When he was thinking clearly, that was.
Right now?
Not a chance.
Grace had to move. She had to get to Rick, had to get out of there. Tommy would come back—
Tommy was coming back.
The Jaguar was always so quiet. But Grace had spent months driving around inside of it, then even longer trying to avoid it. Even without the loud rev cutting through the night, she picked up on the tell-tale hum a split second before the air shifted and she realized that he’d returned.
He had turned the headlights off. Like a shark zeroing in on a kill in the deepest, darkest part of the ocean, the black car cut through the darkness. Tommy didn’t escape. He had just turned around, using the narrow strait that led into Hamlet as a runway.
The tires were still holding on. He didn’t need to go far. As Grace watched in horror, he headed straight for the gulley. Straight for where Rick was standing near the edge.
“Rick!’ Her throat burned as she shrieked his name. “Rick, move!”
He did. At the very last second, he moved.
She would never know what Tommy Mathers’ final thoughts were before he plunged. The tinted windows on the Jaguar were closed so she didn’t even hear his screams if there were any. One minute he was racing toward the edge where Rick was panting, the next Rick had sprinted away and Tommy—unable to stop so suddenly with his bum tires—vanished over the side.
It felt like years passed in the time between his tail lights blinked out of her sight and the massive crash as the car made an impact with the bottom.
She didn’t know where she found the strength to get up. Had to be adrenaline. Every part of her ached, from from the top to the bottom, and it took everything she had to push past the weight of the wedding dress in order to climb to her tender feet.
She had to look. She had to see.
Rick was okay. She could hear him panting, saw him on his knees as he stared into the dark gulley that just had swallowed up Tommy Mathers. He’d still be there once she had the chance to look.
As her toes drew up to craggy edge of the deep pit, Grace braced herself and peered down into the darkness. That’s all she saw. Pitch-black darkness. Even though she saw him fall, knew he was in there, she couldn’t see Tommy or the car. She leaned closer.
And that’s when she felt someone grab onto her, yanking her away from the edge.
Grace thrashed in his hold. He was too strong for her to be able to break free, but he was desperate not to hurt her any more than he already had. It killed him inside when he saw the shiny smear of blood reflecting in the moonlight. Mathers didn’t do that to her—not directly, anyway. Her upper arm had gotten skinned when he tossed her into the road to save her from being hit by Mathers’ car.
The same car that had just disappeared into the open maw of the Hamlet gulley.
“It’s me,” he rumbled. “You’re safe.”
“I know who you are. Rick, babe, please. You’ve got to let me go.”
So she could dance too close to the edge? “Grace, no. I can’t do that. You have to calm down. It’s okay, I swear it to you.”
She shook her head so frantically, she whipped him in the face with her hair. Fingernails bit into the meat of his forearm as she continued to thrash. “I have to see. He might’ve—I have to check—”
“There’s no use.” Rick held her tighter. “He—there’s no way he could’ve survived that fall.”
A hiccup escaped her. Just like that, all of the fight went out of her as she sagged in his arms. “Are you sure? Really, really sure?”
As much as he wanted Mathers dead for what he put Grace through, he would’ve given everything he had if he’d been able to whisk Grace away from the scene before Mathers took his swan dive.
He could feel her trembling under his tight grip, but there was no way he was about to loosen his embrace in case she tried to rush back toward the gulley. Seeing her lean so close to the edge had probably taken a good five years off of his life. For one unholy second, he thought that she was going to follow right behind Mathers.
It was going to take him a long, long time to get over the spike of fear that went through him.
Rick continued to hold onto her. Not because he was afraid she would jump, but because he needed to feel her close. He needed her, just needed her. Safe and whole and in his arms.
He nuzzled the top of her dark hair with his chin, exhaling softly. “Yeah. I am.”
This time, when she bucked against him, he instinctively knew that she wouldn’t be running away. With a soft caress to her injured arm, he let go.
Grace immediately spun around, reaching out to wrap her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his chest. The instant he raised his arms again, securing her as he pulled her close, she burst into tears.
“It’s over,” she sobbed. “It’s finally over.”
Rick’s practical mind thought of the calls he’d have to make. Mathers’ car would have to be removed from the gulley; it was too much a threat to leave where it was since, at any moment, it could go up in flames. The armed bodyguard was dangerous with or without his gun. He needed to be taken into custody before he came to.
But none of that mattered as Grace clung to him, her tears soaking through his uniform shirt, scalding his chest. She needed this moment, and she needed it with him.
“Yeah, Tiger,” he murmured. “It is.”
Epilogue
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
Grace let out an exhale of relief. She did it. She actually managed to slip out of their bedroom without disturbing Rick, pulling her shoes on and tiptoeing toward the front door while he still slept peacefully.
As she learned when they first got together, he was a notoriously light sleeper. With all of the hours he was pulling at work, though, he slept more soundly and deeply these last few weeks. She was glad. He needed the rest.
And she needed to take care of something.
Her car was parked in the driveway. She purposely left it there after her appointment yesterday since she already had this idea brewing by the time she drove back into Hamlet. The garage connected to Rick’s home was old and creaky and she couldn’t risk it giving her away.
