Page 21 of Guarding Grace (Hawk Security #2)

Grace

As Terry drove me toward his place, I squirmed in the seat next to him—partly because I couldn’t get comfortable sitting on my wound, and partly because I wasn’t going to be able to stay away from him.

Quite the opposite, and unfortunately we seemed to be back to our historical mutual anger with each other.

Suddenly, I remembered about Serena and Duke and margaritas. Pulling out my phone, I hastily dialed.

“Tell me you’re finally on the way,” Serena said when she answered.

I looked over at Terry. “I can’t. Something came up. I’m headed to Terry’s place to stay.” Going into the Maria attack with Serena would result in an instant freakout.

“To stay, huh?” she asked with a lilt to her voice. “And you’re okay with that?”

“He’s growing on me,” I suggested.

Next to me, Terry’s brows lifted. Realizing I found that cute, I had to hope our arguing was over because I was truly attracted to Mr. Grumpypants, Sir Galahad, ex-Tyrant—if he stayed ex-Tyrant.

“I hear that, Gracie. Is he there with you?”

I admired Terry’s profile for a second. “Uh-huh.”

“Tomorrow you better tell me what’s going on, or I’m going to kidnap you myself. ”

“I hear you.” I needed to get out of this. “Gotta go now, and Terry says hi.”

“Tell him hi back, and don’t forget—tomorrow no excuses.”

“Tomorrow,” I agreed and hung up. “Serena says hi.”

Terry nodded without a smile. “Uh-huh.”

I switched gears. “What did Zane get from those two, Maria and Lorenzo?”

His jaw ticked before he spoke. “We confirmed that Maria Torelli is her real name, and she’s the niece of Tony Russo, head of the Russo crime family, which is odd.”

“What’s odd about it?”

“The crime family thrives by being a constant low-level nuisance. Generally, they’re into extortion, drugs, and prostitution, state crimes where none of them individually are too serious.

Only when you add them up is it a big deal.

Kidnapping, though, is another level. It can quickly turn into a federal issue with a lot of attention. ”

I tensed. Kidnapping was an awful word to confront.

His phone rang, and he pressed a button to answer it. “Hi, boss. Grace and I are on the way to my place.”

Lucas’s voice came over the speakers. “According to chatter Jordy picked up, the buyer for the missing delivery is most likely Aren Marku.”

“Shit,” Terry swore.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means Elliot sure has dug himself a deep hole,” Lucas said. “Marku is the head of the Albanian mob here. They make the Italians look like choirboys.”

I shrank back in my seat.

“Does the chatter give us any idea what the package was?” Terry asked.

“Not directly,” Lucas said. “In addition to the normal shit, the Albanians are heavily into human and arms trafficking. Word is that they sold some missile tech to the North Koreans last year, so maybe there’s something similar in the case.”

“With all the sanctions?” Terry asked. “How would the North Koreans get the money to buy military technology?”

“Drugs, counterfeiting, and cybercrimes. They were behind all of the big crypto heists.” Lucas breathed heavily. “If they are the buyers and they get wind of Grace’s connection, we could have another set of players to watch out for. I’ll have Zane bring by the file on Marku.”

Fucking great. Elliot, what the hell have you gotten me involved in?

“I’ll keep her safe,” Terry promised .

“If the Albanians are involved, Grace, we may have no choice but to move you to the safe house in Fontana.”

With Peyton’s criticism fresh in my mind, instead of lashing out as I had before, I tried for something more conciliatory.

“I have to run my business. We have a set of important clients coming up. People with families are depending on me,” I said calmly.

“If things change, we can discuss the options, and I hope you’ll have something to offer me besides just locking me in a safe house and punishing my employees. ”

“I understand,” Lucas said.

And I got the impression that he did understand. Why had Lucas gotten it so easily and Terry been so resistant? Did he regret our kiss?

After Terry ended the call, I asked, “How bad is this news? I mean, about the Albanians? And tell me the truth.”

“They’re bad players. Worse than the Italians.”

Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself, not just because of that news, but because he’d been cold to me all afternoon. “What happened between this morning and now?”

“What do you mean?” He checked the rearview mirror.

“This morning, you told me you’d never disliked me, but that’s how you’re treating me now.”

“Quiet.” He rechecked his mirror.

Typical guy move, tell me to shut up when I want to discuss feelings. “No. We have to talk about this.”

“Not now.” He turned left at the next intersection. “I think we’re being followed.”

I turned to look back. This had better not be a ploy to avoid the discussion.

“Don’t look,” he said sternly.

It was too late. “Which car?”

