Chapter 48

Chapter Forty-Eight

ZANE

I walk woodenly beside Dutch and stare, unseeing, at the wall while he calls Cadey out of my suite. My mind feels like someone scooped it out and flipped it over.

All the things Finn admitted a few minutes ago…

It tore the floor out from under me.

No, more than that.

It ripped a hole in my entire universe.

I knew my brother had secrets, but I didn't know they'd be of that magnitude. The truth is still tangling in my mind, growing more and more complicated with every stroke of the clock.

As much as I want to run in and see Grey, I need to compose myself first. She's probably stressed about the video and I don't want to worry her more.

Finn swore us to secrecy, but even if he didn't, I wouldn't be able to tell her that my brother is the son of a Japanese crime lord. How do I tell her that exposing The Grateful Project exposes Finn?

"Were you crying?" Dutch's gruff question snaps me out of my daze.

I look at my sister-in-law and notice how red the tip of her nose is.

"No." Cadence's eyes dart to me and then to the ground. "Must be allergies."

Dutch glowers. "Allergies, huh?"

She nods jerkily, on the verge of shedding more tears. My brother's eyes narrow to slits. From the intense way he's staring, I half-expect Dutch to pick Cadey up and throw her over his shoulder again.

To my surprise, Dutch captures her hand and pulls her in for a hug.

"It's okay." He soothes her hair.

My eyeballs almost drop out of my face. I've never seen that big idiot be this gentle with anyone .

"What if it's not okay?" Cadence sniffs.

Dutch cradles her face. "Then I'll make it okay."

She gives him a wobbly smile.

Dutch turns to me and nods.

I nod back and then face my sister-in-law. "Does Grey have these ‘allergies' too?"

"Grey… acts like she doesn't. But she has them too, Zane. She really does."

Concerned that Grey is inside crying, I burst into the hotel room and look around for my wife.

The room is empty.

I'm on the verge of freaking out until I hear the shower running in the bathroom. Relief makes my shoulders sag.

"Grey." I knock on the door. "It's me."

"I'll be out in a minute."

"Take your time," I tell her.

The shower resumes.

As I walk toward the bed, I pass by Grey's desk and see something on her sketchpad. Curious about what she's unearthed from the video, I pick up the notebook.

The writings on the page make my blood run cold.

Yakuza.

Nagasaki

Sloane's death.

She's got it all laid out in black and white. The only thing missing is Finn's connection, not that anyone would have expected that. But everything else is accounted for. There's a freaking flowchart , with arrows pointing to all the events that have happened to and around us.

Terror clogs the back of my throat. My limbs automatically lock up, anxiety mounting with my internal alarm bells.

If you don't get rid of that evidence, the next time I see you will be in hell.

Dad's warning peals like a bell.

My father wants to meet me, but I haven't had the courage. If he's really the one behind The Grateful Project, I'm afraid he'll kill you guys if I'm not around.

Finn's confession is just as damning.

So far, everyone in our family has been spared because of Finn, but Grey will die if she knows too much.

And it seems like she already does.

"Hey." I hear her sweet voice and turn, noticing that she's exiting the bathroom wearing my T-shirt and a plastic bag over her head.

I stare at it. "What's that?"

"I'm deep-conditioning."

At that moment, I spy a few objects on the TV stand that weren't there before. They're all colorful containers with labels marked by images of coconuts and oil. She must have asked someone from the hotel to deliver them.

"What's deep conditioning?"

"It's something that's really good for natural hair."

I don't really know what ‘natural hair' is either—isn't all hair ‘natural'? But I keep quiet because I don't want to look stupid.

"My curls have been screaming for moisture lately, but I haven't had time to properly wash my hair and," she chuckles self-consciously, "… not that you're interested."

I frown. "I am interested. I want to know everything about you."

Her eyes snap over to me and then to the ground. There's something heavy in her expression. Or maybe that's just me projecting.

"Did you find any clues from the video?" I ask.

