Grace Under Fire

by Jerri Drennen

  She’d said the exotic dancer had quit six months earlier, which paralleled Vince’s death. Could it be just a coincidence? Who the hell knew?

  If he were still on the force, he could run her name through their database and see what came up.

  The phonebook hadn’t proven much help to him, not when there were at least ten H. Pratts listed. He’d have to go through them one at a time, and he didn’t want Grace around when he did. The last thing he needed was for her to find out what he’d been working on—at least until he knew for sure Vincent hadn’t known the woman in question.

  This whole thing gave him a sick feeling in his gut, to think that Vince might not have been the person Cord thought he was.

  If Vince had strayed, Cord couldn’t figure out why. Grace was the perfect woman. Soft and loving. Beautiful and charming. She was sweet beyond anyone he’d ever known before. A beautiful person in more than one way. The kind of woman a man would want to spend his life with. The whole thing made no sense. Why would Vincent want a stripper, if indeed he had been seeing one?

  Maybe there was a dark side to his friend that no one knew about—another aspect of his personality he’d hidden from the world.

  The mere idea consumed Cord, but he had to push it aside for now. He was having dinner with Grace tonight, and he was looking forward to it. The prospect caused sweat to bead on his upper lip.

  He was a grown man, but she made him feel like a teenager on his first date

  He’d decided to take her to Portelli’s, a little place on the lakeshore he’d heard served great pasta. He hoped she liked Italian food.

  He exited his Camry and headed for the door, hesitating just long enough to glance at his watch. Three minutes to closing. Perfect.

  Cord opened the back door and made his way through the narrow hallway. Grace and Emily’s voices echoed from the front.

  “I’m not going to keep it, Emily.” Grace’s voice sounded strained.

  “Why not? It looks great on you.”

  He came through the curtain and stopped dead in his tracks. Grace stood next to Emily in a slinky, light green dress. He’d never seen her in anything like it before, and the sight kicked up his heart rate considerably. She had some damn fine legs. Why didn’t she ever show them off?

  “I think you should keep it, too, Grace,” he said from behind her. “You look incredible in the thing.”

  She faced him. Her eyes narrowed and took on a deep emerald hue.

  At the glare, Cord’s stomach clenched. Why did she look like she couldn’t stand the sight of him? What could have happened since he left that morning to make her stare at him with such contempt?

  Maybe he’d just startled her. “I’m sorry. I should have come in the front door.”

  She headed toward the back. “I’ll go change.”

  “Actually, you look perfect for where we’re going to dinner.”

  “See, Grace. Wear the dress,” Emily chimed in. “Just for tonight.”

  The look Grace gave Emily could have singed the hairs off a polar bear.

  “All right. I’ll wear it,” Grace snapped, then turned to go place the Closed sign in the window and secure the locks on the front door.

  Cord glanced at Emily, who shrugged, looking sympathetic. “I guess I’ll see you two in the morning.” Emily waddled toward the back of the shop. “Unless, of course, I go into labor. Then I won’t,” she flung over her shoulder as she left.

  When she’d gone, Cord turned to Grace. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Let me get the lights.” She walked to the back door, then flipped off a line of switches.

  On the drive to the restaurant, Cord glanced at Grace, noting the deep frown lines etched on her forehead. What had he done to make her so unhappy with him?

  His mind raced back to when he’d dropped her off that morning. Had he said or done anything that could have been misconstrued? He didn’t think so. He’d just told her he had a few things to do and he’d be back by the end of the workday. How could that possibly be misinterpreted?

  “Are you all right, Grace? You seem awfully quiet tonight.”

  She looked at him, her soft features strained. “How would you know? You have no idea how I am, and frankly, I know even less about you.”

  Cord was taken aback. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

  “I want to know why you quit the force and left town after Vincent’s funeral.”

  He swallowed hard. That was the last thing he’d expected her to ask. “I don’t want to talk about that, Grace. Ask me anything else.”

