“I don’t know. Something fattening.” She hoped that would appease Emily’s motherly instincts. Her sister was right about Grace’s weight, though. She’d lost quite a bit since Vince’s death. But she couldn’t help it. The last thing on her mind was food. “What are you having?”
“Everything sounds good.” Emily eyed the dessert carousel. “All I want to do is eat. I can’t wait for this baby to come. Charlie laughs at me all the time. Who’ll have the last laugh when the baby does arrive and I still look like a beached whale?”
Grace grinned. “There’ll just be more for him to love.”
“Right. Not too convincing coming from a stick figure.”
“Very funny. I’m not that thin.”
“Hah! When you turn sideways, you disappear.”
Grace was about to disagree when the hairs on the nape of her neck stood straight up. She got the sense that someone was watching her.
She glanced around, studying all the faces in the diner. No one looked familiar, strange considering this was where Vince and his fellow cops had eaten lunch almost every day.
Her gaze settled on a dark-haired man with piercing brown eyes watching her from a barstool at the counter. The intensity in his stare unnerved her, and she quickly turned to Emily, goose bumps prickling her arms. The guy made her uneasy. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the man stood and headed toward her.
Oh, God. Please be going to the restroom.
He stopped at the booth and smiled at them, a friendly smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Hello. Grace Diaglo?”
She nodded.
“I’m Jack Neil.” He extended his hand. When she didn’t take it, he lowered his hand to his side. “I was a friend of your late husband. I wanted to come over and tell you how sorry I was to hear about Vince. He was a good man.”
Grace’s throat constricted at his kind words. She felt guilty now for not shaking his hand. It touched her to know people thought good things about her husband—things she’d always known, but was glad others shared. Vincent Diaglo had been as close to perfect as anyone could be.
“Thank you. I appreciate you saying so.” She smiled, not sure what else to do. What was strange was that she’d never met him. Grace knew all of Vincent’s friends. How could he have possibly known she was his wife?
“He was a good cop,” he continued. “Not like that partner of his. I’d watch my back with him.”
The bell over the café’s front door jingled.
Grace glanced up. Her jaw dropped when she saw Cord stalking down the aisle, his face distorted with anger.
The man standing next to her visibly flinched when he saw him. Animosity crackled in the air. What had happened between the two men to generate such bad blood? Enough for this man to insinuate that Cord wasn’t a good cop. Vincent had never said anything derogatory about Cord or his abilities on Vice, so what had Jack Neil been trying to tell her? And an even bigger question, why had Cord chosen this moment to show up? After all this time?
“What are you doing here?” Cord’s sapphire eyes met Neil’s. If looks could kill, Jack Neil would have dropped dead on the spot.
“Hell, it’s a free country, Rawlings. I can eat wherever I want.”
Cord pointed to Grace. “Stay away from her.”
“What’s this all about?” Cord’s authoritative command ignited Grace’s fury. He had no right to tell anyone to stay away from her. That was her call, even if Jack Neil had sent a cold chill through her body.
“Stay out of this, Grace,” he shot back, scowling at Neil.
The man raised his hands in protest. “Keep your shirt on, Rawlings. I was just paying my respects. I’m leaving.”
Cord snorted. “You do that, and stay out of Striker’s while you’re at it.”
Neil’s nostrils flared in anger, although Grace could tell he was trying to make light of the confrontation.
“Good day, Mrs. Diaglo.” He turned and headed for the exit.
Grace waited until Neil reached the door before turning her attention to Cord. He, too, watched the man’s departure, hatred evident in his expression.
Grace studied Cord’s features, noting the sunken, dark circles under his eyes. He’d never had them when Vince was alive. His whole face spoke of fatigue and his hair needed to be cut. He’d lost some weight—not to the extent she had—but it was obvious he hadn’t taken Vincent’s death well either. So why hadn’t he stuck around? They could have helped one another.
Anger suddenly overshadowed her concern for him. He couldn’t have cared for her and Vincent as deeply as she’d once thought, not when he could walk away so easily—without so much as a goodbye.
Grace leveled her cool gaze on him. “Why weren’t you at Vincent’s funeral?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably when their eyes met. “I was there. Just not where you could see me.”
“Why? Were you hiding?” A flicker of what Grace construed as fear crossed his features, but it quickly vanished. “Why, Cord? What were you afraid of?”
His gaze bored into hers. “I want you to stay away from Jack Neil. He’s trouble.”
“How do you know that?” Grace glanced at Emily, then back to Cord. “According to him, you’re the one I need to worry about.”
Cord struggled to control his anger. What had Jack Neil told Grace to make her question his integrity and his feelings for Vince? Her husband had been his best friend. Hell, they’d been as close as brothers.
“What did that scumbag say?”
“Why? Do you have something to hide?”
Her accusation hit him like a tsunami. She didn’t trust him. Hell, could he blame her? He had snuck off for six months, like a man with a guilty conscience. Why should she trust him?
“No, I’m not hiding anything, Grace. I just want you to steer clear of Neil. He’s not what he appears to be, believe me.”