“The red one. I think it’s a Maserati.” He made another turn.

I gulped. “They turned too.”

“Hold on.”

I settled back in my seat and didn’t see anything except the door handle to hold on to. A few seconds later, with a set jaw, Terry made another turn and then floored the accelerator. A scream lodged in my throat as the engine roared and I was thrown back against the seat. This car was part rocket.

He checked the mirror again, cool as could be. “It’s definitely a tail.” He stabbed the dash, and a call connected.

“Hawk.” It was Lucas’s voice again.

“We picked up a tail leaving Grace’s work. Red Maserati. ”

“Jordy will track you. I’m on the way.” Lucas sounded like he was running. “Winston is to your south. Evade that direction.”

The call disconnected as fear churned in my belly and we raced past parked cars and buildings. We were moving much faster than I considered safe. I braced my feet and gripped the door handle.

Terry took another turn fast and floored the car down a wide street, weaving through traffic before turning onto a side street. I hung on to the door handle as we screeched around the corner and came within inches of a parked truck. I’d never written a will.

As Terry cranked the car into another turn, I was thrown against the door. The tires screeched, but held. The red car was still behind us.

Terry looked completely at ease, stabbing the brake, whipping the wheel around, and then jamming down the accelerator.

My stomach revolted each time we rocketed out of a turn like a bat out of hell.

“Bad news,” he intoned.

“What?” It came out as a squeak.

“Only a few cars can keep up with us. He’s got one of them.”

I flinched at the sound of glass shattering.

“Get down,” Terry ordered. “They’re shooting.”

With my heart lodged in my throat, I leaned down. Another bullet hit the rear glass, and then another.

“Glove box. Get my gun,” Terry ordered.

As he took another corner, I pulled the Sig Sauer out, checked the clip, and racked the slide to load the first round in the chamber the way Pete had taught me. Then I undid my seatbelt, lowered the window, and swiveled out the side.

“What the hell?” Terry bellowed. “Stay down.”

“Fuck that,” I yelled angrily. I got off three rounds at the pursuing car before Terry yanked me back inside.

“Give me the gun,” he yelled, then stretched out his hand. “You fucking do what I say, when I say.”

“Stop yelling at me,” I screamed. I gave the SIG over, then fastened my seatbelt again and raised the window as he accelerated down the narrow street.

“That was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”

I shrank in my seat as he took the next corner at the same insane speed as the last.

“Damned stupidest,” he repeated.

“Watch out,” I screamed as a person emerged from between cars.

Terry hit the brakes hard and cranked the wheel .

We missed the man, but the car spun and skidded backward, hitting a parked car with a gigantic crunch of metal on metal.

The impact threw me into the seat. The side airbag went off next to my head, and all I could think was that we were helpless now against whoever was shooting at us.

Terry leapt out of his door. Bang, bang.

The red car swerved, went past us, and crashed straight into a light pole.

I tried my door, but it was jammed. Bile rose in my throat as I remembered all the movies where the car caught fire after a crash. I pushed harder. I will not die in a fucking fire. That had almost happened to Serena.

Terry rushed to the red car, gun in hand.

I almost yelled for him to come back before I realized that if he didn’t deal with the gunman first, this could end badly for us both.

I unbuckled and wiggled my way over the console and out his door. By the time I got out, Terry had a guy with a neck tattoo on the sidewalk with his hands zip-tied behind him.

The guy we’d almost hit ran away. Way to help, guy.

Neck Tat groaned as I ran up. Luckily he wasn’t bleeding.

“Help me,” came from the driver’s side of the mangled car. “I’m stuck. I can’t get out.”

“Try to run and she’ll shoot you,” Terry said as he handed me the SIG, then ran around the car.

I leveled the gun at Neck Tat.

He curled into a ball. Wise choice, asshole. The way my day was going, one fewer dirtbag in the world would be a good thing.

The painful moans from the guy trapped in the car kept me from looking over at him. Fainting right now would be a very bad thing. Don’t look. Full body tense to keep blood pressure up. Don’t look , I mentally repeated.

Terry grunted and groaned as he pulled on the driver’s door. It didn’t budge.

A white Porsche Cayenne roared up, screeched to a halt, and Winston jumped out. Finally, some help.

“Give me a hand,” Terry yelled.

Keeping my eyes focused on Neck Tat, I heard grunts and the sound of metal bending.

“That should do it,” Winston said.

“I got him,” Terry said. “Get his legs.”

“Keep him behind me,” I reminded Terry when I heard them shuffling around the back of the car .

“Right,” Terry replied as a second Cayenne passed the wreck and pulled to the curb.