Chapter 10

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Paul greeted Grace as he pulled open his motel door. "How'd you know I was here?"

"The guy at the front counter was very helpful," she replied, brushing past him and making herself feel at home. She turned and smiled at Paul, who was shirtless, having just gotten out of the shower. His hair dripped water down his scarred, muscled back and Grace couldn't help but stand back to appreciate him. "You look good like that," she mentioned quietly. "You should probably make it a habit."

Paul chuckled and glanced down at himself. "Talk like that," he said, smiling and taking a step closer to Grace, "is what gets us into trouble."

Grace shrugged and dropped her bag on the chair next to her. "Yeah, well," she sighed. "I'm starting to think it's worth it."

Paul was on her in a heartbeat, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her up as he kissed her fiercely. She reciprocated as soon as her visions passed and coiled her arms around his shoulders, running her hands through his wet hair, scattering drips of water everywhere.

"One of these days, you'll be legal, right?" Paul panted into her hair.

Grace stared at the ceiling with blank eyes as Paul attacked her neck and pulled at her blonde waves. "Yeah," she whispered, finally letting her eyes close. "One of these days."

…

"Keep your cool," Tru was saying to Serra as they approached the Ranger Station. "You are doing a school report on animals in the surrounding forests and you need as many details as you can get."

Serra nodded, flipping her hair behind her as she adjusted the elementary school mascot hooded sweatshirt she wore. "I look ridiculous," she muttered.

"You look like a fifth grader," Tru repeated for the fourth time that morning. "Play the part. This is why we don't take you with us on recon." He stared at her as he rested his hand on the glass door's handle. "Stop twitching."

"I'm all worked up!" Serra answered, shaking her hands. "Grace hasn't prepped me for this."

"I've been prepping you all morning," Tru replied. "She doesn't need to be the only one who does that."

"She's the only one who's any good at it," she muttered under her breath. "Where did you send her?"

Tru opened the glass door to the Ranger Station and allowed his youngest daughter to saunter inside ahead of him. "I sent her to recon the last known area where Paul spotted the wraith," Tru lied, staring ahead at his destination. There was a ranger standing behind a podium, checking items off on a clipboard. "Ready?" he whispered.

"Yeah, sure," Serra answered, pulling on her sweatshirt once more. "Let's get this over with."

…

Sitting up in bed, Grace pulled her hair into a ponytail and shook her head, staring at the floor. "You leaving so soon?" Paul's voice carried softly over the pillows. "Figured since you got here by yourself, you'd be fixing to stay a bit."

"We're here to help you with the wraith," Grace replied, reaching for the tank top Paul had tossed off to the side of the bed earlier. "We're not staying."

Paul sat up next to Grace, running a hand through his wavy brown hair. "You keep saying 'we'," he commented quietly. "But you're here by yourself, honey."

Turning back towards the man next to her, Grace took a deep breath. "I shouldn't be," she whispered. Standing, she tugged on her jeans and walked silently towards the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

"You know," Paul began, gathering his clothes. "You show up here, all raring to go, and every time we do this, you end up sulky and pissed and I can't figure it out." He shook his head and rolled his eyes towards the closed bathroom door. "I'm starting to get the feeling that you're just using me, Grace Browning."

Grace laughed mirthlessly. "What if that's the case?" her voice came from behind the closed bathroom door.

Paul laughed to himself, amused. "If that's the case, I gotta say," he turned towards the door. "Turns me on a bit."

Opening the door and shaking her head, Grace breezed past Paul and headed towards her leather bag, slung over the chair near the desk. "Tuck it back in, there," she answered quietly. "We should probably figure out your wraith problem so that I can get back to my algebra test."

He stared at her from his place in bed, still shirtless with his hair tousled about. "You're still on about getting out of the game, huh?"

Pressing her lips together as she pulled out her hunt journal, Grace nodded. "Yeah, but I don't know how well that's gonna go. Serra just got a set of forty-fives." Paul's silence was surprising. She glanced up at the expression on his face and raised her eyebrows. "Yeah," she sighed. "Don't get me started."

"She's only, what, ten?"

"Eleven."

Paul rolled his eyes. "Like that's any better," he said, shaking his head. "Man, what is Tru thinking?"

Grace sighed again and sat in the chair behind her. "I'm glad to see we're on the same page. Maybe there's hope for a relationship after all."

A wry grin spread across Paul's handsome face and he tilted his head in response. "I told you I'd wear you down eventually."

"Don't count your chickens," Grace muttered, pulling out the stack of newspaper articles that Paul had collected. She pointed to the map, "You said there was one you were tracking?" He nodded, walking towards the wall. "Where?"

"As far south as Saco," he answered. "But the last kill it made was here in Whitewater. That's why I thought there was only one. Now, more kills are showing up all the way in Turner, almost the same twenty-four hour period. That's too far for one to get on foot."

Grace shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe," she said, staring at the map on the wall. "If it's a family group, you would think they'd stay together."

"Maybe it's a pair?"

"With the split, though, we're gonna have to track both of them. Any more kills that you know of?"

Paul traced his finger along the highway and tapped twice. "Here, in Malta," he said, running a hand through his hair again. "There's a wildlife preserve right near there. I'm thinking that's their home base."

Grace pursed her lips and tugged at her ponytail, lost in thought. "We get tagged for killing something inside the preserve, it's a federal offense," she commented quietly. She glanced over her shoulder towards Paul.

He shrugged. "So we don't get caught," he smiled roguishly. "Don't give me that look," Paul continued. "You love me."

Grace chuckled and shook her head. "I think that might be the other way around."