by Rebecca Deel
“So am I. I’m here if you need me. Trent, make sure Grace has my cell number.”
Trent’s eyebrows rose. “I’ll take care of it.” He ended the call and looked at her. “Zane must like you.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He doesn’t hand out his cell phone number to just anybody, babe.”
“How long will we stay in Dumas?” Nicole asked.
“As long as the lawyer takes to prepare your paperwork. I hope to leave tomorrow sometime.”
“We have to leave tomorrow.” Grace looked at Nicole. “I’m scheduled for a shift at the hospital Wednesday.”
“My boss won’t be happy if I take more time off. He’s already griping about letting me off for the marketing conference and two extra days. I’m not sure what he’ll do if I take another day or two.”
“We’ll get you home,” Trent promised Grace. “If the paperwork is delayed, we’ll come back on your day off to sign the forms. Nicole, perhaps the lawyer will send you the forms electronically.”
Fifteen minutes later, they parked in front of the Westbridge Hotel, its white facade gleaming in the noon sun. When the bellhop showed them to the suite, Grace breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, the crawling sensation of someone watching them was gone.
“Is this room all right?” Trent set her suitcase on one of the double beds in the bedroom on the right.
“It’s perfect. Thank you for arranging this.”
“All I did was call Zane.” He captured her lips with his. When he eased back, his eyes twinkled. “I’ve been wanting to do that for hours.”
She smiled. “Me, too.” They were a well-matched pair. Grace had also been wanting to kiss him all day. She missed him so much when he was gone.
“Don’t tell anybody, but I’m addicted to your kisses, sweetheart.” He sobered. “You’ve been feeling the eyes on us, haven’t you?”
“It’s not my imagination?” Thank goodness. She’d thought she was paranoid.
“Imaginary spiders have been crawling on my neck since we arrived in Dumas.”
“Did you see who was watching us?”
He shook his head. “Didn’t want to be too obvious about checking our surroundings and let on I was aware of their presence.” He smiled. “I’d prefer to catch them off guard.”
“Why is someone determined to hurt me and Nic?”
“We’ll figure it out.” He glanced at his watch. “Time for lunch. Order in or eat out?”
“Eat out,” Nicole said as she walked into the bedroom with Mason at her heels, dragging her suitcase. “I’d love to walk around town a bit. If I don’t expend some energy, I’m afraid I’ll explode.” She grinned. “Or worse, become cranky.”
“We’ll walk, then, as long as we don’t walk far.” Trent circled Grace’s waist with his arm. “Grace is still recovering from the accident. I don’t want to push her too hard, especially with that cut on her leg.”
Grace sent an amused glance toward Trent. “I’ll be fine as long as we don’t run a marathon.”
“I saw an Italian place a couple blocks from here.” Mason placed Nicole’s suitcase on the second double bed. “How does that sound?”
“Perfect.” Nicole rubbed her hands. “I love Italian.”
“Me, too.” Grace sat on the edge of the bed. “However, I should walk in different shoes.” She and Nicole had chosen dress pants, sweaters, and low heels for the morning’s appointment. Although she didn’t want to admit as much to Trent, Grace’s leg was aching already. If he knew, he’d insist on driving to the restaurant. She wanted a chance to breathe fresh air and take in the feel of Dumas as well.
“Mason and I will wait in the other room. Take your time. I have a call to make.”
After the men left, Nicole dropped on the bed next to Grace. She leaned close. “Tell me what you know about Mason.”
She smiled. Guess her instincts were right on target. “Not much. I know he’s Rio’s cousin, works with Elliott Construction, and is friends with several PSI employees, and Darcy dotes on him.”
Nicole frowned. “That’s it? What about his background?”
“What have you heard?”
“A rumor about trouble with the law.”
