Shattered Grace (Fallen from Grace) (12 page)

Love,

Your grandfather,

Christophe Morgan

As she looked out the windshield through tear-blurred vision, a sense of tranquility settled upon Grace. Her grandfather had loved and cared for her. Hell, he’d loved and cared for all of his family, regardless of whether they appreciated his affection or returned it.

That was just the wonderful kind of man her grandfather was.

It seemed petty to wallow in her anger after reading his words. She wanted nothing more than to know he looked down upon her and was proud of her. She shouldn’t care what he chose to do with his money. It was his.

And she certainly wouldn’t allow herself to act like the rest of her godforsaken family. Grace sucked in a large gulp of air, and silently made a promise to her grandfather. From that moment on, she would not care about what the others received from him, who received what, or whether or not she felt they deserved it. More important things needed to be done.

She grabbed her cell phone from her purse, and dialed Quentin’s number.

“
Hello.” His warm voice reached out to her, spreading warmth along with comfort through her body.

“
Hi, Quentin. Can you meet me at the bank sometime today?”

He paused briefly before replying, “Of course. What time were you thinking?”

Hoping she wouldn’t sound too pushy, she waited a few extra seconds before answering. “I was actually hoping you weren’t too busy now.”

“
How soon can you be there?”

“
I’m not sure where the bank is, but if it’s in Woods Cross, I can be there in about twenty minutes,” she said, relieved that he could go.

“
Do you know where First Light Credit Union is off of Broadway in downtown?”

“
Yeah, I know where it is. I can be there in twenty minutes for sure. Does that work for you, or do you need more time?”

“
Nope,” Quentin said. “I’ll meet you out front in twenty.”

Once more, she was thankful for Quentin’s help and his willingness to be available whenever she needed him. “Thank you, Quentin.”

“
You are very welcome, Grace. I’ll see you soon.”

Tossing her cell phone in the ashtray, she put the Shelby in reverse and backed out of the parking spot, heading for whatever was waiting for her at the bank.

Ten minutes pacing in front of the bank and Quentin felt like he’d been given a personal tour through the nine circles of hell. The sun was blazing. Heat rippling from the building structures and reflecting off the windows didn’t help matters. However, the heat didn’t compare to the burn of his band or the angst coursing through his veins.

Instinct told him Grace was a little ways out, but he couldn’t bring himself to do any more patrolling around the neighborhood. His feet were heavy, like they were encased in concrete. He couldn’t move. Even though surrounding trees and awnings could provide reprieve from the scorching sun, he stayed where he was…in the middle of the scorching heat from Hades.

It’s a good thing he didn’t sweat much, because he should be looking more than a little parched. Quentin definitely didn’t want her to see him sweat literally or
about his guardianship over her. She needed to trust and believe in him and his ability to protect her. In twenty-four hours’ time, his fear would turn bittersweet. He feared failing her, but at the same time looked forward to the role he was destined to play in her life.

The pulsing heat from his seneschal band took his mind off the surrounding temperature, forcing him to focus on his other senses. His hand wrapped around the intricacy of the band’s markings, trying to lessen the throbbing warmth.

She was close.

His gaze swept up and down the street just as the Shelby came around the corner and parked up the road from the bank. Everything seemed to click into slow motion as soon as her door opened. Quentin noticed the strappy white sandals first and the long, slender legs above them second. He knew he should feel guilty for gawking, but deliberately declined the feeling. When she completely emerged from the car, he was blinded by her beauty. It wasn’t just the yellow summer dress she wore perfectly, or the sweep of her lustrous mahogany hair down her back. It was everything that made up Grace. Her beauty shone so brightly that everything else faded into the background; he could see nothing but her as she walked across the street toward him.

Never had he understood more clearly why so many of his brethren had fallen. If any of the Chosen before her were a fraction as beautiful, they too must have been stunning creatures.

She smiled at him as she approached. “Hi.”

“
You’re beautiful,” he blurted, loving that she didn’t need to look very far up to see his eyes.

She gazed nervously down at her feet and laughed uncomfortably, making him wish he had kept his Tourette’s tendency to himself. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, and he sure as hell didn’t want or need to confuse things between them.

“
Thank you,” she finally said, as she lifted her jade-colored eyes again. The blush of her embarrassment only added to her appeal.

“
I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just…you look very pretty today.” Lame, he knew, but he hoped that the explanation would cover up his blunder.

“
Don’t be sorry. It’s nice to hear sometimes.”

