“Grace, I didn’t mean it.” He dropped his hand from my arm. Defeat in his eyes. I actually felt sorry for him, but I wasn’t letting him get away with cutting me down any longer.
“You mean you don’t mean it like you used to?” I said sarcastically. “How many times have we had this conversation before, Matt?”
“One too many times,” he muttered. “I already apologized for those, and I’m sorry about what I said just now, and you know I don’t mean it like that, so get over it.”
My jaw dropped open.
“Um, boss, I think—” Roger started.
“No, she has to get used to my stupid fucking mouth saying stupid fucking things,” Matt growled. “So, let’s move on. If you insist on talking to Troy, I’ll allow it.”
“You’ll allow it,” I expressed inanely because I was still reeling from his declaration that I should get over it. I was feeling more justified about labeling him Mr. Asshole.
He speared me with a look of irritation as if prodding me to keep up with the conversation. “What time do we have to be at Troy’s?”
“You’re not coming with me.”
“The fuck I’m not.”
“Troy specifically told me he’s picking me up. He wants to speak with me alone.”
“Sorry, babe, I’ll chain you to my bed if I have to, but you’re not going to him without me.”
“Are you afraid, Matt?” My voice was saccharine sweet. “Are you afraid that Troy is the man I’m supposed to be staying with instead of you?”
His jaw clenched. This was an unresolved issue between us. Apparently, he had instructed every mechanic in his garage to keep mum about my relationship with Troy. Even Roger had no comment about it, and he’d worked with Troy before. But Matt had no control when I went over to Millie’s. One of the waitresses, Kyra, confirmed that I’d been with the biker boss the weekend before the bombing.
He took a menacing step toward me, but I stood my ground. I was not the insecure amnesiac from almost four weeks ago. Well, I still had amnesia, but I’d been slowly coming to terms that I couldn’t wait for my memory to return before my life moved forward. What if I never got it back? And with that acceptance, I had gained self-confidence.
He regarded me for what felt like an eternity, his expression inscrutable. Finally, he spoke.
“You want to be with Troy, go ahead,” he stated with a calm that sent a jig through my heart. “Don’t play me against another man. I don’t have time for that shit.”
“I wasn’t …”
“I did what you asked me. For three weeks, I gave you space to deal with your fractured memories, but I made it clear I wanted something more.” His eyes grew cold. “Now, I’m not sure if you’re worth the trouble.”
And with that statement, he walked past me to head back to the loft.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Grace
“I’m sorry my brother can be such a colossal jerk,” Cassie fumed.
“He is indeed, but it’s not your fault.” I lifted the mug of hot chocolate to my lips. I had met Matt’s sister two weeks prior after she had gotten back from her honeymoon. Cassandra, or Cassie as most people called her, was married to the sheriff of Buckland County, Trent Stone. I had hung out with her a lot at Millie’s Diner because ever since they’d come back from their vacation, her husband had hit the ground running with plans for this new urban combat training camp, especially following the terrorist attack in Atlanta.
After my blow-up with Matt that morning, I had escaped to the diner. I had lunch here and spent most of the afternoon surfing the net and reacquainting myself with the world that I currently lived in. I’d done my research on the Mexican cartels, ISIS, and other terror networks immediately after Elliot’s visit. But as Matt had pointed out, all these didn’t mean anything without my experience with the DEA.
“He’s also right about a lot of things,” I amended.
Cassie grinned. “That’s Matt. He can be insultingly blunt.”
I snorted. That was a perfect description.
“He hadn’t always been that way.”
“Oh, what happened?” My curiosity was piqued.
“You know we’ve been part of a government program, right?”
“The Enhanced Soldier project—Matt has mentioned it.”
“He’d always been a caring older brother to me and Lucas.”
Lucas was Cassie’s twin.
“The job changes you,” Cassie said softly. “All of us had our first kill by sixteen. You’ve probably heard this before your amnesia, but you have to understand, Matt had been an assassin for eight years. Still, he’d been okay, but it wasn’t until we’d lost Kate that he began to change. He became volatile. At first, we attributed it to “the gloaming” stage when our kind lost our unusual abilities, and at first, it was. But losing his twin and not getting help for it had made him who he is now.”
“Him being a dick?”
Cassie winced, before she laughed. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“But Kate’s alive.”
“Yes, and I think I’m beginning to see Matt mellow a bit.”
“You call that mellowing?”
“You knew him before, only you don’t remember.”
“Soon you’ll tell me he’s really a nice guy underneath.”
“Yup.”
“You’re his sister. Of course, you’re biased.”
“Ask Millie. She’s fond of him.” Cassie’s eyes danced with laughter.
A chair pulled out beside us, and Roger Peña plopped down into it. “Good evening, ladies.”
I checked the time on my phone. Jeez, it was almost six.
“You’re later than your usual four o’clock,” Cassie remarked.
“Boss has been slacking on the job,” Roger grinned at me. “Someone has to toe the line. Axe is still working.”
“Sorry for causing trouble,” I murmured guiltily.
“Not your fault,” he said. He ordered a beer from our server before he continued. “The tension between you both had been brewing for months even before your amnesia. I’m certain it started even before that.”
