Give Me Grace (2 page)

The sudden realisation was a relief, and surrounded by friends at our table, I simply stood up and walked out. The bottle of booze in my hand slipped to the ground outside. Beer sprayed everywhere, glass shattering and skidding across the ground. Tripping over, I fell on the broken shards, but I was so fucked
-up I didn’t even notice.

“Come on, Casey. Up you get.”

A hand gripped my bicep and I looked up. There was Travis, once again hauling me to my feet. I wanted to tell him to let go, just this once, because I didn’t want to get up again, and I was okay with that.

“Travis,” I slurred. Shrugging off his arm, I staggered to my feet and grabbed the beer out of his hand. I saluted him with it. “To the best friend a useless fuck like me could ever ask for.”

Two girls walked by on their way inside. Bracing my arm against the wall, my eyes fell on girl number two. Long, wild red hair, miles of leg, and a full, curvy body showcased in a tight, black dress.

Looking me over, she smiled at me as they passed, but it slipped off her face when my hand gave out and I lurched sideways into the wall. They disappeared inside.

“Christ, Casey,” Travis muttered, grabbing for his beer. “Haven’t you had enough?”

I looked him in the eye. “You’re right, Travis.”
Just like you always are
. “I
have
had enough.”

Panic flooded his eyes at my definitive tone. I hated letting him down. Travis had thought time out from classes, hanging by the beach and surfing, would be some kind of bullshit rejuvenation.
It was nice getting away from everything. It was nice having a best friend as well, but not if it meant failing him too.

“No, Casey.” Travis shook his head. “No.”

“I tried. I fucking
tried
, but I can’t do this, Trav. There’s nothing there, and I’m tired of pretending there is.”

“Fuck.” Travis reached out and when I shoved him back, he stumbled. “You can’t—”

Spying the beach across the road, waves crashing heavily in the dark night, I cut him off. “I’m sorry.”

Travis made another grab for me, but even as fucked up as I was, I was too quick. I jogged across the road, my eyes focused on the water and nothing else. The ocean was rough and wild. If alcohol couldn’t smother my demons, I’d drown them in the pounding waves.

“Casey!” Travis yelled from behind me but I didn’t stop.

Gasping for air, I reached the shoreline and tripped in the wet sand. I went down hard and cold water gushed over my body, numbing me.

Fuck yeah. Now that’s what I’m talking about.

I clawed my way in further.

Arms grabbed my waist and yanked me backwards. Travis staggered and we both went down. I tried struggling from his hold, but his grip was anchor tight.

“Why can’t you leave me the fuck alone
?” I shouted.

“Because if you go in there
, you’ll drown!” he yelled back.

“That’s the point.” I closed my eyes and swallowed. “Can’t live like this anymore, Trav. I just can’t.”

“You can,” he replied hoarsely.

“Give me one fucking reason why I can.”

Please. I need something.

“Because there are kids out there right now who need you, you selfish prick! Do you want to see them go through what you went through, or do you want to make your life count for something? You can give them something you never had. You can give them hope. Doesn’t that mean something to you?”

I exhaled heavily. “I’m just one person, Trav. What the fuck can I do?”

“You’re not just one person because yo
u have me. I’m your family now.” His breath was harsh in my ear from the exertion, but I believed him. He
was
my family now. He was all I had. You would think that was too much pressure for one person, but Travis was rock solid. He always had been. “Just promise me you’ll try, okay? I need you to promise.”

The bastard. After what happened last time, he knew I’d never break another promise as long as I lived. Slumped against Travis in the sand, I stared up at the stars as water flowed around our legs, and I promised.

From that day on, I got out of bed every day, because I’d promised. I went to lectures and I ate when I was supposed to, and I dated girls, because I’d promised. I graduated with a dual degree in policing and psychology, and I moved back to Sydney with Travis, because I’d promised.

When he setup
Jamieson and Valentine Consulting with his brother Jared and Jared’s friend, Coby Jamieson, he wanted me in, but I couldn’t do it. Travis had carried me for so long, I needed to stand on my own two feet. So I joined the police force and I trained, and I studied, and I worked so fucking hard I could barely stand from exhaustion. But after an entire year, I hadn’t gotten anywhere. We hauled in criminals just to turn around and watch the system set them loose.

So I quit and became a partner in their business, and as usual, Travis was right. It was a perfect fit and where I should’ve been all along. Located in the Sydney suburb of Darlinghurst, the firm was extremely specialised
: contracting to various government and private agencies for kidnapping, hostage negotiation, and security services. My primary role was to get kids out of abusive situations by whatever means necessary, and I took
whatever means necessary
to heart. God help any asshole who got in my way, because if there was one thing that should be feared, it was a man with nothing left to lose.

“Casey,” Travis whispered furiously, startling me back to the present and our current operation.

“What?”

“Who’d you go home with last night?”

“Just some girl,” I muttered.

Loosening the grip on my gun, I freed a hand and swiped it
across my brow. His question reminded me that I needed to ring Morgan when I got home. My job might’ve given me a reason to keep going, but so did that file and its unanswered questions from the past. Whatever it took—fancy restaurants, jewellery, tying her to the fucking bed and taking a crop to her ass if that’s how she liked to get off—I’d fucking do it.

Decision made, I resolved to swing by the sex shop on the way home just in case.

Travis glanced sideways, his brows drawn together in a fierce frown. “You’re hiding something.”

“No I’m not,” I lied. Travis would pitch a shit fit about me
going against firm policy by sleeping with Morgan. “I’m just getting too old for this shit.” My legs were still cramped, and my cock reminded me with a dull ache that life was passing it by.

“Twenty-nine is old now?”

