“Don’t I know it,” Ashley said.
Joe glanced at Grant, still glued to the wall, looking down at the grass. His heart felt heavy, realizing his nephew’s sacrifice for him. He guiltily remembered yelling at him at the courthouse visitation booth before his sentencing hearing, feeling utterly disappointed that his nephew had flushed his future down the toilet. Grant had silently absorbed his uncle’s tirade, never saying one word about what led him down that dark path.
After everyone had filed out, Sophie emerged from the church, self-consciously adjusting her hat. Her eyes nervously skimmed the crowd, and she bit her lip when she didn’t see him. She knew she should probably leave.
Be good, Grant. Logan’s voice reverberated in his head, and Grant forced himself to open his eyes. He looked back toward the entrance to the church and noticed a young woman standing there, looking for someone among the lingering guests. Her wide-brimmed hat obscured her face, but Grant knew that lithe, sexy figure. He pushed his body off the wall and stared at her, wondering what she would do next.
With a frustrated sigh, Sophie turned to leave but stopped short when she saw Grant standing by the corner of the church, his eyes bearing down on her. She nervously brushed her hands down the sides of her dress. If she followed her father’s advice, she would turn right now and flee. But seeing Grant’s mournful expression, she knew there was no way to flee from him. Quite the opposite. Those soulful eyes sucked her to him like a magnet.
Making sure he was still waiting for her, she took a tentative first step and then swiftly crossed to him, holding her hat on her head with one hand.
Sophie came to rest right in front of Grant, the tension so palpable she was almost grateful the wide brim of her hat blocked most of her view. Grant was not so grateful for her obscured face, and he gently reached out to touch the black fabric, his lips curling into a small grin at the ostentatious head-covering.
Peeking up at his amused expression, Sophie gave an apologetic shrug and swept the hat off her head, freeing her strawberry curls to rest on her shoulders. His eyes remained moist with tears, and he seemed to stop breathing as he fixed them on her. She could not take her eyes off his tortured face.
When they’d first met, Grant had reached out in her time of need to swathe her in a hug, providing immense comfort. Sophie knew she must now return the favor. He was hurting deeply. Her trembling hand reached up to caress his cheek. Their eyes remained locked as she gently wiped away a tear. Then she dropped her hand and stepped into his body, wrapping her arms around his lean waist.
Grant had been frozen, desperately wanting to touch her but afraid to do so. When she melded her body into his, he shuddered with relief and immediately enfolded her in his arms, wrapping her up like the most precious gift he’d ever received. He was stunned that she’d returned to him, and despite his utter desolation at losing Logan, he felt like the luckiest man on earth.
Sophie’s cheek rested against his chest and she sighed contentedly, inhaling his characteristic scent. Withdrawal symptoms for the drug otherwise known as Grant quickly abated.
Striding toward his Lexus, Carlo’s steely black gaze swept across the lingering mourners, wondering if anyone was admiring his sweet ride. He caught a glimpse of a couple by the corner of the church. That was no platonic hug of sympathy. This was something much more.
“Hold on, Tank,” he called, halting the big man from sliding into the passenger seat. His eyes glued on the couple, Carlo took a few steps forward, observing their embrace.
Tank joined his boss in gaping at the couple, and felt a pang of longing. He’d felt the same way about Irene, the woman who turned out to be a fucking undercover cop. He was lucky to be alive after that.
“I already got Meat tailing Grant after the burial,” Carlo whispered. “And that smokin’-hot chick he’s hugging—I want you to find out who in the hell she is.”
“Okay, boss,” Tank responded agreeably.
Suddenly a Mercedes Benz squealed into the church parking lot, and a man leapt out, almost before it stopped, and stomped toward the church. He searched the crowd, then stormed toward Grant and the woman as Carlo and Tank looked on.
“Sophie!” Will yelled.
She instantly stepped away from Grant, her eyes widening with alarm.
“What the hell are you doing here, young lady?” After glaring at his daughter, he trained his hostile gaze on Grant, who anxiously bit his lip.
“Dad!” Sophie said. “I—I had to come. You don’t understand.”
“To hell I don’t! You want to return to prison, don’t you? You’re doing this just to spite me. You just can’t let go of that criminal Logan Barberi.”
“This has nothing to do with him!” Sophie countered. “Or you … I came here for Grant.”
Will turned to glare at him. Placing his face inches from Grant’s, he jabbed his finger into Grant’s chest. “You’re just like your brother! You stay away from my daughter, you got it?”
Completely embarrassed, Sophie looked at the ground, but Grant met Mr. Taylor’s wild-eyed stare. “I won’t hurt her, sir.”
“What’s going on here?” Joe interrupted, coming to stand by Grant’s side.
“Oh, so now you got a military man on your payroll too, huh?”
Grant stared at Will incredulously, and Sophie gasped. “Dad! That’s Grant’s uncle!”
Will was frantic. “You’re not safe here, Sophie. Come home with me now.”
“Yes,” Joe said evenly, stepping in front of his bewildered nephew. “Perhaps you should go home.”
Shooting Joe and then Grant an evil glare, Will warned, “Leave my daughter out of whatever you’ve got going on here.” He grabbed her wrist and yanked Sophie away.
She had not seen her father so angry or shaken in years. Sophie looked over her shoulder and mouthed Sorry before allowing herself to be carted away like an errant schoolgirl caught drinking at a high-school kegger.
As Joe watched the father and daughter exit, Grant took his head in his hands, feeling as if he’d been hit by a truck. “So, now you’ve met Sophie,” Grant said.
“And that was some first meeting,” Joe said. After a moment they shared a smirk.
Carlo took it all in without moving a muscle, fascinated by the soap opera playing out before his eyes.
Tank grinned. “So, my assignment is already done then, boss.”
“What do you mean?”
“That guy who came to haul that chick outta here? I’d recognize him anywhere—Will Taylor. That must be his daughter or something. You asked me to find out who she was. Well, there you go. Chick Taylor.” He smiled smugly.
“How do you know the guy’s name?”
Tank gave Carlo a curious stare. “Huh, I’m surprised you don’t know. I guess you don’t work that side of town. C’mon, I’ll tell you on the ride over.”
Both men slid into Carlo’s car, and he gunned it, heading to the cemetery. As Tank began to talk, a wicked grin spread across Carlo’s dark face.
34. Family Tree