Finding Grace (7 page)

Everything would have been fine if Thorne had just
stayed away. But the kid was obviously broke, so in spite of how
cagey he’d been with Paul yesterday, Dagger knew it was too great a
wish that he wouldn’t take him up on the job offer. He’d wished
anyway. Hard.

After everything he’d done in the name of duty, all
of that blood on his hands, all of those ghosts he had to listen to
in his dreams whispering “Judas,” was a little goddamn peace of
mind in his waking life too much to ask?

He was jarred from his reverie when yet another
asshole cut in too close and almost scratched his baby. He had to
break hard and the big car swerved. He swore loudly.

Thorne jerked his little head, pulled out the
earbuds and said, “Look, Jack, I’m no happier about this than you
are. But I wasn’t going to diss Paul in front of the team.”

He suddenly realized he’d been swearing—sometimes
under his breath, sometimes not—pretty much since pulling out of
Blackridge’s parking lot. Was he going to have to pay the price for
even that small comfort with a conversation he didn’t want? Maybe,
but that didn’t mean it had to be a long one.

“You mean, any more than you already did?” He
narrowed his eyes and threw the kid one of his patented
shut-the-fuck-up looks.

“Oh yeah? What about you? You went into his office
and tried to pump him about me and he didn’t give you squat. That
pissed you off so you got on my shit in front of those jerks. If
you think Paul was happy about that, then why do you think you’re
driving Miss Daisy?”

He snorted in spite of himself. Damn little smartass
was sharp. So why the fuck didn’t he have the sense to be
intimidated like everyone else? He had more reason than most.

Dagger reached down across the seat and popped the
glove box to pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. It was a
nasty vice, but he figured one a day wouldn’t shorten his life any
more than anything else he did. Besides, it came in handy
sometimes, like the other night at the ball.

“Please don’t light that.” Thorne’s voice was
softer, rougher, almost pleading.

“Why shouldn’t I? You allergic or something?”

“No, Jack. I just can’t bear the smell.”

Dagger was just too irritated to care. Paul had
asked him to give Thorne a ride home and he was. Didn’t mean Thorne
had to enjoy it. And he was pretty damn unhappy with both of them
right now.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Thorne.”

“I never asked for this ride. I’m not a fucking
beggar.”

“You sure as hell look like one.”

Thorne turned away from him.

Fine. He’d wanted to end the conversation, hadn’t
he?

Dagger lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. God,
that felt good. It had been a stressful day and the main reason for
that was sitting next to him. He took another drag and blew it in
Thorne’s direction. But instead of the coughing he expected, Thorne
was panting and desperately pushing buttons on the door panel.

“God damn it, you asshole. Doesn’t the window open
in this cannibal?”

“Cannibal? What?”

“Dinosaur guzzling fossil fuels. You probably can’t
see the irony through the fucking smoke.”

“Window motor’s broken. I don’t get a lot of
passengers. What’s the matter? You look a little green.” Dagger
took another drag and exhaled it loudly.

“Doesn’t your window open either?”

“It’s fucking winter, Thorne, and I’m
tender
,
remember?”

“Stop the car, Jack. Stop the fucking car. Now.”

“Can’t, we’re in the middle of traffic here.”

Thorne really was turning green, but it was tough
crossing two lanes of traffic at this time of day to get to the
curb.

And by the time he did, it was too late. Thorne had
already puked all over the original leather seat of his 1977
Cadillac Eldorado. What the hell had the kid had for lunch,
anyway?

“Goddamn it, Thorne!”

But he’d screamed at an empty passenger seat. Thorne
was on the sidewalk, puking again. In the gutter.

By the time Dagger had found a place to park and
walked over, Thorne made a pitiful sight sitting on the sidewalk in
the slush, hugging his knees. People were staring. Dagger felt like
a Grade A prick, even if he was all kinds of bummed out about his
car.

“Why didn’t you tell me it made you sick?”

“Fuck you, Jack. I asked you not to light it.”
Thorne was taking deep breaths through that straight little nose,
but it didn’t look like the kid was getting enough air.

“Just get back in the car and we’ll forget all about
it.”

