Page 46 of My Secret Santa Clayton

“Your editor?” Kat pressed, her voice edged with disbelief.

“Yep. And unless he's changed drastically since I left...” Grace trailed off, shook her head. “But Boston's miles away.”

Gabe frowned, exchanged a glance with Kat, then turned back to Grace. “So how did they find you here?”

She shrugged, a gesture that seemed too small for the weight of the question. “Seems fair enough,” she admitted. “I mean, I just…I wanted a safe place to land, and I thought if I got out of town they would figure I was out of the picture. But they looked for my family…and they found me.”

I wanted to chastise her for it—in hindsight, it seemed so stupid—but I got it. We all wanted a safe place when shit got real, I understood that. For me, Grace had been that safe place.

For her, it was Mariah.

Even if it put herpregnant sisterin danger.

“Mariah doesn't know any of this, does she?” I asked.

Grace met my eyes then, and I saw the protective fierceness that always marked her relationship with her sister. “No, and we're keeping it that way.”

“Because of the baby?” Kat added softly.

“Exactly. Mariah's almost due,” Grace said. “I won't have her stressed over this mess. Promise me.”

“We promise,” I said, and Kat nodded in agreement.

“Thank you,” Grace whispered and picked up her coffee cup again. Her fingers wrapped tightly around it, holding it like a lifeline as she tried to steady herself for whatever came next.

“Are you sure you didn't leave any kind of trail?” Gabe asked, his eyes narrow and probing.

I watched Grace closely. She sat straight in her chair, her hands clasped tight around the steaming mug. “No,” she said. “I was careful. I took the train to New York, then a bus to Montana.” Her voice was steady, factual. “I paid for everything in cash.”

“Okay, but...” Gabe rubbed at the stubble on his chin, thinking it through.

“Could they trace your cash withdrawals?” I interjected.

“Only the withdrawal in Boston,” Grace replied. “That's all I made before leaving town.”

“Someone could have caught you on a security cam,” Gabe said. He leaned back, his gaze still fixed on Grace. “If it's the mob, they could have people anywhere.”

“Damn it,” Grace muttered under her breath. She looked down at her coffee, then up again. “I guess there's no telling who they have in their pocket.”

I felt the weight of her words settle in the room. It was like we were all holding our breath, hoping not to stir up more trouble than we already had on our hands.

I set the mug down on the table with a firm clack. Gabe looked at me, then across to Grace, whose eyes were locked on her own cup.

“We should call the police,” he said. “We're friends with the sheriff's deputy. They can handle this.”

Grace's head snapped up, her brown eyes wide and alarmed. “No cops,” she said. Her voice was steady, but I saw her hands grip the mug tighter.

“Grace, we've been through hell,” Gabe continued. “We're here for you. We'll keep you safe.”

She shook her head, her straight brown hair swaying slightly. “You don't get it, Gabe,” she said. “The mob has connections everywhere. I can't trust anyone, especially not the police.”

Gabe started to protest, but she cut him off. “I won't bring danger to your doorstep. Mariah doesn't need this stress, not now. I have a plan.”

Her resolve was clear, even as panic flashed in her eyes. She didn't want to involve us, but she had no choice. She needed allies, even if she'd rather go it alone.

I leaned against the kitchen counter and eyed Grace. “And what's that?”

She straightened her back. “I have to finish my article and publish it. I need to get the truth out there before they get to me.”

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