Capturing the Queen (Damaged Heroes Book 2)

by Sarah Andre

  18

  “…and what really pisses me off,” Gretch continued, “is how no one has proof that I’m in any danger.” See, the thing about Sean was she could be herself; argue like she’d wanted to with Hannah and Walter.

  Sean fell back to let an oncoming pedestrian pass. “Sometimes a vague threat is just as menacing.”

  She snorted. “Name the vague threat.”

  “Okay.” He halted in the middle of the sidewalk. “You say Brandon isn’t stalking you.”

  “He’s pestering me.”

  “When’s the last time you turned on your phone?” Under her glare, his brows rose in wide-eyed innocence. “One day? Two? Is it a record since you’ve owned a smartphone?”

  “Shut up, Sean.” She snatched her phone and flashed the lit screen in his direction. No need to tell him she’d kept it on mute, or that Brandon had sent another flurry of rude texts today, even seemed to think meeting her again was imminent. There was no blond guy in the vicinity. She stuffed the phone back in her purse, her muscles tight with annoyance.

  “Listening to instinct is the first step in self-defense,” Sean said gently.

  “If I listened to instinct, you wouldn’t be the one walking me to the shelter.”

  His expression hardened. “Sometimes a simple ‘thank you’ goes a hell of a lot further, Gretch.” Then he brushed on by, continuing that loping stride along the boulevard without her.

  Seriously? She could think of ten snarky comebacks to that softball. Gretch raised her arms, beseeching the early evening sky. “Hold up,” she said, hurrying to catch him. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for and I am thankful. It’s just—” She paused, searching for the right words. “Here’s what my instinct says.”

  That stopped him. His eyes were warm and interested, his body still, as if he were thoroughly engrossed in whatever was about to come out of her mouth.

  “Margo wouldn’t recommend a hotel for me because of Brandon.” A wariness flickered, and he cut his gaze. It confirmed her suspicion. “What happened with Adyton?”

  He shrugged. “I clarified the answers you gave him, his nephew took me to a warehouse a few blocks away, and I inspected an artifact. Hopefully Margo can track who owns the place, and what else is in there before I have to come up with a potential buyer. In the meantime, for whatever reason—” he gestured down his body, “—you’ve got me. I’m happy to do this.”

  “So this is because of the stuff I told Adyton and El Bashtan.”

  “No, it started before that. I consulted on a minor case last Saturday that’s suddenly snowballed into a potentially massive international smuggling operation. And now you’re involved. Adyton will find out we’re lying soon enough, and he has your real name. A showdown of some sort is only a matter of time.”

  With an eighty-year-old man. She wasn’t going to get caught up in this Chicken Little bullshit. She motioned for him to turn left. The shelter was the last house on the block. “If Margo was that worried, she’d stick me in a safe house or something.”

  “There’s nothing concrete enough. No doubt Jace is pissed at Margo for assigning me, though. He’d have manufactured a crisis in a heartbeat to show off his combat skills.”

  “Can’t be better than a kickass black belt.”

  “You haven’t seen a former SEAL ambush that cyclist over there and conduct a search-and-seizure of the grocery bag for explosives. It’s a sight to behold.”

  “More than flipping an unsuspecting student in front of a bunch of eight-year-olds?”

  His laugh tripped up her heart. So rare. Such a marvelous, deep sound. She glanced over. His shaggy hair stirred in the evening breeze, and the residual smile transformed his face. When he looked like this, his quirky looks were as virile and handsome as any hottie’s, only in a much more extraordinary way.

  “The shelter is over there,” Gretch said, her voice low and breathy. He shot her a startled glance. Did he think she was flirting? As conflicted as her feelings were, she had to shut down his hope. God help her if this guy, who was so adept at reading people, ever found out about the freak show thriving inside. She walked a tightrope between normal, office Gretch and the creature that trolled for one-night stands.

  “Are you still going out with Jace this weekend?” he asked, the lightness in his voice at odds with his tight expression.

  She couldn’t have formed a more perfect question to knock Sean’s hope out of the ballpark. “Hell yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

  His silence was bloated with words. She hurt for him, but her survival was more important than his ego. It took half a minute before he muttered, “I’m pretty sure agents can’t date anyone with a tertiary involvement in an investigation.”

