Tommy had a crew of paid bruisers that were fanatically loyal to him. His right-hand man was a walking killing machine, with an arsenal to boot. Grace let out a hollow laugh. “I don’t think a bat’s going to help me.”
“Not just that. What good is a bat if you’re not ready to swing it? You gave me the idea with your ballet classes. What about if someone taught you how to protect yourself?”
“You mean like self-defense?”
It was a good idea. She thought about taking lessons once before, back when she first left Tommy, but when she saw the Jaguar do a drive-by outside of the studio when she went to sign up, she was too spooked to go back.
“Exactly! And I know just the man for the job. He’s still a Marine, even if he’s retired from duty and working for the sheriff's department now. I’m sure he’d do it if I asked.”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to be a bother. And,” she admitted, “I don’t want anyone else to know. This is my problem. People… people have gotten hurt if they got in between Tommy and me. I can’t let that happen again.”
“Hush.”
Grace hushed.
“Did you see the welcome sign on your way into the village?” Maria asked. She waited for Grace’s nod, then said, “I made it. Just like I make most of them.”
“It’s lovely.”
“Thank you. Now hush.”
“Maria—”
Maria swatted her in the arm with the dish towel resting on the tabletop. This one was a dark burnt orange color with a drawing of a black cat with glowing green eyes on it. “I’m not looking for compliments, sweetie. I run my Ophelia and I paint, that’s what I do. And what I paint on that particular sign is very important.”
Grace thought she might know where Maria was going with this. Daring to chime in, she remembered, “‘Hamlet helps’?”
“Hamlet helps,” agreed Maria. “And Maria knows how to keep her mouth shut. One problem at a time, sweetie. I’ll get someone to teach you to fight back so you don’t look like you’re ready to bolt, and then we’ll worry about stopping this Tommy from getting to you. You’re not alone anymore.”
A lump formed in Grace’s throat. She swallowed roughly, forcing it down. “Maria, I—thank you.”
Maria’s pale blue eyes went icy and cold as she firmed her lips; at that moment, Grace thought she looked almost eerily like her big brother. She reached out, laying her hand over Grace’s.
“Let him try to follow you here,” she said, her throaty voice nearly vibrating with the challenge. “He’ll learn and learn quick what happens to outsiders who don’t want to play nice.”
12
Maria disappeared early the afternoon she had arranged for Grace to have her first lesson.
She said she needed to head into the city in order to buy more supplies for her art. Grace suspected that Maria wanted to give her space for when Sylvester came over to give her those self-defense lessons.
Weather was nice in Hamlet. Over the last few days, Grace noticed that, despite living in the shadow of the mountains, the small town was a little warmer than Dayton had been. Now that it was creeping toward the end of October, it was chilly, but not so cold, and she suggested they hold the lessons outside.
Yeah. No. Maria didn’t like that. Once the caffeine wore off and some of her anxiety started to face, Grace wasn’t as worried about Tommy getting to her. She reminded herself of the power of Ophelia’s locks. And Maria was right—no one was getting in and out of town without someone picking up on it. Without giving Sly all of the details, she told her boyfriend about Grace’s trouble, and found out that no less than four locals reported seeing the black car.
Grace tried to call off the lessons. Maria insisted she take them, if only because every woman needed to be able to protect herself. And, because she got this idea in her head that Tommy would find a way to sneak in and snatch Grace off the street, she arranged the furniture in the foyer so that there was space to practice indoors.
Grace tried to argue, especially since her fright hadn’t kept her from dancing in the backyard. Of course, Maria didn’t exactly know that, since she only did it when Maria was away from Ophelia, but still. As big as the open room was, she was afraid she might break some of Maria’s expensive knickknacks. Maria didn’t care—and she absolutely wouldn’t budge on having the lessons inside.
Sylvester would rat her out. Grace knew it. There was no way she could go outside. Besides, she was actually a bit touched at how much Maria cared for her. So maybe she didn’t argue as much as she could have.
