by April Hunt
“We did the long-distance thing before, and look how it turned out. I want more for us, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to order you not to go back to New York. The only thing that’ll do is bring us a whole lot of misery, and I’m sorry, but I won’t be responsible for hurting us yet again.”
He’d once taken Grace’s decision away from her and tossed all of their plans out the window because he’d been a coward. No matter how badly he wanted her to stay in DC, he refused to make her sacrifice her future again.
He refused to do that to the woman he loved—and he did love her. With every ounce of his soul and every inch of his being. Wherever she lived and whatever job she had wouldn’t change the fact that she was it for him. She was it seventeen years ago, and she’d be it for seventeen years in the future.
Hell, she’d be it forever.
Moisture welled in Grace’s big brown eyes, and he almost caved. He almost dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her waist, begging her to stay. But he’d sworn to himself that he’d never again be that selfish asshole who hurt her.
Silent tension filled every corner of the Steeles’ basement, and from somewhere across the room, a clock ticked. Fitting since it felt like Cade waited for one of Rhett Winston’s bombs to go off.
Roman cleared his throat, the first one to speak. “Maybe you guys should take a walk or something…”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Zoey agreed, her voice a lot more hopeful than Cade felt. “Fresh air cures everything, right?”
“It won’t cure this, Zo.” Cade couldn’t tear his eyes off Grace. “And besides, Grace probably has a lot of packing to do.”
A tear streaked down Grace’s cheek, and he stuffed his hands in his pocket to avoid brushing it away. A second tear fell, and then a third. Every fallen drop ripped Cade’s insides apart more than the next, because Grace Steele didn’t cry.
She didn’t show weakness.
And right now, she was baring her hurt for both their families—and him—to see.
“You’re right. I need to get back to Zoey’s place and get my stuff together.” She gave him her back and hugged her aunt first. “I love you. I’ll swing by in the morning before I head off to the airport, okay?”
Cindy squeezed her tight and shot a motherly glare at Cade from over Grace’s shoulder. “Stay for a little longer. We just started putting out all the dessert and I’m sure—”
“I’m super tired, Aunt C. I’ve hiked up and down so many mountains in the last few days that my body’s about to stage a shutdown.” Grace slowly made her way around the room to each of her cousins and Zoey.
It was the right thing to do, Cade told himself on a mental loop.
But as Grace disappeared upstairs with a final wave, the eight glares blasted his way—one of which was from his own mother—told him that he was the only one who thought so.
And he wasn’t so sure he believed it completely himself.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Within an hour and a half of leaving Aunt Cindy’s, Grace had slipped into Cade’s townhouse to snatch the things she’d left behind and not only got to Zoey’s blessedly empty apartment, but corralled everything into a single suitcase.
Super Packer, thy name is Grace Steele.
If she could put her life in order as well as she did her underwear and cable-knit sweaters she’d be all set.
Grace took pride in her ability to read people, and her knack for anticipating a person’s actions before they even decided on any made her the most successful profiler at the Bureau.
Yet somehow she hadn’t been able to predict Cade. The most important—and potentially life-changing—read of her life, and she botched it. Not a little. Not a moderate amount. She screwed it up in a mega, they-never-should’ve-remade-Dirty-Dancing kind of way.
“Now what, Grace?” She stared at the closed suitcase on Zoey’s bed as a rush of emotions hurtled through her like a freight train.
Her knees buckled, and she sat before they gave way. The pain she’d experienced nine years ago had nothing on the throbbing ache in her chest now. It hurt to breathe, and it worsened each time she mentally replayed the scene in her aunt’s basement.
She’d wanted him to ask her to stay in DC more than she’d wanted anything in her life, even to be rid of New Dawn. And he’d wanted to. She’d seen it in his eyes, but he stopped himself because he didn’t want to take her choices away from her.
The stupid, self-sacrificing jerk.
It was as if they were doomed to be repelling magnets, always moving in the opposite direction. Damn it, she was done with pushing away from the things she wanted most. And she wanted her job, her family, DC, and Cade.
And she wouldn’t accept anything less.
Grace wiped away a fresh set of tears, summoned every ounce of her Steele stubbornness, and got to her feet. Cade didn’t want to take her decisions away from her?
Then he wasn’t about to start with this one.
She grabbed her cell and flipped through her contacts for the one person who could give her everything she’d ever wanted. Five minutes and a formally drafted email later, and Grace was sliding into her shoes with renewed determination.
Her cell rang. Zoey’s name flashed on the caller ID, but Grace let it go to voice mail, choosing to stay focused on Operation Cade. The phone rang again just as the security system beeped, signaling it had been disarmed.
She chuckled at her best friend’s eagerness. “Sorry for not picking up, but I don’t need a pep talk, Zo. I’m not taking no for an answer. Your brother’s never going to know what hit him.”
Grace stepped out of the bedroom and caught a fist to the face. Pain exploded through her jaw, and her body stumbled sideways.
“Told you that I’d see you again.” Simon Reynolds fisted his hand in her hair and slammed her face first into the wall.
Colorful stars burst across Grace’s vision as she fought to remain upright. She drew her elbow back in a sharp jab and followed it up with a backfist. The sound of crunching bone reached her ears moments before Simon cursed, stumbling back.
