Sticks and Stones (30 page)

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Authors: Kerrie Dubrock

BOOK: Sticks and Stones
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            The
knifeman pressed the knife into Grace’s neck before jumping into the awaiting
car.

            Flynn
ran towards the car and took aim at the tires. The car swerved, but the driver
quickly regained control and drove through the barrier gate. Flynn shot twice
more and heard the pop of one of the tires. He ran after the car, calling her
name.

            “I’m
here!” she whispered, gripping her throat. “Justice?”

            He
stopped suddenly, hearing a small voice deep within the garage. “Grace?” he
yelled.

            “I’m
bleeding!” she eked out. “I’m bleeding!”

            Flynn
found her near the elevators, in a heap. Her once white shirt was dotted with
blood. “Feck!” he yelled and knelt down beside her. Her face held a white
pallor, indicating shock. Pulling her hand away from her throat, he cringed and
ripped off his shirt. He wadded it into a ball, covering the wound.

            “I’m
here, a stór,” he rasped, pulling her onto his lap.

 

*          *          *

 

            Winning
three of four road games was fucking spectacular. Rick watched his team mates
celebrate in the aisles of the plane. Dmitri plopped down next to him with a
beer in his hand. “Great game, Ricochet.”

            Rick
lifted his beer. “Thanks, Gramps. You, too.” He scratched his head. “How many
goals do you have so far this season?”

            “Five
in six games, not too shabby for an old fuck like me, eh?” He took a swig of
beer. “Going to the bar after we land?”

            “Nah.
I’m going to see Grace.”

            Dmitri
lifted his brows. “Really? You two talking?”

            “Pfft,
no. Doesn’t matter. I need to see her and grovel my fucking ass off.”

 

*          *          *

 

            While
the doctors tended to Grace, Flynn went to the hospital gift shop. He made a
quick purchase and meandered his way back to the emergency room.

 

*          *          *

 

            “Do
you want me to call your aunt?” Dr. Michael James asked.

            Grace
shook her head. “It’d be better if she saw me. I don’t need to upset her
heart.”

            “Okay.
I don’t get off for a few hours. I could keep you here, for observation, and
then drive you home,” he offered.

            “That’ll
no’ be necessary,” Flynn replied from the doorway.

            Michael’s
brows knitted together. “And you are?”

            “Justice!”
Grace smiled.

            Her
smile nearly knocked him from his feet. ‘Twas the first genuine smile she ever
gave him. He shuffled towards her.

            “I
like your shirt. Makes you look doctorly,” she leered, admiring the blue scrub
shirt. Michael cleared his throat. “Oh, sorry, Michael. This is Justice Flynn.
He’s a cop and um, saved me.”

            Michael
extended his hand. “Officer?”

            Flynn
snorted. “Not bloody likely. Try Lieutenant.”

 

*          *          *

 

            “This
is so silly,” Grace mumbled.

            Flynn
took his eyes from the road. “What’s silly?”

            “You,
taking me home. I could’ve driven myself.”

            “Not
bloody likely,” he snorted. “You were attacked and in shock earlier, have ya forgotten?”

            Grace
shuddered and stared at him. Oncoming headlights exposed the creases between
his black brows. “Thank you,” she said softly.

            “For?”

            “Rescuing
me. For not prodding me about my dreams,” she shrugged.

            Flynn’s
jaws clenched. “I shoulda walked you to your feckin’ car. None of this would’ve
happened if I’d gone with me gut.”

            Reaching
over, Grace placed a hand on his arm. “It’s not your fault, Justice.”

            Flynn
swallowed hard. Her smile earlier and calling him by his first name overwhelmed
him. He tried to understand what it all meant.

            Would
they really end up together?

 

*          *          *

 

            Rick
waited by the luggage carousel, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.
He wondered if the team bus was waiting outside for them. If not, he’d hail a
cab to the arena to pick up his car. He checked his watch and frowned. By the
time he reached Grace’s house it’d be past ten.

