He grabbed her arm faster than she expected and pulled her toward him. “Don’t talk to anyone. I mean it.”
The familiar scent of cinnamon on his breath made her breath hitch. She’d trusted him. Not just to change his womanizing ways, but to be honest with her. What could she think now?
She jerked out of his grip and glared at him. Her fingers itched to slap the anger off his face. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She hadn’t lied. Every word she’d ever said to him had been honest and true.
“Will you have me killed like Slasher was? Stashed in a crack house somewhere until my body is eaten away?” The words spewed out faster than she could think. The main thing was to keep her arms at her side. Then she couldn’t throw anything at him, like one of those hard metal chairs behind her that might dent his skull nicely. She pressed her fists against her hips, knuckles aching.
“What do you know about Slasher?”
“I know who the number one drug dealer is,” she scoffed, meeting his shocked glare with a toss of her hair. There’d been virtually no coverage on the news, a fact that had bothered her at first.
Now she knew. If the mayor ordered Slasher killed, then Grant couldn’t be innocent. Someone had kept the victim anonymous. Someone with clout. She backed up a step because rage still made her hands shake. Grant wasn’t dangerous. But he was weak. And she’d had her fill of weak men.
A shrill whistle pierced the air. Cranky Ms. Elliot waved for Grant. He lunged at Rachel, caught her by the shoulders and pressed a hard kiss against her lips.
“We’re going to discuss this later,” he murmured against her ear. “In the meantime, talk to no one. Go home, sit in your house. Don’t call anyone.”
Yeah, right. She glowered as he strode off, his shoulders set in a way that made her think he was confident she’d obey.
Huh. Not after he’d used her to get her off the mayor’s back. This had all started when she’d been shot at. She’d given him the flash drive and suddenly he started showing an interest. How could she have been so blind? So breathtakingly naïve?
Hot waves of betrayal washed over her. Jaw aching and fists against her side, Rachel chased after Grant. She lost him for a moment with the crowds, but finally saw the top of his head behind the stage.
Someone was talking to him, their sound equipment blocking her view of Grant’s face. Thankfully they moved just as she reached the traitor. His face hardened when he saw her. Before he could speak, she jammed a finger towards his nose.
“You betrayer! Working with the mayor, cheating the people. How could you?” Her own voice echoed in her ears and for a moment she thought anger had made her yell louder than she should have.
Grant’s hand grabbed the neckline of his shirt, gripped it. “I told you to go home.”
“You lied,” she spat, the hurt of his choices gouging deeper than anything had before. “I trusted you—” Her voice caught and she had to stop talking, had to bite her lips from going on. Legs shaking, she backed up and almost stumbled over the electrical cords slithering across the grass.
Releasing the collar, his hand shot out and steadied her.
Yanking away, she gave him a scathing look. “The mayor is going down, you know.”
This time she clearly heard her voice echoing back at her. The meaning hit her with the power of a hurricane. Grant was wearing a microphone.
Face strained, he mouthed to her, “Go home.”
This was much worse than she’d thought. Had the mayor heard her? She prayed not. She gave Grant a quick nod, pivoted and rushed to the parking lot. Her SUV idled parallel to the parking spaces, waiting for her. She slid into the driver’s seat.
Maggie bit her lip when she saw her. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” She shoved the gear shift into reverse and backed out of the space. And then stopped. Hands shaking, she gripped the wheel and took a deep breath. A strange constriction filled her chest, pressing against her heart. She blinked, willing the tears away.
It didn’t work.
They coursed hotly down her cheeks, burning rivulets of shame. Why had she trusted him?
“Do you want me to drive?” asked Maggie.
“I’m good,” she choked out, then plunged the gear shift forward, pressed the gas and ran away from the man who’d ripped down her defenses and laid waste to her heart.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Once home, Rachel paced her living room while Maggie clunked around in the kitchen. Miss Priss lounged on the couch, oval eyes narrowed into slits.
