The Price of Grace

by Diana Muñoz Stewart

  The thing was, Gracie wouldn’t confess. No matter what they did to her. He’d seen her stubborn and it ran straight down her spine and deep into the earth. She’d die first. Dusty’s heart cracked open with the thought. Wouldn’t be the first to die in that kind of place.

  Mukta would confess, do anything to save Gracie from that. And so would he.

  He was taking her out of here, hiding her until he found a way to clear her name, use Mukta’s influence to clear her name, and put Mack in his fuckin’ place.

  Now to signal Grace, give her the heads up. They had one shot. Surprise. And overpowering Mack and two cops would be a lot easier with the two of them on the same page.

  Chapter 58

  In her computer room, with John making fists at his sides and her heart starting a For Whom the Bell Tolls gong in her chest, Gracie faced John. “There’s a chance that Cee is with Tyler.”

  “A chance? What’s going on, Gracie Divine? What did Leland say?”

  “Cee isn’t there. She’s missing too. My brother—”

  “Tony?”

  For a flash her brain faltered as the competing thoughts “Tony’s dead” and then “Tony’s alive” rushed through her head. “No—”

  Her cell rang again. Victor. Why did he keep calling?

  “Different brother. He’s at the house. He might know something about where Cee and Ty have gone. I’m headed over there. Do you want to come?”

  “To the Mantua Home?” His face said he’d rather eat a bug dipped in dog poop. “Yeah. If we can take my car.”

  Her cell rang again. Victor again? She picked up.

  “Red, escape route. Go now.”

  Gracie looked at the monitors still playing her mother’s confession, confessions. She looked at John. “I have to go. I have…”

  She headed out of the room and down the hall, cell held to her ear. John followed a step behind, asking, “What? Where? Is this about Ty?”

  “Victor, what’s this about?”

  “No idea. Message is from Dusty.”

  She stopped dead. Dusty? What was he up to? John pulled up beside her. “What are we doing?”

  We? Stay or go? Stay or go? Could she trust Dusty? “He didn’t give you any hint what this is about?”

  “No. Didn’t say a word but what I just told you. And I know you have some serious issues with him, but if I have a vote, I say go.”

  “Thanks, Victor.” She hung up.

  The sound of a leather gun belt alerted her. She turned as a fed and two cops appeared at the other end of the hall. She took off at a run.

  Voices commanding her to stop echoed down the hall. She picked up her pace. A weight slammed into her, drove her to the ground. They went down in a heap.

  John’s voice came tight in her ear. “Stop. It’s the police.”

  No way. She couldn’t help Tyler from a jail cell.

  Not the first time she’d been pinned, Gracie’s training took over. She elbowed John hard, rolled. A businessman whose main source of exercise was running, John was no match for her. She was up and freed in one and a half seconds.

  Not fast enough. Another body slammed into her, drove her back. And another set of hands, grabbing at her. She dodged and swung, punched, kneed, and grappled.

  The limited space in the hallway made it harder. She was surrounded quickly. She seized balls, sent Cop One to the floor, and threw a sharp elbow into Cop Two’s neck. He went down gasping. Then she was face-to-face with the fed and his gun, which was trained on her.

  “You are under arrest,” the fed said. “We have a warrant to search the building and remove evidence, including your servers.”

  She stood, breathing heavily, hands up. Her servers? “Evidence of what?”

  “Evidence that you and your mother have been bribing numerous elected officials and businessmen and using the money to fund child sexual exploitation.”

  She blinked at him. Someone had planted evidence, including those videos, on her computer servers. Her security had made hacking into her system without being detected impossible, so someone had decided to go old school, just come here and plant evidence in person. It was kind of crazy. And on any other day, she might’ve taken a chance, fought the good fight legally. But not this day. She needed to get out of here and find her son.

  John had gotten up. He had a red just-getting-started bruise on his cheek. He looked around like his head was attached to a swivel. Back and forth. Back and forth. “I think she took my son. She lured him away, got him to give her money too.”

