Page 56 of Forged in Peril

Just as Bristol had swallowed the final bites of her cheese and cucumber on rye, Grace’s phone rang, the ringtone sudden and loud in the calm of the restaurant.

“Jerusalem crickets!” she said, fumbling to answer the call.

Bristol grinned into the top of her drink. She’d forgotten how much she missed what passed for swearing in Texas.

“Sorry, mom, I lost track of time,” Grace was saying into the phone, tapping on the glittery pink case with a long acrylic nail. “We’re still at that new place. I don’t remember! It’s the one with the green stripe-y awning, across from the yarn store. No, not by the Joann’s! Downtown, mum. He’ll figure it out. Yes. Okay, love you too.”

She hung up, opening the gaping maw of her Louis Vuitton tote bag and tossing the phone inside.

“Sorry about that. I was going to get picked up at FBS. Anyway, the driver will be here in a second, and we’ll drop you off on the way.”

Bristol shook her head. “It’s in the opposite direction of the airport,” she said, glancing down at her own watch. “And didn’t you say your flight was at two?”

“I hope that’s not what I said,” Grace said with a grimace, reaching back into her bag and digging around until she pulled out her wallet. “But probably. Are you sure you can get back okay?”

Bristol wrapped her fingers around her mug as a familiar ripple of anxiety traced down her spine.

She was tired of living in fear. FBS was just around the corner. If she kept her eyes open, she’d be fine.

“I’m fine,” she said firmly.

“I can get you an Uber,” Grace suggested, pulling out several bills from her wallet and placing them on the table.

“You’re already buying me lunch, apparently,” Bristol said. “Don’t be silly. I’d feel ridiculous asking an Uber driver to take me a few hundred feet away.”

“They’d probably just think you’re a celebrity or something.”

Bristol glanced down at her basic knee-length skirt, pink blouse, and logo-free work tote.

“I don’t think so.”

“Fine,” Grace said with an exaggerated sigh. “But if anything happens to you, Cameron will kill me. So be careful.”

Bristol followed her from the table and out the front door.

Barely a minute later, a sleek black Lincoln town car with tinted windows rolled to a stop in front of them. She had a feeling that her friend had been mistaken for a celebrity more than once.

“Make sure to text me some photos while you’re there,” Bristol said, leaning over and wrapping Grace in a tight hug. “I demand horses, and I won’t say no to cowboys. Or food! Don’t forget to show me the food.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Grace said, tipping an invisible ten-gallon hat in her direction before climbing into the back seat.

The town car headed off down the street, swept up into the San Antonio traffic in an instant, and Bristol found herself completely alone.

She started down the sidewalk in the direction of the office, and with every step that she took, a little bit of the fear faded away.

There was something about the chilly winter air, the friendly smiles of the people she passed, and even the occasional carelessly thrown empty coffee cup that made her remember what she loved about the city.

It felt vibrant. It felt alive, especially today, and she felt alive right along with it.

She drew in a breath, the cool air filling her lungs as the winter sun continued to warm her skin.

As she turned the corner onto the back street that led toward the FBS garage and side entrance, she surveyed the street for anyone out of place, finding it deserted save for a few nice-looking cars parked further up the block.

The assault had taken so much from her.

It had clouded every waking moment of her life, a constant darkness that followed her everywhere.

And today, for just a moment, she’d been able to forget about it.

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