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Go to the clubhouse for sanctuary? How could I ever face that man after what happened?
Chapter 13
Grinch
I knew Kincaid was going to allow her to help. He thinks it will help her heal. I don’t know that he’s considered the damage that can be done if that college girl isn’t found safe. If those two sick fucks who used her as bait kill her, then Grace will never forgive herself.
I expected her to be smug when I walked back into the room. If anything, she looks even more upset, and I have no idea how to comfort her. She all but told me to leave earlier, but I just can’t seem to walk away from her even though the mere sight of her causes me pain.
I’ve never forgotten her. Hell, the memories haven’t even faded. Just sitting here, nearly ten feet away, I can close my eyes and remember exactly what her sun-kissed skin smelled like, and it seems the addiction I had to it long ago hasn’t waned with time.
We sit in silence, her with her eyes closed even though I can tell she isn’t sleeping. She doesn’t want to talk, and I can appreciate that, but I’m itching with a million questions. Feeling this way makes my muscles ache to get up and leave, but I know I’d be right back in this room within minutes, so I don’t waste the energy.
I hate that I want to know what she’s been up to all these years, hate that I need to know if she’s happy. She hasn’t mentioned a boyfriend, and there isn’t a tan line from an engagement or wedding ring on her left hand, but the absence of one doesn’t mean anything. The dossier Max compiled didn’t mention a significant other, but she could easily have someone her aunt doesn’t know about.
We were mostly a secret, after all. Some of my enlisted friends knew about her, because there was no way of hiding the blissful state I was in after we met. She’s good at keeping secrets, more specifically showcasing emotions she really doesn’t feel. I was certain of her answer before proposing. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.
I scrub another hand over my face, trying not to groan in frustration on the off chance I’m wrong about her sleeping.
“Your nervousness is making me nervous,” she says, the throaty rasp of her voice making me open my eyes to look in her direction. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
I question whether to give her the information that has been trickling in through text messages, but Kincaid said he’d let her help. I may not agree with his call, but he’s the boss.
“The girl that was taken from the college campus has been identified as Alyssa Dansby. She’s twenty-three and was only recently reported as missing after not returning to her college sorority house after a late night studying session at the library. Technically, she’s not even considered a missing person because she hasn’t been gone long enough. Our IT guy was able to get this information because her name was typed into the nine-one-one call made by a sorority sister.”
“So no one’s looking for her?” she surmises.
“Cerberus is looking for her,” I assure her. “We don’t have the same restrictions as the local police.”
“Do you know when I’ll be released?”
“When Alyssa is found, Cerberus will provide any and all resources that she needs to make the best recovery possible,” I say without answering her question.
I don’t want to tell her she’s going to be discharged soon because her injuries are ones that will heal on their own, and the hospital bed is needed for more critical patients, because I don’t want her making plans to try and assist in the search. I know what’s going to be asked of her and it’s nothing like what she has in her head. I’m sure of it.
She’s going to want to get dressed and go put feet to the pavement. Even Kincaid wouldn’t let that happen.
“I know what you’re doing,” she mutters, looking away from me in irritation. “Mentioning the things that will help Alyssa is your backward way of telling me that those same things are available for me.”
“Because they are.”
“My scrapes and bruises will heal.”
“If you were sexually assaulted—”
“I wasn’t,” she says, her head snapping in my direction. “If I had been, I would’ve let the doctors perform the exam, Trenton. I’m not lying about that. I wouldn’t.”
“Many women do,” I say. “The trauma of—”
“Enough,” she snaps. “I’m not some broken flower, and even if I were, I would do whatever it took to make sure those people never hurt anyone again. I’m not a selfish person.”
You didn’t have any problem cutting me off at the knees.
“Okay,” I say instead. Living in the past and holding on to those grudges won’t get either of us anywhere.
