My Secret Santa Clayton (Silver Ridge Christmas)

20. Clay

TWENTY

Clay

I knew Grace wouldn’t like it, but I had to bring someone else in on this.

What had happened this morning scared the hell out of me—and I wasn’t easily scared. Someone had attacked Grace, and all the pieces were starting to click into place. Her paranoia, the way her eyes darted around like someone was watching…this was why.

We needed help, and I knew exactly who to call.

Because my best friends in town had been through their own kind of hell—a real estate scandal turned deadly—last year. And I knew they could help.

Kat and Gabe got to my house maybe a half-hour after I called, and I jerked open the door to find them both pale and armed. I gestured them inside, hushing Bear as he wagged his tail.

“Grace is asleep,” I said low, stepping aside to let them in, their boots thumping against the wooden floor as they entered.

“Jesus,” Kat muttered under her breath, eyeing the shotgun leaning by the door. “That bad, huh?”

“Take a seat. Coffee?” I asked, already heading towards the pot.

“Please,” Kat sighed, dropping into one of the chairs. Gabe just nodded, perching on the edge of the couch, hands clasped between his knees, eyes darting around like he expected the walls to start shooting at us.

It was good to have another Marine on this.

He got how it felt to have to protect his woman at all costs.

I poured three mugs, black, no nonsense, and handed them out before settling down across from them, the chair groaning under my weight. “So what the hell happened?” Kat asked. “You sounded totally freaked out.”

I nodded. “Well…Grace stayed here last night, thanks to that freak snowstorm—and when we went to dig out her car this morning, we found her tires slashed.”

“Slashed?” Gabe repeated, the word coming out sharp.

“Yep. And that wasn't the end of it,” I continued, feeling my jaw tighten as I remembered the struggle. “Some bastard in all black jumped her. We managed to fight him off.”

“Shit,” Kat whispered, her mug halfway to her lips, frozen. “Is she...”

“Hit her in the head pretty good. But she's tough,” I said, a hint of pride sneaking into my voice despite the circumstances. “Took it like a champ. She's resting now.”

“Resting? After a head hit? Are you sure she doesn't need a doctor?” Gabe asked, brows furrowed in concern.

“Trust me, she's okay. Grace needed sleep more than anything else.”

“Shouldn't she be at a hospital?” Kat asked, her eyes darting to the hallway as though she could see through walls to where Grace lay resting.

I shook my head. “Grace was clear about that. No hospitals.”

Gabe frowned. “No hospital? What the hell, Clay?”

“Wasn't exactly in a position to argue.” I shrugged. “And I'm not completely useless. Got enough training from the Marines to patch her up for now.”

“Sure, because field dressing is the same as treating a head wound,” Kat shot back.

“Let the man be, Kat,” Gabe muttered. “I get it. I know you’ll get her checked out when you can.”

We all fell silent as the sound of footsteps reached our ears. I turned toward my bedroom door just as Grace stepped into the room, her brown eyes scanning each of us like she was reading a situation report.

“Clay…” she started.

“I needed to call someone,” I interrupted. “Sorry, but?—”

“I didn't want this,” Grace said, her voice holding a sharp edge. Her gaze settled on me for a moment longer than the rest. “I don't want anyone else involved.”

“Too late for that,” Gabe replied with a dry laugh. “You've got company now, so spill it, Grace. What the hell is going on?”

Grace chewed on her lip, looking for all the world like the girl I fell in love with years ago. “You shouldn’t be in danger because of me,” she said. “None of you deserve this.”

“But we’re taking it on anyway,” Kat said. “So…can you fill us in at least?”

She swallowed hard and I stood up to squeeze her shoulder. “Let me get you some coffee,” I said.

I poured the coffee and handed her a mug, noticing how her hands shook slightly as she took it from me. We all sat down at my rough-hewn kitchen table, the silence hanging heavy between us. She took a sip and then placed the cup on the table with a soft clink.

“Okay,” Grace said, her voice steady. “This is the story.”

She paused, drawing in a deep breath, and I waited.

“I was investigating a city councilor,” she began, looking straight into my eyes. “Thought he was just dabbling in some shady deals, nothing too out of the ordinary for a crooked politician. But the deeper I dug, the more dirt came up. Turns out, he's in bed with organized crime, and I'm not talking small-time thugs. I stumbled on material that ties him to the mob.”

“Jesus, Grace,” I muttered, gripping my coffee mug tighter. Her words weighed on me like a two-ton boulder, and I realized this was bigger than any trouble we had seen in Silver Ridge before.

