Her Own Best Enemy (The Remnants, Book 1) (32 page)

He stalked to her and curled his hands around her shoulder. “What is that supposed to mean?”

For a moment they stayed locked like that, immobile. At an impasse. But then her chin quivered. She jutted it in the air with a shake of her sleep-tousled hair and forced her way past him into the living room.

“I can’t do this,” she said, the slap of her bare feet on the carpet punctuating that damning final statement.

His hands clenched.
Build the wall higher, Grace.
Sooner or later no one would even attempt to scale it.

Not even him.

He ran after her. “Grace, wait—”

She rounded on him. “No. Last night was...wonderful, Keith. But we both know that’s all we’ll ever have. I have to find a way to move forward, to forget about the past.”

“Oh, that’s real mature of you, Grace. All that moving forward, forgetting the past shit. Coming from someone who refuses to forgive me for something that happened years ago is laughable.” Only he couldn’t find a damn thing to laugh about at the moment. He pointed an accusing finger at her. “And just for the record, I knew you were going to get all stiff and self-righteous on me. You’re good at that.”

She crossed her arms over the sheet, which had slid low enough to reveal one taunting nipple. “And you’re good at not taking responsibility for your actions.”

He threw his hands wide. “Who’s not taking responsibility, Grace?” He deliberately appraised her body. “We had sex. I admit it. Hell, I’d even do it again. If that makes me a bastard in your eyes...well, it’s not anything I haven’t been before.”

She tipped her head, a frown creased between her brows. “You’re not a bastard.”

You’re not a bastard.
Hell, those words meant so much. But they weren’t enough.

He closed his eyes in an effort to avoid watching her deliver the final blow.
I could never love you, Keith. I could never want you.

“Then...what, Gracie?” he whispered. “Why are you running?”

No answer. Nothing. But he knew she stood in front of him. He could smell her, feel her, feel the need to touch her churning his gut.

He opened his eyes and met her shining emerald ones.

“I can’t...this won’t...” She swallowed. “If my sister knew what we...” Her breath shuddered through her body.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted them. Grace paled, spun on her heel and fled to her room, slamming the door.

“Grace, wait—”

The knock grew more insistent. Tension and frustration hummed throughout Keith’s body. He stomped to the door and flung it open.

Cam stood on the other side, his smile far too damn chipper as he pushed his way into the room. Keith glowered and resisted the urge to plant his fist in Cam’s face.

“What do you want?”

“Well, buddy, I’m here for your debriefing. Although—” Cam lifted a mocking brow, “it appears I’m too late.”

Keith glanced down his body. “Aw, shit.” He stalked past the couches to his own room and closed the door in Cam’s face. Wasn’t as satisfying as wiping the smile off it, but it would do.

“Where’s Grace?” Cam’s muffled voice was filled with intense curiosity.

“Hiding,” Keith bit out. He grabbed his boxers off the floor and shoved his legs into them.

“Scared her off with your nakedness, huh?”

“Cam?”

“Yeah, Keith?” The laughter in Cam’s voice was palpable through the thick door.

“Shut up.”

Chapter Nineteen

She couldn’t face Keith.

Not after she’d run from him like...like some sort of coward.

Grace twisted the thick gold and burgundy comforter in her hand, strangling the bed instead of making it.

What other choice did she have? If she’d have let him see...no, she couldn’t betray her sister that way. Loving Keith was the equivalent of plunging a knife into Becca’s back. Waking up in Keith’s embrace and enjoying it only twisted the blade deeper.

Becca would never forgive her. Never understand.

And what about Ryker? Grace punched the pillow and glanced at her son immersed in the carefree throes of a Spongebob cartoon. He was already far too attached to Keith.

Better to cry rivers of pain now than oceans of regret later.

Ryker didn’t need that kind of heartache. Neither did Becca.

Get over him. He’s leaving today. It’s better this way.

At the sharp rap on the door, Grace’s heart lodged in her throat. She wasn’t ready. Her gaze snapped to the mirror that hung above the dark cherry wood desk. How could she manage to hide her feelings from Keith? Blatant love shone in the deep set of her eyes, spilled from the large tears that coursed down her cheeks.

“Grace.”

Keith’s low voice rumbled straight through her heart.

She dashed the wetness from her cheeks with her palms. “Coming.”

She dragged the door open until a sliver of Keith’s face was visible between the opening. “Yes?” The single word barely slipped through the thickness in her throat.

“They’re ready for you.”

She nodded, and with a shaky breath opened the door further. When she would’ve brushed past Keith, he detained her with a light touch on her shoulder, a gentle touch that she felt run straight through her heart. She lifted her chin and met his intense stare with one of her own.

“I’d like to have a few minutes to say goodbye to Ryker. If that’s all right with you.”

Her lips parted. Why did he have to be so damn considerate? It only made her resolve to stay away from him, for Becca’s sake, harder.

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “Thanks, Grace.”

She could only nod, for the golf ball in her throat had grown to grapefruit proportions, as she watched him disappear into her bedroom.

“You really need to tell her, man.”

Keith released a pent up breath and stared at Grace. She stood with her back to him and Cam, studying the view of Camelback Mountain from the huge picture window. She’d pulled her hair back into a tiny ponytail and left the sexy curve of her neck bare.

He’d kissed her in that very spot last night. Touched the silk of her skin and breathed in her unique smell that never failed to set him on fire. Why couldn’t she see they were good together?

He angled his body so he wouldn’t have to look at her. “I don’t want to worry her,” he said, carefully keeping his voice low.

