Page 2 of Saving Grace

I returned my focus to the man before me. He was trying to tell me something.

“I’m … sorry,” he whispered.

What was he apologizing for?

What should I do in situations like this?

“Help is coming,” I lied. “What is your name?”

He looked confused before he smiled sadly in resignation. “Not … not important.” He had already given up on living. Even so, his grip tightened around my fingers almost to the point of pain, his dark eyes pleading into mine. “Trust no one …” His fingers slackened as he fell back and closed his eyes.

He was dead.

But selfishly, his death was the farthest thing from my mind as I realized I had bigger problems when I asked him his name.

I did not know mine.

CHAPTER ONE

36 hours earlier

Matt

“She’s here.”

The roadhouse was packed and teeming with people, but Matt didn’t need to look up to know who his mechanic meant. He’d felt his body tense up as if sensing her presence, and there was only one woman who’d been occupying his headspace this past few months.

Grace Levinson.

The feisty DEA agent who had a body made for sin and a mouth that could drive a man crazy.

And how he hated her.

Because last night he finally tasted her. He’d finally felt how it was to have his fingers tangled in her hair, gripping it tight while he drove into her from behind. He’d finally fucked her and gotten her out of his system. Or so he thought. He shut her out brutally so he’d never have to go there again—heaven and hell. But she was here.

“Looks like you have yourself a stage-five clinger,” Axe commented as he took a swig of his beer.

God, he hoped not, Matt thought, because the urge to fuck Grace had escalated to alarming levels now that he’d had a taste. He’d promised himself that one time only, convincing himself it would satisfy a curiosity, but it had backfired. Any willingness on her part and his resolve would crumble.

Matt allowed his gaze to drift to the door.She looks amazing.

Her dark hair hung around her shoulders in loose waves which reminded him just how he’d held it when he had her on her knees last night. His cock hardened at the memory.

“I must say,” Axe continued his commentary with a low whistle, “those legs in those fuck-me boots, not to mention that excuse of a skirt that’s barely covering her ass.” Another gulp of his beer. “I bet you every dick in this room is thinking about hitting that.” His friend waggled his brows at him.

A strange emotion clawed at Matt’s chest as he glared at his friend who immediately smirked.

“Shut up, Axe,” he growled.

His mechanic raised a brow in feigned innocence. “What? We’ve had conversations about chicks before.”

Matt clamped his mouth shut and controlled the urge to hit his friend. He turned instead to the woman currently making her way to the bar. Their eyes met across the room and a frisson of awareness shot down his spine. She broke eye contact first, shrugged, and sat on a bar stool.

“Well, looks like she’s waiting for you or someone else to pick her up,” Axe continued his play-by-play.

“Didn’t I just tell you to shut up,” Matt muttered as he raised his own beer to mouth. He cursed to find his bottle empty.

It was Saturday night at Mike’s Roadhouse, a popular bar for the citizens of Buckland County. It was located between Misty Grove where Matt resided and the county seat of Edington. The crowd was a mixed bunch. Although one would classify the roadhouse as a biker and blue collar hangout, college kids and other preppy clientele came in to walk on the wild side. They were easy to spot, though. But not Grace—her years undercover in the seedy underworld of mobs and cartels had honed her skill to blend in. But Matt knew how she looked underneath all that makeup. Her face was heartbreakingly beautiful and beguilingly innocent, yet those full lips and mesmerizing green eyes would tempt a saint to sin. He’d been enthralled all those years ago when they had bunked together for a covert assignment. How he’d ached for her then, wanting to explore that innocent façade and do dirty things to her.

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