Page 107 of Saving Grace
“Hey, that’s evidence!” A CSI tech yelled.
Matt speared the man with an incinerating glare. “Take it up with the sheriff.”
“How does Trent put up with you?” Kate sighed.
“Well, he puts up with Cassie,” Matt smirked. Besides, The Reaper was the cause of all his injuries, including a couple of bruised ribs. Damn straight he was helping himself to his expensive liquor collection if only to blunt the sting of what was to come. If he hadn’t taken the forty-caliber round to his torso, which his vest fortunately stopped, he would have knocked that little shit out in no time.
He pulled out a chair by the kitchen table and pulled his shirt over his head. Of course it stung, but no way he was going to cry about it. He took a swig out of the Macallan and doused his wound on his side with some of the expensive scotch.
“You sure about this, bro?” Colt smirked, crouching in front of him. “I’m not exactly a plastic surgeon. This ain’t gonna be pretty.”
“I don’t give a shit,” Matt snapped. “Just do it.”
His friend sobered and looked at Kate who simply shrugged.
“Just give him what he wants, Colt, or we’ll never hear the end of his ornery ass,” Kate said.
And that was why he loved his sister.
Matt hissed as the needle pricked his skin.
Several stitches later, Matt strode toward the ambulance where Grace stood with the rest of the gang. There was an anxious look on her face.
“Where have you been?” she demanded. “The EMT said you had refused treatment.”
If Matt encountered that EMT again he was going to kick his ass. “No worries, babe, Colt fixed me up.” He clasped her shoulders and stared at her searchingly. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “I was more worried about you. You were bleeding and Ric shot you.”
Matt ground his molars at how familiar Grace sounded with the dead assassin. “Ric, huh?” Everyone noticed his disparaging tone as an awkward, gouging silence fell on the group.
“Matthew,” Millie admonished quietly.
What the fuck? He didn’t need anyone getting in between him and his wife. Matt knew if he didn’t get Grace to confess every single detail of her time with The Reaper, he was going to lose his mind and eventually, his temper with her. Grace, for her part, had recovered from her stunned disbelief and was staring at him with fiery defiance, daring him to deepen the hole he’d inadvertently dug himself into.
Matt was not that stupid.
So he ignored Millie and his wife and addressed Dr. Ryan who was looking on with interest. “Anything urgent we need to address tonight?”
“No. Grace is fine. There’s no need to do an ultrasound right now as it’s not guaranteed we’ll hear a heartbeat at six weeks. We don’t want to cause unnecessary worry.” The doctor split a look between Matt and Grace. “Looks like you two have more important matters to discuss.”
“Ranch tomorrow?” Matt asked.
The doctor nodded. “I need to return to Atlanta by three in the afternoon for a meeting with the CDC and Homeland Security, so any time before noon.”
“Let’s shoot for ten,” Matt replied. “That okay with you, Grace?”
“Sure,” his wife shrugged. A bland expression washed over her face but her eyes shot lasers at him.
Yes, they were definitely discussing The Reaper tonight and putting that fucker permanently out of their lives.
*****
They’d spent most of the drive back in silence. The relief of having Grace back was shadowed by what was still ahead of them. How would his wife handle her abduction? Matt had seen the room where The Reaper held Grace. The CSI tech had been bagging Grace’s pajamas. There were ropes on the bed, a ripped shirt on the floor, and she’d been dressed in that fucker’s shirt. Fury ratcheted up inside him again, but he managed to beat it back. All that mattered was sitting right beside him—the woman he loved to distraction.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to protect you.”
“Don’t—” Grace cut in sharply. She took his right hand from the steering wheel and held it on her lap. “Please don’t blame yourself, baby,” she said tenderly. “I survived. You saved me and killed that psychopath.”