Grace
“How are you adjusting to life outside the convent?” Mama Ada’s encouraging smile pushes me to admit the truth.
“I’m coping.” I shrug timidly. “Um…I’m not going to lie. I miss Mother Gertrude and the sisters, but I am doing what’s good for everyone.”
“And what is good for you?”
I smile shyly. “I don’t know what’s good for me anymore. But I do know how to listen to my heart. So, I just let it guide me.”
Rachel snaps her fingers and points at me. “You’ve gotta teach me how that works one of these days. I’ve been married since I was twenty and I have yet to learn to listen to what my heart says.”
“Understanding your heart isn’t something you learn. It’s something you feel. You just…you just know.”
Twin tears fall from Mama Ada’s eyes as Nate walks in. He almost trips over himself in his haste to comfort her. He wraps his arms around her, tenderly holding her head against his chest.
“I’m fine. Grace just said something that touched me.”
Nate pulls back, saying, “I thought you were showing her your moves, and your hips popped out of place. Wait”—he taps his lips—“did it pop out of place?”
“Oh, you silly boy!”
Nate slings his arms over Mama Ada’s shoulders and smiles at me. “Grace, Pops needs to talk to you. You know what floor the office is on, right?”
“She knows. I gave her a tour last night after Nix bailed, remember?” Rachel says through a mouthful of bagel. She puts up five fingers with one hand and then three with the other.
I give her a thumbs-up and then wave at Nate and Mama Ada. I ride the elevator down to the fifty-third floor, expecting the gazillion butterflies residing in my stomach to flutter uncontrollably. I puff my chest out with pride when my stomach holds steady.
I knock twice before stepping in. Joe’s office is simple and not overly decorated. I think the right term is minimalist. His distressed solid wood desk with thick legs is adorned with his and Mama Ada’s picture. Behind the leather office chair is an identical cabinet littered with his family’s pictures. I take a seat on a traditional accent leather chair across from him. The stocky built man before me has deep worry lines on his forehead, salt and pepper hair, a slightly crooked nose with black glasses perched on it, and calm gray eyes. His inviting smile is just how I remembered.
“How are you?”
“I’m good.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to get something in the safe.” He turns, and the next thing I hear are a series of beeping noises, followed by a single click.
Then, Joe faces me, holding a large manila envelope. “Inside this envelope are things your father left for you.” He empties it of its contents. “You have two passports. One with your real name and the other with an alias.” He holds both up in the air. “Which is why you’ll need this ID.” He shows it to me then drops everything inside the envelope. “You also have two bank cards. The sale of your childhood home and other assets can be accessed with this card.” He hands me a gold card. “Your parents’ life insurance as well as your grandparents’ were deposited in another.” He hands me a silver card. “Now, let’s talk logistics, okay?”
I swallow hard then nod once.
He continues, “You can stay with Rachel for as long as you want. But my wife wants you to stay with us, or you can have your own place. God knows you have the money to purchase one. I’m giving you these options because I don’t want you to ever feel trapped. However, if you choose to live on your own, it needs to be in one of the units here at The Fort.” He leans back and steeples his fingers. “I know you have a lot of questions, so ask away.”
“Who killed my parents?”
“Your father was working on a case against a Yakuza syndicate that was involved in human trafficking and drug sales and distribution, among other things. Anyway, your dad was successful in getting all the evidence squared away against Kumicho Takahashi. Obviously, he had to coordinate with the San Francisco Police Department for support during the arrest. Unfortunately, there was a mole in the SFPD. He gave up your father’s information, and a day before the arrest, they made their move. You know what happened next. The FBI was successful in arresting Kumicho but not his sons. Nero heads the hunt for you.”
“They still want me dead, right?”
He sighs, and I continue, “But why?”
“Yes, to the first question and revenge for the last. I’m sorry to say this, but unfortunately, there’s no expiration date on revenge.”
My shoulders sag in complete devastation.
“There were people following us. How did they find me? I thought no one knew where I was besides you and one person in the FBI.”
“Yes, no one knew. But a lot of things could’ve happened from the time we left your home in Dana Point until today.”
My brows crunch together in question.
“Look, that night when I rescued you, one of Takahashi’s goons could’ve stayed behind and snapped a picture of me and Liam. Did their own background checks and found my sister that way. They could have talked to your former tutors or anyone in town once they set up shop. Perhaps it took them a while to put two and two together, or they were just biding time. Waiting for the right moment to strike. Everything is possible at this point. No one dropped the ball on our end. They were just persistent in finding you.” Joe pauses, seeming to gauge how much more information I can handle. “Also, my sister phoned the other day. According to Gertrude, a lady working for the Catholic bookstore in town paid her a visit the day after you left. Apparently, a man who she described as Asian introduced himself as an art curator and asked about your paintings.”
“Did they harm her?” I ask in urgency. Fear for Mother Gertrude, the sisters, and the poor woman in the bookstore brings tears to my eyes.
“She’s fine.” Joe smiles to calm me.
“Do they know where I am now?”
He stands, occupies the seat next to me, and then leans closer. “I’m assuming yes. But The Fort isn’t just a name, Grace. It means exactly what the name stands for. No one goes past the fifty-third floor. It is the receiving floor, which also serves as our office. From the fifty-fifth floor and upward are our personal units. We have our own private elevator as well. If someone rigs it, which I doubt could happen”—he smirks cockily—“each unit has an elevator that can transport one body to the safe floor, which is the fifty-fourth floor. We also call it our panic room.” He chuckles good-naturedly. “Or I should say, panic floor. Anyway, motion sensors, cameras, and thermal imaging are placed strategically in and around The Fort. We also have a helipad for a quick extraction.”
I stare at Joe in awe as he describes the new place I call home.
“With the boys’ line of work, we create a lot of enemies. They poured all their hard-earned money into this place—not only for their safety, but also for me and Ada. Unfortunately, they’ve been having a hard time with convincing my beloved wife to move in.” He ducks his head, catching my still wet eyes. “You’re safe here, Grace. You’re safe with us.”
“Until I’m not.” My own admission sends shivers down my spine.
In a matter of seconds, I am in his arms. My tears are coming down hard and fast as fear finally overtakes me. Then, longing for my parents creeps in, and a few heartbeats later, longing turns into complete and absolute surrender.
“Look, we’re working with the FBI to put an end to this, all right? It takes time though, okay?” He holds me tighter. “But, trust me, we’ll do everything in our power to protect you, Grace.” He pulls back and gazes into my eyes. “Your father put your safety in my hands, and I and my boys intend to honor that promise.”
“Are they safe, back in Washington? Mother Gertrude and the sisters?”
He nods solemnly. “They are. I’ve made sure of it.”
He’s made sure of it…
Just like how he took care of me ten years ago.