The Price of Grace (Black Ops Confidential 2)

The thing was, Gracie wouldn’t confess. No matter what they did to her. He’d seen her stubborn and it ran straight down her spine and deep into the earth. She’d die first. Dusty’s heart cracked open with the thought. Wouldn’t be the first to die in that kind of place.

Mukta would confess, do anything to save Gracie from that. And so would he.

He was taking her out of here, hiding her until he found a way to clear her name, use Mukta’s influence to clear her name, and put Mack in his fuckin’ place.

Now to signal Grace, give her the heads up. They had one shot. Surprise. And overpowering Mack and two cops would be a lot easier with the two of them on the same page.

Chapter 58

In her computer room, with John making fists at his sides and her heart starting a For Whom the Bell Tolls gong in her chest, Gracie faced John. “There’s a chance that Cee is with Tyler.”

“A chance? What’s going on, Gracie Divine? What did Leland say?”

“Cee isn’t there. She’s missing too. My brother—”

“Tony?”

For a flash her brain faltered as the competing thoughts “Tony’s dead” and then “Tony’s alive” rushed through her head. “No—”

Her cell rang again. Victor. Why did he keep calling?

“Different brother. He’s at the house. He might know something about where Cee and Ty have gone. I’m headed over there. Do you want to come?”

“To the Mantua Home?” His face said he’d rather eat a bug dipped in dog poop. “Yeah. If we can take my car.”

Her cell rang again. Victor again? She picked up.

“Red, escape route. Go now.”

Gracie looked at the monitors still playing her mother’s confession, confessions. She looked at John. “I have to go. I have…”

She headed out of the room and down the hall, cell held to her ear. John followed a step behind, asking, “What? Where? Is this about Ty?”

“Victor, what’s this about?”

“No idea. Message is from Dusty.”

She stopped dead. Dusty? What was he up to? John pulled up beside her. “What are we doing?”

We? Stay or go? Stay or go? Could she trust Dusty? “He didn’t give you any hint what this is about?”

“No. Didn’t say a word but what I just told you. And I know you have some serious issues with him, but if I have a vote, I say go.”

“Thanks, Victor.” She hung up.

The sound of a leather gun belt alerted her. She turned as a fed and two cops appeared at the other end of the hall. She took off at a run.

Voices commanding her to stop echoed down the hall. She picked up her pace. A weight slammed into her, drove her to the ground. They went down in a heap.

John’s voice came tight in her ear. “Stop. It’s the police.”

No way. She couldn’t help Tyler from a jail cell.

Not the first time she’d been pinned, Gracie’s training took over. She elbowed John hard, rolled. A businessman whose main source of exercise was running, John was no match for her. She was up and freed in one and a half seconds.

Not fast enough. Another body slammed into her, drove her back. And another set of hands, grabbing at her. She dodged and swung, punched, kneed, and grappled.

The limited space in the hallway made it harder. She was surrounded quickly. She seized balls, sent Cop One to the floor, and threw a sharp elbow into Cop Two’s neck. He went down gasping. Then she was face-to-face with the fed and his gun, which was trained on her.

“You are under arrest,” the fed said. “We have a warrant to search the building and remove evidence, including your servers.”

She stood, breathing heavily, hands up. Her servers? “Evidence of what?”

“Evidence that you and your mother have been bribing numerous elected officials and businessmen and using the money to fund child sexual exploitation.”

She blinked at him. Someone had planted evidence, including those videos, on her computer servers. Her security had made hacking into her system without being detected impossible, so someone had decided to go old school, just come here and plant evidence in person. It was kind of crazy. And on any other day, she might’ve taken a chance, fought the good fight legally. But not this day. She needed to get out of here and find her son.

John had gotten up. He had a red just-getting-started bruise on his cheek. He looked around like his head was attached to a swivel. Back and forth. Back and forth. “I think she took my son. She lured him away, got him to give her money too.”

What the hell? A-hole.

Her eyes came up and found Dusty’s. Dusty was here, sneaking up behind the fed.

The moment froze in time. His gaze locked with hers. Her face grew so hot, so quickly her cheeks stung.

But his unflinching honey eyes tried to communicate with her, tried to send a message. If she’d had Momma and Leland’s ESP-like bond, she would’ve said those deadly serious eyes said, “Trust me.”

Toots. Not likely. She cursed the day she’d first seen those eyes, the pull they had on her. Those eyes lied. Just like the rest of him.

One of the officers, not the guy moaning on the floor with his hands covering his scrunched scrotum, took out cuffs and the fed intoned, “Grace Parish, you are hereby under arrest for bribery, extortion, human-trafficking, and arson.”

Chapter 59

By the time Dusty arrived, Mack had a gun on Gracie. He moved quickly and quietly behind them, tried to get her attention. For a moment her eyes lifted to his. He sent her the signal, what he hoped she understood—that this wasn’t happening. No way.

Her eyes were wide and her face red with anger when she looked away. Did she think he had something to do with this? Fuck.

Why was she so mad at him? The sound of handcuffs being taken out unlocked inaction. No. Fucking. Way.

He came up behind Mack, thrust his arms under Mack’s upraised ones, got hold of his gun, twisted it up, and lifted. Mack shot into the ceiling. Dusty tossed him at the cop who’d taken out the cuffs.

They crashed into the wall and fell over each other, landing on the floor in a heap.

The final cop—Dusty liked to think of him as crushed balls—stayed down. That left John. And wouldn’t you know, that fucker tried to grab Gracie. She chopped his outstretched arm down, spun away, and ran on. Atta girl. Dusty was a step behind her but took a moment to slam John into a wall and hiss “Fucking fuck” in his face.

A bit childish, sure, but it felt good, knowing the guy didn’t like cursing.

Dusty rounded the corner. Mack shouted at them to stop. No can do. Gracie raced through her apartment door and he followed.

The moment he sprinted through the door, she slammed it closed and ran quick fingers over the trackpad, securing it.

Steel pins slid into place a blink before Mack tried to turn the steel handle. He beat on the door. “There’s no way out. Open up.”

Pushing away from the door, Gracie turned to look at him. Her expression, one of distrust and confusion, hit him straight in the chest. It felt like someone had taken the business end of a pickax and slammed it into his breastbone. Hurt like a son of a bitch.

“You rescued me.”

Not yet. But he intended to. “Does that elevator still work?”

She looked toward it. “Yeah. It does. But it’s just for one person.”

He nodded. Fine by him. “Go to your Momma’s. Lawyer up. Call me when you’re safe. I’ll let you know what I know. Till then, I’ll sit here and negotiate with Mack. Keep him busy.”

She looked at the elevator again, then at him. “My son…someone, my sister Cee, has taken him.”

Her sister? What the hell? Dusty pulled a hand across his face. “We’ll find him, darlin’.”

Her spine stiffened with the endearment. “You’re a liar.”

Mack began pounding on the door. “You’re throwing away your life here, Dusty.”