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but to play the cards they were given.
    Especially him.

 
    chapter four
    “I’m so sorry, Miss Grace,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry. Just tell me where the files are, and I’ll let you go. I promise.…
    “Miss Grace, helpin’ your momma was a really bad idea.…”
    *   *   *
    That night, Grace was still trying to make sense of the attack, to make sense of what was going on.
    Rich had been so certain she had whatever files he wanted, just as he’d been certain she was helping her mother, Lucia Maddox, betray the Maddox Clan.
    What files?
    Despite the sting of the stitched wound on the outside of her thigh, Grace paced her bedroom, going over each second of her recollection, desperate for answers and all too aware that Zack was in the connecting room.
    Her television droned on in the background, the late-evening news reporting its doom and gloom. Normally, she’d pay more attention to it; tonight, her attention was far too fractured.
    She couldn’t even keep her mind on the fact that someone wanted her dead for something she didn’t even possess. Oh, hell no, let’s not concentrate on the fact that her dog was nearly dead and a friend had tried to kill her, not when Zack Richards was in the other room. Not when he’d made her body respond to him despite her best efforts to keep that from happening.
    Let’s just jump on the orgasm free-for-all and torment herself with memories of it as she did in the hours before she’d forced herself to go over the attack again.
    Her body was all for it. It was begging for a second helping. It was greedy. Her inner trollop was still cheering for Team Richards, no matter her attempts to shut it down.
    Still far too sensitive, memories of that afternoon plaguing her, Grace tried to tell herself she wasn’t going to allow it to happen again—but she knew better.
    Damn, he was good. So damned good. The feel of his kiss, the stroke of his fingers—
    Nope, not going there.
    She shook her head, grimacing at the effort it took to pull her mind back from reliving that pleasure and make herself concentrate on preserving her life instead.
    What in the hell made Rich think she had any sort of files or that she’d been helping a traitor? It made no sense.
    Everyone knew what little use Lucia had for her only child. Her mother had reviled not just the stepsons who came with her marriage to Benjamin Maddox but also the daughter who adored her father. Her father had been her hero. If anyone had been Daddy’s little girl, then it was Grace. She’d been devastated by his death.
    So why would she be accused of helping Lucia?
    Frowning into the dimly lit interior of her bedroom, she paced the length of the room again. Or rather, limped her way across it.
    The slice on her upper leg was deep enough to require stitches and, no doubt, if Magnus hadn’t been there to protect her, would have been far worse. Her pet’s injuries had nearly been fatal.
    Dammit, she’d grown up with Rich. She’d known him for most of her life. Why attack her? Why not just ask for whatever he thought Lucia had given her?
    Nibbling at her thumbnail, she went over the attack again, played it back, forward, tried to remember each nuance of his voice, every word the farmhand had said. When nothing there made any more sense than it had before, she tried to remember each meeting with her mother before the day Lucia had been taken from the house by the Brigham agents.
    In the weeks before that, Lucia had been even more caustic, more insulting toward Grace than ever. Grace had stayed out of her way as much as possible. Of course, she tended to do that regardless, simply because Lucia’s gibes always had the power to hurt, to make Grace feel as though she were the flawed one because her mother couldn’t love her.
    Grace had had her own concerns, though. Trying to stay one step ahead of Cord and any threat against Kenni, she’d been consumed with ensuring her cousin stayed hidden and safe. There was little