Betting on Grace (22 page)

Friday afternoon

“Morgan, answer the damn phone. Seriously. I need to
talk to you. Call me back as soon as you get this. And I mean
call
me.
Don’t text. I wanna talk to you.”

Grant stabbed the
end
button on his phone,
dropping it onto the kitchen counter before thrusting his hands through his
hair.

Goddamn motherfucking shit.

What the fuck was going on?

He’d received a text from Morgan just that morning. His
sister was inquiring as to whether he’d seen or heard from their mother. Of
course, Grant hadn’t been able to answer the phone because he had been out with
two of the wranglers, checking the fence line in one of the back pastures after
word had come in that part of it was down. By the time he’d made it back to the
barn, two hours had passed since Morgan’s text had come in. He’d tried to call
her then, to no avail.

To add to his current state of panic, Grant had called
his parents’ house, his mother’s cell phone, and his father’s cell phone repeatedly.
No one had answered any of those, either, and he hadn’t bothered to leave a
message, not quite sure what to say. Grant hadn’t heard a peep from the old man
since yesterday morning when he’d confronted Darrell in Jerry’s office.

God, had that just been yesterday?

Nor had he had a chance to talk to Jerry about the
incident, either. Of course, he had tried to do so, but … well … interrupting
Jerry when he was … uh … doing what he’d been doing probably wouldn’t have been
the best idea.

Which was why Grant was pacing his living room floor,
unsure what to do.

Grant was tempted to call Gracie. Or Lane. Or both of
them, but at this point, he really didn’t know what he was going to say.
I’m
pretty sure my mom’s missing; I need your help in finding her.
But was she
really missing? Was something wrong, or had she just escaped his father’s wrath
and was now living the high life with some boy toy?

Gross.

He really couldn’t see his mother doing something like
that, but what did he know? How his parents had managed to stay together all
this time, he really had no idea. From the outside looking in, the two of them
didn’t even like each other.

And now his father was gambling again.

Grant remembered how hard that had been on his mother
when he was growing up. Morgan had left home already, but Grant had been just
starting high school when things had gotten really out of hand. At one point,
Sandy had been convinced they were going to lose their house.

Grant admired his mother’s strength, for the most
part. Although the delivery left something to be desired, Sandy Kingsley did
have the ability to stand up to Darrell. They’d never had much money, and he
knew that Sandy could’ve easily used the inheritance she’d received from her
mother to take a vacation or splurge on herself or whatever. But she hadn’t.
She’d taken that money and paid off the trailer so that they wouldn’t end up
homeless.

All the while, Darrell had continued to spiral out of
control. His gambling had gotten to the point that they had little to no money
to eat on, and Grant’s mother was resorting to getting food from the local food
pantry. Of course, Darrell thought that was a brilliant plan because he then
had the best of both worlds. He could eat
and
he could burn money
betting on horses.

Grant stopped pacing and stared at his phone.

Yeah, he had to find his mother. She deserved that
much from him.

Snagging his phone from the counter, Grant pulled up
his text messages and shot Gracie a note, letting her know he had to leave town
for a little while. After hitting send on that one, he pulled up Lane’s name
and typed in seven short words before hitting send.

With that done, it was time to pack.

■□■□■□■□

I need you to come over. Now.

That was the text Lane had received just a few minutes
ago from Grant, and the instant he’d seen it, he had dropped what he was doing.

Deep in conversation about bow hunting versus rifle
hunting when his phone had buzzed on his hip, Lane had jerked the thing from
his belt, read the message, and excused himself with the explanation that he
had something important to handle.

He would’ve dropped everything even if he was busy —
which he wasn’t — specifically after getting what he considered the equivalent
of a 911 text. In this case, sitting on the porch of the main house talking to
a couple of the guests about the activities had been easy to get out of.

Now, less than ten minutes later, Lane was walking up
to Grant’s front door, a million things running through his head as to why
Grant would’ve summoned him to his house in the middle of the afternoon with
absolutely no elaboration whatsoever.

Rapping his knuckles on the wood door, Lane listened
for Grant to tell him it was open, as was his customary greeting.

Nothing came. Not a peep from inside the cabin.

Rather than continue to swelter out in the oppressive
heat, Lane tried the knob, finding the door unlocked. As he walked through the
door, he was hit with a blast of cold air, along with a heart-stopping scene.
He made his way inside just as Grant was coming out of his bedroom, a gym bag
in his hand. It took a moment for Lane’s eyes to adjust, but, yep, that was
certainly a bag Grant was holding, and the hair on the back of Lane’s neck
stood on end.

“What the hell is goin’ on?” Lane asked, trying not to
make any immediate assumptions and, more important, trying to keep his voice
void of the worry that was now coursing through him.

“My mom’s missin’,” Grant said quickly, darting across
the room toward the counter beside Lane.

Screeech!

That was the sound of Lane’s brain coming to an abrupt
stop.
Did Grant just say…?
Holy shit.

With his eyes glued to Grant’s every movement, Lane
stood by as Grant retrieved his cell phone and his truck keys while hefting the
bag up onto his shoulder, looking as frantic as Lane had ever seen him.

“Slow down a minute, would ya?” Lane said, reaching
out and gently placing his hand on Grant’s arm. “What do you mean, your mom’s
missing
?”

“There’s only one way to interpret that one, Lane.”

Yeah, okay, so the frustration levels were topping the
charts.

Lane sighed, desperately trying to process what was
going on. They’d gone from Grant’s father asking Grant for money, then storming
the ranch, to Grant’s mother missing. He wasn’t quite following. Figuring it
was best to lay out the facts as he knew them, Lane said, “Your mom’s
missin’
.
Does that mean she left your father for good?”