Quentin tore his gaze away from hers, pretending to inspect the door of the bank since he desperately needed a moment to gather his wits. What was he, thirteen? Get a grip, Q, he berated himself silently.

He swung his gaze back to hers and touched her arm. “You ready?” he asked.

“
I think so.” He stood immobile as she pivoted toward the door, noticing the backpack he had failed to see before. “Are you coming?” she asked over her shoulder.

“
No, I’ll wait here. No one can go into the secure area with you, anyway.”

Grace hesitated for a second. “Uh, okay. I’ll see you in a few minutes then?”

“
Definitely,” he promised. He’d wait all day if he had to.

Grace was instantly greeted by the sweet kiss of cool air. Maybe she’d been too quick in telling Quentin she’d see him in a few minutes. Surely she could come up with more reasons to stay in the bank? She loved nothing she owned more than the Shelby, but the car didn’t have air-conditioning. When exceptionally hot days like these came around, she knew that any primping done before getting into the car would be nearly undone before she reached her destination. She definitely didn’t “glow” in heat like this; she wilted.

Days like today made her wish she had a different car. There was nothing worse than driving in triple-digit heat with no air-conditioning. Scratch that. Driving in a car with no A/C in triple-digit heat swirling around you in the confines of a car with open windows was the worst.

A new car was definitely within her financial reach now. Or
,
she could just put air-conditioning in the Shelby. She shook her head, knowing she’d never alter the car from the way she received it from her grandfather, then swiveled around in place trying to figure out where she needed to go.

An information desk stood not far inside the bank doors to the right. A woman sat behind a boomerang-shaped desk, waiting to be of assistance.

“
May I help you,” the woman asked with a pleasant smile.

The woman entered the information she gave into the computer and then picked up the phone. “Hi, Mr. Maryott. There’s a Grace Morgan here for a safe deposit box access.” As the woman listened to Mr. Maryott’s reply, butterflies wreaked havoc on Grace’s stomach. She didn’t think it possible her day could get any crappier, but a sudden rush to the bathroom due to nervous-induced IBS would definitely make it go from worse to unbearable.

Adamant about going through with this, she tried like mad to mentally go to her happy place, and willed her stomach to stop churning. Finally, the woman got off the phone. “Mr. Maryott will be right out to see you, Miss Morgan.”

“
Thank you,” was all she could say or do. She’d have to wait. On the toes of her sandals, she rotated to find a chair, but was shocked by a large man in a suit standing directly behind her. A whispered shriek escaped her lips as she jumped back.

“
I’m terribly sorry, Miss Morgan. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you alright?” the man said.

Shaking herself, she straightened. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“
I’m Jerry Maryott, manager of First Light Credit Union. If you’ll follow me, I can take you to your safe deposit box.”

And just like that, she was walking along behind him. No hassle. No explanation. No proof. They walked past a long row of tellers and down a high-ceilinged hallway, which ended in another hallway stretching both left and right. “We’ll take a left at the end of the hall. Your room will be the second door on the right.”

“
My room?” she asked.

“
Your safe deposit box is in a special vault of the bank,” he explained as he unlocked the door.

The room was octagon-shaped and the walls were covered with panels of what looked like copper; a table and chair sat in the center. There were no windows and no other doors. Seven sides of the room had a safe in the center of each wall, while the eighth held the door they came through. Each safe had a latch, two keyholes, and a number.

“
Did you bring your key, Miss Morgan?”

Reaching in the backpack, she pulled out the key her grandfather had left her, and held it up for him. “This is the key I was told would open the safe deposit box.”

“
My key goes into the left side, yours goes in the right. We both turn our keys to the left. Questions?”

“
No, it seems pretty straightforward.” Mr. Maryott walked to safe number three as her gaze followed. Suddenly, she was struck with a question. “Wait,” she all but shouted at Mr. Maryott, jerking him to a stop. “Do we have to do it at the same time?”

“
No, Miss Morgan. We just have to make sure that I go first and then you.” He peered back at her expectantly, smiling. “Any more questions?”

“
No. I’m good.”

This was it.

Completely out of guesses at what could possibly be in the box, or why her grandfather left it there instead of at the house, her anxiousness kicked up a notch. Her stomach started to twist in nervous, nail-biting knots again. Grace watched Mr. Maryott put his key in the keyhole and turn it left. There was the softest click. “Okay, Miss Morgan, now it’s your turn.” He turned to her with his hand out in invitation to go next.