Guarding Grace

by Rebecca York

The man made a scoffing sound. “You can do better than that.”

  “Believe me, that’s about it.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  Brady shrugged. “If you’re planning to use enhanced interrogation techniques, forget it. I don’t know anything. But it’s been proven that a guy being tortured will say anything to get the pain to stop. So you won’t know if I’m telling the truth or not.”

  The man was silent for a long moment. “I think you know more than you’re saying,” he said. “And I think you’ve gotten close to Ms. Cunningham. Or maybe you already knew her before Ridgeway died.”

  She saw Brady’s jaw clench.

  Ignoring him, the man kept talking. “I’m going to bet that the most effective way to get the information out of you is to use some of those ‘creative techniques’ on Ms. Cunningham. Well—you’ll be involved, too. We’ll tie you up and give you a ringside seat while we rape her. Do you think that would get you to talk?”

  Grace gasped as terrible images leaped into her head. They’d found Karen handcuffed to a bed with her panties off and her skirt around her waist. Had these men done that to her? She cringed away from them.

  Brady stepped in front of her. “Stay away from her.”

  The guy made a scoffing sound. “You’re in no position to make demands. But we’ll give you a little time to think about it.” The two men backed out of the room, leaving her and Brady alone.

  Unable to stop herself from shaking, she turned pleading eyes toward him.

  Lifting her off the bed, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

  She leaned into him, comforted by his strength. “Would they do that?” she asked in a voice that she couldn’t hold steady.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Get out of here,” he growled as he held her and stroked her.

  Closing her eyes, she rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I got you into a mess,” she whispered.

  He tensed, and she could feel him making an effort to relax. “We’ll talk about it later.” As he spoke, he looked pointedly around the room, and she realized that there could be a microphone picking up their conversation. Maybe that was part of the men’s plan. She didn’t know who they were. Not for sure. But she could make an educated guess.

  Outside the room, she could hear the sound of muffled voices. Brady eased away and put his finger to his lips. Then he crossed the room, and she followed, watching him press his ear against the door as he tried to find out what the men were saying.

  Moving beside him, she did the same, but she couldn’t hear any distinct words. But moments later, a car engine started.

  Brady stepped away from the door and put his mouth to her ear. In a barely audible whisper, he said, “At least one of them left, which gives us better odds. You lie down and start calling out for help. Tell them that stuff they gave you made you sick.”

  She nodded, crossed back to the bed and lay down, watching as Brady flattened himself against the wall on the side where the open door would hide him.

  When he was in position, she took a deep breath, screwed up her face and started crying out.

  “Help me. You’ve got to help me. Please, somebody help me. I’m so sick.”

  From the other side of the door, a voice shouted, “What the hell is going on in there?”

  “Help me. That stuff you gave me made me feel like I’m going to die. Help me.”

  “It’ll wear off.”

  “No,” she gasped out.

  Long seconds passed, and nothing happened. Her gaze shot to Brady, then away.

  “Call him again,” he mouthed.

  “Please. Don’t leave me like this. I think I’m dying.”

  When the doorknob turned, Brady tensed, waiting to find out if they had a chance.

  As one of the men stepped cautiously into the room, gun in hand, Brady sprang forward, coming down on the man’s back, pushing him toward the floor.

  The man grunted and tried to twist around to get his weapon into position to fire, but Grace snatched up the metal bucket beside the bed and crashed it down on his head. He went limp.

  Brady rolled the man over, smashed a fist into his chin and took the gun from his hand. Then he whirled toward the door, ready for reinforcements. But the doorway was empty. Brady stepped out of their makeshift cell. Grace followed. Like their prison, the room was roughly made but furnished with several comfortable easy chairs and a couch. Along one wall was a kitchen unit.

  Brady turned and closed the cell door, locking the thug inside.

  “We’d better get out of here.”

  She followed him across the wood floor, where he stood listening at the door, then cautiously opened it, not knowing what they’d find.

  When Brady stepped outside and looked back, he saw a small log cabin with a sagging roof. A gravel road led down a steep incline away from the building. Parked a few yards away was one of the cars they’d come in.

  “Transportation.” He crossed to the driver’s door, and checked inside and found the keys.

  “Get in.”

  As they started down the hill, Grace let out the breath she must have been holding.

  “Is this the only road out of here?” she whispered.

  “Looks like it. So we’d better make tracks.”

  Soon they were hurtling down the narrow gravel road.

  Beside him, Grace was holding tight to the handle above the passenger door. “Slow down. We’re not going to get away if we crash.”

  “Yeah.” He moved his foot to the brake and pressed. When nothing happened, he pumped the pedal. Still nothing.

  “Shit!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “No brakes,” he shouted while the car continued to pick up speed as it flew down the narrow mountain track.

  “But they just used this car.”

  “Maybe.”

