behind him. Avery went to get up, but Grace put a hand on her shoulder.
“I’ve got this,” she told Avery, and Avery knew it was important enough to stay put and let Grace work some magic.
Gunner was in the living room, pacing, when he saw Grace push through the kitchen door. Of all people to send after him now, she would definitely be the most effective.
He wondered if she’d gotten Dare to say yes in that short time. In which case, the guy was definitely whipped.
“Grace, I appreciate you coming out here, but—”
“You were trying to tell me that you were Rip’s son, that night, at Darius’s, when I had the fever,” Grace said, and no, that wasn’t what he had expected.
He thought about the first time he’d met her, how sick she was. How Dare told him about the scars that covered her body.
How Gunner already knew that living with Powell was like a death sentence, with the majority of time served on death row with no hope of actually escaping. “Maybe. I wanted you to know you weren’t alone.”
But that wasn’t the only reason. What good would telling her have done? For her to know that maybe there was someone out there who knew what she’d gone through, because he’d been there. . . .
“There was nothing you could’ve done. No way you could’ve known. If anything, my mother and I got you chased out,” Grace told him firmly.
“You’re a mind reader now?” he asked to try to break the tension.
“I’m good with feeling guilty over things I had no control over. I recognize that instantly,” she shot back.
“It wasn’t that. Powell had a business deal gone bad. I was a fair trade.”
“I’m sorry. So sorry about what happened to both of us. I know going back to that house will be as hard on you as it will be on me. Maybe I had no right to make that decision before speaking to you.”
“Going back there is going backward, Grace. Touching that place . . . it’s fucking poison,” he told her.
“No place is poison, not if we don’t let it be,” she said.
“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Jem told them. Gunner had seen him come into the room, and Dare probably had too, but suddenly Crazy Man was the voice of reason. Again. “First, we need someone to pose as a job—a criminal who needs to leave the country.”
“How about a criminal’s wife?” Grace asked. “That would make things less suspicious.”
“Woman, you are really pushing things tonight,” Dare growled. “You did not just offer yourself for the job, did you?”
“He’s never met me in person. He’s seen me on the tape with a gag in my mouth,” Grace pointed out.
“A guy like Landon can use facial-recognition software,” Key reminded them.
“And he already has,” Gunner told them.
“How do we know that for sure?” Avery asked.
“Because I was identified.” Gunner went into the kitchen, came out and sat on the couch. He typed in the code and then turned the screen outward to face them.
Avery blinked. “It’s us.”
“Like the fucking Brady Bunch,” Jem muttered, and indeed, the screen was split into six boxes, showing Gunner, Dare, Grace, Jem and Key. The last box was blank at the moment, but the shots had been taken from when they’d been on Powell’s island.
“Can’t we wipe Landon’s computers?”
“I already did. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t have copies. Everyone uses facial-recognition software these days,” Gunner said.
“But if we disguise Grace’s face, put some fake cheekbones and shit, it’ll throw the software off,” Jem said. “She’s our best shot.”
“She’ll have to change the way she walks. The best software does more than faces,” Gunner said.
“I can change anything if it means getting rid of this guy from our lives,” Grace promised.
“Or I could help.”
Jem turned at the sound of Drea’s voice. She’d remained in the doorway of the kitchen but now moved forward and Jem willed her not to say anything more.
Which obviously didn’t work when she said, “The asshole who hurt Avery doesn’t know me. I could do it.”
“No way,” Jem said before Avery could open her mouth.
“Why not?” Dare asked, arms crossed.
“She’s not trained, for one,” Jem pointed out.
“I can shoot. I can use a knife. Well, a scalpel. Same thing really,” Drea said. “And I know how to fight.”
“Sweetheart, this fight would be like nothing you could’ve ever imagined,” Jem promised her.
“It’s one meeting,” Grace pointed out. “She’d pass his scrutiny in a second.”
Key nodded and Jem walked toward Drea, hand on her biceps, and tried to steer her out of the room. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Offering to help.”
“I already told you, you don’t owe us.”
“I heard you, Jem. But what if I want to help you?”
“Too dangerous.”
“You need me to get to him. I’m your best option. He’s suspicious already—you said so yourself.”
“We’ll just go with our original plan of making his life a living hell,” Jem said.
Avery shook her head. “It’s going to take too long, Jem.”
“Dammit.” He was having more of a problem with the women in his life being in the line of fire than he’d thought. He’d always been equal opportunity, felt that if women could do the job, they could have it. And he knew Avery could. But that didn’t stop him from freaking at the thought of her getting hurt again. Same went for Grace, and now for Drea.
“This is for Avery. And Grace. And for me,” Drea told the group, but really, she was speaking to him. All he could do was nod his acceptance, even though he wasn’t accepting it at all.
Chapter Twenty-six
Goddamn, it had been a long day. All the sitting around and talking rather than getting out there for some action was making the men act like caged lions. Pretty soon, they were going to start wrestling in the middle of the living room to blow off steam.
It was close to three in the morning after Jem had finished doing some research with Key, left his brother still working to relieve Dare and check on Drea.
She was in bed, but reading. Looking wide awake and fucking adorable in his T-shirt and a pair of sweats that were broken in just right.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
“Lately, it’s the last thing on my mind.” She accepted the mug of hot chocolate he handed her and tucked herself under the covers. She’d left room for him in the bed and oh yeah, he liked that.
Too much. It was fucking with his game. “Look, I appreciate what you did back there—”
“No, you’re pissed about it.”
Her honesty disarmed him. She was such a straight shooter. “Yeah, I am. Worried more than pissed but . . . dammit, Drea, you’ve got to stop putting yourself directly in trouble’s way when I’m trying to get you out of it.”