Crossing her fingers on one hand, she used the other to turn the key in the ignition. The purr of the engine was a hum in the early evening. Her heart pounding in inexplicable nerves, Grace waited to see if Rick would appear in the doorway, having been woken up by the car. When the door stayed closed, she took a calming breath and backed out onto the street.
It only took ten minutes to drive over to Ophelia. Normally, the trip was close to double that. Grace raced the rare stop sign, hoping she didn’t run into Willie or Natalie or Ethan. They’d tip Rick off first chance they got if they caught her speeding through town.
The only hurdle she was worried about was whether Maria was home—and if she currently had company.
As the sheriff, Sly was even busier than the rest of his deputies. He might have Rick and the others pulling double shifts, but she knew that Sly had been working around the clock for close to three months now.
She let out another relieved sigh when she saw Maria’s mint green coupe parked out front. There was no sign of Sly’s cruiser, so she figured it was a safe bet that Maria was free.
It was barely five so she knew that Ophelia’s locks wouldn’t be activated for a couple of hours. When she rang the doorbell and got no answer, she reached for the door. Just like she thought, it was open. Grace let herself in.
Rick finally urged her to get her own radio after what happened with Tommy. She rarely used it, only calling Maria or Rick, but it made him feel better if he knew she carried it. She had tried buzzing Maria before she left Rick’s house, though she wasn’t surprised when Maria didn’t pick up. From the time she spent in Ophelia, she knew Maria never carried hers around with her. Good chance it was in her bedroom and she couldn’t hear it.
It was dark in the foyer. The only
light filtered in from the windows and the artificial spotlights that filled the hallway. Maybe… maybe Sly came and picked Maria up in his cruiser. That would explain why the coupe was outside.
“Maria?” she called out, raising her voice. “You home?”
“Is that you, Grace?” She sounded muffled, as if coming from far away.
“Yeah. It’s me.”
“I’m in the kitchen, sweetie.”
Grace crossed the foyer and headed toward the hall. A few minutes later, when she walked into the kitchen, she found Maria bent over the table.
A large rectangle-shaped slab of wood lay in the center. It was stained a deep mahogany color and Maria had already drawn a bouquet of flowers all along the bottom and the sides. Daisies, soft yellow roses, sprigs of lavender, and a mix of wildflowers.
It was absolutely gorgeous.
For the first time in a long, long time, the sight of an array of flowers didn’t fill her with dread. There was only hope.
Grace smiled. “What’s this? Are you working on the new welcome sign?”
“Oh, no, sweetie. I already finished that. My Sly even went out this morning and posted it at the crossroads for me.” Her head bowed, dark hair barely missing the paint can as she drew another stroke toward the bottom, Maria added, “I asked if maybe I should make another, a warning sign for outsiders to be careful, and he told me not to bother. And, I guess, I get it. Maybe our gulley protects its people as much as it does the town and I should leave it be.”
Part of Grace was touched that Maria had gone to the trouble of re-doing the welcome sign because of her. Last week, while they were drinking a mug of hot cocoa together, Maria mentioned it was time to make a new sign. Since Grace had decided to stay in town for good, she might as well update the population for Hamlet.
The other part of Grace tried really hard not to cringe at Maria’s offhand mention of Sly, the gulley, and a warning sign. Her stomach tightened. She hadn’t gotten over what happened to Tommy yet. She doubted she ever would.
Sly Collins hadn’t, either. Whenever the sheriff’s other duties spared him—and sometimes when they didn’t—Sly could often be found at the scene where Tommy fell.
At least it was better than the days he spent outside of the house she shared with Rick, studying the patch where Boone lay bleeding. Every time she looked out the front window and saw the sheriff hard at work, the memories came rushing back.
Pop, pop, pop. Three gunshots and the certainty Rick was gone.
Tires squealing.
The blinding tail lights as the Jaguar dove nose-first into the gulley.
The crash of the impact.
The relief—the absolute, stunning relief—that, at last, she was free.
Maria was right. In all of Hamlet, considering her own history, she was probably the only one who understood. The gulley protected her when Mack Turner crashed, and now it kept Thomas Mathers from coming after Grace ever again.
Mr. Mathers claimed his son’s remains and the smashed vehicle. Boone was whisked away by some grim-faced detective the morning after the incident. Because of Mathers’ connections and his money, the sheriff was forced into crossing every t and dotting every i when it came to his investigation. The consensus was that Thomas Mathers was just another victim of Hamlet’s dark and bottomless valley. Would a warning sign have prevented his death?
As far as everyone was concerned, it was an accident. There was no one left who could prove otherwise. Grace planned on taking her role in his death to her grave. Boone wasn’t talking; thankfully, he wasn’t there to see how Rick used Tommy’s pride and his obsession to trick him over the edge. Rick and Sylvester’s pristine military record and the way Hamlet policed their small town meant that there was nothing Mathers Senior could do.
For now.
It would have to be enough.
She couldn’t live in the past. Not when she finally had a future she wanted to look forward to.
Grace gave her head a clearing shake. If Maria finished her sign and Sylvester already put it up, she would have to hurry it along. Still, she found herself asking, “What’s this then?”
