Sticks and Stones (31 page)

            Why
did he feel so…so feckin’ neddy? He hardly knew the gel! His mobile vibrated in
his pocket. “Flynn!”

            “How’s
Grace?” Declan asked.

            Flynn
rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m worried aboot her. She didna seem well when I
left her house.”

            “Why’d
ya leave then?”

            Flynn
shoved the cigarette in his mouth and paced the apartment. “Cause she didna
want me to stay! The gel’s strong willed.”

            “Are
ya smokin’ again?” Declan sighed.

            Flynn
removed the cigarette from his mouth. “Are ya feckin’ psychic?”

            “The
gel’s gotten to ya, aye?”

            “You
have that aright,” he sighed deeply. “Whaddya think happened between her and
Ricochet?”

            Declan
chuckled. “You.”

*          *          *

            Before
going to bed Grace turned on the light in the closet, something she hadn’t done
since she was a child. She pulled the covers up to her chin. Warm, salty tears
fell from her eyes and she trembled, but not because she was cold. It went
deeper than that. 

*          *          *

            Tilda
paced and wrung her hands nervously. “Go to her,” Reginald said softly. She
pulled on her robe and grabbed the keys to Grace’s house.

*          *          *

            After
four shots of Jameson, Rick couldn’t fall asleep. He rolled onto his back and
tucked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Did she ever feel
anything real for him?

*          *          *

            Tilda
slipped between the covers and wrapped an arm around Grace. “I’m here Poppet,”
she murmured.

            Grace
trembled harder, spilling tears onto her pillow.

*          *          *

            The
next morning, Flynn sat at his desk, running his hands through his hair. The
two assholes were apprehended the night before but from what he could glean
from the district attorney, they’d only receive hand slaps for their crime. He
scowled and drank from the Styrofoam coffee cup.

            “Whoa!
Someone piss in your Wheaties today?” Greg Travers teased from across the room.

            “Feckin’
dirty bastards! Gettin’ off with a feckin’ slap on the wrists!”

            Greg
strode across the room and pulled out a wooden chair from a desk across the
aisle. “What’s up?”

            Flynn
walked through the events from the previous evening and Greg stopped him. “This
is the woman from the hockey game? Ricochet’s girlfriend?”

            “Former
girlfriend, aye,” Flynn muttered, then continued. “The DA is tellin’ me that
they have no priors. Can ya feckin’ believe that? Two scumbags like that? I’m
sure this wasna their first crime.”

            “Is
she okay?”

            Flynn
shrugged, “I havna talked with her this morning. Physically she’s seems fine.
I’m no’ so sure her mental state is aright.”

            Greg
rubbed his chin. “Wasn’t there a similar case like this a month ago? But
instead, the woman was raped in a parking garage?”

*          *          *

            “Hi
Blake. Grace won’t be in today,” Tilda muttered into the phone.

            “Is
everything okay?”

            Tilda
sobbed, “Oh Blake! My Poppet was attacked last night.”

*          *          *

            Rick
woke up with gritty eyes and his tongue felt like Chewy had stuck her paw in
his mouth.

            He
hobbled into the bathroom and brushed his teeth. Afterwards, he strode into the
kitchen, turned on the television and made coffee. He listened to the news with
half an ear as he gripped his pounding head. Lost in his misery he didn’t hear
the news report about the attack in a nearby parking garage on the previous
evening.

*          *          *

            Grace
rolled over and jumped at Chewy’s melancholy meow in her face. “Dammit Chewy!”

            She
shuffled into the bathroom, closing the door in a huff. Studying herself in the
mirror, she frowned. Her eyes were bloodshot and had dark lines underneath
them.

            Carefully,
she moved her hair from her neck and frowned. The steri-strips were still in
place, hiding the cut mark. Maybe she could get away with wearing a silk scarf
for the week?

            She
hastily brushed her teeth and washed her face before going downstairs.