"Yeah, but I'm not ready to tell you yet." She walks over to the desk and flips the notebook closed. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Why tomorrow?"

Sadness skitters through her eyes.

My heart becomes a rock in my chest.

"Oh, you know…" Her voice cracks slightly even as she throws on a pretty smile. "Because I just want to spend time with you tonight."

If lightning struck me where I stand, it would shock me less.

Her face softens and she walks over to me, closing her arms around my neck. Her hand slides into my hair, raking her nails slightly over my scalp and making me grunt.

"I've always meant to ask this, but did you dye your hair?"

"No."

"So it really is this black." She runs her fingers through the strands. Then she traces a line down my jaw. "Hm."

"What are you doing?" I demand but the harshness of my tone is broken up by a breathy exhale.

She leans in.

I lean back, making her smirk.

"How was the meeting with your dad?"

"About the same as any other. Dad went on and on about how awful we are and how we keep ruining his plans."

"And does it bother you?"

"What?" I ask, my breath escaping on another trembling surge.

"When he lies about how awful you guys are?"

"I wouldn't call them lies. None of us are saints. Especially me. I'm the worst of my brothers?—"

Grey propels herself up and brushes her lips over mine, making my explanation shrivel to dust on my tongue. It's not even a proper kiss. I tower over her, which means she would have needed more height in her tiptoes to make better contact.

Yet, even that barest of touches makes my body react.

She pulls away, her gaze tangling with mine. "You're not the worst, Zane. And you're not a joke either. You're kind and sensitive and joyful. You light up a room when you enter it. And if someone's having a bad day, you know exactly what to say to make them laugh. To put them at ease."

Sweet, sweet brown eyes lift to me, and I shiver at the sight of how pure she is. There's a near visible glow around her. Like I'm being visited by an angel.

"Not only that." Grey cups my face. "You're the glue that holds this family together. Your brothers are harsh and dangerous, not just to others but to each other. They have spikes that push out at any sudden movements, always on the defensive. And you stand in the middle. You allow yourself to be pierced."

I shake my head, feeling shy. Bashful. Embarrassed.

Grey nods determinedly. "I've got eyes, Zane. There were many, many fights that could have happened in this group but didn't because you were there to diffuse the tension. You keep this family together. In the quiet. From the shadows. You sacrifice yourself. And then you back them up, not expecting a thank you for it or even acknowledgement. You bleed for them, you bleed all over and you never lose that beautiful, Zane smile." She brushes my mouth with her thumb.

Her words are a balm to a wound I didn't even know I had. It hurts to the touch and yet, the more she speaks, the more it heals.

Grey leans back a little and her eyebrow quirks. She sounds astonished when she says, "Did you really not know that?"

Overcome and a little embarrassed about the tears she brought to my eyes, I lean down and kiss her in place of answering. She starts kissing me back passionately, fully giving in to the pull between us, throwing herself into the dark, dangerous current.

But I resist her frantic cadence. Instead, I slowly stroke her mouth with my own. Savor her like the precious gift that she is to me.

Her nails dig into my back. As her body surrenders to mine, she lets out a little ‘mm' sound and smiles through the kiss.

Pleased, I add another line to my growing list of ‘Little Things About Grace Jamieson'.

Item number 435: she likes slow, romantic kissing.

It's clear the way she melts into and around me. This is definitely Grace's speed.

And it's the opposite of mine.

My body is roaring to get under her T-shirt where, I have a sneaking suspicion, she isn't wearing panties. My hands ache to touch and tease until she's crazed. Until she's begging with pulsing, throbbing need. By now, broken wrist or no, I'd already have a woman on all fours, back arching, body shaking as I gorge them to pieces.

But I keep the slow, slow pace of the kiss as a love letter.

And it's enough.

Why wouldn't it be enough?

Something this precious, something this pure, I never thought it would be mine. Me? Zane Cross? The guy who can throw a woman around like a rag doll. Plunge into her like a stallion. Lick her until she weeps? The guy who goes to sleep with a blonde and wakes up with a brunette, having blacked out between switching the two?

