The American Soldier Collection 3: Amazing Grace (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (5 page)

She covered her face with her hands and attempted to hold back the tears that were forming in her eyes.

She turned her back toward them.

Instantly, her brother Frank was at her side, putting his arms around his sister and directing questions at the detective.

“What the hell, man, you just tell my sister a friend of hers was murdered and that Grace’s picture was there and before she can recover from the news, you’re asking her other questions. Give her a minute, will you!”

Frank raised his voice then softly spoke to Grace.

Sandman’s friend, Detective Jim Warner, was caught off guard at her brother’s anger. He probably should have waited a moment before asking other questions but it seemed that patience and empathy were not his strong points when Jim was after a serial killer. They were all on edge and uncertain where this investigation was headed. Sandman figured he’d better try to calm the situation down a bit.

“I’m sorry, Miss Thompson. It’s just that we are trying to find a killer and—”

“Miss Thompson, we’re sorry for your loss and for bringing up bad memories about your sister,” Investigator Sandman Sandstone interrupted. “We were hoping you might be able to answer a few questions for us. You see there have been some other murders that we feel are connected. What we need to do is go over some of the other cases. Maybe there’s a clue or some evidence that wasn’t picked up the first time around. They’ll be short and direct questions, ma’am, and we would really appreciate your cooperation. Your brothers are more than welcome to be present during the questioning.” He stood in front of Frank, towering over her brother and appearing dominant. Grace seemed to notice that as well.

Grace was looking up now, trying to catch her breath and gather her thoughts as she held his gaze. Her eyes were stunning, but the fact that they were welled up with tears bothered him.

“It’s all right, Frank. Investigator Sandstone, Cheryl would have my picture at her place. We had become friends during the photo shoots over the past year and had exchanged pictures for the scrapbooks we kept. I can’t believe she’s dead. Murdered.” She corrected herself then took a tissue her brother Frank offered. She used it to blot the tears from her eyes.

Sandman took the seat next to her.

“What can you tell me about her? Do you know whom she hung out with, any friends, boyfriends, or perhaps anyone who may have been bothering her?”

“She never mentioned anyone and she didn’t have a boyfriend that I know of, Investigator Sandstone.”

“Please call me Sandman. It’s what everyone calls me,” he replied as he held her gaze.

“Are you sure about that?” He challenged her knowledge of Cheryl’s personal life.

“Like I said, Sandman, I can only tell you what she told me. She never mentioned a boyfriend.”

* * * *

Grace had to admit that even the man’s nickname was mysterious and sexy. Sandman, as he liked to be called, had incredibly dark blue eyes that gave him an appearance of seriousness and intrigue. He was experienced in all aspects of the word. She just knew it.

She tried to remain focused, but this guy was really hot. Every ounce of her body knew it and when he spoke to her, he held her gaze. He was giving her his complete attention. What woman wouldn’t love that from a man like Sandman? Grace tried to answer the questions and felt she wasn’t quite giving them the answers they were looking for. Peter and John took their mother into the house leaving the detective and the investigator alone with her on the front porch. Frank stood close by and remained supportive. She loved him for it.

“I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me. There’s obviously more to this questioning. Two agents, well, a detective and investigator, would not come out here just to ask me some simple questions that Cheryl’s family could have answered or I could have answered over the phone. What’s the real deal?” Grace stood up.

“Grace, this is a very serious case we’re working on and right now it’s our job to investigate every possible lead. We appreciate your…”

Just then there was a large bang and the shot nearly took off Grace’s head, missing her and hitting the glass window behind her instead.

Investigator Sandstone tackled Grace to the ground, pulling her behind some wooden table he kicked over instantly, barricading her from further shots.

He and his partner had their guns drawn along with Frank, John, and the others, who now joined them on the porch.

Grace was shaking and her elbow was bleeding from hitting the wooden porch floor so hard.

Sandman hit her like a rock and still covered her as he looked out toward the woods and the direction the bullet came from.

Charlie, Mark, and Jim cautiously walked toward the woods in search of the shooter or some evidence.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Sandman asked Grace in a very serious and loud tone. He was practically straddling her and she dared not move.

She was in shock and wanted to get up and when she attempted to, Sandman placed a large hand on her shoulder and kept her down.

“Wait. Not yet. Where’s the blood coming from?” he asked all concerned. The dark blue eyes she admired earlier now looked so dark and filled with concern she felt guilty for being the culprit. That was such an odd feeling to have.

“My elbow.” She tried again to push herself up.

He insisted she wait as he held her down by her shoulder, and then gently caressed his fingers against her cheek so she would focus on him. The touch aroused her. She wasn’t accustomed to that or to being this close to a man, to anyone.

“Get off of me. It’s obvious the shooter’s gone. Why would he stay around when the others are headed out after him or her?” Grace snapped at him, trying to remove the Sandman’s hand. She wanted to get up and run inside the house.

Sandman stood up then took her hand to pull her up. The blood was dripping down her arm through her white blouse and onto her dress pants.

She felt like a truck had hit her as she rose from the floor, trying not to moan from the pain. The man was gigantic.

* * * *

Sandman knew he had hurt her but at least she wasn’t dead. Who the hell was taking pot shots at this woman and why?

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I was trying to protect you,” he told her in an angry voice.

She wasn’t annoyed with him. Why would she be? No, she was scared and rightfully so. This investigation just got a bit more intense. A fucking shooter? What the hell?

“I know that, Sandman. Thanks for saving my life. Now maybe you can tell me everything that’s going on instead of the minimal?” she asked. But before he could answer, her brother Peter was by her side asking if she was all right.

