Page 54 of Giving Grace

calling the police and getting

them to issue an Amber Alert

FFS.

Patrick: Cari is worried, man.

Please… just let me know

they’re okay.

Even though the angry, fucked up part of me wants to leave him hanging, I know I can’t.

Me: Tell Cari they’re fine.

Sleeping in my spare room.

Even though his last text came through almost thirty minutes ago, he hits me back almost immediately.

Patrick: I guess it’s too

much to ask you to

take them home, huh?

Me: They are home.

Patrick: I’m serious,

fuckface.

Me: So am I.

Tossing my phone back on the dresser without waiting for a reply, I frog-march myself into the bathroom and peel off the rest of my suit before doing what I wanted to do all along, which is take a shower.

Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling my car into Gilroy’s parking lot and park in front of the side door. Fishing through my keys, I find the one with a yellow bumper and slam it into the lock before giving it a hard twist. Door open, I punch in my alarm code and re-lock it.

Grace’s dad is sitting at the bar, waiting for me.

Making my way behind the bar, I pull a pint from the rack and tilt it under one of the domestic taps and work the lever, righting the glass when it’s nearly full. “So…” I toss a cocktail napkin on the bar between us, setting the pint on it before pushing it in his direction. “Talk.”

He picks up the glass of beer and even though he looks like he wants to crack me over the head with it, he takes a drink before setting it back on its napkin while I pull another pint from the rack. “Alright—where’s my daughter? My granddaughter?”

Where they belong.

Instead of saying it out loud, I concentrate on opening the ice bin. Using the metal scoop to fill my glass with ice. Aiming the mixer gun over its rim, I fill it with club soda. “They’re at my place—sleeping.”

“That why Grace won’t answer her phone? Because she’s sleeping?” I’d have to be deaf to miss the sarcastic edge to his tone.

“I’m not sure—” I flip the lid on one of the garnish trays and fish out a lime wedge and squeeze it into my glass before tossing it into the trash. “but if I were to take a guess, I’d have to say the reason Grace isn’t answering her phone is because you assholes tried to railroad her.”

His jaw snaps tight—either because I called him an asshole or because I just accused him of mistreating his daughter—and he pins me with a glare cold enough to freeze fire. “Careful, Ranger,” he warns me, “I don’t care how many commendations you have—”

“What did you call me?”

“I know who you are—what you’ve done for this country.” When all I do is stare at him, the corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. “What?” He lifts his beer and takes another drink. “You really think I’d leave my daughter and my granddaughter to the likes of you without pulling your jacket?”

“You pulled my service file?” I feel my heart take off at a gallop, slamming and ping-ponging around my chest so hard and fast it feels like my ribs are cracking with every bounce. “How?”

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