That guy gets to hold Grace Jamieson? Gets to call her wife?

The gentleness of her touch settles around me, warm and inviting. A soft place to land. Home.

I ease back, inhaling her like oxygen.

"I love you too," I whisper.

The side of her mouth ticks up.

I lean toward her, kissing her again and nudging her back toward the bed. As my good hand begins to roam her face, I inch a little too far up and feel plastic instead of curls. Grey notices where my hand is heading and she shoves me desperately.

"Ah!" I cry out.

Her eyes widen. "Oh, my gosh. Zane! Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I force a smile as pain pulses through my arm and shoots up my neck. "I just… never thought a woman with a plastic bag over her head could turn me on like this."

Grey laughs nervously. "You should take your pills."

I want to protest, but the pain filleting me open forces me to agree.

"This isn't over." I point to the space between us. "In about half an hour, we can pick up where we left off."

"I have to finish my hair anyway. You have enough time to order something to eat so you don't take the pills on an empty stomach. How about we meet back in an hour or so?"

I shake my head. "We've turned into that old married couple that has a sex schedule."

"You're the one who married an old lady."

"Calling yourself old at twenty-four is offensive to actual old ladies."

"I'm an old lady on the inside." She taps her chest. "This," Grey motions to the plastic bag covering her hair, "and reading books while it rains is what I call a good time."

"You gotta get out more, tiger."

She laughs.

"Go finish your hair before I change my mind and ruin the schedule."

I expect her to hurry away like she always does, but Grey walks slowly backward, keeping me in her sights.

"Something on my face?" I arch a brow.

A smile flashes, tugging at her pretty brown lips. "You're just… really handsome."

My heart flips and heat soars straight to my ears.

Grey laughs. "Zane, are you blushing? "

Dammit. "I don't blush."

"But your face is getting red."

"It's just hot in here."

"The window is open."

"Is it?"

"I can't believe I made the great Zane Cross blush ," Grey teases.

"I'm not blushing," I insist as I march to the window.

Grey returns to the bathroom and I can still hear her laughing as the shower runs.

At the window, cool air greets me and helps to calm my rushing pulse. I take a moment to appreciate the view.

It's close to midnight, but the city is alive and bustling. Cars honk on the street below, their lights bouncing like red-dusted stars. All around us are flat rooftops and even taller skyscrapers. Commercial buildings push up into a velvet black sky.

I inhale deeply, letting the revelations of the night creep back into my mind.

Something isn't right. Grey knows about the yakuza's connection to Redwood. And earlier, Cadence left this room crying, so whatever they were talking about shouldn't have put Grey in this frisky of a mood.

My suspicions mount.

Grey hasn't been this forward with me, except for that one time in the car. No matter how much she wants me, that thin thread of morality, the one that keeps telling her being with me is wrong, still has her in a chokehold.

So what's going on?

I glance at the notebook again. Or at least, where the notebook should be.

It's gone.

Is that why she kissed me? Was it to hide the outcome of her investigation? What are the plans that she doesn't want me finding out?

The wind is freezing. I push the window closed. It swings in way too haphazardly. Stumped, I lean out to check and notice a nail's been drilled out of the bars.

The hell? What kind of shoddy work is this? If Grey had leaned on the sliding door, the whole thing would have collapsed.

I whirl around, rage engulfing me, but before I can call the front desk, I spot something wedged into the corner of the sofa.

It looks like a long stick, but it's shooting straight out of the cushions with an unusual tension. When I get closer, I notice the ironwork is exquisite and boasts carvings of cherry blossoms. This was definitely not provided by the hotel. Looking at how deep it's embedded, whoever sent this arrow flying did so with accurate force.

My gaze swings back and forth between the window and the sofa.

A slow, steady realization descends.

"No," I whisper, the blood draining from my head to my toes. "No, no, no."