  What the hell? A-hole.

  Her eyes came up and found Dusty’s. Dusty was here, sneaking up behind the fed.

  The moment froze in time. His gaze locked with hers. Her face grew so hot, so quickly her cheeks stung.

  But his unflinching honey eyes tried to communicate with her, tried to send a message. If she’d had Momma and Leland’s ESP-like bond, she would’ve said those deadly serious eyes said, “Trust me.”

  Toots. Not likely. She cursed the day she’d first seen those eyes, the pull they had on her. Those eyes lied. Just like the rest of him.

  One of the officers, not the guy moaning on the floor with his hands covering his scrunched scrotum, took out cuffs and the fed intoned, “Grace Parish, you are hereby under arrest for bribery, extortion, human-trafficking, and arson.”

  Chapter 59

  By the time Dusty arrived, Mack had a gun on Gracie. He moved quickly and quietly behind them, tried to get her attention. For a moment her eyes lifted to his. He sent her the signal, what he hoped she understood—that this wasn’t happening. No way.

  Her eyes were wide and her face red with anger when she looked away. Did she think he had something to do with this? Fuck.

  Why was she so mad at him? The sound of handcuffs being taken out unlocked inaction. No. Fucking. Way.

  He came up behind Mack, thrust his arms under Mack’s upraised ones, got hold of his gun, twisted it up, and lifted. Mack shot into the ceiling. Dusty tossed him at the cop who’d taken out the cuffs.

  They crashed into the wall and fell over each other, landing on the floor in a heap.

  The final cop—Dusty liked to think of him as crushed balls—stayed down. That left John. And wouldn’t you know, that fucker tried to grab Gracie. She chopped his outstretched arm down, spun away, and ran on. Atta girl. Dusty was a step behind her but took a moment to slam John into a wall and hiss “Fucking fuck” in his face.

  A bit childish, sure, but it felt good, knowing the guy didn’t like cursing.

  Dusty rounded the corner. Mack shouted at them to stop. No can do. Gracie raced through her apartment door and he followed.

  The moment he sprinted through the door, she slammed it closed and ran quick fingers over the trackpad, securing it.

  Steel pins slid into place a blink before Mack tried to turn the steel handle. He beat on the door. “There’s no way out. Open up.”

  Pushing away from the door, Gracie turned to look at him. Her expression, one of distrust and confusion, hit him straight in the chest. It felt like someone had taken the business end of a pickax and slammed it into his breastbone. Hurt like a son of a bitch.

  “You rescued me.”

  Not yet. But he intended to. “Does that elevator still work?”

  She looked toward it. “Yeah. It does. But it’s just for one person.”

  He nodded. Fine by him. “Go to your Momma’s. Lawyer up. Call me when you’re safe. I’ll let you know what I know. Till then, I’ll sit here and negotiate with Mack. Keep him busy.”

  She looked at the elevator again, then at him. “My son…someone, my sister Cee, has taken him.”

  Her sister? What the hell? Dusty pulled a hand across his face. “We’ll find him, darlin’.”

  Her spine stiffened with the endearment. “You’re a liar.”
<
br />   Mack began pounding on the door. “You’re throwing away your life here, Dusty.”

  Dusty looked at her, waited for her to absorb this moment, what he’d done, what he would do, because it was the only testimony he could give since he had no idea why she was so pissed off. Her face folded into confusion. She took a step away from him, turned toward the elevator.

  That pickaxe was drawing blood, but he turned toward the door. Why had she called him a liar? “Mack, we’re going to want a couple of concessions before we open this door.”

  Behind him, he heard the elevator rise and open. He glanced over his shoulder. She’d climbed inside. She paused. “You know you can’t open that apartment door without me, right?”

  Nope. He didn’t. He shrugged. Eventually they’d get someone here to open the door. Judging by the security system she had, it would take a couple of hours.

