My Secret Santa Clayton (Silver Ridge Christmas)

31. Grace

THIRTY-ONE

Grace

I came to, my head splitting. Light pierced the room and I winced, trying to get a grip on what was happening.

I groaned out loud as I tested my limbs. Ropes bit into my wrists and ankles. I was tied up, that much was clear. There was someone settled in a chair opposite me, another figure pacing back and forth behind him. My eyes darted around, searching for a familiar face, but Mariah wasn't there.

Just Rob, sitting across from me.

“Looking for someone?”

“Where's Mariah?” I demanded.

“Who?” Rob feigned ignorance, but I saw the flicker of knowledge in his eyes.

“Cut the crap. Where is she?”

He shrugged, a smug look spreading across his face. “Why should I tell you?”

“Because if you hurt her, I swear?—”

“Threats now? Really?” He cut me off with a chuckle. “You're not exactly in a position to be making those.”

I glared at him, but I didn’t need to go on. If Mariah had gotten away, she'd be getting help.

That thought alone gave me some semblance of hope.

I scanned the room again, my mind sharpening as I pieced together what had happened since I passed out. Mariah wasn't here; she must've escaped. A rush of relief surged through me, though I kept my face expressionless. She was gone, that had to mean she was safe. I'd played my part; now it was up to her.

Rob's heavy footsteps approached. His shadow fell over me and then his hand was in my hair, yanking my head back so hard I saw stars. Pain lanced through my scalp, but I bit down on any sign of weakness.

“Awake at last,” he sneered, leaning in close.

“Rob,” I said, ignoring the pounding in my head. “What do you want?”

“I want your other leads, informants,” he said. “If you give them to me…maybe my friends here will let you live.”

“Why did you even do this?” I asked. “I thought you wanted to weed out the corruption in Boston?—”

His laughter filled the room, harsh and grating. “I wanted to bring you in on it,” Rob said, shaking his head. “We could have both made a killing.”

“Rob,” I replied, my voice flat, “you should have known better.”

“I thought you'd see sense, Grace,” he said. “But no, you had to play the hero. And because of that, my boss gave the order. Your informants died because you wouldn’t leave well enough alone…and you clearly weren’t good enough to figure everything out, because you never saw me coming, did you?”

God…oh God, he was right. I hadn’t been careful enough, hadn’t watched my back or done my research. People were dead because of me, and I was about to die too…

I blinked hard, the room spinning. My stomach churned. I turned away and heaved, pain splintering through my head with each convulsion.

My throat burned as I spat out the last of it, trying to focus on the cold floor beneath me.

“Where's your laptop, Grace? It wasn’t at your sister’s house.” Rob's voice cut through the fog of nausea. He stood with his arms folded, eyes locked on me.

“Go to hell,” I muttered, voice rough. His footsteps echoed ominously in the small room as he paced.

“Wrong answer,” he said calmly. “The story dies with your silence.”

I spat out a bitter chuckle and shook my head. “Fuck you.”

Rob's fist connected with my cheek in an instant, pain exploding across my face. My head snapped to the side, the dull throb in my skull now a pounding drumbeat.

I couldn’t talk for a second.

I wondered if this was what it felt like to die.

“Kill me if you want,” I said, each word punctuated by a cough that rattled through my bruised body. “You'll never get the story. No more names from me. You're done. The FBI has everything.”

The thud of a fist against plaster snapped my attention back to the present. Rob’s buddy—one of the goons he’d brought with him—stood seething by the wall, knuckles probably bleeding. Rob’s eyes snapped toward him.

I’d at least made them angry.

I counted that as a victory.

“Anything from our man?” he asked.

“Nothing. He hasn't found the sister yet,” the other guy snarled, frustration clear in his voice.

I felt a chill run through me, but I kept my face neutral.

They were still hunting Mariah.

Rob's laugh was cold and sharp. “Well, when we get her back, we’ll finally have leverage.” He turned and looked at me, a sneer on his face. “Then, she’ll have no choice but to talk.”