The computer set up in the corner of her living room beckoned her itchy fingers. Or she could use the laptop in her bedroom. She had internet access on her phone too, though she didn’t take advantage of it as often as she should. It wouldn’t be hard to hack into the mayor’s personal e-mail.
The urge to snoop clawed at her. Nails digging into her palms, she stopped pacing and stared up at the ceiling.
Snooping wouldn’t stop this ache in her heart. Somehow, someway, Grant had deceived her. She wasn’t sure how. She only knew that the mayor’s endorsement and Grant’s reaction at her office when he’d seen her research tied together somehow.
Crossing the room, she pulled out the chair at her computer and logged onto the internet. She’d find out what was going on. Nothing illegal. Just something to link Grant and Mayor Owens.
While sorting through different news articles and announcements, Maggie set a mug in front of Rachel. She hadn’t even heard her sister come into the room.
She looked up. “What’s this?”
“I thought you might need something warm.” Maggie put her hands on her hips. “Grant is a good guy. Whatever happened between you two, it can be fixed.”
“No. I don’t think so.” Even as she said it, her stomach roiled.
“Why?” Maggie demanded.
“I hope you’re not turning into me.” Rachel deliberately evaded the question.
“Yeah, right.” Maggie’s expression softened. “Just so you know, I have a job interview tomorrow.”
“A real one?” Last time she’d had an “interview” she ended up getting money from the mayor.
Maggie sighed. “Hopefully I can find my own place in a month or so.”
“Bartending?”
“Nope. Skydiving instructor. I don’t have a degree for anything higher up on the totem pole.”
“Sometimes guts are worth a lot more than a degree.” Rachel rolled her shoulders and reached for her tea. She’d gotten used to Maggie in her apartment, swiping her Chanel #5 and eating all the ice cream. “You’ve followed most of the rules pretty well. You can stay longer if you like.”
Maggie laughed. “If I didn’t have to dust furniture every few days I might take you up on your offer.” She winked at Rachel. “Besides, I have a feeling you won’t be alone too much longer.”
She flounced out of the room, reminding Rachel of the vibrant, spirited girl she used to be. She’d recover from her choices, might still get her happy ending.
Rachel sipped her coffee and turned back to the computer screen. She wanted a happily ever after too. Though Grant hadn’t been unfaithful, the secrets he held separated them as surely as an infidelity.
She clicked on a link, bringing up an old interview with Grant when he’d first returned to the town and been appointed deputy. Beside the interview was a picture of a much younger Grant, the smile a bit more cocky, the eyes less serious.
She hadn’t known that Grant. She’d been too busy with Scott, dreaming of a future that would never be. Unwillingly, she smiled. God had ordained things His way.
She’d never felt for Scott what she felt for Grant. They’d been friends, and not even that close. His affair with Maggie had wounded her but now she wondered how his life resumed after that mistake. Did he still preach? Or had shame driven him to step down from that gifting? She hoped he knew he was forgiven, that he hadn't let his weakness separate him from the one who gave strength.
The lemony scent of tea drifted upwards, a
soothing smell she associated with cleanliness and order. She drew in a deep lungful, then picked the cup up and warmed her hands with it.
God had been so faithful to her throughout the years. Establishing her business, keeping her from a loveless marriage. The things meant for harm had turned to good, despite her bitterness.
She couldn’t help what Scott had done. She couldn’t make her mother be happy or erase her father’s sins. But she could change what happened in her life, right now.
It was time to cleanse herself of the sharp memories, to scour the ulcer from her soul like she would a stain from the carpet.
Lord, forgive me please, for holding onto my anger for so long. Wash me, teach me to follow you more fully.
She bowed her head and came before her King in humble sorrow. Surely her bitterness had hurt Him far more than Scott. Her unforgiveness had opened her Savior’s wounds and spit in them.
Her lids, tightly closed, burned with unshed tears. She set the cup down so that she could bury her head in her arms.
