But it wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was her past. She dropped onto the bed and crossed her legs at the ankles. “You probably should sit down,” she said, and gestured toward the nearby chair.
Uncertainty and doubt hardened his face as he backed into the recliner, rested his elbows on the chair’s arms and clasped his hands together. The inquiry in his green eyes bore through her. He expected answers. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
But there was no way out, nowhere to go, no drugs to mask the pain.
“Whatever it is,” he said, “we’ll get through it together.”
A bit of scoffing laughter broke out before she had the chance to impede it. She choked it down and planted her hands at her sides. The enjoyable feel of the satin comforter distracted Grace from the task at hand and marred reality.
Could they get through it together? Was it possible?
Don’t be an idiot Grace
.
She reminded herself of what Eric had gone through with his mother. The last thing he needed or wanted was a wife with the same issues.
Sadly, once he found out, he’d be gone. She only hoped he’d delay his departure until after they’d unraveled the mystery surrounding her father.
“Talk to me, Gracie,” he said, insistence rising in his voice. “Let me help.”
“Trust me.” She snorted a laugh. “The last thing you’re going to want to do, is help me.” The need for self-preservation breezed across her mind. She straightened with a purpose. “You have to promise me that you will see this...” She paused with a grand gesture. “This mystery we’re tangled in right now, to the end.”
Eric laughed, and made no move to make such promises.
“Promise me, Eric.” Demand rose in her tone.
“Okay. Okay.” His jovial laughter turned into nervous uncertainty. “I promise,” he added, waving his right hand in the air.
He’d done it, he’d promised. Grace blew out her relief out in a liberating sigh. Unless Eric had changed over the years, really changed, he wouldn’t turn his back on her now, no matter how much her confession prompted.
“Your turn,” he said.
She sucked in a breath, as if it’d bring with it courage. It did, just enough to convince her that she was a hopeless fool.
Well, it was time to face her fears and put an end to her childish fantasies centered around the notion that she and Eric could someday reunite.
“The least I deserve is an explanation,” he said, “don’t you think?”
She did owe him a truthful account of what had happened. That much was true. “Yes,” she said, nodding in agreement.
Grace moved closer to him and rested her palms on his knees. He gave her a comforting smile and it did its job. Somehow.
“I really meant to come back,” she said. “I did.”
“Then why didn’t you?” He laid his hands on top of hers.
“Because I wasn’t worthy of you.” Her instincts coaxed her to retreat. She tried, starting with her hands but he was quick, and held them in place.
“Why would you think that?”
“You don’t get it, do you?” The realization came to her in the form of a brick wall, and she slammed into it at full speed. “You just don’t know what it’s like to not be perfect.”
That’s what he was expecting. Perfection. And Grace couldn’t have landed further from his expectations.
Eric’s laughter filled the space between them. “I hardly deserve that, Gracie.”
True. Her assessment may be factual, but he was the one who’d been wronged. “It wasn’t meant as a jab at your character,” she said. “I’m just calling it the way I see it.”
“That’s how you see me?” He looked hurt.
Great. That’s all she needed. A little more guilt pouring down around her. “You’re twisting my words, Eric.”
“Then straighten them.”
She raised a pointed finger into the air. “Okay,” she bargained. “You don’t say another word until I lower my hand.” Grace nodded and swallowed the uncertainty clogging her throat. “To me, you are perfect...in every way. You’re the perfect soldier, the perfect friend, the perfect man. And you deserve so much better than me.”
He opened his mouth and she stopped him with a verbal bashing before she laid her weakness out for his ridicule. “I was a wreck after Daddy died.” Technically, she’d been a wreck since her mother’s passing. Grace got the feeling Eric recognized that. “I was just planning on drowning my sorrows with alcohol while I was gone, but I found some weed at the beach house and ended up smoking it.” She paused, scrutinizing him for anything he might be feeling. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you the rest,” she offered nervously.
Everything slowed down, as if she was in the midst of some strange movie where everything was running in slow motion. First, he withdrew his hands. Then his entire body froze, as if Medusa had laid her gaze upon him.
“You chose getting high over me.” His words were fueled by defeat. His tone lacked anger.
She’d much rather he be angry. At least, if he was pissed off, there’d still be something there. Something besides indifference.
One quick sweep of the hand and he knocked hers away. Disgust—which by all intents and purposes is different than anger—burned in his eyes. He wasn’t mad at her, he was disgusted with her. Just like he’d been disgusted with his mother.
Standing, he gave her one last look of pitying revulsion before storming for the door.
Grace leapt to her feet, but froze bedside. “Eric...” she called after him.
Without turning or looking over his shoulder, he waved her off like he was dismissing an unwanted visitor.
Eric didn’t care that she’d gone through rehab and beat her addiction. He didn’t care that she’d been clean and sober for more than five years. He didn’t care that she’d regretted her failing every day since. None of it mattered.
He hadn’t even the common decency to slam the door on his way out.
Eric had proved the worth in Grace’s suspicions. She could only pray he’d continue to follow suit and keep his word about her father.
