38. Grayson

Grayson

I pace the living room, my mind racing. It's not like Maggie to go this long without checking in, especially when she's working on something as critical as this case. I pull out my phone, my fingers trembling slightly as I dial her number. The call goes straight to voicemail. Hanging up, I nearly throw the phone at the wall but settle for a frustrated growl. She wouldn't leave me hanging like this. We both know that's too dangerous right now, especially after the night we had.

"Grayson? What's up?" Sam's soft voice asks. She's at the table, putting together a puzzle with George.

"It's Maggie. She hasn't checked in. I can't get a hold of her," I say, my voice tight with worry.

"Hey, Georgie, why don't you go pick a movie?" Sam suggests, rubbing his back. He hops down from the table without a worry in the world and practically skips away. Lucky kid—not a care in the world except maybe which snack to munch on next. Once he's gone, Sam motions for me to come into the kitchen. "She's a cop, Gray. This is probably normal."

"Like you would know," I snap back. My eyes widen briefly at my own tone, but if she's upset by it, there's no sign. Probably because she knows my bark is worse than my bite.

"I wouldn't know. You're right."

My face softens at her calm tone. "She wouldn't leave me hanging, Sam. I just…" I flex my jaw, tightening my fists. "I know something's wrong."

A weak smile flickers on her lips. "I know I'm just your boss, but can I give you some advice?" Advice is necessary at this point, or I might do something crazy, so I nod. "Go."

I actually shake my head, sure I heard her wrong. Her gaze is steady, no hint of joking or teasing. She's saying I need to trust myself. If I feel like something's wrong, something probably is. That level of trust she has in me and in my relationship with Maggie is a little terrifying. But I don't bother asking for more encouragement. I don't want to be talked out of this.

My keys are on the entryway table, and I hurry over. "I won't be back until late," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

Sam nods, her eyes filled with unspoken understanding. "Be careful," she says softly. I almost expect her to say, "And don't do anything I wouldn't do," but I doubt there's much Sam hasn't done. She's a bit of a wild card.

I don't look back as I head out the door, my mind singularly focused. George is with Mack and Sam. He's more than taken care of; he's protected. There aren't many people that would try to cross Mack. He really is a giant. I jump into my car, the engine roaring to life as I speed off toward San Diego. There's no real reason to think she's there, other than a gut feeling. Suzannah said that's where Don was going. And again, I can't explain it, but I know he's behind this. It's the pull. On the way, I text Greg, hoping he can help.

It takes half an hour for him to text back.

Greg Sanderson: Cell phone ping shows she's in San Diego.

I nearly let out a whoop. At least I'm on the right path. Whatever's happening, I need to be there. I will be there for my Maggie.

***

The rest of the drive is a blur, my thoughts consumed by Maggie and the danger she's in. Still no word from her, and nothing more from Greg either. Just my luck—every time I need immediate updates, the universe decides it's time for a digital detox.

The road stretches out before me, an endless ribbon of asphalt. With every mile I cover, my resolve strengthens. I can't let Don hurt Maggie or her family. I have to protect them, no matter what it takes. Plus, I can't let Maggie have all the fun playing hero. It's my turn to save the day.

As I drive, memories of my past with Don flood my mind. We had once been close, brothers in every sense of the word. But that bond had been shattered, broken by lies and betrayal. Don had started working with Keaton, doing the silent and unthinkable bidding of our uncle, and after he passed, our aunt. In hindsight, it's no surprise he was the favorite—he always was the more "creative" one in finding trouble.

It had disgusted me, and I made it known. While I did what I was told, I hated every minute of it. Don seemed to enjoy tormenting people as some kind of bruiser or enforcer. What a career aspiration, right? Mom must be so proud.

I thought when I went to jail, I was done with this part of my life. This time, I'll be certain. Once I get my hands on Don, I'll make sure he can't hurt anyone ever again, especially not my Maggie, my son, or my ex-wife. No one deserves to be treated like that. The bruises… God, only a demented person would do something like that. You'd think he was auditioning for a role in a crime drama.

But the thought that Don could already be hurting her, leaving marks like those on the woman I love, is unbearable.

My grip on the steering wheel tightens, my knuckles white. I can't shake the guilt gnawing at me. It's my family, my past, that has brought this danger upon Maggie.

The sun begins to set, casting long shadows across the road. My thoughts turn to George, safe with Sam and Mack. I'm grateful for their presence, for the stability my true family provides in the midst of this shit show. At least George is in good hands, probably conning them into letting him eat ice cream before dinner.

As I near San Diego, the city lights come into view, drowning out some of the darkness that envelops my thoughts. Under different circumstances, I might find the sight beautiful.

My phone buzzes with a text message, breaking my reverie. I let it play over the speakers, my heart in my throat. It's from Maggie. A simple message, but one that fills me with both relief and dread.

Maggie Parker: I'm okay. Don't do anything. I love you.

Like hell, I think and exhale a shaky breath. I know Maggie is strong, capable of handling herself in the toughest situations. But this is different. This is personal, and it's my fault. I won't stay away this time. Ignoring the message, I push the accelerator further. Ignoring a direct order from a cop—guess I like living on the edge now.

This is more than just a mission to save Maggie. It's a fight for the life we've built together. And I'm determined to do whatever it takes to keep that future intact. Plus, if I don't, I'll never hear the end of it from Maggie. She'll remind me of this until we're both old and gray, sipping tea on our porch. And I'd like to make it to that porch.