Right now she needed to be held, to be reassured and comforted. Five years ago she hadn’t turned to Jesus, but had thrown herself into work, letting anger metastasize in her soul.
But not now.
“I’m so sorry for ignoring You,” she whispered, the broken tone a strange sound in the hush of her enfolded arms.
Tonight, before taking comfort in anything else, she would rest in the love of her Savior.
***
A storm woke Rachel from a restless sleep. Disoriented, she pushed herself up in the bed and realized that the thunder of her dreams was really someone pounding on the door. A deep rumble came from the end of the bed. Miss Priss, still asleep.
Carefully she pulled her feet from beneath the cat’s warmth and crept out of her bedroom. Moonlight filtered through the lace curtains hung across her windows, shadowing snowflakes against her carpet.
The tapping came again, much quieter than she expected. Her bedroom wall must have magnified the sound.
Swallowing tightly, she edged against the wall toward the doorway. Who would be at her house in the middle of the night? She’d done as Grant said, staying in the house and talking to no one. Just a quick look through the peephole and she’d know whether to call the cops or open the door.
On her toes, she snuck up to the hole, squinted and looked through.
Blonde hair, a bit too curly for a policeman.
A deep breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding whooshed out of her. She unlocked the door and flung it open. "Is everything okay?"
He pushed past her, his face dark. “We’re going to clear things up.”
“At two in the morning?” He wore all black and he smelled like…her nose wrinkled. Fish? Something rotten. She shut the door behind him, watching his shadow slump onto her couch.
Oh no, he didn’t.
One, he stunk.
Two, he had a hole to dig himself out of. The interview she’d finally gotten around to reading earlier that night had revealed so much.
No way did he get to settle on her couch like nothing had happened. She twisted the lock and marched to her bedroom. Armed with her bottle of Chanel she went back into the living room.
“First of all, you stink.” She depressed the nozzle and a cloud of perfume released in a gentle puff. She allowed herself a quick sniff before capping the bottle.
“Hey.” Grant jumped to his feet and skirted away from the perfume particles that hung like a silvery mist in the moonlit room.
“Hey is right.” She set the bottle on her end table and folded her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me Mayor Owens was the man you guys robbed?”
He stood shadow-like against her windows. She couldn’t see his expression but saw his shoulders square, as if prepared for battle.
“Who told you?” he asked, voice low.
She stepped closer to him. “It was online, in an interview.” Another step, two more and she’d be a hairsbreadth away from his silhouette.
Why hadn’t they turned on the lights? It didn’t matter now. Secrets aired much easier in the dark, with only the splash of moonlight to illuminate the truth. The tense line of his jaw, barely visible despite the glow of her lace curtains, told her he thought she’d throw a fit.
Maybe she would have, if she’d read the interview before praying. But she hadn’t and so her heart had been prepared for peace, filled with God’s love, when she’d read the condemning words. Besides, she owed him the apology for her outburst at the park. She cringed remembering her accusations, unfounded and borne out of her own insecurities.
She took another step. So close. The stench of his clothes grew stronger, despite the perfume she’d sprayed on him. She didn't care how he smelled, or if mud stained her carpet. All that mattered was getting close to him and telling him the truth.
He remained motionless as she drew close enough to feel the heat from his body. He’d been sweating and stunk like he’d rolled in a trough of pig manure. Yet she’d never loved him more.
“The mayor and his wife became mentors to you. They encouraged you to use your charm for good, not for bad.” She touched his face with her forefinger, wondering if anyone had hugged him as a child. Had held his hand when he had nightmares.
He flinched, then grabbed her wrist and pressed it against his heart. “You’re not angry.”
“I was wrong. Anger sits on my shoulder, a constant companion that I hate.”
His hands tightened around hers. “I should have told you the truth.”
“That you’re being nominated for a position you deserve?” She shrugged. “Tonight I realized there’s nothing I can control, except myself. The things others have done… I can’t change them. When I found out about the mayor promoting you to chief, I wanted to throw something.”
