“He doesn’t do very well without me, does he?”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“All right, I’ll leave tomorrow if you’re sure,” her mother gave in.
Fixing her a heaping plate of food, she set it down on the table, looking at Grace expectantly. It would be worth the extra pounds to keep her mother happy until she left tomorrow.
As Grace sat down at the table and began to eat, her mother sat across from her, sipping her green tea. She knew her beautiful mother well; something was on her mind.
“Grace...” Her mother began. “I want to leave the security team for a while longer.”
“No, they leave tomorrow with you. I have a perfectly good security system, and what that won’t handle, the shotgun in my closet will.”
“Darling, you’ve never even fired that gun.”
“Yes, I have. I went to the practice range.”
Her eyes widened. “You have to be careful. You could accidently shoot yourself.”
“I will be very careful. The good thing about a shotgun is all you have to do is point and shoot.” Her delicate mother had a deep fear of guns of any type; however, the cheap shotgun Grace had bought at a pawnshop, which was hidden in her closet, made her feel safe.
“You won’t need it at all if you just keep the security detail,” she argued.
“I won’t need it because nothing is going to happen.” Grace leaned across the table to take her mother’s hand. “Let’s enjoy our last night together, please.”
“Oh, all right, but if you need anything...”
“I will call immediately,” Grace promised.
“You better, or I will be on the first plane back with your brother,” she threatened.
Grace smiled at the idea of the woman who couldn’t hurt a fly threatening anyone and anything that would dare to cause her any trouble after she left. Now that she had gained her agreement to leave, Grace felt a hole in her heart. She would miss her mother, but she could tell from her conversation with her father last night that he was missing his wife.
“How about I come visit you for your birthday?”
“Really?” Grace nodded. She hadn’t been back to New York City since her kidnapping. It was time she faced all her demons.
A picture of Ice came to her mind. She had tried to forget about him yet found it impossible. Going back to work had helped; even the therapist she had talked to had encouraged her to put the prison riot behind her and begin going out more.
She was right, Grace decided. She had been cooped up long enough. She would call CeCe and make plans to go out with her this weekend and have a girls’ night out. Well, afternoon out. She would make sure she was home before dark because she didn’t want to leave Daisy and Bear alone too long, not admitting to herself she just wanted to be home before dark period.
Bolstered by her talk to herself, she settled down and enjoyed the last evening with her mother, all the while trying to keep her mind off a certain blue-eyed convict.
* * *
“How can you have a closet of clothes like that and find nothing to wear?” CeCe’s envious question brought a smile to Grace’s lips.
“Because my mother has bought me most of them and her taste is different than mine.”
The royal-blue dress she was wearing as she stared at herself in the mirror was seriously hot. She would never have bought a dress like it for herself. The form fitting sheathe dress was cut into a sharp, deep V at the breasts with cap sleeves. It was kind of demure if one didn’t stare at the triangle of flesh bared at the waist, showing her belly button.
“Can I borrow it when you don’t wear it?” CeCe joked.
“I’m going to wear it tomorrow night,” Grace told her with a grin, going back into her huge walk-in closet to change, staring at the enormous row of clothes her mother had bought. Her mother believed a woman should be sexy at all times of the day. Even the jeans she had purchased for her were slim-fitting and cupped her bottom.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” CeCe muttered.
Grace changed back into her faded jeans and ‘Kiss Me I’m French’ T-shirt before facing her friend who was lying across her bed.
“Your mom needs to adopt me. Seriously, those clothes are wasted on you.”
The doorbell rang and Grace jumped.
“It’s just the pizza guy,” CeCe said, scrambling off the bed.
Grace made a face at CeCe as she turned toward the door. “I thought I was going to call it in.”
“No. You order olives and fishy things on them. I learned long ago not to let you do the ordering.” Shuddering, she went to answer the door.
“Wait!”
Too late. CeCe opened the front door and her alarm activated, shrilling throughout the house. The pizza deliveryman stood in the doorway with his mouth hanging open.