An image of the kid, eyes open but blinded by death, rose in his mind. Bile rushed up his throat. Too far lost to memories and emotions, he couldn’t stop himself from vomiting.
Grace entered as he set the trash can down. She took in everything—the phone pulled close, his pallor, the reek of bile—and shut the door very quietly. “What happened?”
He pulled his tie off and wiped his mouth. “Gavin’s missing.”
“No.” Her hushed refusal to accept the truth made the muscles along her shoulder tighten more. “I’d wanted to believe he was just late today.”
Glancing at the clock, he shook his head. “‘Late’ is fifteen minutes, not three hours.”
“I didn’t want to give up hope,” she said, low and hard. “Sometimes it’s all a person’s got.”
The only thing he could do was nod and accept the bottle of soda she slid his way. Rinsing his mouth, he stood. “I’ve got to update the director so we can increase security.”
“Why?”
Stopping at the door, he looked back, his stare blank. “If Gavin admitted to Deuce’s leaders that he talked to us, they might retaliate against us for screwing with their recruit.”
“I hate that you’re so familiar with this.”
The heartache in her words wrecked him. He’d disappointed so many people over his thirty years, letting them down with varying degrees of failure. He didn’t want to pull a repeat performance with her. Never with her. “Forgive the bile breath.”
Her brows drew together. “Huh?”
Stepping up to her, he drew her into a fierce hug and laid his cheek on the top of her head. His heart rate slowed and his stomach settled some when she wrapped her arms around his waist in return. “Thank you.”
“For what?” she asked.
“This.” He stayed that way longer than he should have, but he couldn’t seem to let go. It slowly dawned on him that she was as much a safe haven for him as he was for her. In a different way, maybe, but still a place of refuge all the same.
He breathed her in, the smell of her shampoo combining with her warm skin to form a heady smell. Her hair, down today, hung over his arms in loose waves. The way her body molded to his—or maybe his molded to hers?—was as close to perfection as nature could get. Sleeping with her the past few nights, no sex but true sleep, and waking up to her every morning had cemented the fact he loved her. He’d never wanted another woman like this, long-term.
Forever.
She looked up at him, rubbing her temple. “You okay?”
“Sorry about that. I’m fine.” The intercom beeped. “Grace?”
She stepped out of his embrace. “Yes?”
“There’s a delivery for you at the front desk.”
“What is it?”
The receptionist chuckled. “An amazing bouquet of roses.”
Grace glanced at Justin, brows raised.
His heart plummeted. He hadn’t sent her flowers.