No, but after graduating, I’d done the one thing I swore I’d never do after Travis saved my sorry ass from drowning. I’d made another promise. There was no way in hell I would hit thirty without putting that file to rest.

“I’ll be thirty before I know it
,” I replied.

“You know that worrying about your age makes you a girl?”

“You’re a girl,” I retorted, and right there my immaturity level reached a new low. I blamed it on my hangover.

“I don’t have a clear shot,” he told me. “Target is still armed and coming your way.” Shifting slightly, Travis lowered his aim. “And go find your
hookup after this and fuck her stupid if that’s what you need to do. Unless your cock is getting too old for that shit too.”

I resisted the urge to reach down and adjust it in my jeans. “Me getting too old for that shit? You’re the one who’s married,” I whispered out the corner of my mouth. “You’ll be needing that prescription for Viagra soon. Tell Quinn I’m available when she’s ready to trade up.”

Travis snorted. I tuned out his reply as I raised my gun with steady hands, the movement slow and silent. Taking aim, I waited, breathing softly until we heard the soft crunch of someone stalking through dried leaves northwest of our position. Five seconds later our target came back into view.

“Come to Papa,” I murmured, my lips curving in satisfaction.

“Don’t hesitate,” Travis ordered, his voice lighter than the soft breeze that carried it.

I relaxed the gun in my hands and looked at Travis. “You’re telling me how to do my job now, asshole?”

“Just take aim and shoot dammit,” Travis growled.

“Now see there? I think you’ve got unresolved control issues.”

Travis exhaled in a huff, his wide eyes busy telling me I was crazy. I probably was, but being called away from sex and morning coffee would do that to a man. “Fine. Shoot the fucker, don’t shoot the fucker, but don’t tell me…” he jabbed his finger for emphasis “…that I have fucking control issues.”

I used my gun to shove Travis’s jabbing finger out of my face. “For the record, I think you’re lying to yourself, but whatever helps you sleep at night. Are you like this with Quinn?”

A vein started pulsing angrily in his temple. Biting the insides of my cheeks, I gave Travis my back as I lifted the gun, adjusted my aim to account for the wind factor, and refocused my sights.

“I’m not controlling, I’m confident and I like to take charge. Women dig that.”

My brows flew up and I looked at him. “So now that you’re married, you’re suddenly an expert on women?”

“I like to think so. Maybe
you
should try getting married.”

A knot formed in the pit of my stomach.

“Quinn can hook you up,” he added. “She has plenty of hot friends.”

I forced a grin. “Travis Valentine. Best friend, pussy whisperer
, and part-time pimp. Thanks, but no thanks. I can arrange my own hookups.”

“I’m not talking about hook—”

“Target acquired,” I interrupted before Travis could take the conversation any further. He might’ve deserved every bit of his happiness, but I didn’t deserve shit, and I wasn’t prepared to have a deep and meaningful over it.

Exhaling softly, I followed my target, my finger steady on the trigger as I began the countdown. Three
… two … o—

I jolted sideways, almost slamming into Travis as shots hit in rapid succession up the left side of my body. Short, sharp bursts of pain
assaulted my ribs. I gritted my teeth, closing my eyes for a brief moment to gain control. Damned if I let anyone see how much that shit
hurt.

“Take that, Hotdog!” came Evie’s loud, high-pitched squeal to my left.

I rolled my eyes at the nickname. I surfed daily, and yeah, maybe I showed off a little because I was damn good at it. Evie found out it was called
hotdogging
when you surfed for flash rather than function, and now she refused to let the nickname go.

Evie was Coby’s
famous little sister, Jared’s wife, and lead singer for
Jamieson,
but her biggest claim to fame lay in being a better shot than all of us combined. Today proved no exception.

Travis laughed loud and hard, gasping for air as the gun in his hand fell lax. Getting to my feet, I shoved my boot into his knee and watched him spill
over, falling into the pile of leaves we’d scraped away earlier to create our hidey-hole. Turning, I lifted my goggles to rest on my forehead and gave Evie a murderous glare. It was entirely wasted because suddenly her body started jerking backwards. She stumbled, going down against the force of the rounds hitting her in the gut.
Uh oh.
Jared will be
pissed.

Tim, my personal assistant at
Jamieson and Valentine Consulting, staggered his short, slim frame towards Evie until he stood over her body, gun held up in the air like he was Wyatt Earp taking down the town. “Now who’s the badass motherfucker, bitch?” he crowed.

Without hesitating, I fired off a quick round and took Tim out. His body exploded in a mess of blue and green paint. His gaze dropped, his mouth open in shock as he took in the chaos covering his outfit. Tim was precious about his clothes
—even the old stuff he’d dragged out for today’s occasion—so I knew shit would hit the fan at work next week. Sure enough, he was busy glaring at me, accusation in his narrowed eyes. “What the fuck, Casey? I’m on your team!”

I shrugged and grinned. “That’s for being late to work yesterday.”

“All of you be fucking quiet,” Travis hissed. Our mouths snapped shut and we looked his way. “In case you don’t seem to realise, you three are now dead, and guess who’s left standing?”

“Um
…” Tim’s dark brown eyes flicked from mine to Evie’s before returning to Travis. “You?”

“And?” he prom
pted. There was a brief silence after which Travis rolled his eyes. “Mac, buttheads. Mac!” Out of the four Valentine siblings, Mackenzie was the youngest, and the only girl. She was also a beautiful, golden pit bull and a really shitty shot, so the fact that she was one of the last two standing left us in shock. “Do you
want
her to win?”

Fuck no. We all shook our heads.

“So all of you shut your holes and get the hell off this paintball field so I can take the bitch out.”

Evie promptly whipped off her goggles, turned around
, and started puking in the shrubs behind us.