plan was fairly simple. After the exchange was made, she and her mother would head for New York, to Grace’s father’s place. Harry Drummond had left them years ago to go chasing after stories halfway round the world, and he’d never looked back. But as successful as he’d become, as arrogant and coldhearted as Grace knew him to still be, she didn’t think even he could turn his back on them now. He had the money and clout needed to get them out of the country as quickly as possible, and Grace was prepared to use whatever trickery and coercion necessary to enlist his help.
Once Helen was out of sight, Grace rose with the briefcase and made her way through the café to the street. Outside, she paused, glancing in both directions before she headed toward the parking lot on McKinney.
In spite of the cold, the streets were crowded with the after-work crowd pursuing happy hour with a vengeance in the bars and cafés that lined the West End. Grace didn’t pay much attention when someone bumped into her. But when a hand grabbed her elbow, she gasped and tried to jerk away.
“Keep walking,” a masculine voice told her. “Don’t look back.”
Grace’s heart thudded against her chest. She had only a split second to decide what to do, but as she gathered her strength to fight back, the man’s hand tightened painfully on her arm, as if he’d intuited her response before she had.
“Don’t try it,” he warned. His voice was low and dangerous, edged with an unfamiliar drawl.
He was too large to be Kane. This man had to be at least six three, with broad, powerful-looking shoulders beneath a sheepskin jacket. Grace was a tall woman, but at five nine, she still had to struggle to match her stride to his.
His face was shadowed by the brim of a Stetson hat, but when she glanced up, she had the immediate impression of chiseled features. Of a strong jaw and a stubborn chin.
“What do you want?” she demanded, trying to cloak her panic behind bravado.
“You know what I want.” Almost the exact same words Kane had spoken to her on the phone.
Grace’s heart almost stopped. “What makes you think I won’t start screaming right here in the middle of the street?”
“That’s not your style, is it, Grace?”
The way he said her name…that voice…
Grace stumbled in shock. He hauled her up, grasping her arms in his hands as he steadied her. Their gazes met, and beneath the brim of his hat, gray eyes watched her coldly.
“Brady?” She said his name in wonder, almost afraid to believe it was really him. “What are you doing here?”
“What do you think I’m doing? I came here to protect you.” His voice was hard and grim, edged with bitterness as sharp as a knife blade.
“Protect me? But how did you know…” Her voice faded as the impact of the situation hit her. For five years, she’d waited for this moment. Waited for the chance to tell Brady Morgan how sorry she was for what she’d done to him. She had no idea where he’d gone off to when he left the police force, or what he’d been doing all these years. But staring up into his eyes, Grace realized that time hadn’t dimmed his feelings for her. He still despised her as much as he had the last time she’d seen him.
“How did you know where to find me?” she finished quietly.
“It doesn’t matter. We need to keep on the move. Someone may be following you.”
Grace started to glance over her shoulder, but his grip on her tightened. He turned her toward the street and started walking, pulling her along at his side.
“You said you came here to protect me,” she said breathlessly, trying to keep up with him. “Who sent you?”
When he didn’t answer, she slowed her steps, until he was forced to do the same.
“Who sent you, Brady? Why are you really here?”
“I told you. I’m here to protect you.” His voice was as frigid as his gaze.
“What does that mean?” she asked almost angrily.
His jaw tightened. “It means I’m taking you someplace where you’ll be safe.”
That stopped her cold. She jerked her arm from his grip. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me exactly what you’re up to.”
“What’s the matter, Grace? Don’t you trust me?”
His sarcasm stung, but Grace knew she had it coming. She lifted her chin. “Right now, I’m not in a position to trust anyone.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
Was it her imagination, or had his voice softened? Hope trembled through Grace, and she closed her eyes briefly. She wanted to believe him. She wanted more than anything to have an ally, but her mother’s life was at stake. Brady Morgan had once been an honorable man, but five years could change a person.
So could betrayal.
She gazed up at him, hardening her resolve. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I can’t.”
“It’s not up for discussion. We can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way. Makes no difference to me.”
The insolence in his tone triggered Grace’s anger. “Oh, and just what are you going to do when I resist? Grab a fistful of my hair and drag me down the street? Throw me over your shoulder and carry me kicking and screaming into the sunset? Is that the reason for the Marlboro man getup?” Her gaze raked disdainfully over the hat and the sheepskin coat, the boots that made him seem even taller. “Are you trying to convince me you’d actually resort to such tactics?”
He gazed down at her, the gray of his eyes glittering like twin glaciers. “Looks like it’s going to be the hard way.”
When he reached for her, Grace instinctively flinched away. And at that exact moment, something buzzed by her face. A fraction of a second later, she heard the sound of the gunshot as the bullet crashed into the wall of the building behind her.
The next few moments were a blur. Grace realized she’d been shot at just as Brady lunged toward her. The two of them crashed to the ground, and the air rushed from Grace’s lungs. For an instant, the fact that the breath had been knocked out of her frightened her more than the sound of gunshots.
Gunshots. In the plural, her dazed mind finally absorbed. She and Brady were still being fired upon.
Shouts erupted on the street, and the scene became chaotic as frightened onlookers dove for cover. Someone screamed in agony as a stray bullet found a mark. In the pandemonium of thrashing bodies, Brady drew Grace to her feet and all but flung her toward the side of the building.
“Keep low,” he shouted as he shoved her roughly toward the alley between the two buildings. He flattened them both against the wall, and with his weapon drawn, he chanced a glance around the corner. A chunk of the building disintegrated over his head, and he grabbed Grace’s hand. “Run!”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. Grace sprinted up the narrow alley beside him, her