Grace said “yes” then began to unbutton her blouse, and used it to wrap around her elbow.

Sandman felt his gut clench and his cock harden instantly. The woman had a great body and the fact that she used her designer blouse to cover her bleeding wound showed a lot. He was even more impressed with the lacy white tank top that was once hidden underneath the white blouse. She was built well up top, which only added to his attraction to her. Grace was one sexy, sophisticated woman. The fact that someone seemed ready to kill her pissed him off big-time.

Grace looked up at him and they locked gazes. He glanced at Jim who appeared frazzled. Then the mother came outside crying.

“I’m okay, Mama. Everything is going to be all right.” Grace consoled her mom, immediately hiding the fear he saw in Grace’s eyes when the shot missed her head. She had been shaking but now seemed as cool as a cucumber. She was hiding her emotions from her mother and he wondered why.

“Let’s get you inside. It’s safer,” Jim said and opened the door for Grace and her mother.

* * * *

Grace went upstairs to her old bedroom. She needed a little time alone to gather her thoughts about what was going on.

Downstairs was filled with police officers and forensics teams trying to dislodge the bullet from the siding on the house and look for clues in and around the perimeter of the property.

Grace looked around the room. Her mom kept a lot of her things and she made a scrapbook of all the pictures Grace sent her from overseas.

Why would someone want to kill me?

And Cheryl was such a nice girl. Who would kill her and leave my picture by her body?

The agents said another woman was murdered. She was the wife of some hotshot attorney in New York. The agents had little to go by but felt that Grace’s safety may be in jeopardy.
No shit.
That was obvious to her considering only minutes ago her head was nearly shot off her shoulders.

The agents and other detectives, including her brothers, were bombarding her with questions. She couldn’t think straight and her head was spinning.

She didn’t have any answers for them.

Grace heard a horn honk and a car pull quickly up the dirt driveway. She peeked out the window and saw Eric emerge. Instantly Peter and Frank were at the driver’s side door.

To the right of the driveway she saw Investigator Sandstone and he saw her.

The stern look told her to get away from the window and she did.

Grace recalled her mother saying that Eric was on his way home from the store. He had waited for his main worker Richie to get back from some delivery before heading home. Sarah said Eric was so upset that this was happening. He felt that Grace coming back home was such a blessing and was definitely what his wife Sarah needed and was missing in her life. He looked scared and frantic in the driveway but maybe Eric would be able to calm Sarah down.

Grace was trying to figure out how Clara’s murder could be connected to the others.

How could the investigators have put away the wrong guy? Could Clara’s killer still be out there?
Could he have been the one who just tried to kill me?
She asked herself a thousand questions.

She looked at her elbow, which was now covered with a bandage. She couldn’t help but think how close she came to dying. Investigator Sandstone, Sandman, had saved her life and the thought of his body against hers sent a tingling feeling through her. He was so sexy and rugged. Talk about bad timing and bad circumstances. She never had much luck with relationships. Not that she really had any at all. Her inexperience and inability to commit always got in the way.

Deep down Grace felt that her fear of losing someone so close to her again kept her from falling in love and taking chances. She wanted little to do with dating and feared commitment. She had survived living away from home, away from her family, but she was lonely, frequently experiencing nightmares, flashbacks and fainting episodes. She knew they stemmed from her sister’s death, from leaving home, moving on alone. That was when she met Pierre Joudeou and her life had begun. He was exactly what she needed and he was her cure.

She had met him at one of the after-parties the magazine editors and producers would throw at the completion of a photo shoot. Everyone would dress up in his or her most expensive designer evening wear and party until the following day. Grace and Pierre hit it off immediately, getting caught up in the music, the atmosphere, and the celebrities around them. He was handsome, wealthy, and charming. When he spoke to her in French, she felt weak, hypnotized, drunk.

Grace was a virgin. She was inexperienced and he knew it. She was nervous about doing it but she knew the time was right, she was ready and when he kissed her, touched her, she didn’t want to stop, she wanted more. Did she regret it? Absolutely not.

Now here she was in the middle of a huge mess. She would have been safer in Europe. Paris was enchanting and so romantic. Her troubled past and the traumatic memories were just that, memories. But here, in this current situation, she was facing the pain and the past head-on.

She was lucky she didn’t get shot downstairs. She might just have to fly back to Paris and hunt down that hunk of a French man and become very experienced. Grace laughed at the thought. A fear of death made her suddenly wish she had taken more chances in life. But the truth was, she feared a lot of things. She feared the pounding in her chest as the reality that a bullet nearly grazed her skull as she stood on her front porch. She also feared the pounding in her chest as Sandman tackled her to the ground and covered her with his exceptionally fit body.

People were dying, emotions she had buried were resurfacing and this entire situation had the ingredients for disaster.

It was just like her to take an incredibly dangerous, depressing, and life-threatening situation and make light of it. That was how she dealt with leaving home and her sister’s murder behind her.

Grace looked around the bedroom and began thinking about Clara and even Cheryl. She didn’t want to allow herself to cry or give in to the fear. That would be a sign of weakness, a characteristic of the old Grace she had left behind years ago.

She had done so much crying in the past. There was just too much sadness in her life, in her soul, but now layers of professional success and the fact that she constantly kept busy either working or exercising had covered all that sadness.

She didn’t want it all to resurface, emerge again, and destroy everything she had worked so hard for the past two and a half years. She wouldn’t allow it. No way.