Of course, that left Grace waiting nervously for her teacher to arrive. Maria told her that he would be stopping by around four. Because she didn’t know what to expect, she dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of her favorite leggings so that she would at least be comfortable, then hovered nearby so that she could answer the door.
At a quarter to four, the doorbell rang. Since old habits die hard, Grace peeked through the peephole.
What the—
Okay. On the plus side, it wasn’t Tommy or one of his goons out there. But it wasn’t Sly, either.
She flung the front door open, and when she caught sight of the big beast of a man standing on Ophelia’s porch, she stared. Just… just stared.
His neck reddened under the intensity of her gaze. He didn’t smile, or even nod. In fact, he looked like he was regretting having knocked.
It took him a second before he spoke. “Hi. I’m here to teach someone a little something about self-defense. Name’s Rick Hart. Think you might be expecting me.”
Yeah. Not quite. And should she tell him that she already knew who he was? Considering how she couldn’t stop staring at him, that might give him another reason to weasel out of these lessons. He was clearly as uncomfortable as she was.
At least he knew what to expect. Finding him there? That was a complete surprise for Grace.
Stop staring, Gracey.
Because she was. She totally was. Jesus, why couldn’t she take her eyes off of this man?
She tried, but all that happened when she dipped her chin, tearing her gaze from his striking face, was that she was now staring at his massive chest. Even beneath the heavy hoodie, she was willing to bet that he was jacked. And not in that steroid, bodybuilder way that so many of the guys Tommy hired were. He looked like he earned his physique honestly.
Trouble. She was in big, big trouble.
“Grace. Delaney,” she added. “I’m sorry. I thought Maria said her boyfriend was going to be teaching me.”
Grace was expecting Sylvester. Maria said it would be Sylvester.
Where the heck was Sylvester?
“He was? Oh. Uh. Yeah. I mean, he was.” The big man nodded, reaching up behind him to scratch at his thick neck. His hair was longer than she remembered, a stray curl falling forward into his face as he dipped his chin. “I guess something must have come up, though, and Sly asked me for a favor. Here I am. If you’d rather wait for Sly… I get it. No problem.”
And that, she realized, was the problem. Because one part of her was screaming at her to get away. Her attraction to the deputy would only come back to bite her in the ass later on. But the other part? The part Grace had to bury when it became clear that Tommy was a danger?
It said: yes, please.
The night he stopped to give her directions hadn’t been a fluke. Now that she’d come face to face with him again, she decided her memories didn’t do him justice. It had been dark the night they met, and Grace was tired. If she thought he was attractive then, that was nothing compared to how she was torn between being intimidated by her reaction to him and way too excited by the prospect of getting up close and personal with him.
For training, she reminded herself. Self-defense. That’s why he was there.
Because Tommy would be looking for her. And if he found her drooling over the deputy? It wouldn’t end well for any of them. She couldn’t risk it, even if she wanted to. And she did. God help her, she did.
When she didn’t say anything, the deputy shifted his weight to one side. His hand strayed from the back of his neck to his scalp, scratching behind his ear, running his fingers through his hair. The curls were wild and messy and, damn it, she still couldn’t shake the urge to stroke them herself.
In the last few days, Grace had heard enough of the local gossip to learn who the mystery man who helped her find Ophelia was. She didn’t have to be a Sherlock to figure it out.
There were only a handful of people who worked under Sylvester. Maria’s man was the sheriff, and he had four deputies underneath him: two men and two women. Since Ethan was a freckle-faced redhead she met last week when she was leaving the boutique, she didn’t need to ask too many questions to learn that the man she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about was a Marine buddy of Sly’s—and a Hamlet local—named Rick.
Somehow, she should’ve expected this. She might not have had to ask too many questions but, well, that didn’t mean she was able to hide it all that well. The third or fourth time she perked up when Maria mentioned his name might have clued her hostess in to the fact that Grace was interested.
