Page 89 of The Dis-Graced
“And it’s like world-ending, I hear.”
I exhale an anxious breath. “Yeah, something like that.”
My phone vibrates, and I look down to see a text from Gabriel.
I push a button, and Gabriel, Jim, and Zevran’s face display on a monitor.
“Whatdya think?” I ask.
“I definitely think we got the right man,” Jim says. “We received a text early this morning asking to expedite negotiations. He wants to unload it tomorrow. It’s possible he learned of Lucas being brought in last night and decided to speed along the process.”
“Good,” I reply. “I want to get this over with as quickly as possible.”
“As do I,” Jim says. “Lucas has been told to lay low. It’s important that you do not try to communicate with him.”
“And Grace?” I say, my patience growing thin.
“She’s fine. We have Bruiser with her, and he’s a good man. All will be well.”
I exhale, trying not to show how anxious I am over a woman when the fate of the world rests on my shoulders, but the very real truth is that she is the world to me. Even if there is no hope of ‘us,’ I will do anything I can to do right by her, and make up for my folly.
“Alright, now, let’s just hope Elliot plays into our plan.”
Chapter 29
Grace
I admit, I’ve done some crappy things over the years, but if my penance is having to spend time with Irene Dallanger for my sins, the punishment does not fit the crime.
After Devon retrieved me from the police station, I was brought out to the matriarch and taken to her exquisite manse, and damn, I thought Drake lived in luxury. It’s nothing compared to Irene’s home. Although she’s not outright in her disdain for me, there is no mistaking her shifting eyes and critical gaze.
We’ve exchanged few words, but her looks could write stories. I haven’t been provided an explanation for the turn of events, but Devon has assured me that all is well, and they’re working hard to contain an issue.
I was afforded a guest room, and I was able to get some sleep, but I’m so anxious that I’ll miss something that I’ve opted to subject myself further to the Dallanger matriarch.
An FBI agent by the name of Bruiser has been in and out of the room, not paying much attention to us other than to ask random questions. He’s nice enough, but he puts me on edge.
“Would you like some tea,” Irene finally says after spending an hour in awkward silence, me watching TV, her reading a newspaper.
“No, thank you.”
“Suit yourself,” she says, her gaze returning to the Daily Chatterer.
“Why am I here?”
Her eyes shift upward, over the edge of the paper. “With the present situation, it’s imperative that you be kept well hidden.”
“But why? I mean, you said you know I didn’t steal anything, but then you keep me holed up? You won’t even give me my goddamn phone for crying out loud.”
“I told you, you’ll be well compensated for this hardship.”
“Well, maybe I just want to go. Right now.”
“I’d highly advise you to—”
“I don’t care what you’d highly advise me to do. I want to talk to my brother. I have to get ready for a job interview. I—”
Irene glances at the screen of her phone, her lips curling into a smile. “Ah, we have a guest. I wasn’t expecting him for a couple of hours.”
