A vibration in his pocket caused Sands to wake up. He dug his out his phone and answered it quietly, as not to wake Grace.

"Got something for me?" he asked softly, knowing it would be Harold.

"More than you probably want at the moment," Harold said. "Why are you whispering?"

"Gimme a sec."

"Sure."

Sands carefully moved Grace off of him and smiled as he heard a slight sound of protest. I'll come back, Gracie. Without much difficulty at all, he left her room and found his own. "All right, tell me what you know."

"Michael Crivelli wasn't bullshitting you – if you were here in the states…"

"Not my fault that I'm not, well, all right it is, but…"

Harold was growing irritated. "Sands, knock it off."

"Oo, testy, aren't we."

"Do you want to know about this guy or not?"

The tone of Harold's voice let Sands know that there was, indeed, a need for concern. "Sorry, go ahead."

"Looks like he started out as a lackey for one of the New York families, then somehow got enough support to run quite a number of operations himself."

"Support? People or financial?"

"Looks like the financial led to people."

Sands spoke slowly. "Uh huh…and where did this windfall happen to come from?"

Harold sighed. "Your baby-sitter."

Sands was confused. "A couple grand can't turn someone into a mob boss…"

"A couple grand? Where the hell did you get that figure? Is that what she told you?"

"No, I just thought…"

"A couple million is a much closer ballpark figure."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Harold chuckled. "So she hasn't opened up her legs or anything else for you, huh?"

Why hasn't she said anything? Why is she… "She's loaded?" he asked, avoiding saying anything about Harold's rude question, though Sands never would have found it rude before.

"Yeah, really makes me wonder why she decided to take a measly ten grand to take care of your sorry ass for the week."

A setup? Christ, is this all some sort of fucking setup? "Where's her money come from? Does she have a record or…"

"She's clean, Sands. But this Michael just showing up at your door…"

"I'll call you later." Sands hung up the phone and left it on his bed. She'll come clean – now. My usual interrogation methods aren't an option – have to try something new. He made his way back to Grace's bed and crawled in beside her.

"Missed you," he heard her sleep-filled voice say.

What? All right, that proves it. All of this is a fucking setup. Set me up and watch me fall?…That's my job. "Missed me?"

"Mm hm." Her eyes still closed, she found his body and tried to get back into the position she had been in earlier, but Sands wouldn't let her. "What's wrong?"

"Can you wake up for a bit, Gracie?"

Grace opened her eyes and sat herself up. "Jeffrey, what's going on?"

He smiled at her, his eyes closed. "I just want to talk to you, if that's all right."

Grace smiled back at him. "Of course it is."

"You know, I opened up to you about my fuck up father and my sister, but all I know about you is that you came here to get away from the fucker that wound up following you."

Grace's eyes lit up. "You mean you want to know more than that?"

Sands wrapped his arms around her. He lowered his mouth to her neck and lightly kissed her. "I want to know everything about you," he whispered. He was positive that his technique was going to work.

"And I get?" she asked, teasing.

"Whatever you want, Gracie."

You, Jeffrey…all I want is right here. She shut her eyes tightly for a moment, shaking away the thoughts. Can't have you though – you'll be gone in a few days and you're really nothing more than a guy I've been sleeping with…right?

"Gracie?"

"Hm?" She realized that she'd been silent. "Oh, sorry…so, where do you want me to start?"

"What do you do for a living?" Let the lies begin.

"You'll laugh," she said softly.

"I won't." His tongue traced around her ear. "I promise."

"I own and run a shop."

"Care to elaborate on that?" he chuckled.

"I'm a movie geek," she confessed. "What I run is a shop that specializes in memorabilia and things that people pay far too much for on Ebay."

"And how's business?"

"Not too bad…not too good either. Honestly, I do it because I like doing it, not because I need the profits."

"Everyone needs profits, Gracie."

Grace pulled away from Sands. "Really, Jeffrey, I don't. I'm sort of, well, financially well off."

He acted surprised. "You don't say."

Grace sighed. "My father worked in the diamond district in New York City. He died of Cancer a few years ago and I…got everything."

Why is she telling me this? Does she know that I know something? "Grace, if you have no money troubles, then why are you here now, hm?"

Shit, what am I supposed to say to that? I can't possibly love this guy. I don't know him well enough…but maybe that's why I… He kills! He could be lying about everything – everything! Hell, he could work for… No. This is just me being a chicken shit about absolutely everything. People meet and marry in a day, so why is it so ludicrous that I could actually be falling in love with some rogue CIA agent that had his eyes yanked out of his head. Oh, right, that entire thought is just pure insanity…

She can't answer me… "Gracie, you O.K.?"

"I tried to think that it was about the money, I really did, even though I don't need it. It was more like an adventure though, you know? I mean, I find some guy on the street – who I honestly think I won't be able to stand – but I get offered a…"

Sands' voice took on a harsh tone. "Jesus, Grace, do you think that losing my sight takes away my ability to see through people?"

"What?"

"An adventure? What kind of lame ass story is that? This isn't some fucking movie! Why are you here?"

Tears began to roll down her cheeks. "Well, it was because of you, but now I don't think that's the case."

"Me?" Sands laughed, coldly. "That's even less believable."

Grace's temper flared. "You're a fucking lunatic, Sands!"

Sands?

"Someone has feelings for you and knows damn well that you have them too and you try to turn everything into something that's meant to fuck with you!"

"You have fucking 'feelings' for me? This is the shit you're trying to pawn on me?"

"Why does it have to be shit?"

"Look at me!" he shouted. "That's why it's shit!"

"My God, you're even more shallow than I originally thought you were!"

"Shallow?"

Grace got up off the bed, a nightgown barley covering her. "I'm sorry that your eyes are gone, but how many times do I have to tell you that it doesn't matter?"

Sands got off the bed, finding her with no problem. He grabbed her rougher than he had intended to. "And how am I supposed to know if anything coming out of your mouth is true?"

Grace's breath caught, but she refused to cry anymore. "I haven't given you a reason not to trust me," she said surely.

"That's the problem." His grip on her tightened. "I've never been more screwed up than I am right now," he growled.

Not scared of him at all, she asked, "Why's that?"

He pushed her against the wall, pressing his body and more than evident arousal against her. "Because I fucking love you."