Page 77 of Saving Grace
“The Veritas Bank of Dallas, safety deposit box number … aren’t you writing this?”
“No, I can memorize it.”
“439-112. My cousin is the bank teller there.” He handed me a business card, his hand shaking from nervousness.
I reached into my purse, hid the key and card, and pulled out a smartphone and an envelope. “Troy’s men will be waiting for you at the safe house. There’s cash in the envelope and your booking for Jericho Airlines flight to Memphis. The smartphone is already programmed with Troy’s number. His men will meet you at Memphis International Airport. Go to the Jericho Airlines counter and check in. I’ll be a couple of steps behind you.”
I let him leave the corridor first and followed him about ten paces back. I was making sure he got through security before I left the airport. When he fell in line at the ticketing counter, I hung back and resisted the urge to tap my feet. I had not had that compulsion in years, but it didn’t explain why my anxiety level was at an all-time high. I saw two men approach, one looked at me briefly before returning his vision to Escobar. I was already moving forward when two men shouldered their way through the queue to get to the accountant. Strong fingers gripped my bicep when I felt a gun poke at my ribs.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” a sinister voice said. I looked up at the man who held me. He was of medium height with tanned skin and brown eyes. “Ms. Levinson.” He started to yank me away when an explosion echoed in the distance. The man cursed beside me and I caught Escobar looking at me in horror. Screaming ensued, and I was about to stomp the feet of my assailant when a shattering explosion tore through the Jericho Airline ticketing counter.
Something sliced through my thigh before blackness consumed me.
Iregained consciousness to chaos and screaming.
Then I blacked out again.
*****
Matt
Grace had stopped thrashing. She uncurled from her fetal position and rolled on her back. She smiled at him weakly.
“I’m whole, Matt,” she whispered.
“You weren’t anything less to me, gypsy,” Matt whispered back as he gently positioned her further into the bed and got in beside her.
Propping on his elbow, he searched her face. “Do you have anything you want to tell me?”
“We need to go to Dallas.”
Matt gave a brief nod. “I guess what you need is in a safety deposit box?”
“Yes. It’s a flash drive,” Grace rubbed her face on his chest. “The accountant is dead.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. He was closest to the bomb that went off. I think it was in a suitcase of a person ahead of him.”
Her body shuddered against him.
“Shh … you can tell me about it tomorrow. Why don’t you go to sleep?”
“The man who died beside me?” Grace looked up at him, but there was a faraway look in her eyes. “He held me at gun point. He was the one who told me to trust no one. I guess he’d been double-crossed, a loose end that needed finishing.”
“Matt, only Troy knew about my meeting with the accountant.”
He stiffened. “Are you telling me Troy sold you out?”
“I don’t know anything anymore.”
He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. “Sleep.”
She appeared too tired to do anything but comply. Her steady breathing a few minutes later told him she had dozed off. Matt lowered one leg to the floor and was about to get off the bed when her delicate hand grabbed his arm.
“Don’t leave me,” she murmured. Was she dreaming? His throat constricted with emotion, shaken by the knowledge how three simple words could empower him as well as bring him to his knees.
“Matt,” her eyes half-opened. “Stay.”