            “Where’s
the fuckin’ luggage?” he bitched to no one in particular.

 

*          *          *

 

            “Dear
Goddess!” Tilda exclaimed, pulling Grace into the house. “I knew something was
wrong! I just knew it! I even tried calling you!” She gaped at the Steri-strips
along Grace’s neck.

            “Please
calm down, Aunt Tilda. I’m okay,” Grace assured.

            Tilda
shot a glance at Flynn, then back to Grace. “How does he fit into this
equation?”

            “He
rescued me.”

            Tilda’s
brows furrowed. “I want to hear everything, from the beginning.”

 

*          *          *

 

            At
the arena, Rick jammed his suitcase into the back seat and jumped into the
driver’s seat.

            He
tore out of the parking lot causing the car to fish-tail.

            Glancing
at the clock, he cursed. It was bad enough he was going to show up uninvited,
but to arrive after eleven? Gah!

 

*          *          *

 

            “Oh
Poppet! When I looked into my crystal ball I saw you getting hurt, but not
physically! Then after what Rick did to you, I assumed…”

            Grace
patted her aunt’s knee. “I’m okay.”

            Tilda
wiped her eyes with a wrinkled hand and glanced at Grace’s shirt, then Flynn’s.
“Why are you wearing matching shirts?”

            Flynn
sat forward on the purple chair. “Ours were covered with…”

            Grace
cut him off. “Our shirts got dirty. What? You don’t like hospital scrubs?”

           

*          *          *

 

            “Make
yourself comfortable,” Grace mumbled when she and Justice entered her home.
“I’m just going to wash up a bit.”

            She
went into the washroom and stared at her neck. The blood was gone and all that
remained were the strips to hold her skin together. Michael said stitches
weren’t necessary. She frowned at her reflection and removed the hair tie from
her hair. She rinsed the remaining blood from the ends of her hair and towel
dried it. Instead of putting her hair back into a ponytail, she left it loose
and wrapped it around her neck. Out of sight, out of mind.

            When
she stepped into the living room, Justice was on his cell phone, petting Chewy
who sat in his lap. “Aye. I promise to tell her. Bye.”

            She
shot Chewy an exasperated look. What was up with that cat lately? She hated
Ben, but seemed to take to both Rick and Justice. She shook her head and sat
next to Justice.

            “Dec
and Cam send their best,” he murmured, staring at her neck.

            She
touched her neck and shrugged. “I don’t like seeing the guy’s handiwork.”

            Justice
nodded, understanding. “I’ve made a friend, aye?” he smiled, rubbing Chewy
behind the ears.

 

*          *          *

 

            Rick
parked on the street since there was a blue Camero in Grace’s driveway. The
lights were on inside, so he wouldn’t be waking her.

            Stepping
from his car, he wiped his palms on his jeans and strode to the door.

 

*          *          *

 

            “Expecting
company?” Justice asked.

            Grace
got up from the couch. “Nope. My parents are in Ireland again.” She pulled the
door open and Chewy leapt from Justice’s lap.

            “Rick?”

            “I
know it’s late and I should’ve called, but I had to see you. God, Grace, I’m
miserable without you. I know I fucked up and I’ll spend the rest of my life
making it up to you.”

            Chewy
mewled at him forlornly.

            Rick
glanced down at Chewy and smiled sadly. “Grace, you’re mine and you know you’re
mine. And all I ever think of is that I love you.”

            Justice
appeared behind Grace. Rick’s nostrils flared and his hands fisted.

Grace reached for him. “It’s not what you think.”

He stepped away, narrowing his eyes at her. “You don’t waste
any fuckin’ time, do ya?
Him
?” He gripped his head and paced in a circle
on the porch. “Fine Grace! Just fuckin’ fine!” he yelled, stomping towards his
car.

            “I’ll
explain it to him,” Justice murmured, brushing past her.

She grabbed his arm. “Let him go. He’ll get over me quicker
if he hates me.”