Didn’t mean that she wanted to come face to face with him again. Since she’d been in Hamlet, she’d spent most of her time deluding herself that she was untouchable now. Hearing from the Jeffersons that there were other outsiders in town—and they had to be Tommy’s men—had shot that certainty to hell.
Grace had also worked hard to convince herself that her intense reaction to seeing the Hamlet deputy had everything to do with the relief she felt at finding another person after all those long hours on the road. Add that to a caffeine buzz, an empty stomach, and the exhaustion that weighed her down, and there was no way the attraction was as strong as she remembered.
Worse, she accepted. It was so much worse.
It wasn’t even that he was Tommy’s opposite in every way. Dark where Tommy was light, muscular and bulky rather than slender. How he hesitated, waiting for her response, instead of just telling her what she was expected to do.
And it wasn’t that she was being contrary, lusting after a guy who wouldn’t remind her of Tommy. Something about Rick Hart really got to her.
It would be a bad idea to let him stay. To let him take over in these lessons that promised to be hand-to-hand? It would be terrible.
Grace stopped Rick as he was starting to back up. It was an obvious retreat.
She couldn’t let him go.
“No! I mean, no. It’s fine. It’s great. You’re here. Okay. Come on in.”
“Sure. Just, uh, give me a second. I brought a couple of things with me.” He glanced over his shoulder, jerking his thumb toward the monster of a truck parked alongside the curb. “They’re in my truck. I’ll… I’ll be right back.”
Grace nodded.
Rick made no move to leave the porch.
He was going to kick Sly’s ass for this.
When Sly said that he needed a favor, that Maria had a friend who was in trouble and needed to learn how to protect herself, Rick’s immediate reaction had been to find this “trouble” and take care of it himself. Hamlet was a small town, and he knew everyone. If it was a friend of Maria’s, he figured that meant he knew the victim and the abuser. It would be his pleasure to straighten that out.
Like Rick, Sylvester had a sweet spot when it came to a damsel in distress. He didn’t think the sheriff would disapprove of his methods, except Sly went on to explain that Maria’s friend was, in fact, the new outsider and the trouble hadn’t quite found her yet.
She was determined it wouldn’t, but if it did? She wanted some tips on how to protect herself. And since the last thing any of the HSD wanted was more trouble in Hamlet, both the sheriff and the deputy had a motive in making sure the outsider woman felt safe.
Besides, Maria De Angelis insisted on it. And since Maria wanted this to happen, Sly insisted on it. And Rick? Well, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. At least he was helping someone. It was such a change from what he had to do while he was in combat. He needed some good karma points.
Even so, Sly might have mentioned that Grace Delaney was a total knock-out.
Was he that tired after pulling a twelve-hour shift the other day? Had he gone momentarily blind? Because, shit, he should’ve remembered what this woman looked like.
She was gorgeous.
More than a head and a half shorter than him, her entire form screamed delicate. She was slender, appearing even smaller thanks to the loose t-shirt she was wearing over a pair of pants so tight, it molded to her hips and her thighs. She had a mass of wavy, dark hair cascading past her shoulders; it was the same shade as his mahogany dresser back home. She was pale, with a dusting of pink coloring her softly rounded cheeks.
To make matters worse, the look she’d been giving him had him clenching his jaw. Her vibrant hazel eyes were so wide it made it obvious that she was staring at him.
He wasn’t stupid. Rick knew what he looked like. His face was broken in. And, okay, he still needed a haircut. His body was big, his muscles defined from a lifetime of training. He might’ve gone a little soft after he got out of the Corps, but he loomed over the tiny woman.
He would break her in half.
“You’re… ah, Jesus. You’re kinda small.”
She visibly bristled. “That doesn’t mean I’m not strong.”
To his surprise, Grace backed away from the threshold and straightened suddenly, gaining a good two inches of height. She bowed her back, thrusting out her chest. It took Rick a second to tear his eyes from her top to notice that the reason she looked taller was because she was perched on the absolute tips of her toes. And she did it effortlessly.