How did she hear that much? Nic had been in town for two days. “I don’t know the details, Nic. He doesn’t talk about it because he came to Otter Creek for a fresh start. I know the incident was a long time ago and he served his time. Mason is a good, kind man. If you’re interested, give him a chance. If I wasn’t crazy about Trent, I’d be tempted to go after him myself.”
Nicole was silent a moment. “You like him that much?”
“I do. I trust him, Nic. I also know Mason was injured a few months ago protecting Darcy from a murderer. That’s when I met Trent.”
Her sister’s gaze shifted to the closed door to the living room. “I’m impressed. No one bothered to mention that.”
“There are people in Otter Creek who hold Mason’s past against him.” Grace nudged Nicole’s shoulder. “Don’t be one of them. I’m not.”
Minutes later, she and Nic left the suite with Trent and Mason. Outside, the bright sun made the walk more comfortable in the cool breeze. The lunch crowd bustled along the street. Grace smiled to see Mason and Nicole walking close together.
Trent squeezed her hand. “What’s up with that smile, beautiful?”
“Enjoying the scenery.” She stared pointedly at the couple ahead of them.
“Should be fun to watch,” he murmured. “I hope I’m around for most of it.”
“A relationship may take a while to develop since Nic lives in a different town.”
“True. Mason can’t move without jumping through several hoops. He’s still reporting in to Ethan Blackhawk every week.”
The Otter Creek police chief was a tough, but fair man. No wonder he frequently dropped in on the jobs where Mason was working. She’d seen it herself a few times, heard of several other visits from her friends and patients. Mason galvanized people on both sides of the line. Some were rooting for him to succeed while others wanted to run him out of town.
The one thing she noticed for the past several months was no one said an unkind word about or to Mason when Rio, his teammates, or their wives were present, all of them staunch defenders of Rio’s cousin.
When they took their seats in the restaurant around a four-top, Grace’s stomach started to growl. Nice. This was the first time she’d been hungry since the accident, a sign her body was healing.
The waitress had just brought their meals when a strikingly beautiful woman stopped at their table. She stared at Grace, then Nicole before saying, “You’re Grace Rutledge and Nicole Copeland, aren’t you?”
“We are,” Nicole said. “Have we met?”
“You’ve met my husband.”
Grace’s blood ran cold at the woman’s clipped words. “Who are you?”
“Clarice Bowen. Devin is my husband.” She planted her hands flat on the table. “You think you’re going to cut into his inheritance? Not if I have anything to say about it. We’ll fight you in court. You’re gold diggers. There’s no proof you’re related to Devin. For all we know, you’re lying to gain control of what’s rightfully his.” She leaned closer. “My husband and I pandered to that old bat. We deserve the money. If you think you’ll get away with this, you’re dead wrong.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Does your husband know you’re here?” Trent asked the woman. Bowen’s wife was a piece of work. She was allowed to behave that way as long as she didn’t impose her attitude on Grace or Nicole.
“I have a mind of my own,” Mrs. Bowen snapped.
“I’ll take that as a no. Mrs. Bowen, you should go to your table or leave the restaurant. You’re making a scene.”
“What do you care?” Her tone was snide.
“I don’t. But I don’t live here. You do. You’re the one providing a show for these interested folks.”
Clarice glanced around, fi
nally noticing the restaurant had gone silent, the patrons watching her with avid curiosity. Color flooded her face. “We’re not finished with you, not by a long shot.” She whirled and stormed from the restaurant, head held high.
As soon as the door closed behind her, the chatter picked up. People sent speculative looks toward their table.
“That was awkward,” Nicole said. “I think Devin whined to his wife the minute he stomped out of Randall’s office, breathing fire and cursing a blue streak.”
Trent reached for Grace’s free hand under cover of the table.
“How did she know where we were eating lunch?” Grace asked. “We didn’t know we were coming here until a few minutes ago.”
Had Clarice been following them? He wouldn’t have missed her trailing behind them. Clarice wasn’t subtle and Trent wasn’t that distracted.
