I'll Never Stop (Hamlet 4) - Page 52

There.

He heard it again. Whatever it was? It was coming from behind Ophelia.

It didn’t matter that he was off duty, or that he was unarmed. If there was a strange noise coming from behind the bed and breakfast, he was going to see what it was.

Turning the corner, he was absolutely floored to discover that it was Grace.

Beneath the haze of the big yellow moon hanging high over her head, Grace was dancing in the backyard. She had on a pair of sneakers, a long sweater, and the same tight leggings she wore when they were training. Her long mahogany hair rippled in the moonlight as she moved. Her eyes were closed, chin tilted up toward the star-filled sky.

She was wearing headphones, dancing to a song only she could hear. The soft thump that caught his attention? It was the sound of her sneaks landing against the flat ground every time she leaped through the air, getting so much height, it seemed to Rick that she was damn near flying.

He was intruding—but he wasn’t. It didn’t feel like it. This was a moment in time for the two of them, Grace lost in her music while Rick lost himself in the pleasure of watching her move.

She seemed so… so peaceful. Crazy thing was, that actually brought him peace.

When was the last time he felt so content?

And that’s when Grace landed again, suddenly opened her eyes, and found him standing less than ten feet away from her.

She jerked, a squeal of fright ripping out of her. Her whole body drew away from him. Her hands flew to her chest, as if trying to calm a racing heart, her mouth clenched tight to keep another shriek from escaping.

His protective instincts went on high alert. He didn’t approach her, not when it was so obvious that he scared the shit out of her, but he held his own mitts up in a submissive gesture.

Grace ripped the headphones off. “Jesus, Rick, you scared the crap out of me! How did it get so dark? What time is it?”

“Easy, Tiger. It gets dark here. You’re fine.” At least, he hoped she was.

One good thing: she didn’t bat an eye at the nickname. He figured she realized it was just part and parcel with him. Last class, she told him that it was better than Kitten. Rick decided to take that as her permission to keep it up.

The nickname seemed to ground her. She nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. Sorry. It’s just… I wasn’t expecting anyone

out here, you know? And Maria usually comes and gets me before it’s time for the lockdown. I guess, for a second there, I was afraid I was gonna have to sleep outside.”

His jaw tightened. Yeah. She was afraid of something, all right.

From what Sly told him when he signed on to train her—from what Grace let slip during her lessons—she was definitely hiding something. He never pushed, because it wasn’t appropriate. Besides, if she wanted him to know, she’d tell him. Simple as that.

With the heaving of her chest, the stark terror in her anxious gaze, Rick knew that she had.

Grace Delaney wasn’t just hiding from the idea of a clingy ex. She was living in fear that he’d find her, as if he would do something when he did. The lessons might have been Maria’s idea. Even so, Grace put everything she had into every class and then some. She was dead set on protecting herself from something—or someone. The ex who wouldn’t take no for an answer, yeah. But there was more to it. He was damn sure of it.

And it frustrated him that she didn’t trust him enough to spill her secrets.

They’d only known each other for two weeks. They were little more than strangers. He had to accept that.

Or did he?

“I’m off Thursdays,” he blurted out.

Grace’s eyes widened. “What?”

Clearing his throat, Rick tried again. “Thursdays. I usually have the evenings off. You’re doing pretty great so far, but I can squeeze another hour in if you want to beef up your defense lessons. I, uh, got another book for you, too. There’s so much to cover. An extra class wouldn’t hurt.”

“Really?” With a soft sigh, Grace visibly relaxed. It was as if, once she let that whisper of air out, she let go of everything that held her hostage; her tension and fear slipped away, carried off in the wind. He didn’t know what he did to fix her, but he realized he would do it a thousand times over again if it helped his outsider.

Rick clenched his jaw. Nodded. If he spoke now, he’d say something sappy and ridiculous and reveal what might have just gobsmacked him. Like bam, brick to the had type of gobsmack.

Shit.

Tags: Jessica Lynch Hamlet Mystery
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