            Chewy
ran ahead down the stairway. As Grace descended the stairs she heard soft
murmurs from the living room.

            “Has
anyone called Rick?”

            “No,”
Tilda sighed. “They aren’t together anymore.”

            “I
forgot to tell you last night Jessie,” Michael said softly. “A guy named
Justice was with her at the hospital. They seemed…like they were together.”

            Grace
almost smiled at Michael’s statement, but instead, frowned. Was she that
obvious?

            “Poppet!
Did we wake you?” Tilda said warily.

            “No,
Chewy did,” she grumbled, shooting Chewy a glare. “What brings you two here?”

            “I
wanted to check my handiwork and Jessie wanted to make sure you’re okay,”
Michael replied.

            Jessica
walked to her friend and hugged her. “Oh Grace! How horrible! I know this is a
stupid question, but how are you?”

            “Thankful
to be alive,” Grace mumbled.

*          *          *

            After
Michael and Jessica left, Grace gripped her aunt’s hand. “Thank you for staying
with me last night. I was a wreck, huh?”

            Tilda
tsked. “Gracie, you were attacked!”

            Grace
sighed sadly. “Oh it’s much more than that Aunt Tilda. I feel like I have no
control over my life now. I’ve lost my clients, my boyfriend, have unusual
feelings for Justice. Last night was just the icing on the cake. I’m a flippin’
mess.” She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “And I’m late for work.”

            “I
called Blake earlier and told him what happened. We both think you shouldn’t go
to work this week.” When Grace began to protest Tilda lifted her palm. “You’ve
been through a serious ordeal. You need to focus on your mental well being and
to hell with everything else.”

            Frowning,
Grace nodded. “Okay, I won’t argue. Besides, I can work from home.”

            Tilda
lifted her brows. “Do you want to talk about Justice?”

            “What’s
there to say? He’s handsome, Irish and quite possibly the man I’ve been
dreaming about since I was ten.” She palmed her face. “I kissed him last
night.” She brought her hand down and lifted her eyes to meet Tilda’s. “But I
wanted more.”

            “Dear
Goddess,” Tilda gasped. “Did you…?”

            Grace
shook her head. “Now do you understand how fucked up I am? I’ve never been like
this before in my life! I want to sleep with Justice and I hardly know him!”

            Tilda
quirked a smile and smoothed her hair back. “Maybe you’re more like me than
your mom after all.”

*          *          *

            Even
though they won the game last night, Coach Banks still wanted the team to
practice. He cautioned Rick to not be so hard on them this time.

            They
ran through practice drills for puck handling and coordination, since the
rookies lacked in those areas and some of the veterans shared their expertise.

            Rick
watched from the bench, nursing a headache. Dmitri slid on the bench next to
him. “Judging by your face I take it last night didn’t go well.”

            “Pfft,
no. She’s with someone else already. Can you fuckin’ believe it?”

            Dmitri
frowned. “You sure about that?”

            “Yep,”
Rick sighed.

            “Taylor
seems interested. Why don’t you take her out?”

            Rick
glared at him angrily. “Because I love Grace, ass hat!”

*          *          *

            “Anyway,
he showed up last night and saw Justice. He made the wrong assumption and took
off like a bat out of hell,” Grace muttered to Blake and Zee.

            “Why
didn’t you tell him what happened?” Blake asked.

            “Yeah,
baby?” Zee agreed.

            Grace
shrugged and lifted her eyes. “Justice offered to go after him and explain, but
I stopped him. It’ll be much easier for him to get over me if he hates me.”

            Blake
ran a hand over Grace’s back. “Are you sure you want that?”

            “He
needs to move on with his life, just as I need to move on with mine.”

*          *          *

            Four
hours and eight cups of coffee later, Justice and Greg found three similar
crimes which occurred in area parking garages. The three victims gave detailed
reports of the thugs which were included in the files. Flynn slammed his hand
on the desk. “We’ve got the bloody bastards!”