Divided, Grace feared she and Eric would fall victim to the same demons that had preyed upon her father.
CHAPTER 33
TORPEDO wasn’t any good at the waiting game. Not like Eightball. While his cohort could sit around calmly waiting for the perfect opportunity—Torpedo, on the other hand, wasn’t quite so patient.
He’d never deluded himself that he could be an assassin. He didn’t have it in him. Not that he couldn’t kill, he just didn’t have the ability to sit around and wait for the ideal chance to send his mark out in dramatic fashion. Instead, he stuck with things like launching missions, wiretaps, secret rescues, and interrogations.
Interrogations. Now that was something he could sink his teeth into. He didn’t have to wait or consider the timing. All he had to do was seed the fear of torturous bodily harm into his target. Typically, that’s all it took. But if it meant he had to actually follow through, well that was just an added bonus. No matter the case, when it came to interrogations Torpedo always got the goods.
He knew he could extract the coveted information anytime, anywhere, anyplace. If Trident would only turn him loose on those brainless idiots.
Unfortunately, it had become abundantly clear that Trident had other ideas. Plans that included hoping those bumbling fools would lead them to the bounty.
Sitting around waiting for them to figure out where to look was nothing more than a waste of Torpedo’s time. But, there wasn’t much he could do about it. Trident’s foot had gone down and no one was willing to question that decision.
The present course of action wasn’t the route Torpedo would’ve taken, it wasn’t the way he would’ve handled things, but still, doing as he was told was his duty. And Torpedo valued duty, not to mention self-preservation. No one was more dangerous than Trident.
Nor did anyone dare question Trident’s decisions—not since Michael Hendricks. He had, and look how that had turned out.
CHAPTER 34
THE one thing Eric Wayne had never done, during the course of his whole life, was break a promise. Most likely because his mother had broken plenty—to him. Learning that Grace had treated him the same way didn’t help, but still, he couldn’t break his promise to her. And that was the only reason he remained by her side.
All in all, he felt lucky to have found her out before letting things go too far. Now that he knew what he was dealing with, he wouldn’t repeat that mistake.
From here on out, he was all about letting the chips fall where they may, which is one reason he had no problem letting Cherilyn take the lead. Finally. And since he hadn’t questioned her decisions, neither did Grace. Too bad Grace hadn’t discovered this newfound confidence in him back in the day.
He tossed his bitterness aside. Green was only becoming as an eye color, nothing more. Better to adhere to their current predicament, and leave the escapades to the experts. Eric couldn’t vouch for Cherilyn’s capabilities, but he doubted there were any better than she at the art of illusion.
There was definitely more to that woman than meets the eye. True. Grace had a bit more confidence in Cherilyn’s motives. She was convinced Marcus’s ex had a good reason for heading in the opposite direction from New York City. Eric wasn’t so sure. Especially now that they’d finally realized that’s where they needed to go. Even so, he couldn’t give a shit less anymore. He just wanted this over.
Odd though, that Grace had so freely put her faith and trust in Cherilyn, at least as long as Eric was willing to do so. Her reasoning—the woman was an expert at this sort of thing.
Well, okay, she had a point.
When they ended up in a quiet little place called Arcadia, Louisiana, at another one of Cherilyn’s safe houses, Eric was beyond surprised.
Who hides in a place like this? One smart cookie—that’s who. What were the chances that somebody would get lucky enough to stumble upon Cherilyn’s new and unknown identity in this place? Talk about thin.
Maybe Eric had underestimated Cherilyn. Once he saw the secret room she had tucked away here, he knew he’d definitely underestimated her.
This room, the same as the other, was filled with technological gear, but there was also equipment used for the purpose of creating photo identification and credit cards.
The special thing about the cards Cherilyn created was that she could link a trail to any Department of Motor Vehicles in any state, and various national and worldwide banks, making the identification and credit cards appear authentic. Not even the DMV or the bank in question would ever know they hadn’t issued the cards.
Eric had definitely underestimated Cherilyn Johnson.
He lingered back, leaning against the doorjamb—a feat he’d grown accustomed to ever since Grace walked back into his life.
Cherilyn’s gaze remained glued to Eric as she passed him and moved into the hallway. Like lambs being led to the slaughter, Marcus and Grace followed her toward the living room. Eric trailed after them because there was no other choice.
“We’re going to stay here long enough to create new IDs for each of you.” Cherilyn took a seat on the couch.
“What about you?” Marcus sat beside her.
“I’ve got plenty,” she said, as Eric dropped into the Lazy-Boy and Grace draped herself along the arm of the chair.
“That they can’t trace?” The attorney in Marcus made an appearance.
“Precisely,” Cherilyn assured Marcus, and then turned to Eric and Grace. Eric didn’t know which was worse—Cherilyn’s scrutinizing glare or Grace’s presence. So near, yet so far. “You two know who you want to be?”
“We want to be Eric and Grace,” he said, “but since that’s not going to happen...you decide.”
“Yeah, you decide,” Grace agreed.