“I think I know how she found us.” Regret filled Mason’s gaze. “I asked the hotel’s desk clerk if the restaurant required reservations while we were waiting for you to finish your phone call with Maddox. The clerk must have shared our destination with Mrs. Bowen. I’m sorry, Trent. I should have been more careful.”
He waved off Mase’s apology. “I would have asked about the reservations as well if I’d thought about it. You didn’t know someone would go to the trouble of tracking down our hotel, then track us here.” But Trent should have thought of that and warned the others. If anyone was at fault, it was Trent. “Mrs. Bowen might have seen us through the window from the street and come in to confront us. She intended to fire a warning shot.”
“If that was her goal, mission accomplished,” Grace said. She picked up her fork, poked at her lasagna. “What does she expect us to do? Give the money back?”
“My guess is she wouldn’t turn it down.” Trent squeezed her hand. “You can find something better to do with the money.”
“Good point.” Nicole forked up a bite of her lasagna. “To be honest, I’d hate to hand off the money to Devin and his wife. I know of many charities that could use donations.”
A cell phone signaled an incoming call. Grace startled, dug into her pocket for her phone. She frowned. “It’s the law office. I’d better take this. I’ll be back in a minute.” She walked quickly to the door and slipped outside, phone to her ear.
Trent kept an eye on her, pleased she stood near the windows where he could see her and intervene if a problem developed.
Within a couple minutes, Grace returned, a puzzled look on her face.
“A problem, babe?” Trent asked as he seated her at the table again.
“Mr. Randall invited us to dinner at his home tonight. He’s hoping to have the paperwork ready for us to sign. I guess we will be able to go home tomorrow.”
Trent blinked. Dinner at Randall’s? He’d never heard of a lawyer hosting a dinner party for total strangers that he most likely would never see again after tomorrow. “What time?”
“Seven.”
He shrugged off the uneasiness he felt. “That gives you a chance to take a nap.” He smiled. “Both you and Nicole. You ladies were up late last night.”
They looked at each other, laughed. “Hope we didn’t keep Darcy awake,” Nicole said.
Trent shook his head. “She didn’t mention it this morning. The insulation is good between floors.”
At the hotel, Nicole and Grace did opt for a nap. Mason watched a college basketball game while Trent read his emails from Fortress. Zane had sent the preliminary results of his search on the Bowen family.
Gayle’s parents were Arthur and Adele Kingsly, both employed in the medical field. Grace’s birth mother had married Harry Bowen and been happy with him for more than thirty years, a love match by all accounts.
Trent calculated the timeline in his head. Grace and Nicole had been born after Gayle and Harry were married. Must have been hard on both Gayle and her husband. They couldn’t have been married for long before the rape occurred.
According to Zane, Devin was born two years after Grace and Nicole. Both parents and grandparents had doted on the boy. Gayle didn’t attempt to have another baby after her son was born.
Devin had been in and out of trouble with the law from the time he was thirteen although he never spent an hour behind bars. The Bowen money was put to good use by keeping him out of the gray bar motel.
Based on the attitude the man exhibited, Devin might have been better served having to reap the consequences of his actions. Right now, he acted as though he was entitled to every penny of his family’s fortune despite Randall’s assurance that the girls were legitimate heirs. Grace and Nicole could challenge the will in court to petition for two-thirds of the Bowen estate. Maybe that’s what Devin feared more than losing the $10 million.
Trent didn’t see that happening, though. If anything, he thought they might bank part of the money and give away the rest.
He frowned. When people found out they were heirs, friends and strangers alike would ask for handouts. He’d have to warn Grace to be prepared. She needed to come up with a plan for the money and stick with it.
Mason turned the game down and turned to Trent. “I figure you didn’t sleep much last night. You were probably awake as long as Grace. Do you want to sleep? I’ll keep watch.”
“You don’t mind?”