He made a soft sound in his throat that sounded suspiciously close to a chuckle.
In a burst of irritation, her free hand flipped through the air. “Well, what did you expect? Here you are, warning me to leave the mayor alone, that he’s innocent when we both know he’s up to something big and bad, and then that lady shows up and says—”
She broke off her tirade when she saw the gleam of his teeth in the moonlight. “You’re laughing at me,” she said quietly, surprised that it hurt.
“I’m not.” He cupped her cheeks, bringing his face to hers. His breath feathered across her face in a warm puff of cinnamon. “I’m relieved, Rachel.” A deep sigh slid from him as he let go of her and straightened. “I knew it was a risk, not telling you…”
Licking her lips, she thought about what she should say. She could continue to berate him or she could work up the guts to tell him the truth. No other part of her life made her feel as cowardly as she did when facing him. He stripped her bare, left her naked with her heart in her hand.
She made her decision. Hadn’t she been comforted by the arms of One who’d never leave, and didn’t His Word promise her a future and a hope?
She had to trust God’s plan for her life, not her own.
And she had to trust Grant.
Taking his arm, she brought his hand to her mouth. His fingers were fisted, tense. She kissed each knuckle, tenderly, and then lowered his hand, keeping it clasped within hers. “I love you, Grant Harkness.”
“I deceived you.”
Did he think she’d leave him? She squeezed his hand in hers, heart hurting. “You didn’t tell me about your promotion. That’s not deceitful. I jumped to a conclusion based on nothing more than my own fears. You would never let that snake of a man steal your integrity.”
He groaned, a sound so deep and raw her chest constricted. She pulled him to herself, cradling his head on her shoulder. “What happened tonight?”
He straightened slowly, pressing a kiss against her hair on his way up. “I said I would explain.”
“You don’t—”
“I am.” He pushed past her to the computer. “Is this on?”
“Press a key.”
/> A faint click and the computer lit to life.
Frowning, she joined him. He pulled a flash drive from his pocket and plugged it in. “You’ll see the news tomorrow but I had to show you tonight.”
“Because you were afraid I wouldn’t forgive you.”
His head moved in the glow of the computer screen, a subtle movement she almost missed.
“Grant, look at me,” she said.
Reluctantly, he faced her.
“Whatever happened, I know you wouldn’t let the mayor pay you off. I’m sorry I made that accusation.”
His eyes flickered.
“And I can’t imagine what it felt like to have the man who changed your life turn out to be so bad.” Heart thumping, she added quietly, “You must have been torn all these months.”
“I believe in justice.”
“But still—”
He shook his head, his gaze never leaving her face. “This didn’t tear into me like you have.”
“Me?”
The glow of the screen turned his eyes into vibrant orbs of blue. They trained on her face. “I haven’t been able to get you off my mind. Wanting you, falling in love with you. Fearing for you.”
A curious tingle zipped along her nerve endings. “You love me?”
He shoved his hands through his hair, grimacing. “Why do you think I’ve been hounding you for so long?”
“Your reputation,” she reminded him dryly.
“I never had to work that hard for a woman. Here, watch this.” A few clicks and a rough video filled the screen. No sound, just lights and people running.
Rachel peered closer. “Isn’t that the mayor?” She squinted. “At the warehouse?” Where he’d met Maggie.
Suddenly the screen filled with uniforms rushing towards the mayor, FBI emblazoned on their backs. The look on the mayor’s face was so comical, Rachel giggled. “Wasn’t expecting you guys, was he?”
She glanced at Grant. He grinned as he took the flash drive out. “Nope.”
“So you’ve been working with the Feds this whole time? What about Owens’ wife? Does she know?”
“Whoa, slow down.” He guided her to the couch and pressed her shoulders.
Undercover Love (The Women of Manatee Bay, Book 2) Page 26
