Every Step She Takes (Who's Watching Now Book 2) (28 page)

Casey Sutton stood in the entry, a smile curving his lips. “I knew I recognized that voice. How’s it going, Grace?”

“Not bad. Your friends didn’t want me to see you.”

He laughed. “I bet.”

“You know her?”

Casey glanced toward the smaller agent then back at Grace. “I’ve been expecting her. I’m surprised it took her this long.”

“I had a few—obstacles to get through before I could make it happen.”

“Fritz told you she was coming? How come we weren’t notified?”

“Obviously someone screwed up.” Grace smiled. “Are we good now? I’m kind of on a tight schedule, and I’d like to get this finished.”

“Whatever. I’m hitting the shower. Keep an eye on the perimeter while they talk, JT.”

With a nod, the big man slipped outside, and the spokesman for the pair headed upstairs.

Grace let out a long breath. “Well, that wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.”

“He held a gun on you.”

“I didn’t think he’d actually shoot.”

Casey grinned. “You’re something. I assume you came for a follow-up story. I couldn’t imagine someone as persistent as you
not
coming for a second installment on my saga of misadventure.”

“Of course I did. I hear our little friend from Alaska tried to take you out in your hospital room.”

“I slept through it, but so I was told.” He shuddered. “This whole thing has been a fiasco from start to finish. My advice—never witness a multi-million dollar drug deal. Or a murder. The fallout’s a bitch.” He led the way into the living room. “We might as well get comfortable.”

“We should probably talk fast just in case Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum actually do make that phone call to Fritz.”

“I can do that. I took a knife to the ribs. It didn’t affect my powers of speech.”

“Let’s start there…” A half hour later Grace snapped off the recorder. “Thanks, Casey. I appreciate your cooperation.”

“Hey, seeing you was the highlight of my week.”

“You’ve mellowed since Alaska.”

“Facing death will do that to you. I was kind of an ass before, but I’m determined to change since I’ll be getting a fresh start.”

She gave him what she hoped was a look of casual nonchalance. “Where’s witness protection placing you?”

Casey laughed. “I’m not that stupid. How’s Travis?”

“He’s good. Probably not so much, though, when he finds out I’ve been to see you.”

“I’m sure you can talk your way back into his good graces. Pardon the pun.”

“You’re a riot. Well, wherever they place you, enjoy your new life.”

“You know, I really think I will. Sometimes starting over isn’t such a bad thing. Take care, Grace.”

The big guy nodded to her as she left. There was no sign of the fed with the running habit. Toward the end of the driveway, the bushes rustled. Something—someone—knocked her flat as the crack of a rifle echoed. The solid thunk of a bullet embedding in a eucalyptus tree turned her stomach.

“Stay down.”

Face pressed into the dirt, she nodded. Nolan rolled off her and crouched.

“He doesn’t have a line if we stay low. Those bushes are in the way.”

Shouts behind her drove her to her feet. “Here come the feds.”

“Stay low and run like hell. I don’t want to explain myself to them. If I have to show my badge, there’ll be hell to pay with my lieutenant.”

Bending at the waist, Grace ran. When they reached the road and Nolan straightened, she followed suit. Three minutes later, they reached his truck. The locks clicked, she jumped in and gravel sprayed as he peeled out onto the road.

“Well, that certainly got my blood pumping.”

Grace leaned against the seatback and waited for her pounding heart to slow to a normal rhythm. “I knew it was a possibility, but I never actually expected him to find the safe house. I wonder how he learned the address.”

“There must be a leak. If you found it—”

“No.” She shook her head then pushed hair out of her face. Her hand came away with a streak of blood. “Well, damn. Am I going to need plastic surgery?”

Nolan glanced over before turning onto the main highway. “There’s just a scrape on your cheek. You probably won’t be disfigured.”

“Good thing. I have a feeling I’m going to need every advantage to talk my way out of this nightmare. Back to your original comment. Travis isn’t the leak. No one’s been near his laptop but me, and it’s password protected. Not a very good password since I figured it out, but I’m smarter than your average hacker.”

His lips twisted in a smile. “The world wouldn’t be safe if you went over to the dark side.” He sighed. “I should report this.”

