else he could say. He was bound to secrecy by the FBI. His hands were tied. “Maybe it would be better if I held on to them for you. Just to be safe.”
She shook her head firmly. “I refuse to let him intimidate me. I’m going to go over every single one of the files and see what it is he’s so anxious about.”
That was not a good idea. Roman didn’t know what was in the files and he didn’t want to take a chance on her seeing something she shouldn’t and putting herself in even more danger. “Maybe you shouldn’t.” And he couldn’t even explain why he was saying that.
“Roman, I have to. I have to know what’s going on.”
He knew that once Gracie set her mind to something, changing it was next to impossible. But he couldn’t let her do this alone. “Then would you at least let me look at them with you?”
She seemed relieved. “Of course. Maybe you’ll see something I would have otherwise missed.”
“Get dressed and pack a bag,” he said.
She frowned. “Why am I packing a bag?”
“Because you’re staying with me until we sort this out.” There was no way he was taking a chance and leaving her alone. He had friends in the security business. If necessary he would hire someone to shadow her when he couldn’t be there.
“I can’t let him scare me out of my home. If I keep the door locked—”
“Gracie, the sort of people we’re talking about won’t be stopped by a locked door. And they won’t hesitate to hurt you if they don’t get what they want.”
Gracie looked so confused and hurt when she said, “I didn’t even know that he had connections to people like that. Maybe he really doesn’t, and he was just trying to scare me.”
Roman seriously doubted it. He’d done a bit of digging and talked to a few people after his meeting with the FBI. Everyone agreed that while Dax had a stellar public persona, he also had a dark side, and reputed connections to some very bad people. Not just corrupt public officials and businessmen but the mob, as well. But no one as of yet had been able to prove it. “I’m not taking that chance,” he told Gracie. Agent Crosswell had forbidden him from telling her about the investigation, but he couldn’t stop Roman from protecting her. “Now pack some things. We’re leaving.”
* * *
Grace had only lasted an hour or so before the adrenaline rush of being threatened by a man she thought was her friend left her completely drained of energy. Roman had tucked her into his bed, then sat at his desk and got back to work. By 5:00 a.m., he had a pretty good idea of why the senator was so hot to get his hands on Grace’s files. After comparing them to the documents on public record, there were major inconsistencies.
Until the senator got what he wanted, or the FBI nailed Dax for his crimes, Gracie would continue to be in danger. And Roman would do anything necessary to keep her safe. Even if he had to do it covertly.
The only way to put an end to this was to hand over everything she had to the FBI. The quickest way would be to make copies of the flash drive, and Gracie would never be the wiser. But while he could view the information on his computer, the flash drive was locked with a code and couldn’t be duplicated or altered in any way. The only way to prove the senator’s guilt was to take the original flash drive and hand it over to Agent Crosswell. But Roman would have to do it behind Gracie’s back. Meaning he would be forced to lie to her.
Just like before.
The realization had been like an arrow through his heart. This was supposed to be their second chance. But it was the only way to keep her safe.
“Good morning,” he heard Gracie say, and looked up to find her standing in his office doorway, wrapped in a blanket, her hair tousled from sleep. “Have you been up all night?”
He nodded, wondering what the hell he was going to do next.
“Did you find anything?”
He’d given this a lot of thought, and he’d made a choice, one that could save Grace’s—and his own—ass.
“Nothing,” he told her. “I found nothing at all.”
* * *
Confused, Grace said, “Nothing? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
She drew in a deep breath then blew it out. “Well, then, what was the big deal about him getting the flash drive?”
“I don’t know, Gracie.”
“Do you think I should just give them to him?”
“Hold off a while,” Roman told her, looking as confused as she was. “There’s clearly something shady going on and I want a little more time to dig. I’ll keep the flash drive and you’re going to stay here just in case.”
“For how long?”
He got up and crossed the room to where she stood, putting his arms around her. “I wish I could answer that.”
This was crazy. When and if she ever moved in with Roman, she wanted it to be the next step in their relationship, not some twisted obligation to keep her safe. It wasn’t right. “I could stay at my father’s estate. That place is like Fort Knox.”
Roman tipped her chin up so he could look in her eyes. “Is that your way of saying you don’t want to be here with me?”
“No, of course not. I just... I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
He dipped his head and kissed her gently, and her heart melted on the spot. “You could never be an inconvenience to me, Gracie.”
She laid her head on his chest and held on tight. “Maybe this is a bad time, but there’s something I think we need to talk about.”
“Something bad?”
“No, just something that’s been on my mind.”
“Can it wait till I take a shower?”
She stroked the side of his face with her palm. It was rough with beard stubble. “Of course. Would you like me to make you breakfast? Or did you want to get some sleep first?”
“No time for sleep,” he said. “I’m used to pulling all-nighters so it’s not a big deal. And I would love some breakfast. Give me fifteen minutes.”
While Roman showered, Grace threw on her robe and headed to the kitchen. Considering he was a man, his refrigerator and cupboards were insanely well stocked with, for the most part, healthy foods. But he’d always taken good care of himself, exercising regularly and eating well. He did have his weaknesses, though, two being bacon and eggs.
She opened the fridge and found a slab of thick-sliced bacon, a half-empty carton of eggs and a jug of orange juice. From the pantry she pulled out a loaf of raisin bread, which had always been a favorite of his in the mornings. That she remembered his habits was a comfort somehow.
She found the pots