“Aren’t you worried?” Cam’s hushed tone matched his.

“Hell, yeah, I’m worried. We need to find out what’s on that paper, and more importantly, why someone would give it to Ryker.”

“Could Victor have had a partner?”

“Possible. But Victor struck me as a one man band.”

Cam rubbed his brow and frowned at the water-stained paper in his hand. “I’ll run this through my analysis program and see if I can get a workable imprint from the ink. It might take a few days.”

A few days. What if they didn’t have that long?

“All right, keep me in the loop.”

Cam nodded and tucked the paper in his briefcase on the table. “So, what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to hire round the clock security for her until we figure this out.”

Cam tucked his tongue in his cheek. “Your dime?”

“Yeah. Whatever it takes.”

“In that case, I might know some people who will go a little easier on your finances.”

He couldn’t care less about the cost. Grace and Ryker were what mattered. He clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, buddy.” Cam gestured to the two MPs that stood guard by the Suite’s front door. “Curly and Moe are chomping at the bit to get you to Fort Huachuca for your lynching. Look at them. They look like they want to drag you out of here by your balls.”

Keith huffed out a laugh. Curly was tall and burly with a handlebar mustache that curled upwards against his cheeks. Moe was the exact opposite, short and bald with a permanent scowl etched on his face.

“They do look a little wild-eyed.”

Cam grinned. “Let me see if I can get rid of ‘em for a few minutes.” He jerked his head in Grace’s direction. “Talk to her.”

Talk to her.

Keith ran his hands along the creases in his pants. What more could he say?
I can’t love you if you won’t forgive me?

Grace turned from the window as he approached. The lines around her mouth were tight with strain and he knew the several hours of debriefing had taken its toll on her.

His XO asked an endless round of questions to first Keith, then Grace and Ryker, and then all three of them together. Grace’s vocal support of him throughout her testimony had surprised him, to say the least. How could she defend him and still insist she could never forgive him?

“Hey, thanks for what you said during the debriefing.” He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from touching her arm. “It’ll go a long way to vindicating me at the JAG hearing.”

She matched his stance by shoving her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, and shrugged. “I just told the truth. I’m glad it helped.”

He nodded. The three feet of space between them felt more like three miles of bad, awkward road. “So, I hear you’re getting a military transport back home?”

The corners of her mouth lifted for a moment. “Yeah. Ryker’s pretty excited about rubbing elbows with more soldiers. You guys have made quite the impression on him.”

He grinned. “I think it’s the other way around.”

Ryker had charmed Keith the moment he’d interrogated him about Grace’s whereabouts.

The kid had spunk, and heart. Just like his mother.

“We’re leaving as soon as Ryker wakes up from his nap,” Grace said. “He’s lost so much sleep. I suspect it will take a while for him to catch up.”

“You’re probably right. Look, Grace, there’s something I need to tell you.” He proceeded to outline what he knew about the mysterious man who’d visited Ryker. “I didn’t want to worry you, but you deserved to know.”

Her mouth thinned, her skin paled. He hated that he’d wiped the softness from her face.

“What are you saying?” She sucked in a breath. “I thought this was over and we could get on with our lives. Could someone really come after Ryker over this...this scrap of paper?”

“I will not let that happen.” He wanted to draw her into a hug, but she crossed her arms in front of her, warding him off. “Cam’s going to set up security with some people who will protect the both of you.”

“Wait. How is that going to work? I can’t live with people shadowing my every move. I want my life back. I want Ryker to be able to act like a regular eight-year-old again.”

Keith shook his head. “You’ll never know they’re there. Their job is to stay in the background and make sure you’re safe.”

She huffed. “I don’t want to sit around waiting for danger to come my way, Keith. Isn’t there anything I can do to help?”

Her take-charge attitude was one of the things he’d grown to admire in her. But not this time. Not without him around to protect her.

He sliced a hand across the air. “No. Absolutely not. Your job is to take care of Ryker. That’s it. Got that?”

From behind him, Cam cleared his throat. “Keith, I can’t hold the stooges off any longer.”

Keith glanced at Curly and Moe. Sure enough they’d stepped forward. Moe drew a pair of handcuffs off his belt.

“I’m ready.” This time he didn’t squelch the urge to touch Grace. He took her hands in his. “Promise me you’ll do as I asked.”

She turned her head and clenched her eyes shut. “Yeah. Okay.”

He squeezed her hands. “Call me anytime, day or night.”

“Really?”

She opened her eyes and he searched her face hoping for a sign that she wanted him in her life.

But if there was one, he couldn’t detect it.

“Yes, really.”

“Okay. You can too. Call me, that is. If you...” She sighed, shook her head. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t know what I would’ve done if—”

“I don’t want your thanks, Grace.”

She could thank him for the rest of his life, and it still wouldn’t be enough. No, he didn’t want her thanks. He wanted her. Her love. Her trust.

Her stricken eyes skittered across his face before she bent her head. “I know. But it’s all I have to give.”

“Keep it.” Somehow he managed to squeeze the words through the thickness that had gathered in his throat.

He turned away and one of the MPs grabbed his shoulder.

“What are you doin’, Curly?” Cam shoved at the MP as the man pulled Keith’s hands behind his back and slapped a pair of cuffs on his wrists.

Metal dug into his wrists, punishing his skin, but it was nothing compared to the steel band of loss that imprisoned his heart.

“Come on boys, is that really necessary?” Cam pushed his way between Keith and the MP. “He turned himself in.”