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There’s no use in bothering Faulk again. Not this soon.
He’ll call when he’s got something worth my attention. He’s a bloodhound when it comes to these cases, unearthing every bone.
Honestly, I think he’s happy to go hunting, too. He’s been bored ever since some trouble made him leave the Feds and go private.
I just wish I had his ice-cold patience.
Standing up, I rub my forehead. All the disappointments from earlier come racing back.
Grace was almost fucking kidnapped.
I don’t even know what made me look down that alley when I did. I’d been planning to pull up and wait for her at the main entrance after grabbing our groceries.
First I noticed the SUV.
Too new, too shiny, and too damn familiar after the run-in at the Purple Bobcat.
I’d stared in disbelief, hoping it belonged to someone else, gobsmacked at the notion a guy named Jackknife could get four shredded tires swapped out in roughly twenty-four hours. In one of the biggest winter storms of the year, no less.
I’d underestimated how prepared they were for trouble, and that almost cost me dearly.
At first, I’d thought those two idiots were there to clear snow when they came stomping out of their vehicle. Then I caught sight of the fur on the hood of her white coat.
Thinking she’d fallen, gotten hurt, I’d backed up and shot into the alley.
That’s when I realized what was going down.
Those wolves were the reason she was ass-planted in the snow while they tried to rip her arm off.
I’m grateful Cinderella decided to turn herself into a human pumpkin.
They couldn’t pick her up in time, couldn’t get a good hold on her because she’d damn near buried herself in the snow, up against the wall.
They scattered like a couple flippant crows as soon as they heard me coming.
My hands ball into fists as the anger hits in a hot, needling rush.
Fuck. Them.
I’d wanted to get my hands around their throats real bad. Bury them alive in that discolored, muddy snow.
Remembering how she was shivering in the truck makes me sick.
I’d cranked the heat up as high as it could go on the way home, even though I knew full well it wasn’t just her wet jeans leaving her chilled to the bone.
She’d been scared for her life.
Shell-shocked.
Her face was as bone-white as her coat when she’d climbed out of the truck at the house, trembling so hard she’d barely been able to stand. She asked me to stay with her until she could calm down enough to face her old man without piling more worries on his brittle shoulders.
Of course I did.
I gathered her up in my arms, pushed my chin to her forehead, and held the fuck on.
It’s in a man’s makeup to protect a woman who’s been savaged.
I don’t just mean bodily harm, but a little soul-mending, too.
Everything I never got the chance to do with Mom.
With Grace? I’ll flip her demon-run world upside down if it means holding her heart together when it’s trying so hard to shatter.
I’ll hold her, just like I did this morning, chasing her pain away with my embrace and wordless, soft breaths that’ll have to do for medicine.
Because I’d be a reckless fool to kiss her for real.
“What the hell is going on?” I mutter to myself, downright flustered. “What could those freaks possibly want from an old man selling pumpkins that’d be worth this trouble?”
“Money, perhaps. Don’t they say it’s the root of all evil?”
I whip around in my chair, forgetting I’d left my office open.
Tobin stands there in the doorway, a human statue bathed in shadows with soft winter light reflecting off his glasses.
“How many times have I said I’m gonna put a bell on you one of these days?” I growl, wondering how long he’s been there.
“Please order from Dublin, should you decide to go ahead. There’s this lovely little abbey there that makes these handsome brass bells. They’re lightweight, elegant, and won’t detract from my work,” he says, taking several steps into my office and pausing.
“When were you in Dublin? 1980? I haven’t seen you take a real vacation for at least a decade.”
He raises a brow. “You, sir, would be surprised.”
“What do you want, anyway?” I grunt. “Are Grace and Nelson around?”
“Haven’t seen hide nor hair of them since you returned, escorting Miss Sellers to the guest cabin. I believe that’s how you wanted it.”
Damn this android of a man. He’s too perceptive for his own good sometimes.
“Yeah, well, since you were eavesdropping—”
“Tending to your well-being,” he says matter-of-factly, adjusting his spectacles. “Exactly what you pay me to do.”
“Whatever. You probably know I reached out to Faulk for more on the Sellers, right?”
He stares quietly, admitting to nothing.
“C’mon, there’s no need to play dumb! Tobin, I need you on board with this. Everybody on the same page, if we’re going to help them.” I reach up, pushing a hand through my hair, waiting for him to crack and show me some goddamn sign he’s a human being under there.