“I got too close to the truth…and my informants got killed,” Grace said, her eyes not meeting mine. She shifted in her chair, and I saw a shadow of fear cross her face. “I had to get out of Boston.”

“So you came to Silver Ridge?” Gabe asked. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table.

“A tiny little town in the middle of nowhere,” she replied. Her gaze found a spot on the wall, and she stared at it as if it held answers. “And I had a place to go here, people who would protect me. Only my editor knew where I was going.”

“Your editor?” Kat pressed, her voice edged with disbelief.

“Yep. And unless he's changed drastically since I left...” Grace trailed off, shook her head. “But Boston's miles away.”

Gabe frowned, exchanged a glance with Kat, then turned back to Grace. “So how did they find you here?”

She shrugged, a gesture that seemed too small for the weight of the question. “Seems fair enough,” she admitted. “I mean, I just…I wanted a safe place to land, and I thought if I got out of town they would figure I was out of the picture. But they looked for my family…and they found me.”

I wanted to chastise her for it—in hindsight, it seemed so stupid—but I got it. We all wanted a safe place when shit got real, I understood that. For me, Grace had been that safe place.

For her, it was Mariah.

Even if it put her pregnant sister in danger.

“Mariah doesn't know any of this, does she?” I asked.

Grace met my eyes then, and I saw the protective fierceness that always marked her relationship with her sister. “No, and we're keeping it that way.”

“Because of the baby?” Kat added softly.

“Exactly. Mariah's almost due,” Grace said. “I won't have her stressed over this mess. Promise me.”

“We promise,” I said, and Kat nodded in agreement.

“Thank you,” Grace whispered and picked up her coffee cup again. Her fingers wrapped tightly around it, holding it like a lifeline as she tried to steady herself for whatever came next.

“Are you sure you didn't leave any kind of trail?” Gabe asked, his eyes narrow and probing.

I watched Grace closely. She sat straight in her chair, her hands clasped tight around the steaming mug. “No,” she said. “I was careful. I took the train to New York, then a bus to Montana.” Her voice was steady, factual. “I paid for everything in cash.”

“Okay, but...” Gabe rubbed at the stubble on his chin, thinking it through.

“Could they trace your cash withdrawals?” I interjected.

“Only the withdrawal in Boston,” Grace replied. “That's all I made before leaving town.”

“Someone could have caught you on a security cam,” Gabe said. He leaned back, his gaze still fixed on Grace. “If it's the mob, they could have people anywhere.”

“Damn it,” Grace muttered under her breath. She looked down at her coffee, then up again. “I guess there's no telling who they have in their pocket.”

I felt the weight of her words settle in the room. It was like we were all holding our breath, hoping not to stir up more trouble than we already had on our hands.

I set the mug down on the table with a firm clack. Gabe looked at me, then across to Grace, whose eyes were locked on her own cup.

“We should call the police,” he said. “We're friends with the sheriff's deputy. They can handle this.”

Grace's head snapped up, her brown eyes wide and alarmed. “No cops,” she said. Her voice was steady, but I saw her hands grip the mug tighter.

“Grace, we've been through hell,” Gabe continued. “We're here for you. We'll keep you safe.”

She shook her head, her straight brown hair swaying slightly. “You don't get it, Gabe,” she said. “The mob has connections everywhere. I can't trust anyone, especially not the police.”

Gabe started to protest, but she cut him off. “I won't bring danger to your doorstep. Mariah doesn't need this stress, not now. I have a plan.”

Her resolve was clear, even as panic flashed in her eyes. She didn't want to involve us, but she had no choice. She needed allies, even if she'd rather go it alone.

I leaned against the kitchen counter and eyed Grace. “And what's that?”

She straightened her back. “I have to finish my article and publish it. I need to get the truth out there before they get to me.”

“Publishing that story is dangerous,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I know,” she replied, meeting my gaze. “But it's the right thing to do.”

I looked at her, remembering the times I faced death in the field. The reality was stark and simple; Grace was in the crosshairs of something much bigger than any of us. “You're not just exposing a petty criminal,” I said. “You're going up against the mob.”

“Which is why I need to do this myself,” she insisted.

Kat leaned forward, her voice softer. “At least tell Deputy Langley. He's a friend. He can help.”

Grace shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “No. I appreciate it, but no. I have to handle this on my own terms.”

“Grace—” I started.

“Give me three days,” she continued. “If I haven't resolved this by then, you can go to the cops.”

Gabe exchanged a glance with Kat. They wanted to help, to protect her, but Grace was setting the terms. We all knew what was at stake.

We had to trust her, even if every instinct told me otherwise.