chapter
21

That night, Smith called Eddie. It was getting late, pushing eleven o'clock.

" 'Lo?" came the groggy greeting.

"We're having an early start tomorrow."

A groan came through the line. "What time we talking, Boss man?"

"Six."

Another groan. "You'd figure a looker like her'd be into the whole beauty sleep thing. We headed anywhere special?"

"She has a breakfast meeting just over the border in Connecticut."

"Okay, I'll be there with bells on. But they may be hanging off my pj's."

"Eddie?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Tell Tiny to give me a call when he checks in tomorrow."

"What for?"

Smith pushed a hand into his hair. It had grown in since he'd been working for Grace. He needed to get it cut again.

"I'm thinking about giving up this job."

"Why do you want to pull out?" When he didn't answer, Eddie said, "What's going on?"

Smith was reliving what it had been like to discover Grace was gone. Part of his horror over what had happened was his own failure. When he'd left the bathroom, he'd been distracted, dawdling with those rings, thinking about marriage, for Chrissakes. Because he hadn't been focused on the job, it had taken longer than it should have for him to figure out she'd left and that delay was bald evidence his objectivity was shot to shit.

The first rule in the security business was pretty damn straightforward: Always know where your client is. She'd risked her life by taking off without him, but he'd compounded the danger by flaking out. It was precisely what he'd feared would happen, a perfect storm of bad thinking on both their parts.

"Boss? You still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here." Smith sat on the edge of the bed.

"Doesn't she need you anymore?"

He deflected the question. "Turned out she was being tailed by her half-sister."

"She's got a half-sister?"

"She does now. I'm running a check on the woman but so far, she is who she says she is."

"But why are you leaving? Did they find the killer?"

"No."

"Boss, do you want to tell me what's really going on?" When he didn't reply, Eddie said, "You worried about being involved with her?"

Smith opened his mouth but the lie sputtered and died on his tongue. "Is it that goddamn obvious?"

"No, I've just known you too long. Hey, not that you're asking, but that's a good woman, there. And she's got the eye for you. Like you're wearing her home address on your chest, you know what I mean?"

"You're getting real poetic as you age," Smith said, growing uncomfortable with the conversation.

"It's the writing course."

"Look, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Hey, Boss?"

"Yeah, Eddie."

"It's about time you settled down."

"Men like me don't settle down. You know that."

"Don't you ever think about it?"

Not until recently, Smith said to himself.

"You know," Eddie barreled along, "Black Watch can keep going without you. Tiny, he's as on top of the boys as a hammer on nail heads."

"Now you're into metaphors?"

"That was a simile, Boss."

After he hung up, Smith began pacing around the room, realizing that somehow, in the midst of all his discipline and self-control, he'd lost his way.

For years, he'd had one and only one goal. He wanted to make a lot of money doing what came naturally to him without getting himself killed. It was a simple and straightforward kind of life, assuming you knew how to handle yourself with a gun, which he did. But, after years of succeeding admirably, he was confused and conflicted. Black Watch and all it stood for felt arbitrary.

Holding Grace in his arms did not.

He tried to remember when he'd last taken stock of what he wanted or needed as a man and thought about something she'd thrown at him when they'd been arguing once. She'd told him he was a ghost. That she wouldn't miss him because he'd never really been in her life.

She was right, he thought, on a practical level and maybe in some deeper, more troubling way. What had he really given her except pleasure? And some heart ache? She didn't even know his real name, for God's sake.

Come to think of it, he hadn't used his real name in years.

A ghost.

It dawned on him that maybe he'd disappeared awhile ago and it was only now he was noticing. Perhaps he'd just been hiding behind the drive to succeed in his peculiar, violent, and dangerous line of work. After all, what could possibly be more distracting, if you didn't want to think about yourself, than protecting other human lives?

He wondered when the dissolving had started. Way back when he'd escaped his father's brutality? During his stint with the Rangers? Or was it during those shape-shifting years right after he'd left the military, when he'd relied on aliases and subterfuge so his enemies couldn't find him?

More likely, it was an accumulation of all the shadows he'd masked himself with.

How fucking ironic, he thought. The culmination of his life's work was to make himself disappear.

He thought back to what Eddie had said about settling down, starting over. The idea would have struck him as ludicrous coming from anyone else, except maybe Tiny. But if he unplugged from Black Watch, then what? What would he do with his hours, his days? Would he and Grace ever be able to have a life together? As he contemplated the expanse of time ahead of him, he felt the choices he had as a deadweight on his chest.

Nice frigging simile, he thought.

While he was cursing Eddie and his candor, Grace appeared in his doorway. She was wearing one of those nightgowns that hung from her delicate shoulders like a cloud of mist, the kind he could almost, but not quite, see through. His eyes traced the outline of her hips and waist and traveled up to her breasts.

"What is it?" he asked roughly.

"We're all set for tomorrow?”

"Yeah."

Silence stretched between them and Smith could feel the air change as their eyes met. Time began to melt. Slow down. Halt altogether.

He went over to her, thinking there was nothing he wouldn't do to protect her.