“Good to see you too, Simon.” She grabbed the back of his shirt and this time rammed him headfirst into the wall. The plaster dented, leaving behind an asshole-sized divot. She reached toward her side holster before realizing it was empty.
“Looking for this?” Six feet away, Todd Winston inspected Magdalena with interest, but it was the Colt pointed in her direction that held the majority of her attention. “Gotta hand it to you, Grace. You have lousy taste in men, but great taste in guns.”
She blinked away the trail of blood that ran into her eye. “Why don’t you give it back to me and I’ll show you how to use it.”
Todd laughed. “I always did like your sense of humor. Remind me again why we stopped being friends? Oh, that’s right. Because you’re a lying, back-stabbing Defector.”
“Better to be a Defector than whatever the hell it is that you are. What, Todd? Did you bring Simon along for the ride so that he could do your dirty work?”
“Simon came along for the ride so he could have a piece of you himself.”
Reynolds’s beefy arm banded across her throat from behind. Grace gasped, digging her nails into his flesh as he dragged her toward the kitchen and threw her into one of the chairs. “Go ahead and move, bitch. Give me a reason to end this right here and now.”
“Go to fucking hell.”
Simon grinned. “Already been there, baby. It’s pretty nice if you ask me.”
Todd growled impatiently. “Tie her the fuck up already.”
Grace took turns glaring at them each but paid enough attention on Simon’s rope tying to know that it wouldn’t be easy to escape. The binds bit into her skin until her fingers tingled, but she wouldn’t wince and give him any satisfaction.
Todd chuckled. “Quiet for the first time for as long as I’ve known you. I’m not gonna lie. It’s eerie.”
“You want me to talk?�
�� It wouldn’t take much to get him to spill everything he knew about Rossbach and the Order…and the men pictured on the basement wall. “Let’s start with how you’re either incredibly brave or ridiculously stupid to show your faces in DC. People are looking for you.” She slid a warning glance to Simon. “All of you. If you haven’t been spotted yet, it’s just a matter of time.”
“We’re good at disappearing…as you and your fellow FBI agents are aware.” Todd waited a beat before smirking. “Yeah, that’s right, Special Agent Steele. We saw you and your buddies ransack our Sanctuary…as if you weren’t in enough trouble with the Order after stealing one of our most beloved flock members.”
Grace feigned cool indifference. “Trouble? I got a promotion out of it.”
Simon growled seconds before his hand whipped across her face. The lip that had been split a few minutes ago opened wider, blood dripping off her chin.
She shot him a glare. “I’d really like to see you try that when my hands aren’t tied.”
“It would be my fucking pleasure,” Simon hissed.
“Enough,” Todd bellowed. “She’s just trying to piss you off enough that you make a stupid mistake. Don’t fucking play into it.”
Grace snorted. “Yeah, that ship has already sailed away. You two made a stupid mistake by assaulting a federal agent.”
“The Outside and their laws have no hold over us.”
“But their maximum security prisons certainly do—or at least they will when I make sure that your asses are thrown inside of one—right along with your precious Father Teague.”
“Keep talking. Every word out of your mouth shows just how clueless you really are.” A slow smile slithered onto Todd’s face.
This time, Grace’s disgust wasn’t fabricated. A chill slid down her spine, freezing her completely, when Rebecca Steele stepped into the foyer.
Her mother didn’t flinch or miss a beat as she eyed her daughter tied up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey. Todd stepped back, and Simon dipped his head down in a show of respect—all things anyone in the Order would do when their leader stepped into the room.
It took Grace about five seconds to put the scene together and come to a realization that would have knocked her off her chair if she weren’t tied to it.
“You?” Grace couldn’t hide her shock. “This entire time it’s been you?”
Her mother laughed. “That’s right. Me. Is it so difficult a concept for you to grasp?”
In theory? No.
If forced to list every single one of her mother’s personality traits and cross-check them with possible occupations, a devious cult leader would definitely be on top, right along with people who suckered you into buying time-shares that you can’t afford.
But Grace wasn’t sure how she hadn’t seen it until now.
It had all been in front of her face—the violent shift of the Order, Rebecca’s concoction of the Rec and the way she made certain she had control over it by appointing someone that she could control. The list went on and on—and Rossbach probably didn’t even know that he’d been played.
All this time Grace had been working on the assumption that he was the sociopath when in reality it was her mother. Rossbach, and Sarah and Todd and all the others, were nothing more than well-controlled sheep, and probably from the second her mother stepped foot in Sanctuary.
“That’s impressive,” Grace lied, ignoring the roll of her stomach. “And I bet Teague probably believes that everything you’ve put into motion was all his idea.”
“Of course. It wouldn’t serve my purpose well if he realized just how inconsequential he really is in the grand scheme of things. This way, he stays in the dark, blissfully happy as long as I make sure that he makes the progression to his New Dawn.”
“Wow. Those are the words to a love song if I ever heard one.”
“Love doesn’t get things done, Grace. Under Teague’s guidance, the Order was nothing more than pathetic hippies happy living out their sad lives away from civilization. I gave them something to strive for. I gave them a path in which to direct all that pent-up energy.”