“Every season or so, I craft a new sign for the front of my Ophelia. Painting, it steadies my nerves. With everything that’s been going on, Sly thought I should take out my paints. He’s right. I needed this.”
Grace envied her. She thought, once Tommy was finally gone, it would be over. And it was, in a way. She no longer looked over her shoulder, and ever since she officially moved into Rick’s place, his warm presence beside her in the bed kept her from having too many nightmares. She still woke up, panicked and afraid more often than not since her kidnapping, but Grace was determined to put it behind her, no matter how long it took.
Now that she didn’t have to worry about her vehicle being bugged or someone following her, she took trips out of Hamlet. Rick went with her whenever he was off-duty. He said it was because he liked getting out of Hamlet—especially since their relationship became common knowledge—and she didn’t doubt that. The constant whispers and curious stares grated on her nerves, too. But it was also clear that he wanted to be there in case she needed him.
And she did. Often. In the last four months, Grace had grown to depend on Rick more and more.
Maria dipped her paintbrush into the pale pink paint. Holding it up high, she asked, “What do you think of this color?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“I think it’ll pop against the dark stain. It’ll do as we head into spring again.” With a steady hand, she drew a decorative O and added an ornamental frill to the inside of the over-sized letter. Squinting her brilliant blue eyes, Maria cocked her head to the side. A curtain of long, dark hair fell over her shoulder. “I like it. If I put a white highlight on the edge, it’ll be perfect.”
The small can of white paint was on the side of the table closer to Grace. Picking it up, she moved until she was standing next to her friend. Without a word, she set it down by the pink paint.
“Grazie.” Maria pried the lid off of the can, dipping a wooden stirrer in, mixing the white paint. As she did, her gaze locked on Grace’s hand. She shook her head. “Every time I see that ring, I don’t know whether to be jealous that Sly is taking his sweet time to get one for me, or grateful that my hand isn’t weighed down by that sucker.”
Grace glanced down at the rock on her finger. Some might think that the stress of all that happened during their short courtship meant they were rushing things. She would tell them to go scratch themselves. Rick confessed he fell for her long before he learned what exactly she was running from; she knew she was gone for Rick even while she still had a monster on her tail. When the two of them finally came clean and admitted that there was something between them, Rick accepted it whole-heartedly. Grace… well, she tried.
He bought the ring at the beginning of the year, then waited until Valentine’s Day to propose because, in his own way, he was trying to be romantic. He told her she could say no. He even tried to talk her into turning him down. She continued to struggle with the night Tommy tried to force her to become his bride. Rick asked her to marry him because he wanted to lock her down, but he knew that there was a good chance she’d never want that.
And he was right. Grace didn’t know if she did. A fancy wedding, the goddamn gown, fucking flowers… she felt queasy whenever she thought of the spectacle of marriage. But there was one thing she did know. She knew that she wanted Rick in her life forever.
So she said yes. And, nearly a month later, she still didn’t regret it. Even if the engagement ring Rick spoiled her with really did weigh a ton.
Maria traded the stirrer for a slender paintbrush. After coating the small tuft of bristles with the white paint, she used delicate strokes to add details to the O. With a satisfied nod, she set the smaller paintbrush down before reaching for the first one again.
Grace watched in amazement as Maria worked. Over the course of her career, she grew accustomed to fans, managers
, and those who attended any of her performances exclaiming that the way she moved was astonishing. Magical, even.
No, she decided. What Maria did with her paints, her talent, and her creativity was pure magic.
The sign in the front of Hamlet, as lovely as it usually was, was incredibly simple and straight to the point. The time and affection she poured into creating a banner for her beloved bed and breakfast when it would last barely a couple of months was absolutely amazing.
The sign—
Oh, jeez.
As she watched Maria work, Grace nearly forgot the reason why she slipped out to Ophelia while Rick was napping. She didn’t want to be gone too long; she knew that Rick would worry and panic if he rolled over and discovered her gone. But this was important. And she trusted Maria enough to help her.
Just when Grace was opening her mouth to ask, Maria cut her off with a waggle at Grace’s all important ring finger. “Tell me. You two figure out a date for this thing yet? You haven’t seen nothing until you see a wedding in Hamlet. Forget about a guest list, sweetie. You’ll have the whole town turning out for it.”
Grace gulped. In his own sheepish way, Rick warned her of the same thing after she accepted his proposal so readily. To his credit, he offered to elope, but Grace didn’t want to rob the town of the chance to celebrate him. Besides, if they came back and were married, they would piss off all the locals.
No wonder Lucas was a little leery of returning to Hamlet with Tessa. It was common knowledge around the village that he ran off after the widowed outsider—in the time since she’d been accepted by the locals, she heard all of the gossip—but only a handful of locals were aware that they did eventually elope.
Grace knew that, when the time came, she would have to get married in Hamlet. Still, she wasn’t in a rush to be married just yet. The memory of coming to and discovering she was wearing a wedding gown was too fresh in her mind. Only the fact that it was Rick who wanted to marry her had her agreeing. But just because she said yes, that didn’t mean they had to run straight for the altar.
I'll Never Stop (Hamlet Book 4) Page 27
