Recovered secrets, p.6
Recovered Secrets, page 6
Grace fiddled with the locket she always wore. That thing wouldn’t unlock and she didn’t want to destroy it by cracking it open, only to see a possible picture of people she might not recognize. It was all she had of value when she was found. The way she’d kissed it before firing the rifle yesterday...like it was a ritual she had done often. Muscle memory.
But with new information, the subject of having it broken open might need to come up again. With so many snippets of memory, if there were photos inside, she might recognize them now. But he’d give her some time to process before dumping it on her.
“We needed a change of scenery. Probably should have ordered decaf, though.”
She softly smiled, her eyes meeting his. Long dark lashes canopied hers. Sometimes, she stole his breath right out of him. Not just with a look, but with the way she was confident and yet vulnerable. The way she tackled new projects and wanted to attempt any-and everything. Her laugh. Low and throaty, and when she tossed her head—enough. Hollis stuffed all those emotions into a locked box marked Off-Limits. He needed it to stay as locked tight as Grace’s locket.
“Probably,” Grace responded. “Hollis?”
“Yeah,” he murmured, hoping this was the moment she’d spill the beans, reveal what she knew about Hector Salvador. He braced himself for the worst-case scenario. No matter what, he could take it.
She searched his eyes and he watched as they dulled, then continued blankly staring out the window. “Never mind. I don’t know what I was gonna say.” She sighed and disappointment pinched his heart.
“You sure about that?” he asked. “I’m pretty tough. I can take whatever you might want to tell me. And not judge you.” But he couldn’t lie and say it wouldn’t affect him. It would—at first. Then he could get past it. See the real, true Grace sitting in front of him. The Grace who rescued puppies and played peekaboo with toddlers in grocery lines. The question is how would it affect Grace?
Already it was sending her inside herself—like a caterpillar in a cocoon. Hollis couldn’t be sure that when she finally emerged, she’d be a butterfly. But he wanted her to be.
“I’m sure. I’m tired. Let’s go back to the inn. I need to try and sleep.”
Rest might change her mind.
“Okay.” He helped her into her raincoat and they said goodbyes to Kali and raced into the rain, rushing to his truck. He opened the door for her first, then hopped in the driver’s side. “Drenched in thirty seconds.”
The edges of his jeans were wet. He was thankful for waterproof hiking boots. Grace wore flowered rain boots, her jeans tucked inside.
He pulled onto Main Street, driving slowly. Didn’t want to hydroplane or flood his truck. “Hey, can we run by my place real quick? If I’m going to stay at the inn, I need some extra clothes and I haven’t had time to grab any for tomorrow. I badly need to do laundry.”
Grace snickered at that. “Yeah, sure. I could do your laundry for you. I owe you that much.”
He reached over and clasped her hand. “Grace, honey, you’re terrible at laundry.”
“I only turned my whites pink once. And so I occasionally shrink shirts...” She snorted. “You’re right. Maybe you should do mine.”
He laughed. Maybe he should but doing laundry felt a little more intimate than it ought to. “Pass. You did hear me say I’m terrible at getting mine done, right?”
“Yeah, I heard you.”
He turned left off Main Street onto Old Highway 4 as if going toward the SAR facility. He lived about two miles down. Small ranch-style house on six acres. One day he was going to get a horse or two. The place already had the fencing. Needed a little mending is all. He pulled into his garage. “You wanna come in a minute?” Grace had been in his home dozens of times. Nothing new, but the pull on his gut was. Why was he nervous?
“Yeah.” She hopped out and followed him inside the kitchen. He still had some dishes left in his sink. Papers, mail and an empty milk jug littered the counter.
“Sorry about the mess.”
“No worries.”
Hollis strolled from his kitchen toward the bedroom and called, “There’s sweet tea in the fridge if you want some.”
“I’m good,” she hollered back.