“Leave me alone, God damn it.”

A small crowd was gathering. Dagger was garnering
more dirty looks than he was used to getting, and that was saying
something.

“Come on, let me give you a ride home. You can sit
in the back, Miss Daisy.” He tried to make his voice sound coaxing,
but it wasn’t a skill he owned.

“No fucking way am I getting back in that car with
you. Just go.”

“Paul will have my ass if I just leave you here.
Come on, Thorne, will ya?”

“Fuck you.”

So much for diplomacy. He grabbed Thorne’s arm and
lifted him to his feet. Light as a bird, but solid as a rock.
Dagger tried to ignore the twinge of disappointment that Thorne
really was a guy after all.

He shouldn’t be surprised; he hadn’t gotten anything
he’d wished or hoped for as long as he could remember. Certainly
not recently, and absolutely not in regard to Thorne.

“Don’t worry, I’d never rat
you
out,
Jack.”

Why did the little shit have to say things like
that?

Dagger didn’t mean to grab the open collar of his
jacket so hard. He really had just intended to steady him. But
that’s not how it came off.

An old woman with an umbrella appeared prepared for
violence. “What is wrong with you? You’re four times his size! You
leave that poor boy alone, you…you thug!” She was brandishing the
thing like she meant business.

Christ Almighty, this would be hilarious if he’d
been watching and it was somebody else standing here getting
drenched in sleet with the wind whipping around, arguing with a
purple Orphan Annie in drag and shades, while puke was soaking into
the fine old leather of his pride and joy.

“It’s okay ma’am,” Thorne croaked. “He was just
leaving.”

“Fine, but I’m following you.”

And drive slowly behind Thorn’s jogging figure, he
did. With his window open. And the sleet blowing in. Because the
smell made him gag.

“Well,” Dagger grumbled, eyeing the puke-covered
cigarettes and trying to breathe through his mouth, “I was gonna
quit anyway.”

* * * *

After a half hour under the hot shower, Thorne had
stopped shaking. But she could still feel where Jack’s hand had
wrapped around her arm. Could still feel his strength and
gentleness. And it weakened her resolve. Hell, it weakened her
knees.

And that just made everything worse. As if it could
get worse.

I can’t go back there. They’re a bunch of redneck
assholes—really big redneck assholes—and they hate me. Why can’t I
just shut up? I never used to be this much of a smartass. Yeah,
well, I never used to have to cover myself from chin to toes,
either. That dumb sweaty Mills had it partly right. I do
overcompensate—just not for my size. Keep ’em laughing, keep ’em
guessing. And never let them know how scared, how scarred, you
are.

The problem was, she wasn’t so sure what she was
scared of any more. She’d made herself strong and fast enough to
take care of basic physical threats. In spite of what she’d told
Paul, she wasn’t all that worried about the major finding her,
either; he had to have found someone else to torment by now. There
were the nightmares, of course, and they’d be bad tonight, if she
even tried sleep. But she was going on three days now with next to
none; she had to try. She’d never leave them behind, either, if she
didn’t move forward when she had the opportunity.

This is my chance. If I don’t go back to
Blackridge tomorrow, I may as well have died in that dungeon. Buck
up, Buttercup, or give up. Get some rest, hit the studio for an
early morning workout, easy on the ribs—thank you for that,
assifer
Griggs—and then just waltz into Blackridge like you own
it.

Sure, no problem. Well, there was still one problem.
A very large, very…

She didn’t know how she felt about seeing Jack
again. He’d really fucked her up. Of course, there was no way he
could understand how his lighting that cigarette had affected her.
She never wanted him to, either. Not ever. And he had been sorry,
even if he hadn’t actually said so.

She’d just avoid him, that’s what she’d do. She
needed to do that anyway. She didn’t dare allow herself to
feel.

Then there was the problem she’d discovered with one
of the clients. If she didn’t go back and figure it out, something
bad was going to happen.

* * * *

Paul felt the slight vibrations of music through the
floor joists of the renovated warehouse as he hit the top stair. It
was good that she’d come back, better that she was early. After the
way she’d kept getting into it with the team yesterday, he hadn’t
been sure she would. It had bothered him enough that he’d actually
brought it up to Katherine last night over supper.