“Okay.” Cherilyn paused while a smirk melded on her face. “So, you two don’t have a problem being Horace and Ethel Dumbass...for the rest of your lives?”
“Oh, I refuse to be Ethel Dumbass.” Grace rattled off a swift objection.
Cherilyn laughed, clearly amused with herself. “You will need to decide who you want to be. And, do you want to be single, or a married couple?” She paused warily and caught her breath. “Talk about it and let me know soon. We need to have your new identities intact by the time we leave here tomorrow morning.”
Tomorrow morning
? Wow. She didn’t waste any time. As if she hadn’t thrown enough at Eric already. Like the part about whether or not he and Grace wanted to be a married couple. Was she crazy?
How was he supposed to decide the direction for the rest of his life in less than twenty-four hours? That was too fast. Way too fast.
“Hey, can I be a doctor?” Eric masked his uncertainty in humor.
“Sure, I can make you a doctor,” Cherilyn said, “but I wouldn’t try practicing medicine if I were you.”
“If he gets to be a doctor,” Marcus chimed in, “I want to be a rocket scientist.”
Grace scoffed at them with sharp laughter.
“What...?” Marcus’s face fell into the most convincing display of hurt. “You don’t think I could pull it off?”
“Well, let me put it this way—” She paused, glanced between Eric and Marcus a few times and muffled the hilarity rising up her throat. “You guys are aiming way too high.”
Eric let out a little chuckle, detesting its impact.
Grace shook her head sadly, turned and headed upstairs.
Eric sprinted after her taking the steps two at a time. Midways up, it hit him. He was chasing after her. There wasn’t much Eric wouldn’t have given at that moment to be able to turn around and head back downstairs. As much as he loathed the weakness, he continued upward.
She entered their assigned bedroom and commenced pacing at the foot of the bed.
Eric stopped in the doorway. He should let it go and head back downstairs. Instead, he said, “What’s up?”
She stilled and looked at him. Her angelic face lacked understanding, like she didn’t get why he was there. With her. Join the club, neither did he. Dependability was overrated.
“Look, I said I’d stay until the end.” He turned his head, he didn’t care to look at her but he couldn’t help himself. “I’ll keep my word.”
Her stature shrunk a little, like she regretted trapping him in the promise. She was feeling guilty...? Good. “How about the name change thing?” he asked, his tone remained calm and friendly, just as he planned. “How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know, Eric.” She shook her head and went back to pacing. “I’m not real comfortable being someone other than Grace. I mean...I like my name.” She stopped and her gaze settled on him again.
“Well...” He slid his fingertips into the pockets of his Levi's. “We can always ask her to keep your first name as Grace.” He gave her false hope, knowing Cherilyn would never go for that. But it bothered him little.
Mostly, Eric didn’t care anymore. Whatever it took to wrap this thing up, until then he’d just go along for the ride.
B
y the time they left the next morning, Cherilyn had firmly established the identities of John Matthews, Melissa Cramer, and Richard Lincoln. Whether or not Eric, or even Grace and Marcus were prepared for it, it didn’t matter. It was happening.
But Eric saw it as a step in the right direction. Finally. They were headed for New York City and that meant the end was near. Whatever the General had stashed in locker thirty-six at Grand Central Station was going to allow him to move on with his life, and away from Grace.
“Well, gang,” Cherilyn said hesitantly as she barely tapped the gas pedal and coasted down the street. “Looks like all our efforts were in vain.”
“Why?” Eric’s entire being tensed and that nervous flitter that’d been dancing around in his brain recently was back.
“We’ve got company,” Cherilyn said, but she didn’t seem all that surprised or worried.
“Are you sure?” Marcus asked hastily. “Do you know who it is?”
“I don’t know who it is,” she said, checking the mirrors, “but I do know a tail when I see one.”
“How is that possible?” Grace asked. “You’ve left no trail. How did they find us?”
Grace had a point, but the better question was,
why were they losing their identities if they couldn’t stay a step or two ahead of them right now
?
“Either I’ve tripped up—” Unlikely. “Or, they’ve been following you all along.” Again, unlikely.
Eric doubted this guy in the non-descript sedan, who was obviously military, had been following them all over the country and this is the first time Cherilyn noticed.
Maybe he’d been a little too preoccupied with whether or not they were on the right track to see it. He had been fixated on what they’d find at Grand Central. Would it end this farce, or was it just another clue?
But Cherilyn. She’d been trained in the art of espionage. She should be able to spot tails in her sleep. Eric didn’t particularly like her, but he gave her props. She was too diligent, too detailed, too defined. There’s no way he’d ever believe she tripped up. Not possible.
So where’d this guy come from? A guy that suddenly, from out of nowhere, decided to show himself. Why now? Had he known all along where they were headed?
If that were true, why’d they need to wait for Eric and the others to retrieve the locker’s contents? Why didn’t they take the key and just go get the stuff themselves?
This whole mystery surrounding the General was growing stranger by the minute. If this latest development prolonged his time with Grace...somebody was going to pay.