His bedroom wasn’t as cluttered as his kitchen. Old habits died hard. Bed made. Clothes put away. He hurried and tossed a bag together and threw it over his shoulder. As he reached the living room, Grace was perched on the brown leather sofa sifting through a fishing and wildlife magazine.
“Anything of interest?” he asked.
She raised her head and grinned. “No. Just passing time. I love your house.”
Hollis laughed, but the words struck a chord in the marrow of his bones. “Yeah? What do you love about it?”
Shrugging one shoulder, she scanned the living room. “It feels like a home. Warm. Cozy. I love all the land. You should buy a couple of horses. Get a puppy,” she murmured.
He’d had to put Bruiser—his German shepherd—down last February. He’d been a rescue dog, already several years old. Bruiser had been Hollis’s best friend for the past four years. The house was quiet without him. “Maybe I will.”
“It’s peaceful out here. And gorgeous.”
“Anything else? You want me to sell it to you?”
Grace stood and tossed the magazine on the coffee table. “Nah. I don’t think it would feel quite so good if you weren’t living in it.” She held his gaze.
One beat.
Two.
Three.
She cleared her throat. Was she saying that he...he felt like home? No, he was reading more into it than necessary, but his pulse spiked and it felt like two horses were galloping through the pastures of his gut.
“Guess we ought to be going,” he said. Sudden awkwardness replaced their quiet moment.
“Guess so.” She followed him to the garage and into the truck. The garage door rose and he cranked the engine.
Rain continued to fall in a steady rhythm.
He backed out of the drive as a bullet slammed into the tailgate.
Hollis shifted gears and hit the gas, reentering the garage, then he punched his finger on the garage opener clipped to his visor.
Grace had already crouched low and retrieved his Glock from his console. “One in the glove box too,” he said as a bullet pierced the bumper right before the garage door closed and sealed them inside.
Grace chambered a round, handed off the gun to Hollis, then opened the glove box and snatched the SIG Sauer as she slid from the truck.
“In the house,” Hollis commanded and they rushed into the kitchen. “Stay down.”
“Be careful,” Grace said. While her demeanor seemed cool as lemonade on a summer day, her voice quivered.
He paused while hunched down, using the cabinets as a shield and lightly touched her hair. “Don’t worry. You sit tight.”
She nodded and he stayed low. The house was dark. Most of the blinds closed. They had an advantage. Unless the shooter had night-vision goggles. Seemed too far-fetched, but the way this had been playing out so far, Hollis wasn’t taking any risks. He slipped through the kitchen to the breakfast area and put his back against the wall, slowly peeking out the window. Too much rain blurring his vision. Hollis couldn’t be sure where the shooter might be at this moment. A good sniper had taken out Peter Rainey. Hollis had no clue how far the shooter could pick them off from. Depended on skill.
Dropping to his stomach, he belly-crawled into the living room. “Grace, you okay?”
“I’m good. You?”
He peeped out the living room windows that faced the north side of the house. “Right as rain, honey.” Scared out of his mind that something might happen to her.
“Can you see anyone? Anything? Movement?”
“No. Unfortunately.”
A bullet shattered the breakfast area window; the sound of rain grew louder. “We gotta move, Hollis. Now. Out the front.”
But...
“What if there’s more than one shooter?” He couldn’t risk her going out the front and getting picked off. Whoever had come for her could be herding her to her death. Hollis wouldn’t play into the possible game.
Grace slithered into the living room. Gun in hand. Fire in her eyes but also fear. Fear was a great motivator. Also, could cause irrational decisions.
“Fine, let’s go out a side window. If they’re playing us to the opposite side, why give them the satisfaction?”
Hollis licked his lip as another shot came through the door.
“What if someone out there knows you? Knows the way you think. What if how you are thinking now is exactly how you would think then? They’ll expect you to do the unexpected. And they’ll be waiting.”
The fire in her eyes quickly cooled. Hollis didn’t want to scare her, but he didn’t want to make a rash move. He wanted to protect her and get them somewhere safe. That was what he was trained to do. It’s what he would do.