  The elevator door started to close but she stopped it. “First half of the elevator code is on page seventeen in Of Mice and Men. First seven letters going down. The other half is on page three hundred of Anna Karenina. The last letter of the first six lines of dialogue.” She let out a breath, a tear on her cheek. “I’ll see you at Momma’s.”

  She let the elevator door close. And Dusty had the most inappropriate sensation he’d ever had in his entire life—relief. Relief, despite being trapped inside her apartment with his SAC on the other side of a steel door, knowing he’d lost his job and was probably going to go to jail.

  Though he could always plead crazy. Wouldn’t be the first agent to blur the lines during an undercover operation. Yes, sir, he might just end up in a mental institution. And that shouldn’t make his heart light and put this smile on his face, but there it was. Because Ms. Gracie Parish, despite whatever her head had told her, had just decided to follow her heart with him.

  And he intended to see she never regretted that decision.

  Chapter 60

  Slamming her hands on the armrests on either side of Romeo’s chair, Gracie growled, “Stop ignoring my questions.”

  The mood inside Momma and Leland’s sun-streaked office drummed with tension. Momma and Leland watched uneasily from their distinctive desks.

  The only person who seemed immune to this palpable stress was Romeo himself. Cool as he was unmoved, handsome, and young. This close, she could smell his deodorant and see the acne on his chin. He shifted.

  First sign that she was getting to him. Uncomfortable with someone invading his personal space? Good. She leaned in closer. “Look, Rome, I get it. Cee convinced you to help root out this group, this fraternity, acted like everything you did was related to that, but clearly something else is happening here.”

  Silence.

  “Did you know she’d reached out to Ty for money?”

  Silence.

  “Do you know where she’s taken Ty?”

  Silence.

  Come on, kid. “Why involve Tyler? Did she need his money? Or was it just some way for her to get back at me?”

  Romeo’s eyes snapped from staring at the wall to Gracie. “Why would she want to get back at you?” Was that disgust in his voice? “Just because you said you didn’t want her to become part of this family and live here?”

  “So she’s talked to you about that?”

  Romeo’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know what she’s been through?”

  She did. She’d interviewed the kid extensively. And Cee’s story, each and every horrible, gut-churning detail, had come pouring out with an anger that had been chilling. Not sadness. Anger. That’s why Gracie hadn’t wanted her to come here. Cee was the kind of angry person the power of the League could warp.

  Pushing off the chair, Gracie leaned back against Leland’s desk. “I know.”

  “Then you know that she’s not soft. The fact that you didn’t like her or didn’t want her here didn’t matter to her.”

  It obviously mattered enough that she mentioned it to Romeo. “So why reach out to Ty? Why lure my son to…wherever? Why have him deposit money into an account? Did she use that money to set the fire? Did she hire a hit man to kill me? What is she doing with Ty?”

  “She didn’t do any of that.” Romeo slammed his hands against his thighs, lurched forward. “That wasn’t her. They were supposed to meet, but not what you’re saying.”

  Oh. Man. This was just sad. “I know it’s hard when people lie and abuse your trust, but I’m telling you she did.”

  He dropped back against the seat, cast his eyes down with a sigh that said it was all futile. He started to pick at the seam on the side of his jeans, making a flicking noise that rode down her spine like a nail. “She wouldn’t do that. She loves us.”

  Kneeling at the side of his chair, she softened her voice. “Look, my son is in danger. The feds are after me. They have a warrant for my arrest, charges include sex-trafficking and blowing up my own club. Somebody set me up, and I’m running out of time. I need to know everything you can tell me about what Cee was working on.”

  He flinched. “I’m sorry about all that. But why aren’t you worried about Cee? She’s out there. She rates as much as your son. Doesn’t she?”

  What? Gracie’s stomach turned. Good thing she hadn’t eaten anything today. “Are you saying Cee went to meet Ty, but somehow she’s in danger too?”

  “Yes.” He straightened up. “That’s what I’ve been saying. She went to meet Ty, that part’s true. But she was supposed to pick up a burner phone and contact me. She never called, never got in touch with me. She wouldn’t disappear like that. She wouldn’t do that. Not to me. Not to Jules. Not to the rest of our unit. And not to you. She wants you to like her.”