“Why bother. Tweedle-Dee-and-Dum heard the shot. Obviously they’ll call someone in charge who will order Casey moved to a new location. The trial starts in a couple of days. What purpose would reporting your involvement accomplish?”

“None, except to ease my conscience.”

“Keep quiet and let me take the flak for this. After what happened, there’s no doubt Casey will rat me out. I’m surprised my cell phone isn’t ringing already. Maybe I should just turn it off.”

“Let’s see how it goes. Are you hungry? With all that adrenaline pumping, I’m starved. Want to go get something to eat?”

Grace brushed at her filthy shirt. Her favorite twill slacks were torn at the knees. “Uh, I think I’ll pass. No restaurant would let me through their doors looking like this.”

“We’ll get take-out burgers. Come on, live a little. You just cheated death.”

Travis exited the plane and hurried down the concourse as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Four missed calls.
What the hell?
He scowled as he listened to the first message then slowed to a stop. Fritz was beyond steamed. Travelers moved around him, a couple making rude comments.

Damn Grace.

His hand clenched around the phone as the next message started. McNally calling to say his old buddy was in a panic to reach him. Then a second message from Fritz. And a third. Grace hadn’t bothered to call him, even though she had to know the agents at the safe house would report her little escapade.

He’d kill her—except Mason Rogers had almost beaten him to it.

Damn Grace.

Jamming the phone back in his pocket, Travis headed toward the baggage area. After collecting his suitcase, he left the terminal, caught a cab and gave the driver Grace’s address. If she had the nerve to interview Sutton and dodge a sniper’s bullets at the freaking safe house, she certainly wouldn’t hesitate to go home afterward. No wonder she’d been so insistent he stay in Seattle an extra day. He smacked the seat with his fist.

“Dude, easy on the upholstery. You’re not going to lose it on me, are you?”

Travis met the cabbie’s nervous gaze in the rearview mirror. “Sorry. I’m a little irritated.”

“If that scowl is irritation, I’d hate to see you when you’re really pissed.”

He let out a long breath. “Maybe irritated is a bit of an understatement.”

“You’re not going to hurt someone, are you?”

“No.”

He’d never touched a woman in anger in his life, and he wasn’t about to start with Grace. He probably wouldn’t even raise his voice. What was the point? There wasn’t a whole lot she could say in her defense, but he was pretty sure she’d come up with something.

“Here we are.”

Pulling out his wallet, he paid the driver, slammed the cab door, dragged his bag up the steps and punched in the security code.

Damn Grace.

His heart ached as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. The door to her apartment was ajar. A murmur of voices came from inside, one distinctly male, the other belonging to Grace. Dropping to his knee, he eased the suitcase zipper open and pulled his weapon from an inside pocket. Taking a breath to steady his pulse, he edged the door further open. The entry table lay on the floor, the mirror over it splintered.

A man with dark hair stood in the doorway to the living room. He spun, weapon drawn.

Grace screamed and tackled him, sending the Glock flying. “Don’t shoot! Nobody shoot!”

“Jesus, Grace, get the hell off me.” After retrieving the Glock from beneath the overturned table, the man eased up off the floor in one smooth movement before giving her a hand up.

Travis righted the entry table and reluctantly set down his weapon since his holster was still in his suitcase before crossing his arms over his chest. The man standing beside Grace regarded him with a hint of amusement lighting his eyes.

She cleared her throat. “Travis Barnett, meet Nolan Marconi.”

When the armed stranger stepped forward and stuck out a hand, Travis shook it. Nolan—the name niggled at his memory. Surely Grace had mentioned it before.

“Nolan’s a detective with the SFPD. He…uh…sort of helped me out today.”

The memory clicked. The guy looking so comfortable in Grace’s apartment was her ex-boyfriend.
Perfect.
Travis held her gaze for one long moment before she turned away.

Her fists clenched at her sides. “Someone trashed the place.”

“So I see.” He crossed the entry to the living room. Broken picture frames and tossed cushions littered the floor, but the kitchen seemed to have escaped damage. “How bad is the bedroom?”

“Not horrible. My clothes are everywhere, but he didn’t destroy them.” Her hand shook as she tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “It’s almost like he was looking for something specific.”

“He?”

“Mason Rogers. Who else would have done this? He must have broken in while we were gone.”

