Page 61 of Grissom
Grissom licked the side of his mouth. Concerns? He had a ton, but where to begin? Which one to ask first? Every last nerve in his body was standing on end, and he had nothing with him to combat the monster he was about to morph into. He needed Tuesday, damn it. How could she do this to him? Just leave without a word? She, more than anyone, knew how much he and his boys loved her. What was wrong with her, to up and walk away like she did?
Pratt’s eyes were still on him. The man’s mouth was moving. He was talking, but Grissom had disconnected from reality like he had back in the damned looney bin, the name he still couldn’t remember.
Just as his throat tightened, just as panic sealed his fate and dumped a shitload of more stress down his gullet, a heavy hand slapped his shoulder. “We need to talk,” Alex barked.
“Not before I get an answer from Mr. McCoy,” Pratt interrupted quietly.
“Answer to what?” Grissom had to ask because he’d been lost in his stupid head and once again, not present, like he should’ve been. But with Alex’s firm hold—a hold that told Grissom again that the world’s best sniper had his six, his reeling brain came back online. It was right then reminding Grissom the truth about Tuesday and her genuine love for his boys and, by default, him. Her instant kindness for people in need, like Persia that evening in his kitchen. Her smile. The way she blushed when they’d talked about sex. Her lack of experience. Her virginity. Her inner beauty.
“I asked if you’re going to track down the woman who saved your son and marry her?” Pratt asked. “Because I sure would.”
“We gotta go, Grissom.” Alex’s palm and fingers were now hard on the back of Grissom’s neck. “There’s something you need to hear.”
Grissom maintained eye contact with Pratt, as he backed out of the cubicle into the hall with his boss. “Absolutely, Doc. I’m going to marry Tuesday, and I’ll invite you to our wedding.”
Pratt nodded as if he’d gotten the answer he wanted. For a moment, Grissom felt relief. Until Alex bit out, “Pam has an accomplice. Are you staying here or are you coming with me to locate your woman?”
“What?” Grissom damned shrieked. “An accomplice? Who?”
His angst nearly drowned him again.What do I do? Stay or go?
Chapter Thirty-One
Tuesday came to with a splitting headache and a foul taste in her mouth. Not fish and garlic, more like motor oil, dirt, and…. Her nose twitched. Gasoline? Yup, that was the other nasty flavor coating her poor tongue. All came from the rag wrapped around her head and stuck in her mouth, ugh. The ground beneath vibrated and she was sure that came from tires against pavement. Which meant she was in the creep’s car, going somewhere she didn’t want to go, trussed up like a fatted goose, and that guy—whatwashis name?—meant to kill her. But he’d do that after he married her. Why not? She’d been married to Freddie for some reason she didn’t quite understand and had never questioned. Only Freddie had never been unkind.
She didn’t mean to make a sound, but a groan got away from her, and the moment it did, the guy reached over the driver’s seat. He patted her thigh like the good dog she wasn’t. And didn’t intend to be. Despite her precarious situation, Tuesday was thinking clearer now. Still ensnared in this gangster’s get-rich-quick scheme, true, but she’d been in worse predicaments before. She was certain she had a concussion. Her head pounded and she was sick to her stomach. But lying there in knots—once again—she had time to plan, and plan she would.
First: she’d take advantage of this one-way drive to who-knew-where to rest and recharge.
Second: she’d play this Neanderthal once they arrived at their final destination, make him think she was weak and delicate, act like the poor little rich girl everyone thought they saw.
Third: she’d strike when the opportunity came. She might not be blessed with a family, but she’d honed plenty of survival skills during her long, dark days in Antarctica and on the lonesome Serengeti. Passersby never looked deeper than artificial appearances anyway, which was why she’d purposely fashioned a feminine mystique that hid her stronger side. The side she only revealed when might equaled right. Grissom had seen her strength the night they’d almost made love. Tuesday let the memory warm her as she lay there and plotted. Just thinking of him lent her strength and courage. Soon, she’d rise up and surprise the heck out of the nefarious thug driving her away from all she held dear. Very soon.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Grissom drove like an ass and… He. Did. Not. Care. Barreling eastward in the TEAM SUV Alex had arrived at his house in, he and his boss were on the tail of some guy from New York City. Sal Moreno, an associate of a Mafia don who thought he ruled the world.Guess again, asshole.You take my woman, and you’re going to die. All of you.
“Slow down,” Alex interrupted Grissom’s inner rant.
“Why? You know something I don’t? Where is she? Is she hurt? Where’s Moreno taking her? Why the hell did he take her? What’s he got to do with Pam?”
“Maverick’s been tailing Moreno’s sedan since he pulled away from that frontage road.”
“And yet he let Moreno take Tuesday?” Grissom bellowed, growing more enraged by the second. “He didn’t do anything to save her from that asshat?”
“Son of a bitch, give it a rest, will you? Maverick never had a clear shot, and Moreno’s our only lead. Right now, Howie’s grilling your ex to establish the connection between them. We’ll get Tuesday back today. You’ll see.”
Grissom pressed the phone icon on his steering wheel and ordered, “Call my boss.” Which got an exasperated huff from Alex. Also got the cell phone Kelsey had answered ten minutes earlier. She and a few TEAM wives were sitting with Luke. He’d been moved out of the ICU to a quarantined room on the same floor, within reach of Doctor Pratt’s team of specialists. His stats were good, and he’d come to, asking for his dad. Which had damned near ripped Grissom’s heart out of his chest whenhe’d heard that, him not being there for his little boy. His baby! Again.
But he’d had to choose. Stay with Luke like the over-protective bear he was and trust Maverick to find Tuesday. Or trust his baby boy’s care to Kelsey and her band of TEAM wives, and hunt down the bastard who’d taken Tuesday himself. Hardest decision of his life, but Grissom knew he’d made the right choice.
“Hi, Grissom,” Kelsey answered quietly, cheerful despite the circumstances. “Luke’s still asleep, but Doctor Pratt just popped in. He couldn’t wait until you called back so…”
Grissom heard muffled giggling in the background.
“…but he said to tell you things are looking up. Of course, we didn’t know you’d be calling so soon.”
More giggling.