A shoulder shrug. “I don’t have your skill set, but Rio and the rest of Durango have given me pointers so I can relieve them on night watches in cases of emergency. I’ll stay alert and let you know the minute something looks or feels off.”
“I trust you, Mason. More importantly, I trust Grace with you.”
With those words, Mason’s shoulders relaxed. He thought Trent didn’t trust him enough to watch over him or Grace? Mase should know better. He’d earned Trent’s respect when he put his life on the line to protect Darcy from a killer. Trent would never forget the debt they all owed the quiet construction worker.
Trent shut down his computer. “I’ll be up in an hour. Don’t let the ladies leave the suite.”
As soon as his head hit the pillow, Trent fell asleep. At the one hour mark, his internal clock woke him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, fully awake. His lips quirked. Military training was good for many things, including waking on command from a combat nap, refreshed and ready to roll. When you were in war zones as often as he was, you learned to sleep every chance you got because there were long stretches where sleep wasn’t possible without risking life and limb.
After tying his shoes on, he returned to the living room and focused immediately on Grace who was stretched out on the couch. Trent glanced at Mason, his eyebrows raised.
Mason left the French doors where he kept watch and crossed the room to Trent’s side. “She came in a few minutes after you went to sleep. Bad dream shook her up.” He cast a troubled glance her direction. “I think she was looking for you. If she’d been hysterical or something, I would have woken you.”
Grace didn’t do hysteria. Trent rubbed the back of his neck. He’d have to talk to her about seeing a counselor if the nightmares didn’t stop soon. She needed rest to fully recover and she wouldn’t take a sleep aid.
“I can hear you, you know,” Grace murmured. She turned her head, smiled. “You look rested, Trent.”
“You don’t.” He crouched beside the couch and trailed his fingers down one cheek. “You’re worrying me, sweetheart.”
“A few bad dreams won’t kill me.”
He was silent a moment. “Would you tell me that if I was having trouble dealing with a trauma?”
She remained silent.
“I’ll find you a good counselor.” When she scowled and opened her mouth, Trent pressed a finger against her soft lips. “Do it for me if you won’t do it for yourself. How effective will I be if I’m worried about you while I’m on the next mission?”
“Dirty pool, babe.”
A small smile curved his lips at her bad-tempered endearment. “I’m not apologizing for my tactic if it will get you the help you nee
d.”
“But I see the aftermath of violence every day at work.”
“You don’t experience the violence yourself. Seeing a counselor doesn’t make you weak, love. It makes you smart enough to know when you need help processing an event. I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve seen counselors off and on through the years. Some missions are worse than others.” Especially those that involved women and children. “I do what’s necessary to stay healthy emotionally and physically.”
He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “Will you see the counselor if I set up the appointment, Grace?”
“Only for you, Trent. I want you safe. I’d never forgive myself if you ended up injured or worse on a mission because you were distracted.”
An hour later, Trent parked in the driveway of Randall’s home. The four of them climbed from the SUV and walked to the front door. Trent glanced at the expensive sports car parked in front of his vehicle, including the license plate.
He sighed. Great. Just what he didn’t want to see. The sweet car belonged to Devin Bowen. That uneasy feeling in his gut had turned into a ball of ice.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Grace noticed Trent stiffen beside her, his gaze locked on the pretty, sleek car in the driveway in front of Mr. Randall’s house. “What’s wrong, Trent?”
“That car belongs to Devin.”
She paused, swung around to stare at him. “How do you know?” Grace held up a hand. “Wait. Zane, of course. I think he knows almost everything. What are the chances Clarice is with Devin?
“What do you think?”
“Near one hundred percent, unfortunately for us. I don’t relish another run-in with the lady.”
“I’ll protect you, Grace.” Nicole smiled. “I can take her in a fair fight.”
The men chuckled.
Grace didn’t. She knew Nic. “Hope it doesn’t come to that since I have to replace my car. I don’t have bail money.”