“What is he, then?” Her eyes were intent on his. She was trying to read him and no way did he want that to happen. All he needed was for Grace to learn of the corruption inside Chicago’s Vice unit. He still didn’t know how deep it ran. Knowing any of what was going down would only put her life at risk. Cord cared too much to see anything happen to her.
“Please, just remember what I said and stay away from him.” He turned his attention to Grace’s sister for the first time since he’d walked into the café. “Emily, would you make sure she does?”
Emily shook her head. “You know my sister. She’s got a mind of her own.”
Cord inhaled deeply, unsure of how to keep Grace out of harm’s way if she wasn’t going to listen to him. Her resolve was as strong as her husband’s had been, something Vince had seemed to admire about his wife, and Cord knew would be trouble. A strong will was not his idea of an admirable quality—not now. Not when the stakes were so high.
He’d have to keep a close eye on Grace from now on. Who knew what kind of trouble she could get herself into? Besides, he’d seen the lust for her in Jack Neil’s eyes.
Hell, who wouldn’t be attracted to Grace? She was a beautiful woman, lonely and vulnerable. Neil probably thought she was fair game for him. But the man would have to rethink that plan. Grace Diaglo was too good for the likes of Neil—or him, for that matter—and Cord would see to it that Jack Neil didn’t get within a hundred feet of her from this day forward.
****
Grace leaned into her tub and plugged the drain, then turned on the tap. A soothing, hot bath was the cure for the day she’d had.
She poured a generous amount of her favorite peach bubble bath and inhaled the wonderful aroma as it filled the air. Vincent had always loved peaches.
Once the tub was filled, she stripped and eased into the silky, scented water, her body instantly relaxing.
She tipped her head back and closed her eyes.
Images of a tall, blond man flashed like an old movie reel in her mind. The pictures did little to soothe her. It was Cord, his trouble
d blue eyes calling to her, stirring her body to life. Her nipples drew up tight under the water, the sensation the first sign of life in months.
Since her husband’s death, she’d felt nothing. His death had caused her to go dormant inside, but for some reason Cord’s return had triggered a need in her, and for whatever reason, she felt guilty.
Her thoughts betrayed her love for Vincent. After all, how would he feel if he knew she was having these thoughts—these urges—for his partner?
Strange, but it’d been a long time since she’d had sexual thoughts. Even leading up to Vincent’s death, she and her husband hadn’t had sex—he’d always been too tired. Weeks after he died, she’d wondered if he really had been. Maybe he’d just grown tired of her. Maybe his eye had wandered.
Grace shook the thought. She wasn’t going to do this again.
Cord’s image reappeared, this time naked from the waist up, his chest sparsely peppered with coarse blond hair, his wide shoulders strong and well defined. His eyes held such sadness, pulled her into their depths and held her entranced.
Okay, so her body missed intimacy. That’s why it reacted to the image. It wasn’t Cord Rawlings at all. Any good looking man would have stirred the same response.
Jack Neil didn’t. He’d been handsome enough.
A thump from outside her bathroom window made her jump, sloshing water over the side of the tub.
Her heart thudded painfully against her chest.
She grabbed for a towel and got out, soap and water running down her body. She secured the towel around her and peeked out the curtain, the overhead light on the garage allowing her to see a shadowy figure slip out the back gate.
Oh God! Someone had been standing next to the window, watching her take a bath? A Peeping Tom?
Heat raced up her neck. She should have made sure the shades were down. She felt so violated.
Swallowing hard, she tried to make a rational decision.
Go lock the doors.
Grace raced to the back door and locked it, then proceeded to the front door to do the same. She leaned against the frame, her heart pounding furiously in her ears.
What should she do?
She should call someone. But who? Emily? No, she couldn’t upset her sister, not in her condition.
Cord? Not on her life. Besides, she had no way of contacting him anyway, and he was the last person she needed to be around right now. Not after the vivid pictures she’d had of him.
The police.
She darted for the phone and dialed nine-one-one.
Hopefully, they would get there soon enough to catch the Peeping Tom before he had a chance to disappear.
Grace Under Fire
Chapter Three
Cord listened to the call on his scanner, caught the address, and recognized it instantly as Grace’s. His heart stopped, then restarted and pounded against his ribcage. Why hadn’t he done what he’d planned and parked outside her house?
He whipped the car around and raced toward South Hastings.
She had to be okay.
Horrible images flashed in his mind—graphic pictures of crimes scenes he remembered with clarity. Rape and murder. Terrible acts of violence, some that had taken months to put out of his mind. He prayed nothing like that had happened to Grace.
Minutes later, after running three red lights, he pulled onto Liberty, his emotions in shambles.
Pure adrenaline pumped through his veins.
What he wouldn’t give for a drink right now.
Three black-and-whites were parked in front of the Diaglo home, a red, two-story brick Vince had inherited from some relative. No cop could afford a home in this neighborhood, not even a twenty-five-year veteran, unless he was dirty.
Cord raced up the driveway. If it were simply a break-in, would it warrant three units at the scene? He didn’t think so.
All activity seemed to be concentrated toward the backyard. He made his way up a winding brick path, recognizing three of the officers, one dusting a window ledge for prints.
