“I assume you’re talking about the Equal Pay Initiative. The one that states a woman needs to show substantial proof that her work is equal in quality and effort to a man’s before filing a suit claiming wage discrimination based on gender.”
“You know that is what I mean. It’s another hoop and unnecessary. The federal Equal Pay Act established in the sixties, for all intents and purposes, already makes this qualification.”
“Then I don’t see what the issue is. We are merely firming up the law.”
“It is another roadblock to equality, one that requires a woman be grilled and subjected to gross humiliation, and you know it. Stop delaying. Kill the bill. Or I will tell the world about Gracie and end your bid for president before it even begins.”
She hung up.
Stunned, Porter tried twice before managing to set the phone down on the cradle.
Gracie?
Chapter 9
The two intersecting corridors on the upper level of Gracie’s Club When? were devoid of decoration. Or personality. Four foreboding steel doors, three of which led to work spaces, and the fourth, the only one in the second corridor, led to her apartment.
In the main corridor, the work doors led to a server room, her office, and the door she was currently behind, a tactical operations center for the underground railroad.
The underground railroad was a League cyber operation that worked exclusively in the United States. It helped locate abused women and girls, organized rescues, and placed those rescued in a new state, home, school, or job—depending on their needs.
It was here, in a state-of-the-art command center tight with computer equipment, Gracie sat creating databases to help identify creepers seeking children and vulnerable women via the dark web.
She rubbed at sore eyes. She’d been at this awhile, streamlining things so it worked not just for her, but for law enforcement. Needing a break, she pushed back from the desk, rolled her shoulders, then cringed when her cell rang. It vibrated across the shiny black surface of the desk.
She didn’t need to look at the caller ID to know who it was, but her eyes strayed there anyway. Yep. Momma.
She firmed her resolve. Having Tyler wave at her had unchained her need to be part of his life, a need so powerful she couldn’t wrestle it down and leash it again. As difficult as it would be to convince Momma a new deal could be worked out, John would be worse. If he thought she was still involved with the League, he would never let her into Ty’s life.
To reconnect with Tyler, she had to cut herself off from the League. And that decision, ignoring the needs of the world’s women, the League, her family, was easier if she didn’t have to face them.
She picked up. “Hello, Momma. If this is about dinner, I’m sorry, I have plans.”
“Are they unbreakable plans? I would consider it a sincere kindness if you came tonight.”
A “sincere kindness” was as good as a summons. Momma didn’t make demands like that without reason. “Why?” she asked.
“Your newest sister, Cee, asked specifically for you.”
“Cee is asking for me? I’m the person who said she shouldn’t be adopted into our family. I know she knows this, because I said it to her face.”
And Cee had a huge need for payback. Attested to by the fact that during her rescue from a sex-slaver, she’d shot and killed one of the bad guys. Sure, she said she’d done it to rescue Justice, but Gracie wasn’t convinced it had been absolutely necessary.
“Perhaps that’s why she asks for you. She trusts your bluntness.”
Hmmm. No. Cee didn’t strike her as the soft type, looking for connection. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Momma sighed. “Her interest in you is unusual, I’ll agree. But she sees how you live, outside the League and yet still within it. Less rules. Less attachment. She wants to know more of this. And you. Perhaps you can help train her. Your expertise in Muay Thai would be useful to her.”
Less attachment was harder than it looked. She’d thought Cee liked it in the mansion, liked her new siblings. “She’s a kid, Momma.” A confused kid. “She needs to be a kid for a while. And I’m not interested in training anyone.” She hadn’t been to the gym in…yikes, a while. “Or in dinner.”
Momma paused before her soft, “You have always been less active with the family, but this…is it something I’ve done?”
That stung. It hurt because yeah, it was.
Running a secret vigilante group that was always more important than Gracie’s life was something she’d done. Threatening John’s memory so Gracie was forced to send him and their son away was something she’d done. Not sharing Tony’s plan to take out the Brothers Grim separately, so Gracie never knew the extent to which he’d felt ignored, was something she’d done.