  He pulled up on the parking brake—to no effect. He’d thought he’d released it. Now he wondered if it had really been engaged. Gripping the wheel, he struggled to keep the vehicle on the narrow road, his mind racing for some way out of this mess. He’d thought he was so clever, breaking them out of their prison, but it looked as if it had been a trap. He’d thought their guards had been careless, but the bastards had been careless on purpose, setting him and Grace up to die in their escape attempt.

  Their bodies would be found in a mangled car. Brady Lockwood—with his brother’s supposed mistress. Then conspiracy theory would take over. If anyone was going to get blamed for John’s death, it was them.

  This was the second attempt, he realized. If they’d been blown up with Karen, the same conspiracy scenario would have played out.

  Ahead of him, the trees opened up, and he saw to his horror that there was a steep drop-off on the left and no guardrail. On the right were trees and boulders.

  The car kept picking up speed as it approached the cliff edge, and he could think of only one way to get them out of this alive.

  “Hang on, I’m going to try and slow us down.”

  Grace sucked in a sharp breath as he eased toward the forest, looking for a break in the trees.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Hold tight.”

  She grasped the edges of her seat with white-knuckled hands as he eased off the road and into the woods. Metal screeched as the fender hit a boulder, then tore off. The car kept going, moving farther off the road, the dirt and leaves under the tires helping to slow them. But not enough. When he saw a break in the trees, he plunged in, scraping the sides of the car against massive trunks, turning the wheel sharply, trying to slow them without scoring a direct hit against anything.

  He was perilously close to disaster as he wove through the trees, increasing the drag on the car and praying that the sides weren’t going to cave in.

  “It’s leveling off ahead,” Grace called out.

  “Yeah. And muddy.”

  Ch
anging his strategy, he drove into the mire, feeling the tires sink into the goop. The boggy surface slowed their forward progress considerably.

  “Hang on,” he advised, as he gripped the wheel and headed for a pine tree, thumping against the trunk and coming to a rocking halt.

  “Out of the car,” he ordered. “They could be waiting for us around the next curve.”

  When Grace tried to comply, she found the passenger door was so battered that it wouldn’t open.

  “Come out this way.”

  He slid out, then helped her across the seat. When he tugged her out of the car, she fell into his arms. For a long moment, they clung together, each of them shaking as they absorbed the impact of the near miss.

  “You’re a hell of a driver, Brady.”

  “Thanks to my reckless youth. And luck.” He lifted his head and looked around. “We can’t stay here.”

  “I know. But I’m not sure my knees will hold me up.”

  “Just put one foot in front of the other.” Taking her hand, he led her rapidly into the woods.

  They headed away from the road, and he stopped when he saw moving lights in the distance.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “Could be Maryland, Virginia or West Virginia,” he answered. “They’re all close enough to Frederick.”

  “Those men. They wanted us to get into the car.”

  “Yeah. Victims of an unfortunate accident.”

  She winced as they kept moving toward the lights, which seemed to be the headlights of moving vehicles.

  Breaking through the woods, they found themselves on a rural road, this one two lanes and paved.

  “How long before the bad guys find out we’re not dead?” Grace asked.

  “Depends on how long they planned to stay away. But they could come back along this route.”

  When more headlight beams cut through the gathering darkness, he led her behind a large, crumbling building that might once have been a barn.

  After the car passed, they kept walking until they came to a crossroad. A gas station sat on one of the corners, and the lot in back of it was filled with cars—many of which had seen better days.

  “Wait here.”

  Brady looked around to make sure they weren’t being observed, then selected a twenty-year-old Chevy and opened the door. It smelled like cigarette smoke, and the floor was littered with a collection of fast-food wrappers and bags. Easing down behind the dash, he found the wires that would start the engine. With a silent prayer, he twisted them together, and the motor caught.

  The gas gauge was a quarter full.

  “Come on,” he called softly.

  Grace climbed into the passenger seat. “We’re stealing this car?”

  He shrugged. “You do what you have to. My brother taught me that.”

  She still looked upset, so he added, “It’s not worth much. I’m hoping nobody misses it for a while.”

  He pulled onto the road and headed for a destination unknown, with Grace sitting tense and silent beside him.

  He wanted to ask if she had any idea who the men were who had tried to kill them. But he kept silent because he was going to be looking into her eyes when he asked her any more questions. He wasn’t fooling himself. He’d wanted to protect her when he thought she was in danger, but he was sure she knew more than she was saying.

  When they came to a road sign, he found out they were twenty miles from Martinsburg, West Virginia. Outside of town, he pulled into the parking lot of a discount department store.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We’re still wearing the clothes from the fire. We need to change. Luckily, the thugs didn’t take our money. But I guess they wanted our personal effects on us, so we could be easily identified.”

  “You think of everything,” she murmured.

  “I’m trying. Stay here.”

  She nodded and scrunched down in her seat. In record time, he bought them both jeans and T-shirts and toiletries. He was back in less than fifteen minutes.

  At a highway gas station, he told her to change her clothes in the ladies’ room. When she returned, he ducked into the men’s room and changed, then drove on into the night.

