"Where the hell did you go?" he bellowed.
She had to fight the urge not to get back on the elevator and disappear again.
Clearing her throat, she said very quietly, "I went out for a run. I'm sorry I didn't come and get you—"
"What the fuck were you thinking!" He jabbed his forefinger at her. "You don't go anywhere without me. That's our agreement. You want to tell me what the fuck was going through your head?"
She glanced back at Callie, who seemed to be trying to melt into the wall. Grace didn't blame her.
"You need to calm down," she whispered to John. "Everything is fine."
"Yeah, everything is just fine. I'll go call off the police now and tell all my men to go home because everything is a-okay. No fucking problem, Countess." As he marched back into the living room, he put his phone to his ear and started talking in short, angry bursts.
"Maybe this isn't the best time," Callie said softly.
"No, he'll calm down."
Hopefully, she added to herself.
As Grace stepped inside, she saw three other men in her living room, all tall, wide-shouldered guys in dark clothes.
They looked like some kind of military squad even though they weren't wearing uniforms. When their eyes settled on her all at once, she felt like a kid who'd violated curfew.
Or an agitator who needed to be eliminated.
"Hello," she said to the group.
The man who'd been at the door when they'd arrived, the handsome blond one, barely inclined his head. The rest showed no response at all.
John clipped his phone shut and addressed them. "Marks and his boys are turning around and heading back to the station. Thanks for coming."
"Glad she showed," said the blond one. He shot John a sardonic grin. "Otherwise we were going to hog-tie you to a chair before you hurt yourself."
"Fuck you, Tiny."
Tiny threw a beefy arm around John and grabbed him on the back of the neck, giving him a shake. In a much lower voice, he said, "You okay?"
John said something under his breath and Grace watched as the two men's eyes met and held.
"Okay, we're outta here, ladies," Tiny said to the men. As they walked past her, he paused and said, "Do us all a favor, Countess, and stick close to home, will ya?"
"Good-bye, Tiny," John said with warning.
The man rolled his eyes and smiled over his shoulder.
"If I keep talking to her, you gonna start calling me Itty-Bitty?"
Tiny waved over his shoulder as he led the men out the door.
Grace looked at John. He had his hands on his hips and he was staring at the floor. His jaw was rigid.
Callie spoke up. "Look, I really think I should go."
John's head snapped upright. "Who the hell are you?"
"This is Callie," Grace offered. “My—er... half-sister."
John's eyes narrowed on the woman. "I didn't know you had one."
"Neither did she," Callie answered.
"Well, welcome to the goddamn family. I'll talk to you later," John said to Grace before heading down the hall.
"Will you excuse me?" Grace said quickly as she went after him.
She was right on his heels when he stopped her in front of his room. "You need to get the hell away from me until I calm down."
With that, he shut the door in her face.
Grace released a breath.
As she returned to the living room, she regretted bringing Callie back with her, especially because she should have known how upset John was going to be.
She was just making bad call after bad call today.
"Would you like to take your jacket off?" she asked the woman.
Callie's eyes were somber as she shrugged the raincoat from her shoulders. She put it over her arm, holding it close to her body even though it was wet.
"Here, let me have that." Grace noted that Callie's damp clothes were clean but not fashionable and that she wore no jewelry of any kind.
When she turned around from the closet, Callie was standing over the picture of Grace with their father. As she picked up the frame, Grace's heart contracted.
Damn him, she thought.
"Ah—I'm going to go take a shower," she said in a strained voice. "Would you like some clothes to change into?"
Callie put the picture back and looked down at herself. "That would be great."
A little while later, Grace sat at the edge of her bed in her bathrobe and waited for Callie to come out of the dressing room. When she did, Grace was surprised by the transformation. The woman's long red hair was drying into loose curls and, dressed in a pair of Grace's slacks and a fitted jacket, she looked sophisticated, not at all the drowned waif.
We wear the same size clothes, Grace thought.
"This is a gorgeous outfit." Callie stroked the fine cloth.