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Ophelia was about a ten minute drive from the gulleyside of town. His boot to the pedal, Rick flew down the narrow streets, taking each turn as they came without losing any speed. His old truck protested as he pushed it to go faster. He muttered apologies under his breath, hoping it held out.
It did and, less than five minutes later, he was flying down Orchard Avenue.
Rick saw the crowd gathered on Ophelia’s porch. He recognized Natalie by her long blonde hair, and the tall brunette crouched over the porch swing had to be Maria De Angelis. A second later, he caught sight of the baseball bat in her grasp and knew he was right.
But where’s Grace?
He narrowed his gaze on the porch swing, squinting to get a better look. He saw a dark shape huddled beneath Maria’s outstretched arm. The closer he got, the easier it was to pick up a few details. A pair of black leggings, a matching leotard; those were the clothes she wore while she trained. The twist of her mahogany hair in a bun on the top of her head. She might have her head in her hands, but he knew that style.
His boot slid from the gas to the brake. In his rush, he slammed down on it with more force than he needed to. His truck let out a squeal as his brakes locked. The tail of the truck slid to the left, the rest of the cab rocking back and forth as he felt like the world’s biggest pinball.
Throwing open his door, he rasped out her name as he hopped down from the cab. Rick left the door open, the engine running.
By the time he raced up the walkway, Grace was shakily getting to her feet. Maria tried to help her while Natalie backed off, giving the two women space. Rick saw Grace pat Maria on the arm before her eyes locked on him. She let out a muffled cry that had him jumping from the first step straight to the porch. The instant he landed, she launched herself at him.
He was sweaty and probably didn’t smell the greatest. Grace obviously didn’t care. She threw her arms around him, burying her nose in between his pecs.
She wasn’t sick. Screw what Sly told him over the comm. She wasn’t sick. She was scared.
And his protective instincts kicked up to an eleven.
Wrapping his arms around her, holding her close, he murmured into her hair, “It’s okay, Tiger. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
She didn’t respond. At least, not with words. He felt her clutch at his back, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades.
Rick wasn’t wrong to race across town to get to Grace. Something had happened, but what?
Maria hovered behind her, her fingers at her throat. Biting down on her bottom lip, she stroked the silver cross that hung from a simple silver chain. Her pale blue eyes widened slightly as she met Rick’s stare over Grace’s bowed head.
He silently pleaded with Maria to give him something. Anything.
A tiny jerk. A shoo-ing gesture toward Grace.
He nodded. Even if Maria could tell him what made his strong-willed ballerina fall apart like this, she wouldn’t. It was time Grace came clean herself. It wasn’t just about a what-if situation anymore, or even a mystery villain who once made her life hell. She made him promise that her past was her past, that they would only have a future if she could leave her old life behind her.
The Grace Delaney he knew was strong-willed. Brave. Feisty. He always got a kick out of calling her Tiger because the tigress it brought out in her always seemed to excite him. The only time he ever got a glimpse of how vulnerable she could be was whenever he tried to get her to explain exactly why she wanted to defend herself.
Grace was so determined to leave her past behind her. Usually, Rick was more than happy to let her. He had nightmares he couldn’t forget, and so many skeletons in his closet, there wasn’t any room for more. But as he held her—as Grace shook like a leaf in his arms—Rick had the sudden suspicion that her past had caught up to her at last.
“It’s gonna be alright,” he swore.
And it would be. It didn’t matter what happened before he arrived on the scene. Holding her close, Rick made a decision. He was done focusing on the defense, teaching Grace self-protection techniques in case she needed them.
He had no doubt in his mind that she could take care of herself. Sure, she was a tiny thing compared to him, but she had more strength in her slender frame than he did in his whole body. So what if he was able to bench his weight? He didn’t have the memory—and the threat—of some clingy fucker hanging over his head every minute of every day. If Rick had his way, neither would she.
It was time to go on the offense at last.
He wouldn’t tell her that. Not yet. She might have given him her body, her attention, and all of her time, but Rick knew better than to assume he’d earned her whole heart or her complete trust in the months since they met. As much as it pissed him off, he accepted that there was a lot Grace was holding back.
Like a name, for one. And a reason why she was convinced the crazy bastard would want to follow her into Hamlet if only he had the chance.
Rick didn’t push the issue before because he knew, if he delved too deeply into Grace’s troubles, he wouldn’t be able to stop until he took care of the guy. As a deputy, that meant one thing. As a former Marine, it meant something totally different. And, even after two years out, Rick had no idea which part of him would win.
And that scared him more than he’d ever be able to admit.
Grace clung to him. But Rick? When he bowed his body over her, tucking her under his chin, he did it because he needed the comfort she provided him almost as much as he wanted her to feel safe in his arms.
He didn’t know how long he held her. Minutes passed in near-silence. He could hear her ragged breathing as she got herself under control. The murmur of his idling truck. The squeak of the porch swing as the winter wind pushed past it.