Shit. This didn’t look good.
“Flannery, what’s going on?” He shoved past an overgrown shrub blocking half the walkway. Grace needed to have someone trim the damn thing. The grass needed to be cut, too. “Where’s Grace?”
“Cord, it’s been a while,” the uniformed man said, glancing over his shoulder, shifting from one foot to the other. From the officer’s reaction, it was as if Cord had asked him to slip on a dress and dance with him.
“Grace is in the house. But this is police business, Cord. You shouldn’t be here.”
“She’s a friend of mine. But I don’t need to tell you that. Do I?” Cord kept his tone civil, even though he would have liked to rip the guy’s head off for not answering the question.
How could they not think this was his concern? Grace was practically family. Though, at this point, she’d probably consider him the black sheep, which bothered him, considering how much he cared about her. Yet he couldn’t change the past. Vince was dead, and he’d always blame himself.
“Is she okay? What happened?”
“You know I can’t divulge that information. You’re just another civilian now.”
Cord could see he’d get nowhere outside. “I’m going in to talk to Grace. I don’t expect to run into any resistance. Understand?” His tone was light and controlled, but he was sure Flannery knew he’d force his way into the house if he had to.
“All right. But don’t get in the way.”
Cord caught the look Flannery gave the other two officers and wondered what they’d been told about his resignation. A hasty decision, done under mental duress. He’d regretted it a week after he’d resigned. Without access to employee files, he’d have no way of finding out who was taking kickbacks at the Ninth. But he’d think of something. Finding out why Vince was killed and who’d done it was top priority with him.
Hell, he could always go to Harris and beg for his job back. Groveling wasn’t one of his favorite things to do, but he’d do it if he had to.
He shoved his thoughts of Vince to the back burner when he entered the door. He wouldn’t relax until he saw Grace, made sure she was all right.
Inside, the place was dark, except the kitchen, where he found her and Detective Anthony sitting at the table. They looked up when he entered. A look akin to relief crossed Grace’s features. Did that mean she was happy to see him?
“What’s going on?” He studied her face. “Nobody outside would tell me a thing. Seems I’m a civilian now.”
“There was a Peeping Tom watching me take a bath.”
Cord’s blood pressure tipped the scales. Some sick son of a bitch was outside her window watching her soak in a tub. Naked. How perverted was that? When they found this creep, he’d wring his frickin’ neck. Now he knew why they were dusting for prints outside. “Did you get a look at him?”
She shook her head, a strand of her wet hair sticking to her lips—lips he’d imagined kissing over and over and over...
Enough, Rawlings. Get a damned grip.
“Any idea who it might have been?” His thoughts trailed back to earlier that day in the café and Jack Neil. Would he have the balls to do such a thing? Hell yeah, as far as Cord was concerned, he would.
Grace frowned. “I don’t know anyone who’d do such a thing.”
The woman had no idea how appealing she was. Even after dropping so much weight, she was still the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. And now it wasn’t safe for her to be alone. Not if some sick bastard was spying on her.
Cord turned to Detective Anthony. “Are you planning to give Grace around-the-clock protection? I think we both know this could lead to something dangerous.”
“You know we can’t do that.” Paul Anthony shrugged his shoulders. “The chief would never approve it.”
“She’s Vincent’s wife, for Christ’s sake, Paul. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
Grace pointed toward a small box next to the back door. �
��Cord, I’ll be fine. I have a security system, remember? Vince installed it last year.”
“Yeah, but that won’t keep you safe all the time,” Cord pointed out. “If they can’t keep an eye on you, then I will.”
Her misty green eyes grew saucer-sized at his offer. She seemed terrified at the prospect of him staying with her.
Why? Was she afraid of him? Did she think he’d hurt her in some way? If so, then why had she seemed relieved when he showed up? What was going on in that beautiful head of hers? Right then, he would have given anything to know.
Grace’s stomach plummeted. No way was Cord Rawlings shadowing her every move. Not when he stirred such erotic thoughts and he wasn’t even around.
The second he’d walked into the kitchen, her body had charged like a two-twenty current surging directly under her feet. Her blood raced though her veins like water down an intricate waterslide, churning her emotions. Vincent had never stirred such feelings.
Strangely enough, her relationship with her husband had started out as friendship, leading into romance. They’d been best friends and she’d trusted Vincent completely, but Cord was a different animal. She didn’t trust him at all, not after what he had done—running off and drinking himself into a stupor. Besides, he was hiding something. There was no way he was staying with her. Heck, she couldn’t trust herself with him. Something could happen.
“I’ll be fine, Cord.” Did she sound convincing enough? She hoped so. “I don’t need protection.”
“I’m staying. And that’s that.”
God, why is this happening?
He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Now what was she going to do? If she refused to let him stay, he’d be hurt and embarrassed, especially with Detective Anthony standing next to her to witness the scene. It’d go all around the precinct.
Then again, what would everyone think if she did let him stay? Just the two of them, alone in the house? She could imagine the rumors that would fly around the Ninth. Did you hear about Grace? How could she do that to Vincent’s memory? She wouldn’t be able to show her face there again.
Grace Under Fire Page 2
