Every Step She Takes (Who's Watching Now Book 2) (30 page)

“She told me. A stupid kid gave her an undeserved guilt trip when he wrapped his car around a big rig. It turned her inside out for years.”

“Wow.”

“Wow, what?”

“Grace
never
talks about what happened with David. Well, she did with me at the time it happened and with a few therapists over the years, not that it seemed to do much good. She also talked to Lark when you were in Vine Haven before. I can’t tell you what it meant to me that she opened up about such a painful subject for the sake of my daughter. That she confided in you is huge. To my knowledge, she’s never discussed David’s death with any man she’s dated.”

His heart ached for Grace, and his fingers tightened on the napkin. Knowing she’d opened up to him, that she’d cared enough and
trusted
enough to share, eased away some of his pain. Not enough, though.

“Grace loved that boy. The fact that she turned him down when he demanded she sleep with him shows a lot about her character. The way she changed afterward is a reflection of just how deeply she was hurt. Grace doesn’t trust love to last. At the first sign she’s beginning to care for a man, she backs away. I know she wants to change. I know she has really tried with you despite the complications in your relationship.”

His lips twisted. “You mean our different zip codes and the assassin shooting at us?”

“Exactly. Still, she’s made an effort to establish something strong and beautiful between you. She hasn’t given up.”

“Until she deliberately betrayed my trust, knowing it would kill our growing feelings for each other.”

“Did she kill them?” Her eyes pleaded for understanding. “Or did she just do some major damage?”

“I honestly don’t know. I hope we can salvage something.” He sighed. “I love her, but trust and love go hand in hand.”

“She slipped up. I know it. You know it. She knows it.”

“Yeah, she did.”

“You probably don’t understand exactly how much Grace’s work means to her. Other than family, it’s been the one constant in her life. The place where she excels. Not that it excuses what she did, but maybe it helps explain it.”

“I understand the need to succeed at your career. I have the same drive, but I don’t do it at the expense of someone I care about.”

“Between her desire to follow up on a story she’d gone to extraordinary lengths to get, the pressure she was getting from her boss and fear she’d get her heart broken if her relationship with you failed, Grace fell back into an old pattern.”

“She sabotaged our relationship on purpose. Better to end it now than later?”

“Exactly.”

He stroked Wylie’s head when the dog stood and laid it on his knee, eyeing the remnants of the pastry. “Her boss pressured her? She didn’t mention it.”

“My sister doesn’t make excuses for herself, but Hank was pretty insistent.”

He sighed. “She told you all that about trying to wreck our relationship to keep from getting hurt?”

“No, of course not. I’m not sure Grace consciously realizes what she’s doing. She and I are close. I see patterns in her behavior when she doesn’t. Bottom line, I hope you’ll take all this into consideration before you make any decisions. I know it isn’t easy, but Grace is a special woman. If you can have a little patience with her, I truly believe she’ll come around. You can give my sister back her belief in love.” Rachel’s voice rang with sincerity.

Travis wished he felt as confident. “I hope you’re right. I’m not going anywhere until she’s one hundred percent safe. After that, I guess we’ll have to wait and see if she’s willing to take a risk.”

“That’s all I ask.” Rachel stood. “You’re a good guy, Travis. Thank you.”

During the drive home, he mulled over what Grace’s sister had told him. As the city’s skyline came into view, he let go of the last of his anger—but not the disappointment.

* * * *

The Porsche slowed and maneuvered into a spot next to a fire hydrant. Dashing out of the building, Grace dodged between a cab and a city bus to cross the street. Pulling open the passenger door, she pushed her dog out of the way and slipped onto the seat. Wylie whined and licked her face as she hugged him close.

Travis’s brows drew together in a tight line. “Do you have a death wish? That taxi nearly hit you.”

“Cabbies in San Francisco are adept at dodging jaywalkers. They’ll swear at you, but they don’t want the hassle involved in killing someone.”

“That’s a jaded view if ever I’ve heard one.”

“What can I say? I’m a realist.”

He smiled. “Want to go somewhere to walk the dog?”

“I’d love to.” She held up a tote bag. “I planned ahead and brought running shoes since I figured you wouldn’t let me take a stroll in my own neighborhood.”