Even if that meant leaving.

He reached out to touch her, his fingers brushing across her collarbone and continuing downward over silk and lace. He came to a stop at the low point of the gown's bodice, right over her heart. He felt it pounding.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her body against his and put his lips down to hers. She let out a long sigh which he swallowed, better than air, into his lungs.

He lifted her from the ground and carried her to his bed. Pausing before lying down with her, he drank in the sight of her head thrown to one side, her back arched, her hair spilling over the fine fabric of the pillowcase. It was how he had wanted to see her, those many days and weeks ago when she'd first showed him her home. It would be how he would remember her always.

An unforgettable lady.

Wrenching off his shirt, he felt her hands come hungrily to his skin and he shuddered as she explored his chest and stomach. His need to be in her was so great, he felt his own hands shake as he slid the nightgown from her body and tore off the rest of his clothes. He pleasured her over and over again with his mouth before he entered her in a powerful thrust that carried them to another world.

After he came back to reality, he rolled over, taking her with him so that Grace was sprawled over his body.

"I will never be free of you," he whispered against the sweat-covered skin of her neck.

"Promise?" she asked huskily.

He nodded, feeling cursed.

Because he knew he had to leave.

Rolling over again, he tucked her into his side.

As she fell asleep, he thought it wasn't right to torture them both by delaying the inevitable. The sooner the transition was made, the better; he would ask Tiny to come right away.

And as for their long-term future, after the danger to her was gone, he didn't think it was fair of him to bring it back into her life. She deserved a normal existence, with normal trials and tribulations. She didn't need to be exposed to the kind of baggage he dragged around with him. The last thing she should have to deal with would be some madman showing up with a gun in her bedroom, ready to shoot her lover in the head.

When he was sure she was sleeping, he slipped out of bed, picked up his phone, and went into the living room. He wasn't going to wait for Tiny to call.

His oldest friend was the best man he had at Black Watch, almost as good as Smith himself. Actually better, in this case, because the guy would be coming at the situation with a clear head as well as a strong body.

If he could trust Grace with anyone, it would be Tiny.

As soon as the man's voice came through, Smith said, "What are you doing right now?”

Tiny laughed. "I'm up to my balls in spiders, to tell you the truth. God, I hate these tropical details. There's always something crawling into your clothes, only it's rarely of the feminine persuasion."

"I need you to take over a project."

"When?"

"Now," Smith said gruffly.

"Sorry, what?"

"Now."

Tiny let out a little hiss. "Jesus, you're bailing on the countess. What the hell'd that woman do to you?"

Smith let that one fall by the wayside. "When can you be here?"

"Ah—I'll see what I can do. Does this mean you'll be free to cover Senator Pryne on his trip to the Middle East? Flat Top was going to do it, but he'd be better down here."

"If you can get to New York, I'll go."

"Good deal. I'll call you tomorrow with my ETA."

Smith clipped the phone shut.

He stared ahead without really seeing anything. It was a while before he realized he was staring at the piano.

He walked over to it. Anytime he'd run across one, he'd made a point of playing if he could. They'd been few and far between while he was in the Army, but once he was out, he'd played in hotel lounges, in private homes, the occasional bar.

He raised his hands and looked at them. They had been trained to do many things, few of which were uplifting.

The playing had come naturally, though.

 

* * *

 

Grace came awake the moment she heard the music. It was soft and low, powerful yet quiet.

She picked her nightgown off the floor, slipped it over her head, and went out to the hall. She paused before going into the living room, entranced by the sounds but afraid if John knew she was listening he might stop playing. Leaning against the wall, turning her head to the sound, she closed her eyes. He was good. Better than good.

As he played, she allowed herself a few tantalizing fantasies. Of him staying in her life. Living with her. Giving her children.

When the music died away, she stepped out into the room. He was sitting on the bench, head down, long fingers still on the keys. He was wearing only boxers and the contrast between his bare skin and the glossy piano was appealing.

"How long have you been listening?" he asked without looking up.

"Sometime."

He turned his head. In the dim light, his eyes glowed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I'm glad you did. You play beautifully." As he got to his feet and closed the guard, she asked, "Did you train somewhere?"

"I just make it up as I go along." He faced her, putting his hands on his hips. His expression was grave.

When she'd gone to him earlier, ostensibly to say good night, she'd been surprised and relieved when he'd kissed her, because he'd been so distant during the day. As he'd made love to her, it had been tempting to believe all was forgiven, but afterward she'd had her doubts.

The poignancy with which he'd held her while she fell asleep had been curiously troubling. It had been almost as if he were saying good-bye.

"We've got to talk," he said.

Grace's stomach rolled. "About what?"

"I called one of my boys tonight. I want to put him on this job."

Grace took a deep breath, relaxing some. "I don't care how many members of Black Watch back you up. Especially if it means I can go ahead with the Gala."

"That's not what I have in mind."

Instinctively, she put her arms around herself. "Then what are you saying?"

"I'm leaving."

Grace heard the words but instantly rejected them. "What do you mean? You can't leave. I—we—they haven't found whoever killed—" \

"Tiny's a good man. I'd trust him with my life. And yours."

