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Grant shook his head. “But I will. Or you’re welcome at my house.”
She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and pushed back the guilt she felt every time Carlisle and his people showed her kindness. “I’m fine.”
He searched her face through narrowed eye. “I think I’d feel better if—” His phone buzzed on his hip. “Shit.” He glared at the text on the screen, before he tapped out a reply and slid it back into its clip.
She studied him. “Everything okay?”
He grimaced. “Is it ever? Looks like I’m not headed home after all.”
He sighed, and she pitied him. Like Finn, he’d never have a steady schedule or guaranteed moments with his family, not if he continued to work for Raymond Carlisle.
“I’ll stay though, if you need me,” he assured her.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m a big girl. I can spend the night alone.”
Grant nodded and made his way to the door.
“I do appreciate it though.”
He stepped out into the night. Before he could walk away, she reached out and snagged his sleeve. He turned, waiting.
“What is it Jay does for Carlisle? He said you’ve seen him work.”
Grant nodded slowly and slipped his hands into his pockets. “He’s a problem solver.”
“And?” That didn’t tell her anything.
“If Carlisle has a problem,” Grant elaborated, “Jay makes it go away.” He met her gaze as his meaning took hold. “He’s a good man to have in your corner.”
“Because he can make my problems go away?”
He shook his head. “No, because he’s a good man.”
Tears sprung to her eyes at his words. She’d tried to tell Finn the same thing for years. Had anyone else? Would he believe them if they did? She met Grant’s gaze, nodding at the understanding passing between them. Maybe Finn wasn’t the only good man in a bad world.
~ ~ ~
Gretchen had to force her tired legs down the hall to her bedroom. She’d hoped a shower would help clear her mind of her confusion over her relationship with Finn and her growing hatred of Ronnie. Unfortunately, exhaustion still had her mind numb and foggy. Undercover work was always tricky, the constant acting paired with the stress of remembering each lie she told took its toll. This time, she had the added complication of being in love, something she’d never done personally or professionally. Her feelings for Finn affected every aspect of her life, and she needed to focus on her case and her safety.
She’d like to think whomever had been outside her window the night before had been a random peeper, but she wasn’t naïve. It hadn’t been a mistake and they’d likely return. She stepped into her bedroom. Her skin prickled, the tiny hairs along her arm and neck standing at attention. She wasn’t alone. Before she could react, two hands shoved her from behind and she tumbled face-first onto her bed. She cried out as she fell and put her arms out to brace her body, so she could quickly push herself up.
“Uh-uh.” A man’s voice chided.
He fisted her wet hair and wrenched her head back. Her spine arched, and she pushed to her knees to relieve the pain.
Another man stepped up to the bed, his face too close to hers. He smelled of cigarettes and stale beer. She tried to turn her head away, but the hand in her hair tightened, holding her in place.
“You sure this is Lilah?” he asked. “I thought she had black hair?”
“Fake,” the man behind her replied. “All those girls with their fake hair, fake eyes.” He reached around and squeezed her breast hard through her T-shirt. “Those aren’t fake though, are they?”
She swung her elbow back, catching him in the jaw. He stumbled and yanked her hair until the pain in her scalp made her cry out again.
“Shut up.” Cigarette breath slapped her hard across the face.
Pain splintered through her face and into her head. She pulled her head back around and spit blood on his shoe. The man rewarded her with another open palm to the cheek.
“Hey,” the man at her back growled. “Don’t fuck her mouth up before I can use it.”