“You mean you gave them the green light to turn their self-righteous anger into violence. That’s not exactly back-pat-worthy stuff, mother. It’s unethical, immoral, and illegal.”
Her mother’s mouth dropped as if smelling something foul. “I ask myself every day how half your genes came from me, and I still don’t know the answer.”
Grace parried Rebecca’s glare with one of her own. “And I thank God every day that my Steele genes are the more dominant of the two—especially now that I know who and what you really are.”
“Very smart, daughter, but your cute little mind tricks aren’t going to work. I’m sticking to my plan, and nothing you say, or do, will stop me. Simon?”
He stepped forward, an eager look on his face. “Ma’am?”
“Take post in the outside hallway and make sure we’re not interrupted.”
“But…you said—”
She whirled around on him. “I said guard the door.”
Reynolds grudgingly left the apartment, but Todd remained, standing off to the side like an obedient zombie waiting for his master to give him instructions. Her mother ignored him as she turned her attention back to Grace.
“Now where were we? Ah yes. Your existence,” her mother began. “Not only does it keep me from my New Dawn, but our entire community is in upheaval because of your actions. That cannot go without punishment. If we let it slide, it undermines the hopes and dreams of everyone that we’ve sworn to protect.”
“Gonna take me back to the Rec?” Grace taunted. “In case Todd didn’t tell you, it’s swarming with FBI agents.”
“We both know you’re far beyond the Reconditioning Center. You always have been. Even when we first arrived at Sanctuary.” She curled her lips in disgust. “Ugh. You’d been so needy…so obsessed with your own wants. It was disgusting.”
“I was five! What I needed was my mother, but you made sure she wasn’t available—even before you took us to the Order!”
“The Order was the best thing I could’ve done for you. It was your lack of acceptance that kept you on the fringes of finding your New Dawn.”
On the coffee table, Grace’s cell chimed with a text. Her mother picked it up and read it. “Liam would like you to know that General Wilcox has been located, and it appears as though they’re close to finding a link between the killed servicemen.”
Shit.
She should’ve put the screen lock on her phone like Liam had been telling her to do for months.
One second her mother was across the room, and in a blink of an eye, she stood in front of Grace, burrowing the cold metal of Todd’s gun into her forehead. “Is that what you’re doing now, Grace? You’re actively preventing Father Teague from reaching his New Dawn? When will you stop?”
Grace stared her dead in the eye. “I’ll stop the second you’re not able to hurt another living, breathing soul and not a moment before.”
Rebecca screamed. “With every New Dawn come sacrifices!”
“They’re people, not sacrificial lambs!”
“They need to be punished!” The cold, unflustered woman Grace had known for her entire life transformed into a red-faced powder keg that was about to explode. Snarling, Rebecca angled the gun at Grace’s temple. “In your death, you honor me with my New Dawn, and it’s about damn time that you honor the woman who gave you life.”
“You may have given me life, but you did not give me a life.” Grace slowed her breathing and summoned every ounce of love she had for her family—and that included Cade. It wrapped around her like a warm blanket, keeping her safe against the hate staring down at her.
Grace lifted her chin and stared Rebecca Steele in the eye, refusing to give her the fear that she wanted to see.
Rebecca seethed. “How dare you dis—”
Behind her, a window shattered.
All hell broke loose as the front door crashed open.
A FBI tactical team barreled into the apartment. People shouted and barked orders, but Grace’s fuzzy head couldn’t register them all.
Her gaze landed on the wet red blotch blossoming on her mother’s gun arm, and she slowly connected the sight of the blood and the breaking glass.
Sniper.
“Grace.” Ryder’s voice echoed as if he stood in a wind tunnel. “Grace!”
A large body pushed through the sea of federal agents. Her cousin crouched in front of her, gently tugging her chin up before addressing someone behind her. “Winston. Cut her out of these things.”
“Damn it, kid. Did I not tell you to stay the hell out of trouble?” Rhett’s hands gently snapped the ropes away.
“You’re okay…” Grace’s voice sounded foreign to her own ears.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I had to lie low for a bit before tracking down your family. I never expected to stumble into this shit storm outside. I think you’ve taken over my role as a trouble magnet.”
Grace’s knees buckled, tumbling her into someone’s open arms.
“Fuck,” Rhett cursed. “I’m not so sure that all this blood is Rebecca’s.”
“We need an EMT over here,” Ryder shouted. “Now!”
Grace fought against her dimming vision, but her head swirled too fast to keep her eyes open. “Cade. I need to talk to Cade.”
“You will, kiddo. You just got to keep it together for a little longer, okay?”
“My mother. A…sniper?”
Ryder’s hand slowly pushed away her hair. “Jaz. And don’t worry about Rebecca Steele. She’s not going to be able to hurt you or anyone else ever again. I promise.”
On cue, her mother’s vulgar curses echoed through the apartment. Grace wrestled her eyes open long enough to see a handful of FBI agents strong-arming not just her mother into handcuffs, but Todd Winston too.
“Simon…?”
“Already in the back of a squad car, cuz.”
