Dead Silence (Stillwater Trilogy #1)(87)
Author: Brenda Novak

“The Barkers and Vincellis wouldn’t have tolerated the humiliation. They would’ve fought you,” Kennedy agreed. “They would’ve demanded revenge.”

“He was the town preacher, above reproach. Everyone would want revenge! It was an accident, Kennedy. But it wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for me. They were fighting about me.”

The end of her confession met with dead silence. Kennedy stared at her. He seemed to be shocked that she’d finally admitted the truth she’d hidden for eighteen years.

The tears Grace could no longer hold back rolled down her cheeks, and she gazed up at him, terrified by what she’d just revealed. But he didn’t let the fear last.

“You were only thirteen.”

“I’ll never forget it. Molly huddled in the corner, crying. My mother screaming hysterically. And Clay taking calm and deliberate control of everything. ‘We’ll bury him behind the barn,’ he said.”

Grace wondered if Kennedy would ever look at her the same way again. But he ran a finger tenderly over the curve of her jaw. “I won’t let any of that stand between us. I’ll do whatever I can to protect you,” he promised, kissing away her tears. Then he tossed the condoms on the ledge of the tub into the garbage, settled his hips between her thighs and sealed his promise with his own risk.

After breaking a small window at the back of Evonne’s house, Joe removed his T-shirt, wrapped it around his forearm and reached inside to unlock the door. He expected the noise to bring Grace stumbling sleepily down the stairs—and eagerly anticipated the panic in her voice when she called out to see if someone was there.

But he heard nothing.

Carrying his uncle’s Bible with him, he shut the door quietly and felt his way through the dark. It would be even better to surprise her in bed, he decided, and smiled as he imagined how she might plead with him. He’d tell her what she could do to stop him from going to the police, let her think she could avoid the vengeance this Bible would launch. Then, after he’d used her all he wanted, he’d call the police anyway.

She shouldn’t have messed with him. He’d get his revenge on her and—he gingerly touched his injured nose—Kennedy, too.

His footsteps creaked on the old boards as he climbed the stairs, but he heard no response from above.

“Gra-ace,” he murmured, a singsong quality to his voice. “Oh, Gra-acie. Have I got a surprise for you.”

Still nothing.

He poked his head inside the first bedroom. A spare. The next one was empty, too. The last room on the right obviously belonged to Grace, but she wasn’t there. Her perfume and hairbrush lay on the dresser. Her bed was neatly made. There was a skirt tossed on the rocking chair and a pair of panties lying on the floor near the hamper.

Crossing the room, he held the panties to his nose and breathed deeply, looking forward to the pleasure to come. Then he shoved them inside his pocket and headed back downstairs. Maybe he’d passed her without realizing it. She could’ve fallen asleep on the wicker couch in the screened-in porch, the hammock in the yard, or the sofa in the living room.

“Grace?” he called, turning on the lights. Finding an empty wineglass on the coffee table, he licked the rim. She’d taste as good as she smelled.

“Where are you?” The house was empty. So was the screened-in-porch and the hammock. Jogging to the alley where he’d parked his truck, he retrieved the flashlight he’d used at the campground and looked through the windows in the door of her garage. When he first arrived, he’d taken a quick walk around the place, just to make sure she was alone. Because he didn’t see her car in the drive, he’d assumed it was in the garage, where she usually parked.

Unfortunately, the garage was as empty as the driveway.

“Gone,” he muttered, feeling deprived. What now? He hadn’t expected it, but she could be staying with Madeline, her mother, Clay or even Kennedy.

After last night, he was betting on Kennedy. But he didn’t want to go there; he wanted to confront her when she was alone. He’d deal with Kennedy later, when he could tell him how many times she’d brought him to a mind-blowing orgasm.

Using his flashlight to check his watch, he saw that it was nearly two in the morning. If she was with Kennedy, she’d probably be home soon. Kennedy wouldn’t have a woman in his bed when the boys woke up.

So he’d wait for her, he thought, heading back into the house. He’d have to delay his gratification a little longer, which certainly didn’t make him happy. But there were some positives to waiting. He could make himself at home, look through her stuff, drink a glass of wine—and let the anticipation build.

20

Kennedy kissed Grace’s shoulder and pulled her a little closer to him. If they hadn’t made a baby in the past few hours, it wasn’t for lack of trying. Grace was now his to love and protect, just as he’d loved Raelynn, just as he loved his boys. He knew there’d be sacrifices. He might even have to pull out of the mayoral race. But somehow that didn’t upset him. Not when he thought of waking up with Grace in his arms for the rest of his life.

Rolling onto his back, he let go of her and stared up at the ceiling, searching his heart and mind to see if loving Grace changed how he felt about his first wife.

No. Raelynn was still there, as much a part of him as ever. It wasn’t a matter of loving one or the other, he concluded. It was a matter of loving both, which was what made his relationship with Grace feel so right. He could bring her into his home, let her enjoy Teddy and Heath, even make love to her without any guilt—because Raelynn would’ve wanted him to be happy. He was certain of that; he’d want the same for her.

“It’s late. I’d better go,” Grace murmured.

Kennedy hadn’t realized she was awake. “How do you feel?”

She smiled sleepily. “Good.”

“No regrets?” he asked, wanting to calm her if she was having second thoughts. He knew she might be a little overwhelmed by what they’d promised each other, by what they’d done.

She leaned up on one elbow and gazed down at him, her hair puddling like silk against his chest. “No regrets.” She touched the side of his face. “What about you?”

“None,” he said and meant it. He was a little apprehensive about the future, but only because he was afraid he couldn’t completely protect her from the reaction of their small community.

“You might feel differently in a couple of months.”