"I don't want Tiny. I want you."

"I've taken another assignment."

Her mouth fell open and then she laughed bitterly. "Quitting on me?"

"Changing jobs."

"It's the same line of work, though. Right?"

"Different," he paused, "client."

He'd told her only after it was done, she thought. Only after he'd taken care of everything and there was no way to argue.

She turned from him as tears welled in her eyes. She refused to let them fall, blinking furiously.

"Grace," he said roughly. "I have to go."

She wheeled back toward him. "No, you don't."

"I can't trust myself with you any longer. I'm not the righ man for this job."

"Don't you think I should decide that? I'm the one who's paying you."

"You aren't qualified to judge my skills."

She shot him a glare. "Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

"You're no more objective than I am at this point."

Impatiently, she pushed her hair over her shoulder. "And when did you decide all this?"

"Tonight.”

"You—you make love to me and then you tell me you're leaving?" she exclaimed. "What? Worried you wouldn't have a chance to get laid before your next assignment?"

He frowned, his brows drawing tight over his eyes. "You know it's never been like that between us."

"Oh, really? Then maybe you'd like to tell me what happens after you leave? Will I ever see you again?"

His silence was the answer.

"Oh, God," she said.

"I don't want it to be this way."

"So make it different," she snapped.

When he stared at her in stony silence, she shook her head. "I can't believe you're prepared to just walk away."

His response was quiet. "I'm sorry, Grace. I really am."

She thrust her chin up and brushed by him, going over to her desk and taking out a checkbook.

"I think you should just leave now." She began hastily scribbling with a gold pen. She ripped the check free and held it out to him. "Go on. Take it. Let's just end this now."

"Not until Tiny's here."

"You said you wanted to leave, so pack your things and get the hell out. I have no interest in being passed off to one of your boys."

Tension crackled in the air as the check hung between them. He slowly came forward and took it out of her hand only to put it down on the desk.

"I'm not going anywhere until Tiny shows up."

"I don't think you understand," she said, pointing at the front door. "You and Black Watch are fired. Get out."

His voice was flat when he spoke, belying in its softness his awesome will. "I'm not leaving until I know you're safe."

Rage, borne out of hurt and frustration, had her blinking tears away. "This is incredibly cruel of you. To say that you're going and then force me to—"

"You have no idea what it was like when you disappeared."

She threw her arms up.

"I'm sorry. I said I was sorry." She bunched her hands into fists. "And I came back."

He cut her off. "I have seen death up close before, Grace. Imagining yours was the closest I've come to crying in thirty years."

She shut her mouth, stunned.

"I don't know what I would do" he said with stark emphasis, "if anything ever happened to you. The depth of my fear tells me I have to leave you in someone else's protection. And that I can't see you again."

Impulsively, she reached for his hands. "No, you're wrong. If you care that much for me, you shouldn't go."

"Grace, don't delude yourself. Those three women who were killed weren't careful enough. You need to be ruthless about your safety, as ruthless as that man who's cutting up your friends. You don't want me to be watching you and you don't want me hanging around in your life. Trust me on this."

"So let Tiny or whoever come. That doesn't mean you have to leave. We can figure out the future, together."

He shook his head. "A clean break is the only way."

She dropped his hands and turned away, sensing there'd be no negotiating with him. He was leaving and there was nothing she could do about it. In a rush, a numb feeling washed over her, taking away some of the pain.

"I don't want Tiny," she said.“I don't want him."

Because he will only remind me of you, she thought.

"Grace, don't let your anger at me impair your judgment about letting someone take care of you. You know it's not safe for you to be alone right now."

She thought about her three friends.

As much as she was mad at John, she wasn't going to be stupid about her own life. No man, even him, was worth getting killed over.

Although, Christ, with the pain in her chest at the moment, she felt half-dead already.

Grace squared her shoulders. "When will Tiny be here?"

"Twenty-four hours if all goes well."

"And what about the Gala? You realize it's this weekend. I still have every intention of going."

"If he can get a few men to cover him, and you allow Marks and his squad in the building that whole day and through the event, the risks could be mitigated. The killer does seem to like getting them at home. But it's Tiny's call. Myself, I wouldn't take the chance."

The hell it was Tiny's choice, she thought.

She was willing to concede that John was right. She still needed a bodyguard. But not one from Black Watch. She had twenty-four hours to find another firm.

And one day until she never saw John again.

She lifted her chin.

"I want to make something clear," she said. "I think you're making a terrible mistake by walking out on me and I have to question whether you really feel as deeply about me as you say you do. It strikes me that if you were truly concerned for my well-being, you would move heaven and earth to be by my side."

"Grace, I—"

"Stop lecturing me. And while you're at it, stop being so convinced you have all the answers and listen. I think you love me, John, and for a man who's lived his life alone, that's probably scaring the hell out of you. I can't help wishing you'd find the strength to stay but I'm done with begging. If you leave me now, know this. I'm not going to wait for you. I'm going on with my life. And I may never be able to open my heart to you again."

She shook her head sadly as she turned away from him.