  His next stop was a fast-food drive-through where they got burgers and milk shakes—since he figured they needed the calories. He ate while he drove, putting fifty miles on the odometer before he decided it was safe to stop.

  Knowing that many of the houses in the area were vacation homes, he picked a driveway and turned in. When he got halfway to the house and saw lights on, he backed up and drove a few hundred feet down the road. On the third try, he found a house that was dark, and he parked around back.

  “Wait here while I make sure it’s empty.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  He gave her an exasperated look. He wanted to order her to stay in the car until he’d made sure they were alone here. But he knew it would only make her more adamant.

  She followed him across the back deck to the door. It took only a few moments to find the key hidden under a flowerpot.

  Once they were inside, he put the safety chain in the door and turned on a lamp. They were in a nicely furnished living room, with country touches like throws and wicker baskets. He made a quick trip through the house, making sure they were alone. When he returned to the living room, Grace was still in the same position by the door.

  She looked at him. “I didn’t thank you for saving me.”

  “We’re not in the clear yet.”

  She nodded. “What are we going to do?”

  “That partly depends on you,” he answered.

  “Me?”

  “On whether you start telling me the truth.”

  A kind of desperate look came into her eyes. Before he could put some distance between them, she reached for him and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face against his chest.

  “Don’t.”

  “I want to be close to you,” she said in a low voice. “Don’t push me away.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Disentangling himself would be the smart thing to do. But at the moment, Brady didn’t have the strength to be smart. Well, maybe he was making progress. Not so long ago, after a death ride down the side of a mountain, he would have gone straight to a liquor store. Now all he wanted was to hold on to Grace Cunningham.

  Whatever else he might have said to her turned into a long sigh of pleasure as she worked her hands under his T-shirt and pressed them flat against his back before she started stroking his skin in a slow, sensual pattern.

  He’d told himself he was through with relationships, but Grace had worked her way past the barrier he’d erected. So far, he’d pulled back every time things got too heavy. Until now.

  Too much had happened too quickly for him to guard his emotions. He needed to give into the pleasure of holding her, touching her, kissing her.

  When she lifted her face to him, their mouths met in a kiss that was fueled by sexual need and by the terror of their captivity.

  He turned his head first one way and then the other, his mouth moving over hers, allowing himself to feast on her.

  As he took a step back, she made a small sound of protest—until she saw that he was pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it onto the chair.

  Her gaze on him, she pulled off her T-shirt, then reached to unfasten her bra.

  He saw the sudden flash of nerves in her eyes and knew that despite her show of boldness, she didn’t make a habit of seduction.

  “You’re sure about this?” he made himself ask.

  “Very sure.”

  When she moved into his arms, he groaned at the soft pressure of her breasts against his chest, his arousal ratcheting up to a whole new level. They swayed together, touching, kissing, sighing.

  Before his legs stopped working, he led her down a short hall to a bedroom, where he turned back the spread and the blanket, then caught her in his arms again, stroking her back and shoulders while she re
ached between them.

  When her hands came to rest on his belt buckle, he went very still. His arms at his sides, he watched her as she unbuckled the belt, then started on his jeans.

  His breath caught as she lowered his zipper and slid her hand into the opening she’d made, working her way beneath the elastic band of his briefs to cup his aching erection. For wonderful seconds, he let himself enjoy the pleasure of her touch before he forced himself to stop her.

  “Enough.”

  He lifted her hand away from his taut flesh before unzipping her jeans and easing them down her legs.

  They both kicked their pants away.

  Taking her down to the surface of the bed, he gathered her to him, hoping he could contain his urgency.

  When his hands found her breasts, her long sigh of pleasure told him how much she liked him teasing her nipples between his fingertips. He followed the caress of his fingers with his lips, hardly able to believe that anything could feel so good in his mouth as her aroused flesh.

  One of her hands cupped the back of his head, holding her to him, while the other stroked restlessly over his back and shoulders.

  He marveled at the tender, possessive feelings that welled up inside him.

  He shifted his mouth to her neck, then her jaw, then finally her lips, kissing her as he slid his hand into the soft folds of her most intimate flesh.

  She was swollen and wet for him, her hips moving restlessly as he brought her up to the level where he wanted her.

  She clutched his shoulders, her fingers digging into his tense muscles. But he stayed where he was, entranced by the feel of her and by the sounds of pleasure she was making for him.

  “Brady, you’re going to tip me over the edge.”

  The urgency in her voice made it impossible to wait.

  Taking her mouth in a long, passionate kiss, he moved over her. She reached between them, guiding the hard shaft of his erection to herself, and he drove forward, his body merging with hers.

  For a moment both of them went very still. Then he began to move within her, slowly at first, then quickening the pace when he could no longer hold back.

  As his hand slipped between them to stroke her, he felt her inner muscles contract around him, and when she came undone for him, he felt the shattering explosion of pleasure take him.