Page 102 of Forged in Secrets

“That’s right, ma’am,” Ben said at normal volume. “Austin PD knows we’re coming.”

“I’ll page the floor and have them let the guard officer know you’re here,” she said in a hurried whisper, picking up the corded phone and tapping a few buttons.

“Which floor?”

“Floor seven. Just swing left, and then he’ll be at the end of the hall.”

Ben thanked her, and Grace followed him into the elevator.

Fortunately, it was quiet enough on a Friday morning that they were alone.

As soon as the doors slid fully shut, Ben pulled her toward him, catching her lips with his before she had a chance to breathe.

Not that she minded.

He deepened the kiss ever so slightly, and Grace wasthankful that they only had a few more seconds before a ding sounded, signaling they’d reached their desired floor. It was hard enough to avoid temptation when other people were around. Being truly alone would be downright dangerous.

“Thanks for that,” she said, wiping a smudge of mascara from under her eye and fluffing her curls. “Trying to get me all flustered before we play good cop bad cop with Craig?”

“Never.”

“You’d better be careful, then,” she teased. “We have our virtue to think of.”

“All right, I can take a hint. You want me to buy you a giant, ridiculous Tiffany engagement ring covered in diamonds and get on with it.”

His words were light, but she could see the desire for what a wedding would entail hidden deep within his green eyes, and it sent a shiver running down her back.

“Don’t be a butthead,” she said, laughing. “I’d totally settle for just one diamond.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

He planted a final kiss on her cheek as they stepped out of the elevator and started walking down the hall, and Grace’s heart warmed.

Even though they both knew the whole shotgun-engagement thing was more Reilly’s style than Ben’s, it was hard to believe that he was even joking about the idea. Though Grace had daydreamed about it for longer than she’d ever be willing to admit.

It didn’t take the two of them long to find where Craig Gorsky was recovering. They passed several shared rooms along both sides of the hallway, finally reaching the end, where a plainclothes police officer was sitting on a redplastic chair and keeping watch. He didn’t look particularly worried that the gunshot victim was going to jump out of his bed any time soon.

“Officer Harlan Dawes,” the man drawled, getting to his feet and extending a hand. Ben and Grace shook it in turn. “They told me you were comin’ up.”

“Yes, Officer,” Grace said, giving him her most charming smile. Though the man looked to be in his thirties, there was something about his accent and mannerisms that reminded her of an old-school, middle aged rancher. The only thing missing was the cowboy hat and boots.

“I took the liberty of letting Gorsky know you wanted to speak with him,” the man said, each word pouring out slowly like water cutting through sand.

“Thank you,” Ben said. He was polite, but Grace could tell by the slight edge to his voice that he was eager to get on with it.

“If you need anything, I’ll be right here where you left me. I don’t anticipate much action from the suspect.”

“Maybe we can grab you a coffee when we get back,” Grace offered before Ben could sweep past him and into Craig’s room. “Since you’re pretty well trapped in place.”

“I’d appreciate it, thank you, ma’am,” Officer Dawes said, settling back into his chair.

Craig was awake in bed when they entered the hospital room, sipping at a plastic cup of water with a straw.

“How’re you feeling, Mr. Gorsky?” Ben asked, settling into a chair near the bed. Grace did the same, noticing that the cushions were comfortable and the room was almost pleasant. Jail would be a whole lot worse.

“Your brother is a good shot,” he said. “But fortunately, not a perfect one.”

“Asher wishes things had gone differently,” Grace said quickly. “He wants you to know he’s praying for your recovery.”

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