“I don’t know then,” she stammered. “But we’re nothing but targets in here.”
Too much glass to crawl through the kitchen again.
Another shot blew out the living room window. The shooter had shifted position. “Let’s go!”
They stayed low and rushed to the guest bedroom off the hall on the west end.
“I’ll go first,” Hollis said. “Make sure it’s secure.”
“And if it’s not, you’re dead.” Terror pulsed in Grace’s eyes.
“But you’re not. No arguments.” He raised the window and before she could protest, he jumped into the bushes. Grace followed suit.
A bullet hit the top of the window, spraying bits of brick off the house.
“We’re cornered!” Grace shouted.
And blind in the rain.
They might not make it out of this one.
FIVE
Rain drenched Grace’s head, matting her hair to her cheeks. Drops of water slid onto the collar of her shirt.
She and Hollis crouched behind the bush but any second another bullet would hit them. “Our best chance is the woods across the street. Nothing but pastureland behind us. Too wide open,” Hollis whispered.
“Agreed.”
Grace’s hand shook, but she steadied the gun. Mustered the courage. They were ripe for the picking.
“When I fire, run,” Hollis said, his voice raspier than normal.
He rose up and fired a couple of rounds and Grace sprinted from the bushes, keeping low and to the side of the house. A bullet struck the gutter above her head and she returned fire. Hollis was right behind her.
Once they got to the front of the house, they darted to the large sweetgum tree.
Nothing but rain fell.
No sound of gunfire.
But they weren’t out of danger.
They had about fifty feet to make it across the muddy road and into the woods beyond. “On my count,” Hollis said and cupped Grace’s cheek. “You run and you don’t look back. No matter what.”
What did that mean? “You run with me.”
“I’ll be behind you. But you run and don’t stop. Understand?”
She nodded, but her bottom lip trembled.
“One...two...three!”
Hollis fired in the direction the shots had been coming from.
Grace tore out from behind the tree, racing across the lawn, her rain boots kicking up mud and water as she set her sights on the woods ahead.
A bullet hit the mud puddle two feet from her.
Hollis’s gun fired again. “Keep going!”
Grace desperately wanted to look back. To check on Hollis. Make sure he was safe and directly behind her. Guns continued to fire.
Five feet...four...
She flew into the shelter of the trees. Her calves burned, her lungs ached but she pushed through not even sure where she was running. Finally, it grew quiet. Nothing but rain pelting the fresh green leaves and the sound of her breathing.
Backing into an evergreen for cover, she listened.
No footsteps.
No voice.
No gunfire.
Her heart leaped into her throat. Where was Hollis? He said he’d be right behind her, but she’d been running for a while. What if one of those bullets had hit him? He could be lying in his yard—the peaceful patch of land that always made Grace feel at home. A place she’d just stated needed him to feel that way. She needed him; he was like the center of gravity for her.
Not only to get her through the tough times. She needed his strength. His laughter that always filled her with joy. She needed his quick wit and his soft prayers.
Grace couldn’t hide and do nothing while her best friend in the world might be injured. Leaving him wasn’t an option.
She moved through the darkness, using the trees as cover—listening and going on instinct. As if she’d had to become a ghost before. Blending with shadows. Moving like night. Becoming one with the forest. Even her footsteps seemed lighter, quieter.
Another ripple of terror rocked through her. How...why could she move like this?
She made it about ten feet from the tree line when a hand fell on her shoulder. In a swift move, she twisted, flipping the attacker over her back and onto the ground. She placed a boot on his neck and aimed her gun.
“Grace! It’s...me...put a cork in the creature of the night!” Hollis’s voice was strained from her foot on his throat. Grace released him.
“Good way to get shot, Hollis,” she groused. “Have you lost your mind?”
He jumped to his feet, turning his nose up. “My back is sopping wet. Thanks to you.”
“Me—the creature of the night? Hmm?”