  She shifted in her seat. “Where were you today?”

  God. Now he was going to have to lie. “I checked out a few apartment buildings to find out if the die-cast on the key was one they used.”

  Her eyes darkened another shade; then she shook her head, a few wispy strands of blonde hair falling from the clip that held it off her face. “That’s not what I heard.”

  Cord’s skin turned clammy. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, Detective Tidwell thought he saw your car parked outside a bar called Tops and Tails. Was he mistaken?”

  Cord averted his eyes. She’d surely be able to read the guilt on his face.

  Damn his luck. The only day besides the raid he’d been inside the strip club in years, and Mike Tidwell drove by. What were the odds?

  What could he say? He couldn’t tell her the truth, not if it might lead to what he feared—her dead husband’s betrayal.

  “I just went in for a drink.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. He’d ordered a whiskey.

  Her narrowed eyes told Cord she doubted his story.

  “A drink. Really? So, why do they call this club Tops and Tails?”

  Grace wasn’t stupid. She knew what kind of place it was. She just wanted him to confirm it.

  He focused his attention on the road. He could imagine what she thought of him. Bile rose in his throat.

  “You already know, so why ask?” His appetite completely disappeared as acid churned in his stomach.

  “I guess I hoped Mike was wrong. Can I ask what you see in such a place, other than the obvious?”

  Cord’s fury ignited. She’d never believe his motives for being at the dive, even if he told her the truth. She wanted to think the worst about him.

  Hell, let her. He didn’t need her high moral judgment. He’d tell her what he was sure she was thinking anyway. “I’m a man, right? Don’t we all love tits and ass? And frankly, the bigger the better.”

  For impact, he checked out her chest and snorted.

  Tears welled in her eyes. “I’d like you to take me home now.”

  “Fine.”

  Cord cut the wheel and whipped the car around, narrowly missing an oncoming truck as he headed back toward South Hastings. Grace Diaglo’s respect for him had vanished, and this time he didn’t even deserve her contempt.

  Grace clutched the car’s door handle, praying they’d make it back to her house in one piece. She’d never expected Cord to be so blunt with his answer and check her out with an eye of disapproval.

  The bigger the better. Hah!

  She held her tears at bay, refusing to cry in front of him. That would just make him pity her—the last thing she wanted.

  At least now she knew for sure the kind of woman Cord Rawlings was interested in, and it wasn’t her.

  The car’s tires screeched as he turned the wheel and pulled in front of a liquor store.

  “I’ll be right back.” He slammed the car door behind him, making her flinch.

  A single tear slid down her cheek, and she swiped it away, staring at the plate-glass window in front of her. A neon sign advertising cold beer flashed like a beacon in the night, luring young and old to come in and buy a six-pack.

  Grace had never been much of a drinker, having just an occasional beer at company picnics, but she knew Cord had been drinking heavily since Vincent’s death. She assumed he’d gone inside to get a bottle of something.

  If
he thought for one minute he was going to get drunk in her house, he was crazy.

  A few minutes later Cord came out, his head down, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He got in the car and inhaled deeply.

  “What? No bottle?” Grace asked, studying his profile.

  He turned to her. “Look, Grace, I’m not perfect like Vince, and I never will be.” He started the car and backed up, pulling out of the strip mall into traffic.

  “Why didn’t you get a bottle? That is what you went in the liquor store for, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, but it won’t help. In the past six months I’ve learned you can’t drown your sorrows. They just float around in a haze for a short time until you sober up.”

  “I’m glad you realize that.”

  Grace leaned into the headrest. Something was wrong with her. Why had the idea of Cord staring at naked women upset her so much? She had no right to be angry with him. He was a man—a single one, at that. It wasn’t like they were dating or anything.

  “Look, Cord, I had no right to preach. You’re a grown man. You have the right to do whatever you want to.”