  “Your brother doesn’t have a problem with it.”

  “My brother never has a problem with anything that benefits him.”

  She bounded up the three steps and punched the code into the security keypad. “Maybe you should break the rules once in a while too,” she said over her shoulder. “Women like bad boys.” She reached for the door handle, but Sean’s hand shot past hers and gripped it first. How annoying that his chivalry was the go-to characteristic she noticed now, instead of his epic geekiness.

  Just then he handed her a gift from the gods: he peeped inside the open door. She almost howled at his furtive, nerdy expression. “Expecting vestal virgins?”

  He flushed. “I’ll be out here whenever you’re ready to leave.”

  Great. Twice tonight; leave her zinger lying there like roadkill. She bit her lip to keep from blurting another apology. The only relationship they could have was trading barbs. Yeah, he was wasting his evening waiting around for her, but she hadn’t asked him to, and she didn’t need people controlling her life. With a stilted “thank you,” she strode into the homey foyer. The soft snick of the door closing squeezed her heart.

  She greeted Hank, the evening receptionist who doubled as a security guard, and signed in, trying to shake off this weird emotional state. Eve and her girls were the priority. By now they’d been here almost nine hours. Had they settled in okay?

  She found Eve in the TV room with her daughters and two other residents, watching The Big Bang Theory. Everyone except Eve smiled along with the audience’s laughter. When Gretch caught the woman’s eye, Eve’s shoulders slumped in relief. After murmuring something to her daughters, reassuring the younger one when the girl’s face puckered, Eve walked into the hall.

  “Hi,” Gretch said quietly, and hugged the frail, exhausted-looking brunette. “Want to go somewhere quiet and talk?”

  Eve nodded, her pressed lips white around the edges. Gretch motioned to the dining room that had places set for the upcoming dinner. From the kitchen beyond, mouthwatering aromas of marinara sauce and buttered garlic bread woke Gretch’s stomach. Sean had to be hungry too. She’d make it up to him by buying him dinner before they got to the hotel. For now, this was all about Eve.

  “I thought about your bravery all day,” Gretch said as they sat down.

  Eve promptly burst into tears. “Are you joking? I’m so scared… I can’t do this.”

  Boxes of tissue were placed strategically in every room, so Gretch grabbed the dining room stash and plunked it in front of Eve. “The hardest part is already behind you. You’ve left him, and all three of you are safe. We’ll help you every step of the way until you have a secure future.”

  “Those are just words.” Eve cried into the tissue. “I have no job, no skills, no money. I’m choosing a future of homelessness.”

  Gretch grasped her new friend’s hand, holding it firmly until the sobs were sniffles. “You’ve held in a lot today, haven’t you?”

  Eve nodded. Tears streaked her face. She blew her nose. “I’ve had to—for the girls. Amy has barely left my side. They’re too young to understand.”

  Gretch repeated the same assurances she’d uttered each time she’d spoken to Eve on the phone before this eventful day. The shelter’s safety, their anonymity, the ski
lls training offered here, therapy and resource counseling, room and board, legal advice, grooming and clothing supplies, a whole network of friends and supporters now and in the future… Gretch finally paused for breath. She probably sounded like a brochure at this point, but if one of the points was hammered home, maybe Eve wouldn’t look back.

  The sniffling turned to nodding and finally to a tremulous smile. “Thank you for all you’ve done. I…I would’ve taken so much more from him…until—” A fire came into her eyes. The abuse had changed, she’d told Gretch that morning. It was the catalyst for finally seeking escape. The bastard had turned his sick attention onto the girls. “I could kill him,” Eve whispered. “You have no idea.”

  She didn’t meet Gretch’s gaze, which was perfectly fine. It gave Gretch the courage to squeeze her hand and say, “I do have an idea. It’s why I’ve hounded you each time you called. The symptoms of sexual abuse start off small, but by the stuff you told me—him being so loving to the girls and so hateful to you, their withdrawal from their friends, the falling grades… It had all the signs.” Each word rang with determination. “You made the right call. Your kids aren’t safe anymore.”