“I’m sorry, Momma…” The words, like the moisture in her mouth, dried up. She eyed the dish of watermelon Jolly Ranchers on her desk, unwrapped one, and popped it into her mouth. Mmmm. There was no stress watermelon-flavored corn syrup couldn’t help ease. Time to rip off the Band-Aid. “I just need a break from the life for a little while. All of it. The field stuff. And the family stuff too.”
“Are you saying that you won’t be part of the family? And will relinquish your role in the underground railroad?”
What? “No.” That work didn’t require her to go out on operations. She could do that at her desk. John couldn’t object to that. “I consider that work sacred. And I’m making some great progress with the pervert detection software I’ve started developing. I feel like it could one day be used by others, like law enforcement.”
She was good at that, hiding behind a keyboard, not showing her face, her emotional front page, revealing more than she wanted.
“I see. So you want the protection of the League to do your work, to keep your secrets, but will disavow our work and the responsibility to your family?”
Ouch. Her neck and cheeks warmed with heat. Disavow? No. That wasn’t… She did believe in the good work the League did. Not just the secret work of righting wrongs, but also the educational work of their world-famous boarding school, the groundbreaking research of Parish holdings, the charities and foundations they supported, and especially her big, crazy, loving, adopted family.
Crud. Momma always knew the exact buttons to press. “I’ll be there in a half hour.”
* * *
Following Momma’s summons, Gracie exited her club. Yikes, it was July out here. Like stepping into a sauna. And here she’d dressed up. Sort of. Hair down, magenta sequined shirt, and black skinny jeans.
Flipping her hair back from her neck, she locked up and set the code for the alarms via her cell. When her phone buzzed, she readjusted her purse strap, turned toward her car, and with the crunch of gravel loud under her shoes, read the text as she walked.
I know you’ve been spying on my son, stalking him. Remember our agreement? Stay away from Ty. I’m not putting up with you and your family’s craziness in our lives. Don’t come around again. This is your one warning.
My son? Hurt and anger landed a punch to her lungs. Gracie stopped by the side of the car; her hands shook as she stared at the dimming screen. Thirteen years. She’d been sharing her contact information with John, waiting thirteen years to hear from him, to get one word from him about Tyler, and he’d just used that information to send her a threatening text. She took deep, struggling breaths, debated replying.
And because she was trained, because it was quiet, because her intellect suddenly recognized a threat, her ears listened of their own accord. The whoosh of a single car passing, the bark of a distant dog, and the crack of a—
She dropped to the ground a moment before the round thunked against her car. Scurrying under the car’s chassis, she dropped her phone, took her gun from her purse, and flicked off the safety.
The flood of adrenaline muted everything b
ut the sound of her heartbeat. Her eyes sharpened, methodically scanning the parking lot. There was another shot and another. Stones popped up and hit her car, tinking into steel like heavy rain.
She scooted farther under the car, came out the other side, and crept toward the rear of her vehicle, gun pointed toward the wooded area that lined the back of the parking lot.
The glow from the light poles kept her from seeing anything among the trees. A moment passed. Two. Sprinting across the parking lot, she entered the woods, ducked behind a tree. She listened to the silence, then moved cautiously forward.
It was darker in the woods, but enough light from her club filtered through the dark trees so she could see the piled dirt and leaves, the berm that someone had created. Someone had lain in wait for her here. How long had they been here? How had they known she’d be coming out tonight?
This was no random act of violence. This person was trained, so said this setup and the fact that he—or she—had used a silencer.
She bent down and examined the area, picking up shell casings. Heard footsteps. Someone moved across the parking lot toward her. She spun, raised her weapon.
Chapter 10
The finger snap of a silenced gun brought the soldiers on Dusty’s neck to attention and sent his heart into double-time. He was already approaching Gracie’s Club When? but now he broke into a run.
Two blocks back, he’d realized something was up when his phone alerted him that the surveillance camera he’d set up in the club’s parking lot had quit working. He’d placed it to keep track of Gracie’s coming and going. It was well hidden, so either it had malfunctioned, or someone had used a jammer.
Another shot and another.