 

*          *          *

 

            Rick
didn’t know where to go, but he knew one thing. He wasn’t going to cry. Not
over a chick. No fuckin’ way.

            He
wanted to punch something. Maybe turn around and punch that Irish fucker in the
face a few times.

            Doing
ninety on I-57, he headed towards the only people who’d be able to calm him
down.

 

*          *          *

 

            Grace
sipped her wine with a shaky hand.

            Justice
took the glass from her and handed her a small brown paper bag.

            “What’s
this?”

            “Open
it,” he smirked.

            She
peeked inside and chuckled, pulling out four chocolate bars. “I don’t
understand.”

            Justice
shrugged, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but when you’re nervous or upset you like
to eat candy bars.”

            Grace’s
mouth formed a circle and her eyes widened. “How did you know?”

            “What?
Only you can do cool shite?”

            Unsure
if it was the way his blue eyes sparkled, how he knew about her need for candy
bars or the way he talked, Grace’s stomach filled with butterflies. She turned,
palming his stubbled cheek and leaned into him.

            Justice’s
heartbeat accelerated just by the mere touch of her hand. He swallowed hard
when she closed the gap between them, softly pressing her lips against his.

            She
pulled away and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, nervously. “Thank you,
again, for rescuing me.”

 

*          *          *

 

            “And
they were wearing matching fucking shirts!” Rick growled.

            Emily
patted his knee. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but it sounds like you
may have jumped to conclusions.”

            Rick’s
eyes widened. “You’re taking her side?”

            “I
can check things out for you, doll,” Phyllis murmured, sitting next to him.

            “You’re
not getting involved in this Phyllis!” Chase hissed.

            Phyllis
stuck her tongue out and promptly disappeared.

            “Rick,
think about it. You hurt her and maybe this is her payback. She knows you’re
jealous of Flynn…” Chase trailed off.

            Emily
shook her head. “She’s not like that. There has to be more to this story.”

            “Whatever,”
Rick snorted. “She can have him. I’m done with her.”

            “Then
you never really loved her,” Emily frowned.

 

*          *          *

 

            At
the door, Justice turned. “Are ya sure you’ll be okay by yourself tonight?”

            “Pretty
sure,” Grace shrugged.

            He
eyed her for a long moment. “I can sleep on the couch, if ya’d feel better.”

            Grace
lifted her chin. “Seriously, I’ll be fine and if need be, my aunt is only a few
houses away.”

            Flynn
nodded and pulled a card from his pocket. “Me mobile number is on the back.
Call if ya need anythin’.”

            When
he turned to walk away, tears filled her eyes. “Justice?”

            “Aye?”

            Her
bottom lip trembled. “Can I have a hug?”

 

*          *          *

 

            “Never
really loved her?” Rick scoffed, driving home. “Just because I don’t need the
fucking drama, all of a sudden I never loved her?”

            He
put on a heavy metal radio station and turned the knob all the way to the right
to drown out his thoughts of her.

 

*          *          *

 

            Wanting
to get the stench of the man off of her, Grace scrubbed her arms and shoulder
areas with a loofah. She moved the coarse sponge lower to her breasts and
stomach. Tears seeped from her eyes as she washed away the filth of the day. If
only she could scrub away her thoughts.

            She
felt wrong, dirty even, for having thoughts about Justice. How is it possible
to be attracted to two men at once? Well, there was that spell that Janice
cast, but still…she was attracted to Rick the first time they met.

            “Gah!”
she cried, waking Chewy who sat patiently on the side of the tub. “Chewy? I’m
one messed up witch!”

 

*          *          *

 

            Flynn
walked into his apartment and flipped on the kitchen light. He rustled through
a junk drawer and pulled out a lighter. It’d been years since he had a
cigarette, but needed one now.

            He
put the filtered end between his lips, taking a deep drag. Slowly, he exhaled.
He walked through the apartment, running a hand through his thick, unruly black
hair.

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