  Eve’s eyes searched hers. “It almost sounds like this happened to your daughters.”

  Sound dimmed. Gretch glanced away. It’d be so easy to shrug, to change the subject. This was her baggage, carefully packed, locked, and stored in the deepest recesses of her soul. But it’d taken so long to get Eve to see the light. Maybe if she shared her history, it would help Eve realize the peril of going back to him.

  “I was the daughter.” Gretch inhaled a shuddering breath. “And I begged for help, but my mother chose to believe their lies. In both of her marriages.”

  “Jesus.” Eve’s eyes widened. “What did you do?” she whispered.

  Gretch pulled off a careless shrug. She yanked a tissue from the box and concentrated on shredding it. “Survived. Put a chair under the doorknob. Stayed with girlfriends as often as I could. Joined every sport to stay after school or compete on weekends…” She blinked rapidly. If she fucking cried, she would never forgive herself. “I, uh, got a basketball scholarship to Bradley University, in Peoria. Never went home again.” Her long exhale relaxed her shoulders. She’d gotten through it. Her first acknowledgment ever. She blinked to dispel the dizziness.

  Eve wiped her eyes, her earlier fragility gone. Good. Then revealing the horror was worth it. Anger was necessary to move on. It was what got Gretch out of bed, what had made her such a formidable trainer at Chicago’s biggest gym until she’d gone through too many men there to show her face again. It was fury sitting on her shoulder every time she accepted another LVR app date to fill the void.

  “I’d never have guessed,” Eve murmured. “I mean, you’re so cool and beautiful and in charge. How did you get over it?”

  You don’t. Gretch looked her in the eye. “You put one foot in front of the other until your past is far behind you.”

  “Do you ever speak to your mom?”

  She nodded haltingly, rearranging the setting she sat at so the fork was vertical on the napkin. Lord! She was acting like Sean. “Yes, I’ve forgiven her. It took lots of therapy.” God was going to strike her dead. She needed to steer the conversation away from her before she gagged on the lies. “They have great counselors here.”

  Eve immediately shook her head. “Oh no, my girls have had enough—”

  “Wait.” Gretch reached for her hand. Eve’s skin was ice cold. “It’s crucial for your daughters to talk to a professional about their encounters.” The thought of lying on a couch discussing the details sent a wave of nausea through Gretch, but that was because she was an adult. Tina and Amy had their whole lives in front of them. So much recovery time. Years to heal and have healthy relationships before they ended up like her. “Your daughters are precious. Do everything you can for them.”

  “His job. He’s very important. If this got out…”

  “Your only focus is the girls. They need to feel confident about themselves and their bodies again. Your husband blew any chance to ever be near them, and if you need me to testify in court, I’ll be there.”

  The grateful beam Eve threw her was a balm. It made lying about recovering from the abuse worth every word. Maybe Gretch would be a different person if she’d had a talk like this. If back then she’d followed the steps she now laid out for Eve. If she’d had any support whatsoever.

  “Thank you for sharing, Gretch. You give me hope I can get over this too.”

  See? Mission accomplished. “The hardest part is over. You did it, Eve.” Gretch spontaneously tossed the shredded tissue like confetti. “It’s downhill from here.”

  The Wednesday dinner volunteer shuffled through the door with a large bowl of spaghetti, her face rosy and smiling. “Do you mind rounding up the troops?”

  “I’m ravenous,” Eve declared as they walked back to the TV room. Her posture was straight, her head high. “Will you stay and eat with us?”

  Gretch hesitated. Sean was out there, probably cold and hungry. And the residual horror of her stepfathers’ cruelty induced a roiling in her stomach that served as a warning. She had a history of stress-induced vomiting; she should really be on her way. But after clamoring to be at Eve’s side all day, surely she could sit next to the woman and her girls, and play with her food.

  “Sure.” She’d definitely buy Sean dinner, and double her efforts to remain kind and patient with him, no matter what.

  19

  “I’m taking you to dinner,” Gretch announced. “The biggest steak in Chicago.” Her smile was so open and friendly, Sean ached at shutting it down.

  “I’m vegan, but thank you.”