“The only thing I know is that she’s
gone
,”
Grant said frantically, turning to face Lane directly.

Oh, shit.

Grant was on the verge of a severe breakdown, Lane
could sense it. Rather than let the man he loved go through this alone, Lane
decided it was time to take the reins. Grant’s mother was missing. Regardless
of where she might be, that didn’t sound good.

“Let’s talk this out,” he told Grant. “But first, have
you let Gracie know you’re leavin’?”

Lane still wasn’t sure where Grant was going, but…

The words had barely left Lane’s mouth when Grant’s
front door flew open, nearly hitting Lane as it swung back on its hinges. He’d
had the good sense to jump out of the way just in time or he’d probably be
sporting a new color on his face.

“Where the hell are you goin’?” Gracie demanded, her
eyes wide as she stared up at Grant, her hands planted firmly on her hips. It
only took a second for Gracie to realize Lane was standing there too, but as
soon as their eyes met, her expression softened a little.

“Well, at least that answers
my
question,” Lane
said softly. Gracie certainly knew. And from her wild-eyed stare, she must’ve
received a curt text similar to the one Lane had.

“What’s goin’ on?” Gracie asked, a little less hostile
than moments before.

Her question seemed to be directed at him, but Lane
had no idea what to tell her.

“I’ve got to leave for a while,” Grant offered by way
of explanation.

A shitty explanation, in Lane’s opinion.

“So you said in your text. What’s ‘a while,' Grant?
And where are you goin’?” Gracie asked, closing the front door a little harder
than was probably necessary and stepping farther into the room.

Poor door. It was getting the hell beaten out of it
today.

When Gracie crossed her arms over her chest, Lane had
to admire her. Not just because she looked sexy as hell when she got that
dominant gleam in her eyes but for the fact that she wasn’t going to let Grant
just walk out without some form of explanation, either.

Not that Lane thought any clarification would be
forthcoming. Grant didn’t look like he was in the mood to talk.

“My mother’s missin’,” Grant blurted out for the
second time since Lane had arrived. “I’ve got to try to find her.”

“Where are you gonna start lookin’?” Lane asked,
hoping they could get around to the beginning. At this point, the only fact he
had was that Grant couldn’t locate his mother by phone, but as for his reason
for believing she was missing, rather than, oh, say, in Vegas living it up for
the weekend or something, Lane still had no clue.

“I was gonna start at my parents’ house.”

“We were there yesterday,” Lane told him. “If they
aren’t answerin’ the phone, what makes you think they’re home now?”

Grant glared at Lane as though that thought might’ve
occurred to him.

“Okay, say you go to your parents’ again. Where’ll you
go if they aren’t there?” Gracie asked, sounding just as befuddled as Lane
felt.

“I don’t have a fuckin’ clue,” Grant barked, dropping
the bag onto the floor and staring back and forth between them both.

Yep, Grant was about to lose it.

Rather than pelt him with more questions, Lane did
what felt right. He took two steps forward and pulled Grant into his arms,
holding him tightly. To Lane’s utter surprise, Grant wrapped his arms around
him, buried his head in his neck, and squeezed tightly, his body shaking. Lane
didn’t think Grant was crying, but from the force of his shudders, he wasn’t
sure that wasn’t going to be the next phase of this breakdown.

“I don’t know where to look,” Grant said, the words
muffled against Lane’s neck.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lane saw Gracie move up
beside them. Looking down at her, he noticed the tears brimming her eyes. He
knew how she felt. In all the time that he’d known Grant, never had he seen him
like this.

This was a man who was always strong, always in
charge. Nothing ever seemed to faze him and not in the
blow-it-off-and-laugh-about-it
way that Lane had perfected over the years.

No, Grant was the type of person who processed all of
the information he received until he had a plan in place. That clearly wasn’t
the case right now, and Lane figured that was solely because this was Grant’s
mother they were talking about.

“We’re gonna help you,” Lane assured Grant. “But
first, we need a plan. And in order to get there, we need to know what we’re
dealin’ with.”

Grant nodded, his face still pressed against Lane’s
neck, his warm breath tickling Lane’s skin. Lane was reluctant to let him go,
but when Grant drew back, he released him, letting his hand slide down Grant’s
arm slowly.

“Have you talked to your dad since yesterday?” Gracie
asked, perched on the arm of the sofa as she stared back at them. Thankfully,
it appeared she’d gotten herself under control. If Lane had to guess, she
probably didn’t want Grant to know she was on the verge of tears.

“Not since your father talked to him,” Grant replied,
sounding somewhat more pulled together than just a moment ago. “I didn’t get a
chance to follow up with Jerry to see what they talked about, but I haven’t
heard from my dad at all since then. I’ve tried callin’ numerous times.”

“So you think your mom’s been gone since last
weekend?” Gracie asked.

“My dad never clarified when she left, just that she
was gone. The way he said it, I assumed it was recently, but he also didn’t
seem worried. My sister texted me this mornin’ lookin’ for her, but I haven’t
been able to actually talk to her, either.”

“Maybe your mom’s on her way to see Morgan,” Gracie
said. “Didn’t you say your sister moved to Kansas last year?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think your mom would’ve gone to visit her?
Your sister has kids, right?” Gracie inquired.

“Yes, two. And no, I doubt my mother would’ve gone to
Kansas. Not by herself. Morgan texted me, askin’ me if
I’d
heard from Mom,
so I think it’s safe to say she’s not there.”

“They aren’t close?” Lane asked.

“No one in my family is close,” Grant ground out.