She held the pose for a good ten seconds, then sank easily back into a relaxed position. Her motions were so fluid and precise, he decided her name fit her perfectly.
“Small, but mighty,” he amended. “What kind of guns you hiding under those clothes?”
Her face darkened. “I—I don’t use a weapon. That’s why I need to learn these moves.”
Rick recognized the look that flashed across her pretty face. He wore it himself whenever he thought of some of the shit he saw when he was deployed. This woman was haunted.
“Muscles,” he said, softening the raw edge of his voice. Sly might have tricked him into this, but he wasn’t going to take it out on her. “I meant you’ve got muscles.”
“Oh.” She shook her head, long hair swaying before she scooped it up and settled it over her right shoulder. “Yeah. I guess you could say that. So, you gonna head back to your truck or not?”
“Wha—oh. Yeah. I just need—” There was something. What was it? Oh. Right. “The mats. Hang on.”
Rick turned his back on her at last, jogging down the porch steps and hoofing it toward his truck. He took the folded gym mats from the truck bed, hoisting them over his shoulder and bringing them in through the front door. Sly buzzed him earlier to make sure he knew that Maria was okay with his using Ophelia when he gave his lesson. Avoiding Grace’s curious gaze, he pulled off his Carhartt hoodie and got to work setting the mats up in the front room.
He coughed when he was done, then cleared his throat. She was staring at him again. “Mats,” he said uselessly. “I thought they might help.”
Considering Ophelia’s hardwood floor, the mats were probably a good idea. He wasn’t sure how far they would get in their first training session, but it never hurt to be prepared.
Nodding over at Grace, he asked, “Ready?”
“Whenever you are. By the way, thanks.”
Rick cocked his head.
“You know. For doing this. You didn’t have to. I appreciate it.”
Rick didn’t know what to say. He’d never been all that good at accepting compliments or gratitude. To have this woman give him thanks for something any decent guy should do, it made him uncomfortable. And an uncomfortable Rick was a gruff Rick.
He blew off her thanks by totally ignorin
g the fact that she offered them.
Instead, he drew closer to the edge of the mat. “What exactly do you want to learn? Sly wasn’t all that clear. Something about trouble—”
“Trouble’s a good word for it.” At his expectant look, she shrugged. “Stubborn ex. I’m sure you know how it goes. We broke up, and he… let’s just say he didn’t take it all that great when I said I’d rather be single.”
He stayed silent because, well, Rick didn’t know how it goes. The closest he got to a stubborn ex was Natalie, and he wasn’t about to give her a chance to even become an ex. Not that he was about to admit that to the outsider. He was still reeling from the fact that she was available.
She was so lovely, she took his breath away. It never occurred to Rick to even wonder if she was involved with someone else because, of course, she was. Now, with as simply as she let that slip, it was all he could think about—that, and the ex who wouldn’t let her go.
Sly asked him to spare an hour or two to show an outsider some self-defense techniques. Rick was all for it now. No one deserved to have their past follow behind them when they wanted to start over.
He knew that better than anyone.
Oblivious to the thoughts running through his head, Grace kept on talking.
“Anyway, I want to be able to protect myself. I used to live in the city so I know that there are even bigger threats out there than a spoiled man who won’t accept no for an answer. Maria said she knew someone who would be willing to teach me. Former Marine and he worked for the sheriff’s department.”
Maria. That little minx. He liked to think that she really did intend for Sly to have this gig. But she’d been real careful not to say that. Former Marine who worked for the HSD? Could be Sly—or she could’ve planned on throwing the outsider right at him. Sly would go along with it, too, if it made Maria happy.
Didn’t matter. Either way, he was there. He’d given his word that he’d help the outsider. Now that he’d met her, Rick found he was kind of looking forward to it.
I'll Never Stop (Hamlet Book 4) Page 13