“I’d rather not risk it. Rogers is getting more and more unpredictable.”

“Then let’s go down to the beach. I could use a little salt spray to clear my head. It was a difficult day.”

He glanced over before returning his attention to the street clogged with rush hour traffic. “I would’ve thought you attained rock star status today after getting that story from Sutton.”

“Oh, I have. My co-workers couldn’t believe I pulled it off. My editor gave me a pat on the back every time he walked past my desk. Every ‘congratulations’ spoken in tones of awe made me feel that much guiltier.”

“Good.”

Her head swiveled and brows lowered. “Huh?”

“You may have a conscience after all.”

“I deserve to suffer.” She sighed. “The guilt trip isn’t over, either. I get to follow Estrada’s trial for the paper. That pissed off the usual court reporter, but Hank said I earned the right.”

“Fritz called.” He pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine. “He wants me to help with Sutton’s transfer from his new location to the courthouse. I’m working the perimeter, keeping an eye out for the shooter.”

Waves rolled up onto the beach, and seagulls flew overhead, their distinctive squawks ringing in the sea air. Grace pushed open the door to let Wylie out, holding tight to his leash. “Does that mean he isn’t angry anymore?”

Travis slammed his door. “He’s still pissed, but he needs me. I’ll recognize the sniper faster than anyone if he’s visible.”

“Fritz expects trouble?”

“Fritz always expects trouble. In our old line of work with the SEALs, if you didn’t expect the worst, it would find you and take you out. Maybe I’ve been overly cautious a time or two in the last few weeks, but it sure as hell beats the alternative.”

Grace shuddered. After she changed her shoes, they walked down the long stretch of sand with a foot of space separating them while Wylie ran ahead.

“Thanks for picking him up.”

“I didn’t mind. Driving your car isn’t exactly a hardship.” He kicked a clump of seaweed. The strand clung to his sneaker despite his efforts to shake it loose.

“Wylie seems to have survived the separation without any adverse effects.”

“One of your sister’s employees wants to keep him. I told her no way you’d let the mutt go.”

“Not a chance. How did I manage to live all these years without a dog?”

“The same way you managed your relationships—no deep attachments to complicate your life.”

Grace stopped and turned her face into the breeze. “That sounds like something Rachel would say.”

“We talked.”

“That can’t be good.”

“Actually, it was. She helped me understand a little better what drives you. I’m still not happy about what you did, but the fact that you felt the need to do it really hurts.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do you honestly still believe I’m going to walk away from you, from us?”

“I know you don’t want to. I know you—care.”

“It’s more than caring. I love you.”

Emotion exploded inside her, stealing her breath. “You’re willing to say that, after what I did?”

“It’s the truth. Just because I’m hurt and angry doesn’t mean my feelings for you have changed. Maybe the gilding has worn off, but that doesn’t affect the truth underneath.”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to say. I thought you’d leave. I was prepared to watch you walk away.”

“Is that what you want?”

“No.” She pushed strands of hair whipped by the wind out of her eyes. “Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe I couldn’t live with taking our relationship to the next level and rearranging my life to keep you in it. Afterward, letting you go would hurt too much.”

“You know what our problem is?”

She choked on a laugh that was almost a sob. “We only have one?”

“Trust. If we really want to make this work, we have to be able to trust each other. Love alone won’t cut it if there isn’t trust to back it up.”

She stepped forward and stroked her fingers along his cheek. Roughness abraded the tips. Fine lines feathered out from his eyes, and the scar near his brow added to the rugged character of his face. This was a man who had experienced life and learned from it, a man who knew what he wanted. For some reason he wanted her.

She pressed trembling lips together. “I do love you, and I’ll work on the trust. Not faith in you. I have that. If I didn’t completely believe in your love before, I certainly do now. I have to trust myself.”

“We’ll work on it together.”

From his vantage point on a sixth-floor balcony of an apartment whose owner was out of town, Travis scanned the streets and kept an eye on the courthouse. If he were taking a kill shot, it would be from this location. He’d thoroughly scouted the area before setting up camp and hadn’t seen any sign of Rogers. Didn’t mean he wasn’t nearby.

