Page 53 of Hart of Hope
“Is Grace in there?” I asked, knowing I had no color in my face.
“No, she isn’t. I saw her leaving about fifteen minutes ago, maybe.”
“Thanks.” Not waiting for Janet to say anything else, I jogged outside and searched the parking lot for her Subaru.
Snow was falling at a steady rate, covering cars and piling up. I didn’t see a Subaru. The majority of vehicles were high-end BMWs, Mercedes, Cadillacs—and the list went on.
I ducked back inside and called Grace again. I got the same response but didn’t bother leaving another voicemail. So I sent her a text. Then I returned to Fran to find Ryan holding my daughter’s hand.
He didn’t flinch or let her go. He stood his ground, his chin high. “Mr. McCauley, is everything okay?”
“Dad, did you find Grace?” Fran asked.
I didn’t want Fran to worry. “I left her messages. She probably got on the road before the storm got too bad.”
“Let me know,” Fran said. “If you don’t mind, Nora, Ryan, and I are going to watch a movie in the student lounge. We’re still on for breakfast in the morning?”
I hugged and kissed my daughter. “Go, and have a good time. And yes, I’ll see you at eight a.m.”
“Oh, and Dad, don’t forget. We need to apply for my passport soon.” Then she dashed off, happy and content.
Passport? I growled as I thought of the folder of mine that contained her birth certificate, the folder Sabine had.
The room had cleared out, and I decided to head to my hotel. The night was still early, so a stiff drink would be great. I’d been drinking club sodas, since I wasn’t a fan of champagne.
An hour later, I pulled up to the valet at the hotel. It had taken me several minutes to clear my windshield, but I’d spent the bigger chunk of that hour in conversation with Janet, who’d asked if Fran could spend spring break at her Cape Cod summer home with Nora next week. I trusted Janet, and I needed to loosen the apron strings. Arturo wasn’t a threat, although I would prefer it if Fran spent that week with me. Still, before I agreed, I wanted to talk to Fran about it at breakfast to make sure she wouldn’t rather hang out at my new place in Boston.
After handing the keys to the valet, I walked into the hotel and faltered a step. Grace was in the lounge area, sitting on a couch with her phone to her ear. I’d never been more relieved to see her and that she hadn’t driven to Boston in the snowstorm.
I headed in her direction, my gaze riveted on her. She had one leg crossed over the other, and with the slit in her dress, she was showing skin. Instantly, my thoughts went straight to ripping that garment off her, tangling my hands in her long hair, and licking every inch of her body—until I noticed the panic in her eyes.
What was wrong now? Had something happened to her dorm mate Andie again? Duke?
As if she knew what I was thinking, she cupped the phone. “Everything is fine. I’ll explain in a minute.”
I wasn’t sure how much my heart could take tonight. One minute I was on a high, and the next I wanted to strangle an innocent boy for liking my daughter, and then Grace had me in knots in more ways than one.
“I’ll be in the bar.” I stabbed a finger at the entrance.
She gave me a nod.
The bartender, gray-haired with a goatee, slid a napkin in front me as I sat down at the bar. “What will it be?”
“Bourbon neat. Buffalo Trace, if you have it.”
“We do.” He made quick work of serving me.
My cell vibrated in my suit jacket pocket. I groaned, seeing Arturo’s name.
His text:Any luck talking to the gangs?
Me:Chris Vargas is asking around. He’ll call me as soon as he finds something. We’ll be in touch.
Arturo:I have a suspicion about who stole my shipment. I’m hoping the gangs can confirm it.
Me:You know it’s inside your organization.
In my experience, it was either a mole working for a competitor or some brave asshole who prayed for death. Because whoever it was, Arturo would kill him.