Travis frowned. “You mean while you were interviewing Casey at the safe house?”

She winced. “I guess you heard about that. No, Rogers was in Bodega Bay the same time we were. This had to have been done over the weekend.”

An aching hollowness filled him. “You weren’t here last night?”

Her head jerked up. “I told you I was staying with a friend.”

“So I see.” Her
friend
leaned against the doorframe, legs crossed, the picture of ease.

“Not Nolan. I stayed with Gretchen.” Her eyes flashed. “I don’t like your insinuation.”

Travis took a breath and held onto his temper. “I’m the bad guy here?”

The detective straightened. “Uh, I think I’ll leave now. Looks like you’re in good hands.”

The rigid line of her back eased. She stepped forward and touched her ex-boyfriend’s arm. “Thank you.”

“You bet. Am I going to see you at my wedding?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Great.” With a nod toward Travis, he strolled out the door.

Travis rubbed the back of his neck and closed his eyes. He opened them when Grace laid a hand on his arm. The same gesture she’d used with the cop. He jerked away.

“I guess Fritz called you.”

“Multiple times while I was in the air. He’s angry, and he’s blaming me.”

“Why?” Her voice rose. “You didn’t do anything.”

“How’d you get the safe house address, Grace?”

Her gaze dropped. Stooping, she picked up a picture off the floor. Cracked glass fractured outward from the center of a family photo. She laid it on the counter then bent to retrieve a second one.

“Saying I’m sorry really isn’t enough. I understand you’re angry.” Her chest rose as she drew in a breath. “I knew you would be. I’d hate me, too, if I were you.”

He stepped to the window. Fog had rolled in from the ocean and hung in the trees. Stuffing clenched fists into his pockets, he turned. “I really do need to know how you got that address.”

“From an e-mail Fritz sent you.” She held up her hands. “Yes, your computer is password protected, but I got in after about ten tries. You must have switched the password recently.”

He’d changed it to her name and the date they met.

“I bet you had a good laugh.”

Rapid blinking didn’t stop two fat tears from rolling down her cheeks. “It made me feel even worse.”

“But not bad enough to shut the damn laptop and respect my privacy.”

Swiping a hand across her face, she shook her head. “I have to do my job, Travis.”

Seeing her tears tore him up inside. He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her it was okay. But it wasn’t. “Anything for a story?”

A hint of anger flashed, and the tears dried. “It wasn’t like that, but don’t you feel the same way about your company?”

“
I
put everything on hold to come here.
You
matter more to me than my business.”

“Maybe right now I do, but what about in a month or two? If I don’t have my career to fall back on, what’s left?” Her voice quavered, and she steadied it. “An empty apartment?”

“Have you so little faith in my feelings for you?” The pulse at his temple throbbed, and he took a couple deep breaths. “Or don’t you trust your own? I bet Marconi could tell me a few things about your level of commitment in a relationship.”

“He’d tell you to run far and fast. I won’t try to stop you if that’s your decision.”

Turning her back, she picked up a pillow and threw in onto the couch. It smacked against the cushion like a fastball hitting the catcher’s mitt.

“Has it ever occurred to you I
want
you to stop me? I
want
you to take a little initiative and actually show you care.”

She spun around. “I care. I wouldn’t be sleeping with you if I didn’t.”

“I don’t know if that’s the best barometer of your affection.”

He wanted to snatch the words back the second they left his lips. The pain in her eyes flared bright.

“Get the hell out.” She picked up another pillow and threw it at him.

He deflected it with his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“You thought it, and that’s enough.”

“Maybe I wanted to hurt you. Maybe I wanted you to feel the way I did when I learned how you’d betrayed my trust. Still, it doesn’t excuse what I said.”

“You’re damn right about that! Stay. Go. I don’t care.” She turned and ran into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

* * * *

Grace hung the last wrinkled shirt in her closet and walked into the bathroom. Blotchy red eyes met her gaze in the mirror. She grimaced. Giving in to a crying jag had felt good while it lasted, but now she looked like crap. Flipping on the faucet, she splashed cold water on her face. A slight improvement but not much. Not that it really mattered. Travis was probably long gone, and she wouldn’t even have Wylie for company.