News vans were everywhere, from both television and radio stations as well as reporters from all the local newspapers. The jury in the case of
The People versus Juan Estrada
had already been selected, and today was the day Sutton would testify. Fritz was probably popping antacids like candy, waiting for his star witness to put the final nail in Estrada’s coffin. Or at least ensure the man didn’t see life outside a prison cell for the next fifty or sixty years. By that time, he’d be long dead and buried.

When a woman with long brown hair walked by on the street below, Travis’s pulse jerked—until he realized her mincing pace in no way resembled Grace’s confident stride. Minutes later Grace’s Porsche pulled into the parking area reserved for media. He held his breath as Grace and a man with an artist’s sketchpad stepped out and hurried inside.

The air released from his lungs in a whoosh. Grace was safe from any stray bullet. He glanced at his watch. Where the hell was Fritz with Sutton? He should have been here by now.

His nerves stretched as the minutes ticked by. Picking up the binoculars, he took another close look at every man lingering near the courthouse, searching for a hint of familiarity. Chances were Rogers had dyed his distinctive, pale blond hair or at least covered it with a hat. When none of the pedestrians raised any alarms, he scanned the nearby buildings. No figures hovered near an open window, no flash of sunlight glinted off the metal of a rifle barrel.

A black SUV drove past on the street below and turned into an employee-only parking area near a side entrance to the courthouse. His radio crackled, and he adjusted the earpiece.

“Anything?”

“Not that I’ve seen. Still, I have a nagging feeling this could easily go wrong.”

Fritz’s silence spoke more than words. “I expect an attempt.”

The hair rose on the back of Travis’s neck. “Don’t use that entrance. The angle’s too clean from this direction.”

“The guards inside are expecting us here, and we sure as hell can’t go in the front door.”

“Call someone and make the change.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Travis’s heart pounded as he waited. A minute later the SUV made a U-turn out of the lot and circled the block. It slid into view near the rear of the building. His visual was partially obscured by a couple of the news vans. When three men stepped out of the vehicle, one of them Fritz, his pulse accelerated. A fourth emerged. Even dressed in a suit, there was no mistaking Sutton. The feds hustled him toward a back door.

A whistle of sound to his right. One of the guards jerked and dropped. The other two dived on Sutton.

Shit.
Movement was a blur behind the vans. The courthouse door opened, and someone—Fritz—shoved Casey through.

Travis depressed the button on his radio. “What the hell happened?”

“Sutton’s safe. One of my men is down. The shot came from your location. He has to be close. Find the bastard, Travis!”

Stepping out to the railing of the balcony, he turned to face the building and scanned the apartments to his left. A shadow of movement two doors over and one floor up.

Travis ran back inside and sprinted through the dimly lit apartment, dodging around a wilted ficus tree in the entry. Pushing open the door to the stairwell directly across the hall, he took the stairs two at a time then paused to steady his breathing. He pulled his weapon and inched the door open. No movement in the corridor.

Carpet muffled his footsteps. Standing to the side, he reached for the doorknob and gently turned it. Locked.

Well, shit. So much for catching the sniper off-guard.

He depressed the radio transmitter, his voice barely a whisper as he updated Fritz. “Apartment 708. I’m going in.”

“Backup is maybe two minutes away.”

“No time. He’ll be out of here by then.”

Raising a foot, he slammed it into the lock. Wood splintered as the door swung wide.

Mason Rogers faced him, a compact rifle case slung over one shoulder. His gray eyes widened as he reached toward his hip. Two shots echoed as they both fired, and a searing pain sent Travis staggering backward into the hallway. He went down, firing again.

Footsteps pounded the carpeted floor. Rising on shaking legs, he pressed a hand to his side. Blood seeped between his fingers, warm and sticky. He took two steps. Nausea threatened, and the hallway wavered and tilted as he crashed to his knees, free falling as everything went black.

* * * *

The murmur of voices rose in the courtroom as Casey Sutton took the stand and was sworn in by the clerk. Grace scribbled in her notebook, recording her impressions of the proceedings, noting the furious expression on Estrada’s face, brows drawn together, lips twisted in a grimace as he spoke to his attorney. The distinguished, silver-haired man jerked at his collar and shielded his mouth before answering.