            Greg
nodded, “I’m gonna call Tamara since she interviewed all the victims. See if
she can help us to get them here to ID the perps. You need to track down the DA
and show him these files.”

            Flynn
stood and made his way to the bank of elevators when his mobile rang.

            “Flynn!”

            “Hi,
Justice. It’s Grace.”

            He
moved towards a window for better reception. “How are you?”

            “Okay,”
she said softly. “I’m taking the week off to…get my shit together.”

            “That’s
good, aye?”

            “I
guess. I, um, wanted to thank you, again, for last night.” Justice closed his
eyes. It coulda been prevented if… “Ya still there?”

            “Aye,”
he murmured.

            Grace
fidgeted on the couch and made a fist. “Okay, well, thanks again.” She wanted
to see him, but couldn’t form the words.

            “Grace?”
he practically yelled into the phone.

            “Yes?”

            “I,
um, have some things to wrap up, but can I see you later?”

            Her
heart pounded in her chest. “That’d be great,” she replied a little too
breathlessly.

*          *          *

            Not
wanting to go to the bar after practice, Rick headed home. He kept his sweats
on and headed to the gym located inside his condo’s building.

            He
always felt better and had a clearer mind after working out and hoped today
wouldn’t be any different.

            He
wanted to test himself so instead of pressing his body weight of 220 pounds; he
added thirty more pounds to the bar. Lying back on the bench, he gripped the
bar tightly and began lifting. The more he thought about Grace and the Irish
fucker, the faster the reps came. His arms began to shake from the weight after
twenty minutes. Instead of pushing himself anymore and risking injury, he
placed the heavy bar back onto the rack and lay on the bench.
So much for
clearing my mind
, he thought mulishly.

            “Hey
sexy!”

            Rick
sat up and half-grinned. “What brings you here, Chase?”

            Chase
shrugged, “Figured you’d be here when ya didn’t answer your phone. C’mon, I’ll
spot ya.”

            “Nah,”
Rick mumbled, checking his watch. “I’ve been at this for about twenty minutes.
I’m spent.”

            “Pussy,”
Chase teased. “Move outta the way then and don’t forget to wipe your nasty
sweat off the bench.”

            Rick
obliged and waved a hand over the bench.

            Chase
gripped the bar and lifted. Soon after, he put the bar back on the rack. “What
the fuck? How much did you lift?”

            “250.
Too heavy for ya?” Rick grinned.

            Chase
scowled and removed fifty pounds from the bar. “I’m not a professional hockey
player, asshole. I do this recreationally.”

            “Whatever
dude. I didn’t call
you
a pussy,” Rick smirked, heading towards an abs
bench.

            “I
was thinking…” Chase began.

            Rick
began doing sit-ups and rolled his eyes. “Here we go.”

            “Shut
up and listen,” Chase snapped. “It’s time to use that reverse psychology on
Grace. You always want something you can’t have, right? So, make sure you’re in
the papers hanging on another chick. Hell, maybe even Tyler.”

            “Taylor,”
Rick corrected.

            “Whatever.
Grace will no doubt see the pictures and come running back.”

            Rick
sat on an incline and rested his elbows on his thighs. “So I’m supposed to play
games to get her back?”

            “Yep!”
Chase said with a deep breath.

            Rick
lay back on the bench and pulled himself up. “I can’t do that. Not my style.”

*          *          *

            With
her hair freshly washed and a quick shower, Grace felt a bit better. She threw
on a comfy outfit and glanced at herself in the mirror. A pair of grey Capri
sweatpants and a blue v-neck t-shirt seemed tame. Heck! She even put on panties
and a bra! Nothing sexy about this outfit. Besides, it wasn’t a date, was it?

*          *          *

            Justice
flew down the Dan Ryan filled with anticipation. He wondered what would happen
tonight, with Grace, if anything. He thought aboot stopping for flowers, but it
wasna a date, was it?