  She blinked at that. It took her a moment to recapture thought. “You think Cee wants me to like her?”

  Anger dive-bombed his face like a kamikaze. “What, just because you’re afraid to trust and love someone you think Cee doesn’t want to be loved?”

  Jolted by his anger, Gracie stood up. “No. I—”

  “You’re never going to convince me of that. Never. There’s something else going on here. You’re not listening.”

  That hit her like an open hand. Warmth spread from her cheeks and down to her chest, a steadfast certainty. He was right. There was something else going on here. And her fear, the one that told her it was logical not to trust—not Cee, not Dusty—was preventing her from seeing that truth. Relaxing shoulders that had risen to her ears, she said, “Okay. I’m listening now. So tell me.”

  Romeo pressed hands to his lap and wiped his palms across his jeans. “Cee wasn’t the one to reach out to Ty. Ty reached out to us about the fraternity.”

  Her brain stuttered for a moment; a thousand questions pushed forward then landed on, “Cee told me it was a student at the Mantua Academy who told you about this fraternity. That’s not true?”

  “Plus minusve.”

  Latin for more or less. “Explain that.”

  “Jules got an email right after the drone attack from a school email address, from a student who goes to the Mantua Academy. She told her about a girl who’d been victimized and that no one was helping her. We began to do research on the dark web on the girl and on the group.”

  Leland stood too, came around his desk and stopped beside Gracie. “You went undercover on the dark web?”

  Romeo, looking a little less cocky, nodded. “Yeah. We managed to get into the group, and then get into their online…uh”—his eyes lowered—“red room.”

  Leland slammed his hand on his desk, causing the cell Cee had left behind to jump. “You bypassed school security to visit the dark web. Then used school computers to go to a site that live-streamed coeds being drugged, tortured, and raped?”

  Romeo held up his hands, shifted back in his seat. Gracie didn’t blame him. She rarely saw Leland so pissed. His voice had dropped to an ominous rumble, like an earthquake. She was pr
etty sure the ground shifted under Romeo’s feet. Even though she knew Leland would never ever touch a hair on their heads, Leland angry was scary.

  Romeo shook his head emphatically. “No. No. The security here is too complex. We went to Starbucks, used their Wi-Fi, an anonymizer, and a laptop I purchased and stored off campus.”

  These kids. Gracie rubbed her face. “Anonymous isn’t the same thing as secure. A laptop could serve as some damning evidence. They don’t differentiate between accessing those sites to help people vs. going to those sites to hurt people.”

  Momma, who’d been unusually quiet, took that moment to say, “Which is why we don’t allow teenagers to conduct unsupervised operations.”

  Romeo didn’t glance at Momma, but you’d have to be a robot not to hear the disapproval in her voice. He shifted. “We were smart about it.”

  Gracie waved that off. They obviously hadn’t been smart enough about it, but she had bigger fish to fry. Like finding out where Ty fit in with all of this. “So you used the laptop, infiltrated the group, and Cee went after them in North Philly?”

  “North Philly?” Leland echoed.

  Whoops. She hadn’t told them about that little incident. Honestly, she’d wanted Cee to like her too, to trust her. She gave him and Momma a quick rundown, then asked Romeo, “What happened after that?”

  “A few days after Philly, someone reached out to us,” he said. “Asked if we were the vigilantes who took down the North Philly house.”

  What? No. With this information Momma stood and moved to stand with her and Leland before Romeo’s seat. Her hands were on her hips, a sure sign of agitation.

  Gracie couldn’t blame her. This was unbelievable. As in, something here was not right. Romeo’s shoulders tensed under the tri-person scrutiny.

  “The dark web is anonymous,” Gracie said, talking quietly and gently. “What we do at the League is secret. Didn’t you wonder how some random person online figured out what and who you were?”

  “Of course. We asked.”