He finally stopped scowling long enough to sheepishly grin, but it didn’t last long. He glanced at Grace and her position. “I know you run faster than this.”
Busted.
“I didn’t know where you were. Or if you were hurt. So...” She shrugged.
“You were coming for me?”
She didn’t want a lecture or a reprimand. A hint of a memory teetered on the edge of her mind. Like she’d been here before. Ignoring commands. But that was all it was. A feeling. A sensation.
“I’m not sorry either,” she laid on the defiance pretty thick. “So save the rant.”
Hollis sighed. “I held him off as long as I could then went the other way, hoping to confuse him. Then I ran straight for where you ought to be. You weren’t there.”
“Nope.” She jutted out her chin.
He lightly clipped it with his knuckles and smirked. It did a wild dance inside her. “No,” he whispered, “you were too busy trying to rescue me. I don’t know how to feel about that.”
“I hope not sexist.”
Hollis laughed but quickly contained it. Clasping her cheeks in his calloused, wet but warm hands he placed a big ole kiss to her forehead. “No, not sexist.” He ran his thumb across her jawline. “I mean, part of me hates it because well...you’re my favorite. If anything ever happened to you—even more so because of me—I don’t know what I’d do. The other half of me is not only impressed as all get-out, but proud of you. Ready to fight beside you. Not just for you.”
His words tore through her, settling into hollow crevices, warming her entire body, flooding her heart. She was his favorite. He was hers too. “So, you know why I came back then.”
Inky eyes searched hers and her pulse skittered as he stepped into her personal space and his lips descended toward hers, his intentions clear.
But before he connected with her, the thought of being someone else’s favorite swept through her. She might have been Hector Salvador’s favorite. Peter Rainey’s. Who knew who else?
Shame was left in those horrific thoughts’ wake. She broke away from his gaze, his touch and stepped a few feet away. Pushing down her feelings, she faked a cordial smile. “I mean I don’t have a friend as good as you. And I always beat you in Battleship, so I’d hate to see harm come to you, leaving me to find a new friend to play games with.”
A minuscule pop of pain crossed his face, but he nodded. “You are difficult to be around. You may not find another friend.”
And like that, the moment was over.
That might be the real tragedy tonight. But Grace wasn’t in a place to make a shift in their relationship. She wasn’t even sure it was more than two close friends almost dying and sharing a moment of serious gratitude.
“You sure he’s gone?” Grace asked. Leaving the wooded fortress might be a bad idea.
“No. But we can’t sit here all night.” Lights shone up ahead and Grace gripped Hollis’s shirt.
“It’s okay. It’s Cord.”
Sheriff Freeman’s SUV rolled to a stop and he lowered the passenger window. “Miss Ellerby called, said lots of gunfire was going off near your place. Thought I might check it out with what’s been transpiring. Looks like I’m right,” he said with a mild sour note to his voice. “Unless you just enjoy hanging out in the woods during a thunderstorm.”
Hollis jumped in the passenger seat and Grace climbed in, scooching down just in case. Sheriff Freeman eyed the two them. “Everyone in one piece?”
“I think so. Thank you, Sheriff.”
“Cord. You can call me Cord.” He peered in the rearview mirror and smiled. Friendly. Nothing more.
Grace returned it. “What now?”
“Now, we get you safe and dry,” he said.
Hollis peered out the passenger window, his elbow on the door and his fist under his chin. Grace wasn’t sure if he was thinking about the shooter or the almost kiss. A kiss that could not happen. Surely, he knew that. She had no past. Nothing to offer. What she did have was sketchy at best. Downright criminal at worst.
“Dry and safe sounds amazing.” She glanced at Hollis’s house. “You left your bag of clothes.”
“I can wash these at Tish’s.” His voice seemed far off. Even Cord stole a peek and frowned. “Why don’t y’all stay with me tonight? I have an extra set of clothes. I don’t like putting you two and others in danger at the inn.”
