Keeping secrets is her job.
A highly trained operative in the Parish family’s secret society of vigilantes, Gracie Parish learned a a long time ago what happens when you fall in love and reveal the family’s dark secret. Now, she keeps her mouth shut and trusts no one.
Uncovering the truth is his job.
Special Agent Leif “Dusty” McAllister will do anything to expose the Parish family’s covert operations. And he believes Gracie is his ticket in. He’ll use everything he’s got—fair, unfair, and so-good-it’s-wrong—to penetrate her defenses and prove his case.
Even as the red-hot attraction between Dusty and Gracie heats up, his investigation ignites a deadly new threat. They’ll have to decide quickly how far they can trust each other, because now it’s not just Gracie’s vigilante lifestyle in jeopardy. It’s her life.
Praise for The Price of Grace (Black Ops Confidential Book 2)
“Stewart’s badass romantic suspense series adds a high-octane installment with this satisfying roller-coaster ride. Computer whiz and dance club owner Gracie was adopted as a child by the Parish family, a large and ever-growing group of benevolent, mostly female vigilantes. She has been raised to fight for truth and justice, but some days she’s just tired of it. FBI agent Leif “Dusty” McAllister has been on the Parish case ever since a frustrated Gracie revealed some of her family’s actions in an anonymous email. Convinced that Mukta Parish, the family matriarch, is conscripting unwilling children into her personal army, Dusty plans to infiltrate the group through feisty Gracie—but then he falls in love with her. Very little is as it seems in this intricately plotted novel. Stewart skillfully drags a number of red herrings out regarding a would-be killer, delivering an unexpected ending. Enjoyable all on its own, the novel drops tantalizing story lines for future books in the series and neatly builds upon the prior installment, I Am Justice. Stewart’s talent shines in this suspenseful story.” Publishers Weekly
“A vigilante family, a cache of secrets, a monumental threat, and an overpowering love. The dynamics in The Price of Grace are instant and intense and hot. The pages will burn your fingers.” Patricia Gussin, New York Times Best-selling author of Come Home
Gracie Parish had learned three valuable things in the last two excruciating hours driving around Mexico: The fetal position was only comfortable in the womb. Her deodorant wasn’t trapped-inside-a-hidden-compartment strength. And blood circulation could be lost in your forehead.
There had to be an easier way to break into a sex-slaver’s home than smooshed inside this malodorous secret compartment, while her brother and his frenemy, Victor, drove into the compound posing as mano-a-mano live “entertainers.”
Sweat salted her eyes, slicked her skin. The good news? If she died, the House of Hades would feel like an oasis. A spacious oasis.
This was it. This was absolutely the last time she took part in her family’s insane vigilante schemes. Ugh. Sometimes she wished she’d never been adopted into this mess. She needed a vacation on an island. A Canadian island. Someplace cold.
With a flick of her jaw, she clicked her mic. “How much longer, Justice? I’m roasting.”
“Please, you’ve been in there for two hours. People smuggled out of Mexico stay in that compartment for days.”
Days? Days pretending to be the back seat of a car, while your legs were tucked, foam padding stuck to your skin, your right arm went numb, your right hip screamed, and you could taste exhaust. “Yeah, well, not me. If my cyber skills weren’t needed to rescue your boyfriend, nothing could get me into this Dante’s Inferno. Nothing.”
“Chill your white privilege. You’re almost inside the compound.”
Her sister scored zero on the empathy meter. Zero. “Easy for you. You’re on a hilltop, stretched out, overlooking this whole scene through a scope.”
“Just playing to my strength. I’m the best shot.”
She wasa good shot. Hey.No.“You know, this bull-poop has been going on since childhood. ‘Gracie’s the smallest, she can fit in that pipe.’” She mimicked a child’s high-pitched voice. “‘Gracie’s the smallest, let her squeeze through the vent system. Gracie’s the smallest—put her in the smuggling compartment so she can break out Trojan horse style inside the compound.’”
“Bull-poop? If you cursed, you’d realize bullshit is way more satisfying.”