“He hated me after that mission. You know that.”
“Misplaced hate. That’s why you understood him then.”
Not so much now, it seemed.
“You worked with deLamar,” I said. “You think I can trust him?”
“Trusting deLamar is done on a case-by-case basis,” Roger replied. “It depends what he wants from you.”
“But he rescued Matt.”
“Because he was afraid Matt would break and give away information about him.” Roger leveled me with a stare. “He didn’t know Matt enough then and neither did I. Foster would never break.”
“So, you’re saying you and deLamar rescued Matt for selfish reasons?”
“Self-preservation. Besides, I owe him now. He gave me a home after I’d lost my family, but it’s you I have to thank for giving me a chance to avenge my wife and son.”
Apparently, I had enlisted Roger Peña as an informant for the Blood Bull op after he’d approached the DEA to offer his help. His wife and son had been killed in one of the Carillo Cartel’s attack in an open market while targeting one of their rivals.
“Oh shit,” Cassie cursed, drawing my attention to the window where we had a clear view of Foster’s garage.
Across the street, Matt was helping Kyra into his truck. Kyra, the diner waitress, who went out of her way to tell me that Troy and I had a thing, that we had breakfast here one Sunday morning, and it was obvious we’d spent the night together. She suggested it might’ve been an entire weekend.
It didn’t make me feel any better because her testimony confirmed I was indeed a slut.
“Thought you should know,” Kyra said. “Everyone’s keeping deLamar away from you to clear the way for Matt, but I think the whole town’s being unfair.”
Clear the way for her, she meant, I thought bitterly. And why was I bitter? Didn’t I shut Matt down at every
opportunity and convinced myself that he was bad for me. He tried to get me to sleep with him again, but apparently if I didn’t put out, I was easily replaceable. I should be thankful I wasn’t re-notched on his bedpost.
“Fucking idiot,” Roger muttered.
“So, Matt and Kyra?” I ventured, pushing through the lump in my throat.
Both Cassie and Roger shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
“Matt doesn’t do relationships,” Cassie offered.
“Doesn’t matter. Didn’t take him long to move on,” I said lightly, but deep inside the same hurt and inadequacy reared its ugly head.
“Kyra’s been after Matt for a while,” Roger said.
“Shut up, Roger!” Cassie snapped.
“Why? Grace deserves better even if it is her fault Matt’s acting like a moron.”
“How is it my fault? I just wanted to talk to Troy.”
“You threw the man in his face.”
“You didn’t tell me that.” Cassie’s eyes narrowed at me.
“He was preventing me from speaking to him. Kyra said that Troy and I had a thing.”
“Aha.” Roger’s brow shot up. “The plot thickens. She played you both.”
“I’m seeing that now, but I also see how interchangeable women are to Matt.”
“What has Matt done this time?” a familiar voice spoke beside us as Roger’s beer landed on the table.
Great! Now I was the pathetic woman scorned in front of Millie too. Although, technically I rejected Matt first. Did it really matter? After my talk with Troy, I was leaving Misty Grove. For where, I wasn’t sure yet.
“He’s hooked up with Kyra again,” Roger volunteered.
Again?
Millie sighed. “I’ve told Kyra so many times Matt isn’t the type to commit.” She looked at me. “But I think you’re the unicorn in his story.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Millie, if you’re suggesting I’m the one to change Matt’s commitment-phobic ways, you’re mistaken. Besides, I’m leaving tonight.”
“Where are you going?” Millie demanded.
“You can’t leave,” Roger stated firmly. “The Reaper is after you.”
Ah, El Segador.
“Depending on how my talk with Troy goes, and if he can convince me with his side of the story, I believe he can hide me from The Reaper.”
Millie and Cassie spoke simultaneously, the latter offering the ranch as an alternative haven.
Roger was quiet, but a smile played on the edges of his lips. When the two women stopped talking, he took a swig of his beer. “I see the old Ms. Levinson coming back.”
Millie glared at Roger. “You. Quiet.”
Matt’s mechanic shrugged and drank more beer.
I pushed back my chair and threw some cash on the table. “I’ll head back to the loft and pack.”
“Foster’s gonna be pissed to find you gone,” Roger said.
“I’m not going to leave without saying goodbye,” I said. “I’m grateful for all he has done for me. I don’t think it’s healthy for either of us if I stayed with him any longer.” I just hoped he wouldn’t bring Kyra back to the loft this evening. I didn’t think I could take it if I stood there, saying goodbye with that woman wrapped around him or vice-versa. My gut clenched painfully at the thought. But what if he didn’t come back to the loft tonight. What would that tell me?
“Wait for me,” Roger ordered. “Let me finish my beer, and I’ll accompany you. Matt left strict instructions that you were never to be left alone until Troy arrived.”
Interesting. He still cared.
“Relax and finish your beer,” I said. “You said Axe was there, right?”
“Yes, he is.”
“I’ll be fine. Troy is arriving in forty-five minutes. I want to freshen up and pack before then.”
I might have a long night ahead of me.
The garage was quiet when I let myself in. All the lights were on, but I didn’t hear any sound except the radio, which was really loud.
