Page 69 of Lesson In Forgiveness

He’d be damned if he’d let some Irish fuck with a shitload of money take her away from him.

Time ticked past far too slowly. As the minutes passed, the opulent cabin seemed to grow smaller; too fucking small to contain the enormity of his emotions as they fed off his frustration.

There were ants running under his skin by the time the captain announced they were starting the landing sequences and requested Grit take his seat and buckle up. He ground his teeth together as the plane descended and taxied into its spot, and he was about ready to rip the door off as he waited to get off the damn tin can and throw himself into work.

He was a little thrown to find Jasper waiting for him, leaning against one of Atticus’s new SUVs. The sadist looked good, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, about as inconspicuous as a man could be.

Grit crossed the tarmac, backpack slung over his shoulder. “You found her?”

Straightening, Jasper jerked his head. “Get in. I’ll talk you through it on the way.”

“On the way where?” It was a reflex question, one he didn’t expect an answer to as he tossed his backpack on the back seat, and climbed in beside Jasper as his friend slid into the driver’s seat. “You know something.”

The engine started with a powerful growl. Wheels spinning for traction when Jasper floored the gas pedal, the tank of a vehicle lurched forward like a rocket. “Archie picked up several 911 calls on the scanner an hour ago. Reports of a fight in an apartment block—nothing too unusual in that particular area of the city.”

“But unusual enough for several people to call it in?”

“She tracked the calls to one number. Seems they came from an occupant inside the building, one who apparently monitors the comings and goings of residents, tries to be a good neighbor.” Attention firmly on the road, Jasper waved his hand. “When the cops arrived, there was a blood trail from the sidewalk to a room on the first floor.”

Dread pooled in Grit’s gut. “What kind of blood trail?”

“My contact in the department says droplets and some partial footprints. Five adult males were discovered inside the room. All deceased. One’s already been identified by a beat cop as a transient who recently began camping out in the building elevator. He had a record as long as my arm; assault, rape, robbery, you name it.”

“Tabitha?”

“They haven’t found any other bodies in the apartment. Hell, she’s not even a suspect. All they know is that there was a fight resulting in five deaths and the suspect ran, likely injured.” Weaving through cars competently, Jasper glanced at him. “Archie’s already pulled CCTV from the local area, getting ahead of the cops. The apartment was leased under the name Imelda Stadt, which happens to be one of my sister’s aliases.”

“How did they die?”

“Preliminary reports are a broken neck and four throat lacerations.”

Hissing through his teeth, Grit shook his head. “Not quite her trademark.”

“She cuts throats just as well as she castrates a man,” Jasper responded. “We’ve got her going into the building, and coming back out just before the cops arrived on scene.”

Fuck. This day was going from one level of shit to another far too quickly for his comfort. He should’ve tied his fucking girl to the goddamn bed, then she’d be safe in his arms instead of fighting for her goddamn life. “She’s identifiable?”

A long, heavy sigh. “She would be, if the footage ever fell into the cops’ hands. Luckily for my idiot sister, Anarchy is a fucking wizard with tech. Not only will she erase whatever she finds, she and Sonic are tracking down Tabitha’s ride.”

“If Ireland is her next port of call, she’ll head for an airport. I don’t think she’d use a private airstrip,” Grit mused, indicating the one they’d just left with a flick of his thumb. “She needs to keep her head down, merge in with a crowd. Flying commercial is the best way to do that.”

“Depends how badly she’s injured. Knowing her, she’ll take a goddamn nap, plaster some concealer on a bruise or two, and be on her way.” Jaw tight, Jasper growled in exasperation.

But there’d been blood, Grit thought. Not just footprints which were easily explained given the four cut throats she’d doled out, but droplets. Maybe she’d just been covered with her victims’ blood and, in a rush to get out before the cops arrived, didn’t clean up as well as she should have, but there was a distinct possibility she was injured with more than just a few bruises.

The screen set in the dashboard lit up as the speakers bleated with an incoming call. Jasper pressed a button on the wheel. “Kitten.”

“Sir. Sonic found the SUV.” Anarchy’s voice came clearly over the line as she reeled off an address.

“Good girl. Get me a list of all the hotels, motels—”

“I don’t need to. She spent half an hour driving around in a circle before pulling into the Sleep-Eazy Motel. I’m logged into their system. They’ve registered only check-in during the last hour, under the name Katerina Thatcher. Cash payment, and the room is booked for a week with a do not disturb request. She’s in room sixteen.”

Grit immediately leaned forward and used the GPS system to locate the address. “The Sleep-Eazy is twenty minutes away.”

“We’re on route,” Jasper told his wife. “Get someone out there to retrieve her vehicle. Can you access their security footage?”

The rapid click of fingernails on a keyboard filled the brief silence. “Benson and Kaufmann have been dispatched to take care of the SUV. ETA forty minutes. I’ve already wiped three hours of footage, and… yup, there she goes, I’ve taken care of the booking. As far as anyone’s concerned—aside from the clerk—Tabitha was never there.”

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