He hadn’t given her any details of course, or even
told her Thorne was a woman. For one, he’d given Thorne his word.
On top of that, he couldn’t allow himself to think about what had
happened to her when he was in the same room with his wife. Not if
he wanted to sleep. He’d learned that the first night after Luke
had sent those files. He’d do anything to protect Katherine from
even a whisper of it.

As far as she knew, Thorne was a just a very gifted
new employee with an unconventional appearance and difficult
personality. Her advice had been to give it some time and trust
Jack like he always did. Jack would find his way and the rest of
the men would follow, she’d said. He was a little surprised by her
advice because he knew Dagger made her nervous. Dagger had that
effect on everyone except him, and—apparently, for no reason Paul
could fathom—Thorne.

Well, he hoped Dagger found his way, and soon, in
spite of the roadblocks Paul wasn’t able to remove for him.

The sound of slow bumps coming up the back stairs
broke into his thoughts. He found Thorne moving a table by herself,
pulling it up the stairs one step at a time.

“Where’s Dagger? He’s supposed to be helping you.”
Damn it. He’d really hoped Katherine was right.

“Hell if I know, but I don’t need him anyway. I’ve
got it under control. This is the last one.”

“Here, let me help you.” Paul walked down the stairs
past her and the table, picking it up from the bottom. “You’re, ah,
used to taking care of things on your own, aren’t you, Thorne?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It could be. We operate as a team here.”

“This team stuff is new to me, Paul. I’ve always
been on my own, more or less. Even before. The academic community
is pretty competitive, you know. Besides, your team doesn’t want
me.”

“Look, I know things didn’t get off to a great start
yesterday. I warned you it wouldn’t be easy. If you’d at least let
me tell Dagger
something
, he could—”

“No. You gave me your word, Paul. Besides, if he was
interested in smoothing things over, he’d be helping me here like
you asked him to, right?”

Was that disappointment he’d heard in her voice?

“Oh, who cares?” She shrugged, table and all. “I
don’t need them to do my job. But if I do things right, they’ll see
just how much they need me.”

He wasn’t so sure. “That might be part of the
problem. They feel that they’ve been effective without you and I
have to say, our track record is good.”

Damn good. But he could hardly tell her that she was
here because he wanted to help her and not the other way around. He
knew her pride would never tolerate that.

“The first guy to dig a trench for a latrine
probably thought he was pretty cool, too, but that doesn’t mean
indoor plumbing isn’t a significant advancement.”

Oh yeah, she had plenty of pride.

“Is there a deeper meaning to this analogy,
Thorne?”

“If you smell one, Buzz.” She grinned before turning
serious. “That brings me to something I found yesterday when I was
researching your clients. What can you tell me about FedCo that’s
not in the file?”

“FedCo? I know the owner. What’s the problem?” He
frowned. It was bad enough she was making trouble with the team.
Now she wanted to make trouble with their clients? He’d only given
her the client list to keep her busy.

“Did you know about the silent partner who put up
fifty-one percent of the start-up capital?”

“No, he never mentioned it. I wish he had, but it
doesn’t really concern me.”

“Not even if Mr. Silent is a pro?”

“What do you mean?”

They turned the corner into Thorne’s office.

“Somebody who knows what they’re doing set up his
numbers. It’d take a very good forensic accountant months to
untangle the web and identify him, and that’s a maybe. Blackridge
has a couple of guys babysitting a FedCo engineer on that
construction project in Afghanistan: Hawks and Markham, according
to the file. This should do it.” Thorne nodded her head to the
corner and they put the table down. “What if the engineer is a
phony sent in by Mr. Silent?”

Even if she was right about a shady partner…“That’s,
ah, quite a stretch, Thorne. Do you have any kind of proof?”

“Just the bad feeling and what I told you. I’ve got
to get better situated before I can research any further than I
have. I wouldn’t want to alert anyone to my efforts even if they
couldn’t trace it back to Blackridge. That’s no part of the world
to make anyone jumpy.”