  He gave her slight smile. “Thanks. So, do you want to go home, or would you rather check out some apartment complexes?”

  Grace glanced at her watch. Still early. “Let’s find out where the key belongs.”

  “Great. I know right where to start.”

  He turned left at the next intersection, heading into the heart of the city.

  Minutes later, Cord slowed the car and pulled into a rundown complex. It was an ugly yellow with shiny black trim. A dilapidated car stood on blocks in front of the first apartment.

  “Are you sure you want to check here?” She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

  “This key,” Cord pulled it out of his pocket. “Is an old style, probably used only by the older complexes.”

  “Okay, so what do we do now?” Grace peered around and cringed, leery about getting out of the car.

  A heavyset man with tattoos covering his arms from his wrist to beneath a black t-shirt came out of an apartment and headed straight for them.

  Grace swallowed and flipped the door lock on her side.

  Cord glanced her way and frowned. “Why did you do that? We need to ask him about the key.”

  “Him?”

  “Yes. He just came out of one of the apartments, which means he either lives here or knows someone who does.”

  “But he...ah...has tattoos.”

  “And that makes him...?”

  “Nothing. Forget it.”

  Cord shook his head and opened the car door. “Wait here. I’ll talk to him.”

  Grace released a ragged breath. She wasn’t used to this side of town or the people Cord seemed comfortable with. Then again, this could be his world. Maybe he came from the wrong side of Chicago and that’s why he never talked about himself. Maybe his life hadn’t been easy like hers and Vincent’s had and that’s why his eyes held such sadness. If it was, she wasn’t going to add to it by asking. If Cord wanted her to know about his past, his life before he became Vincent’s partner, she’d let him choose the time to tell her. If he ever did.

  Grace Under Fire

  Chapter Nine

  Cord dropped Grace off at work and parked a few blocks away. He pulled out the directory page he’d torn from a payphone yellow book and unfolded it.

  There were ten H. Pratts to go through.

  Instead of punching in a number, he let his mind drift back to after he and Grace had had their squabble. They’d stopped at a few apartment buildings. All in bad sections of town. The man Grace had cringed at hadn’t been able to help them. They’d learned nothing about the key, but Cord did note how nervous Grace had been in that environment. She was obviously a fish out of water, scared of the seedier side of Chicago, the people—the type he’d grown up around. Just another reminder of how different he and Grace were. Another reason to steer clear of her. Because no matter how hard they tried, it would never work between them. They were two very different people.

  He shook off the thought, then unclipped his cell phone and punched in the first number on the page, getting an answering machine. A man’s voice said he wasn’t in, but to leave a message. The next number garnered him a busy signal. He’d try it again later. The third was yet another man’s machine. He tried the next and a female voice answered.

  “Is this Heather Pratt?”

  “Yes. Who’s calling?” Her tone was friendly yet questioning.

  Cord’s pulse kicked up a notch. “Did you used to work at the Tops and Tails?”

  Silence filled the air space until she asked, “Who is this?” Her voice had changed from warm to hostile. “If you don’t tell me now, I’m going to hang up.”

  “Please don’t do that. I’m a friend of Vincent Diaglo’s. Do you know him?”

  Nothing again.

  “I’ve never heard of him. Don’t call here again.” The phone went dead.

  Cord had the sneaking suspicion she’d just lied to him. There had been fear in her voice. He’d heard it clearly. Why would she be afraid, if she didn’t know Vincent? What was she hiding? Was she embarrassed, unwilling to admit to an affair with his friend? He had to find out. No matter what he had to do.

  Glancing at the address given in the directory, Cord started his car. He was going to check out the place, see what else he could learn about Ms. Pratt.

  As he drove, his mind wandered back to his evening with Grace.

  One thing did confuse him—Grace’s reaction to his visit to Tops and Tails. Why had she been so upset about him being at a strip club? It made no sense. Unless...

  No, she couldn’t have been jealous. Could she?