  “Well, you have to be starving. Where can I take you?”

  He picked up the duffel bag Dwayne had dropped off for her almost two hours ago, and eased the strap over his shoulder. “I bought a tofu bowl a couple of blocks over before Dwayne arrived. Oh, and he said you should read his text. He was pretty disappointed you wouldn’t be home tonight. He had a surprise for you.”

  She nodded but didn’t dig for her phone. “Let’s stop for a drink, then. My treat.”

  “No thanks,” he said lightly. No way could he follow vegan with: “I don’t drink, either.” His body was his temple, but explaining that sure made him sound like a sissy. “I’d just as soon drop you at your hotel and call it a night.” He nodded stiffly in the direction they needed to head, and yep, he’d wiped the smile right off her face. But he was beat from last night’s insomnia, and they were still in South Shore. It’d take an hour to get home even if he were to leave right now.

  “You know what?” Gretch flipped a hand. “Just go. I’ll be fine.” She reached for her duffel, but he blocked her with his body. He never wanted a repeat of this morning, thinking she’d been kidnapped because he’d let her leave the dojo by herself.

  She huffed out a breath, tucked her purse under her armpit, and walked rapidly up the street. In deference to her snit, he stayed half a step behind, but when they crossed South Colfax, he pulled abreast. He’d been curious about her volunteer work since Dwayne had mentioned it yesterday morning. “How’d it go?”

  She shrugged. “Like always. You try to instill a sense of normalcy into lives that are far off the normal bell curve.”

  “What do you do there?”

  “Mostly talk to the residents. Sometimes I give training lessons and nutritional advice.”

  “That’s really cool, Gretch.”

  She shrugged. The pedestrian light turned red, and Sean automatically slowed even though the street was empty. Gretch jaywalked diagonally across the intersection, and he hurried to catch up. Break rules. Bad boy. Got it. “So how did you get involved with the shelter?”

  Her brisk pace and hunched shoulders clearly signaled his lame attempts to engage her were getting on her nerves instead. “I champion the helpless. Women, children, old people…”

  I’ll say. “You had quite a reacti
on to Adyton in his shop after only meeting him once.”

  The clip-clip of her heels grew more energetic. Any faster and they’d break into a jog. Her feet had to be killing her. “You know, as hot as your brother is,” she said curtly, “he’s wrong about Adyton.”

  The words had the impact of a javelin, penetrating Sean’s chest. Pain propelled him to chuckle without mirth. “I bet there’s no provenance on that Quran.”

  “I’m not talking about smuggling art. I’m saying his money isn’t going to that fundamentalist religion. He’s Shiʿite. ISIS would kill him if they could.”

  “I didn’t know you were familiar with politics in the Middle East.” He meant it as a compliment, but by the rigid set of her shoulders, the comment had torpedoed whatever good spirits had existed between them tonight.

  “This’ll probably come as a great shock, Sean, but I’m not stupid.”

  “I never implied you were.”

  She glanced over, her curled lip resembling Elvis Presley at his finest. “But you think I’m naïve. Going out on blind dates. Walking home alone. Flirting with a terrorist so old he needs a cane.”

  He exhaled. Another conversation gone to hell in a handbasket because of his dumb mouth and her prickly exterior. “I think you’re fearless,” he said carefully, shifting her duffel bag to his other shoulder. “And sometimes it skirts a line that seems unnecessary. Almost like you’re daring yourself. Bottom line, if the FBI connects Adyton to ISIS, that’s good enough for me.” Levity popped into his brain, and he grasped it like a lifeline. “You won’t catch me kissing the old man’s cheek.”

  Nothing. She marched to the curb of a busier street and jabbed the pedestrian button a few times. He stood behind her, close enough to capture her body heat and breathe her fragrance. The walk signal blinked on. She crossed without a word or a glance back.

  They climbed the station platform in a silence that was fast becoming uncomfortable. The lights were bright up here, and men’s glances zeroed in on Gretch like heat-seeking missiles. Sean met every astonished look that slid his way with false confidence. Yeah, she’s mine. Which didn’t convince anyone, because she was behaving like he was gum on her shoe.