared to be as shocked as he at Bailey’s change of demeanor. “How many minutes left on the doors?”

  “Five.”

  “That’s too long,” Bailey mumbled.

  Ice totally agreed, still not sure how to deal with the docile woman who stood next to him. “Not really. Harvard’s inside.”

  Diesel propped himself on one hip against the doorjamb. “By now he’s relinquished his weapon. Can we get in through the exit door on the side?”

  “No. He’s got them on total lockdown.”

  “Is there an override for the app?”

  “Probably,” he mumbled, “but Harvard’s the only one who would know.”

  “Can we rappel in through the ceiling?”

  “That’s a possibility. SWAT might be able to enter from the roof and go through the ceiling tiles.”

  “Pull up a layout of the building and get a feel for space up there.”

  “I can go.” Bailey’s eyes widened. “I’m small.”

  Ice smirked while he accessed blueprints of the building he loaded previously on his phone. “Yes, you are. You are not, however, going to rappel through the ceiling and take out the bad guy.”

  “Why not?”

  “Again, those shoes.” He grinned, hoping the gentle tease would ease her nerves. “He’s a lunatic, Bailey. SWAT can take care of it.” He glanced back at Diesel. “There is rooftop access but by the time they break through, the doors will open.”

  “We’ve got three more minutes,” Diesel said while he punched buttons on his phone. “I’ll cover the door.”

  Ice nodded as the captain left the room and then glanced at Bailey. “Don’t even think about moving your delectable little ass from this room.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I’ve never been so serious about anything in my life.”

  “And if I do?”

  He bit back a grin, silently relieved that Hurricane Bailey was back. Still, he issued an ultimatum with ease.

  “If you do, I’ll hogtie you to my bed and tease you until we both scream for release.”

  ***

  A wave of cautious confidence rolled over him as Harvard watched Nacario turn on Worthington.

  “I was wrong when I assumed your desperation would push you to perform.” A deep red quickly colored Nacario’s face while he shook the gun in the other man’s face.

  Harvard took a minute to weigh options. Nacario was one pissed off individual; reasoning with him was definitely off the table. Experience showed him that anger always had the capability of working in his favor but in this case, he wasn’t quite so sure. Although he currently directed his anger at Worthington, the odds of redirection were high. In his current state, Nacario could turn his fury on any one of them. One squeeze of the trigger and the game changed.

  On the other hand, the longer he waited for SWAT to intervene, the bigger risk he took that Nacario would recognize his own desperation and take drastic measures. Instinct told him the man was extremely unstable and time would only make things worse.

  He shifted his weight to his opposite hip. A combination of options may be best; reasoning and arguing at the same time. Fate smiled on him when Worthington made the decision.

  Worthington held out his hands as if he could deflect the bullets. “But I got the jewelry for you. I won the bid.”

  Harvard shook his head at the other man’s reasoning. Fear had obviously made him stupid.

  “This piece is not here,” Nacario growled, “and now we are locked in this room like caged rats.”

  Worthington just wouldn’t give up. “We don’t know that for sure. Why should we believe him?”

  “It’s not here,” Harvard reiterated, “and even if it was, you’ll never get out of here to find it.”

  Worthington shook his head. “That can’t be true. The auctioneer is legally bound to have the merchandise in his possession.”

  Again, the butler’s stupidity amazed him. He had no idea if Worthington spoke the truth or not but at this point, the issue was moot. Besides, he wanted to discuss legalities with a gun pointed at his head? Unbelievable.

  “Shut up, you fool!” Nacario cocked the firearm. “The auction was a trap, one you fell into and dragged me with you.”

  Grace gasped.

  As soon as he realized Nacario had made a lethal commitment, Harvard sprang into action. In the next second, conscious thought left his mind and training took over as he took advantage of Nacario’s anger and charged him in true linebacker fashion. With sheer excessive force, his shoulders connected with the other man’s midsection and both of them fell to the floor. The gun skidded across the polished cement.

  With brute force, he rolled Nacario to his stomach, straddled him, and forced his hands behind, squeezing them together with one hand. He ground one knee hard into the man’s left kidney while he squeezed the back of his neck in a death grip with his free hand and resisted the urge to snap his neck and put them all out of misery.