  The idea brought a broad smile to his face, though he had to be wrong. Widow Diaglo interested in him? Highly unlikely. Seemed too farfetched to think a woman like Grace could ever be attracted to him. Not when she’d been married to Vince.

  Talk about two very different people in looks and personality. Vince had had brown, laughing eyes. Cord’s were blue and reflected his jaded past. So why would Grace even look at him twice?

  Get it through your head, Cord. She just didn’t appreciate being lied to, that’s all.

  With that in mind, he pulled into the Mellow Creek apartment building and took a sharp right toward the complex’s office, hoping his suspicions about his partner being involved with this woman were untrue. Vince would have told him about an affair. They’d talked about everything. At least, he thought they had. Maybe Vince had been afraid to tell him—afraid Cord would go to Grace.

  Would he have?

  Funny thing was, he couldn’t be sure. He and Vince had been best friends, but Grace had meant something to him, too. She certainly didn’t deserve a husband messing around on her.

  Cord pulled in front of the office and left the car. If he was lucky, the manager would tell him what apartment Heather Pratt lived in, and he’d have his answers.

  ****

  “What happened last night?” Emily asked for the third time, ignoring Grace’s previous responses.

  “Nothing happened, okay? Now, were you planning to do anything today?”

  “I’m tired.” Emily rubbed her swollen belly. “Charlie’s baby kept me up all night.”

  Grace frowned. “Now it’s Charlie’s baby. When did this happen?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe when I got up to go to the bathroom for the eighth time last night. Do you have any idea how much pressure this little bundle of joy puts on my bladder?” She pointed an accusing finger at Grace. “No, you don’t. So I don’t want to hear a word from you about Charlie.”

  Trying hard not to laugh, Grace turned her back to her sister. She was sure Emily couldn’t wait to hold her child in her arms. She was just having another one of her full-bladder, hormone-induced mood swings.

  “Let me get this straight. You spend the whole evening with the sexy-yet-brooding Cord Rawlings and you didn’t even get so much as a goodnight kiss? What is
wrong with you?”

  Grace turned and gaped at Emily. “Have you forgotten that I just lost my husband?”

  “It’s been six months, for God’s sake. How long are you planning to mourn? Cord won’t be available forever. They say strike while the iron’s hot, and believe me, Cord’s iron is hot for you.”

  “How do you know how hot Cord’s iron is?”

  “I have a wandering eye. He’s got nice equipment. Besides, have you seen the way he looks at you? He’s smoldering.”

  Her sister had lost it. “You’re crazy. Cord likes women a little on the trashy side.”

  “You’re just saying that because Mike Tidwell told you Cord was at that strip club.”

  “He was. He admitted it to me. I don’t want to talk about Cord. Drop it.”

  “I don’t care where he was. He’s in love with you. All you need to do is look into his eyes. You’d see that.”

  “You need to take your overactive imagination and come up with a new theme for the store for June, instead of fantasizing about Cord and what his eyes are saying.”

  “Whatever.” Emily headed behind the counter. “I’m just trying to help, but I can see you want to be miserable. I’m done trying to liven up your life.”

  “Good.” Grace was relieved, but unsure her sister would follow through with dropping the subject. “Have you got any ideas on how we should decorate the store for June?”

  “I had a few thoughts. It’ll be time for gardening season, right? How about we use vegetables in some way? Seems like all I can think about is food anyway.”

  “Hey, that’s not a bad idea. Maybe some kind of play on casual wear. Planting flowers and vegetables. Khakis and denims.”

  “You mean, you actually like something I suggested? I’m dumbfounded.”

  Grace arched a brow. Was she that difficult to be around? “I’m not that hard to get along with, am I?”

  “Yes! You’re about as stubborn a blind mule.”

  Grace couldn’t hold back a grin. Her sister had just insinuated she was a jackass. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  Emily shot her a white-toothed grin. “You’re welcome.”