“Axe!” I called out. “It’s Grace. I’m heading up to the loft, okay?”
No answer.
Oh, well, he probably had his headphones on. The guys had different tastes in music, and sometimes not everyone agreed on the station. Whoever got to the shop in the morning first got dibs on the channel.
I made my way up the spiral staircase. Matt’s office was off the right at the top of the stairs, and on the left, a hallway led to the living area above the garage. There was a staircase that led directly to the loft from the outside, but it was gated and a pain to go through there.
The door to the loft was ajar, but no lights were on. I felt a prickle of unease at the back of my neck. I gave in to the sudden urge to flee just as movement from Matt’s office caught my eye.
A man wearing a black three-hole ski mask stood there. He was blocking my way to freedom.
“Gotcha,” he murmured.
I ran toward the loft, letting instinct guide my way. My hope was getting inside and shutting the intruder out. Just when I thought I was going to make it, he tackled me from behind and brought me to the floor.
He rolled me on my back, straddled me, grabbed both wrists, and slammed them on the floor.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Grace,” he purred in an accent.
“Who are you?” I croaked. I hated that my voice shook and my insides were crawling with fear.
“You know who I am.”
“The Reaper?”
He didn’t say anything, but his silence was confirmation enough. He dragged me from the floor, twisted my hands behind my back, and pushed me into the loft. He didn’t switch on the lights in the living room or the kitchen area but marched me straight into the guest bathroom by the hallway.
He turned on the lights then, pushed me against the sink, and pressed his body intimately against mine.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeated. This was the most feared assassin of the Carillo Cartel. Matt had described to me what he did to his victims. The eyes behind the ski mask were dark, almost obsidian. His lips were well-formed and firm. “I know you have amnesia.”
“Who told you?”
“Doesn’t matter, but you have something I want.”
“If you know I don’t remember then why come after me?”
“I needed to see you.”
A chill rose up my spine that turned into a shudder when he brushed a finger down my cheek. “Vargas wanted you dead for your part in his arrest. I convinced him that you could be useful.”
“Vargas is in jail. You don’t need to do his bidding anymore.”
“You really believe he has no power inside prison?” he mocked. “Don’t be naïve, Grace.”
“What did you do to Axe?”
I had to keep him talking. Roger needed to finish his beer damned quick.
“He’s alive if that’s what you’re wondering. I don’t kill indiscriminately.”
“If your boss wanted me dead, why are we still talking?”
His lips lifted cruelly. “I like to toy with my prey, especially the beautiful ones.”
Shit.
“You said you don’t want to hurt me.”
He lowered his head, his warm breath by my ear causing me to shiver in dread. “I’m conflicted, hermosa. You have become … what do you call it … an obsession?”
No. No. No. Why is this happening to me? I don’t want this madman obsessed with me.
“I want to fuck you, but I also want to slice your beautiful skin from your body.” He chuckled as if it was something amusing. As for me, I was having trouble dragging air into my lungs with my body trembling against his. “The thought makes me hard.” He thrust his hips against me and I indeed could feel his erection. “To smell your fear.” He stepped back to survey me. “But I need you to remember. Our contador—”
“Fuck!” A voice shouted from below.
Roger.
“I’m coming back for you, hermosa,” The Reaper said as
if in no hurry to leave. “You better have what I need or I will be very, very disappointed in you.” He crushed his lips against mine, searing me in a brief, brutal kiss before he dragged me out of the loft. I felt something pointed at my back.
Roger was already in the hallway with his gun drawn.
“Ah, Señor Peña.”
“Let her go.”
“Shoot him!” I screamed. “He’s not going to—”
Then gunfire exploded.
I felt myself getting shoved forward. I tripped and rammed the side of my face and torso against the steel post of the spiral stairs.
My vision blurred as my world was yanked beneath me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Matt
“Give it a try, Kyra.”
The Ford sedan’s engine cranked to life.
Well what do you know Matt thought wryly as he slammed down the hood of the car.
“You’re the best, Matt!” Kyra gushed as she turned the engine off and got out of the vehicle. She launched herself at him like she was in some damned romantic movie, and he could do nothing but make sure he caught her. When she tried to kiss him though, he twisted his neck, and her lips landed on his jaw.
Matt should have known better than to give in to Kyra’s tricks of getting him alone, but he needed an excuse to leave the garage. She’d been relentless lately. Last week alone she’d had plumbing and furnace problems. He’d sent Roger both of those times. Kyra had been a regular hookup, though he’d made it clear he wasn’t available emotionally. She’d been hinting about getting together again whenever he went to the diner or she’d drop by the garage, but Matt had managed to blow her off. Ever since Grace swept into town a few months ago, he had lost the desire to look at other women.
“We’re good together, Matt,” Kyra whispered, looking up at him with undisguised desire. She tried to press her body into his, but he gripped her hips and set her away from him.
“We’ve talked about this, Kyra,” Matt said under his breath. “I fuck you as long as I have a taste for you. I haven’t had a taste for you in a long time. I’ve moved on, so should you.”
Saving Grace (Misty Grove Book 2) Page 9