  “Do. Not. Move,” he growled. “Grace, get the gun.”

  He took his gaze off his prisoner long enough to make sure she had the weapon in hand.

  Diesel’s voice penetrated the action. “Harvard, status!”

  “All clear,” he shouted.

  “Thirty seconds,” Diesel answered from outside the door. “SWAT is on site to clear the area.”

  He gave Nacario’s neck another good squeeze while he smirked at Worthington, cowered against the front wall. “You have no idea just how lucky you are.”

  Worthington nodded several times in succession, obviously too terrified to speak.

  Finally, he heard the click of the doors being unlocked and uniformed SWAT officers, Diesel, and Ice rushed into the room. He reluctantly relinquished his hold on Nacario and turned him over to the officers for detention.

  He stepped toward Grace, gently pried the gun from her grasp, tossed it to Ice, and then pulled her against him. “Nice work, Gracie.”

  “We make a good team,” she said against his chest.

  “Yes, we do but I’d like to take a break from undercover for a while.”

  He squeezed her hard against him, relieved that she was no longer in danger and insanely grateful that Diesel had inadvertently sent her to him. Ironically, Nacario’s insanity showed him just exactly what he’d been missing in his life. His heart pounded with love and affection. In spite of all the chaos and danger of the past week, she had truly become his Saving Grace.

  “Fine with me,” she mumbled as she stepped back from him. “Your office is still a mess.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not a problem.” He grinned as he took her hand in his and led her away from the area. “I’m in love with a qualified professional.”

  She giggled. “I love you too, Harvard, but that won’t get you off the hook.”

  His grin expanded into a full smile. He had no intention of ignoring her efforts; besides, distracting her would be fun.

  “Oh, come on, Gracie, take a walk on the wild side.”

  EPILOGUE

  In the darkness of his office, Ice sat in his soft, leather executive’s chair behind his desk, rested his head back against the top, and pinched the bridge of his nose while he ran the current bitch of a case through his brain for the thousandth time. What was he missing? For the last two days, he reviewed evidence until his eyes crossed and interviewed witnesses until his tongue numbed, only to come up empty-handed. Even the thousands of laps he swam didn’t make a difference. He released a hard breath and rewound his brain one more time only to come to the same conclusion. Nothing. He had absolutely nothing.

  Ready to call it a night, he rolled his head to one side toward the only light in the room that brightened the screen of the security camera, intrigued when movement caught his attention. Located in the middle of nowhere with sta
te-of-the-art security gates surrounding the perimeter, nothing or no one dared lurk in the dark near the compound.

  He sat forward and focused on a familiar red convertible – top down – that approached the security gate. Seconds later, the blonde driver reached out of the car window and punched a series of numbers into the keypad. The gate slid open and his lips split into a wide grin.

  Bailey King.

  She drove through the open gate while question marks poked his brain. What was she doing out alone this time of night? Why hadn’t she called? And most importantly, how did she know the code to open the gate?

  Still insanely curious, he watched her drive the distance to the front of the office, park the car, then step out. He left his office and wasted no time in meeting her at the front door.

  “Did we have an appointment at one o’clock in the morning?”

  “No,” she drawled. “I just stopped by to say hello.”

  “How did you get in the gate?”

  “I entered the code.”

  “Okay.” He suppressed the urge to grin. Damn, her smart mouth made him hard. “Who gave you the code?”

  “Diesel.”

  Her admission both gave him pause and made perfect sense. She never would have gotten in otherwise. Still, he felt the need to press.

  “Diesel knew you were coming?”

  She nodded. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “No,” he mumbled. “Maybe you’d better fill me in.”

  “It’s not a big deal, really.” She released a soft breath. “I just need you to help me figure out what to do with a body.”

  Other books by Mia Dymond:

  Leather, Lace and Rock-N-Roll

  (SEALs, Inc., Book 1)

  www.smashwords.com/books/view/87362

  It is perfectly acceptable to attend a rock concert bare-bottomed with your panties in your pocket. And even more acceptable to flash your "goodies" to get backstage. That's what beautiful, brainy architect, Rachel Newberry learns when she loses a bet to her fearless best friend, Cameron Tremaine. Determined to ditch her annoying habit of being reserved and controlled, she learns that breaking the mold may prove too much to handle.