Keeping secrets is her job. Uncovering the truth is his. But his dogged quest for answers might just get her killed.

Adopted into a fierce sisterhood of vigilantes, Gracie Parish has seen her most precious relationship destroyed by the truth. Forced to give up her son to keep him safe, she learned the hard way to protect her family’s secrets and her heart.

Special Agent Leif “Dusty” McAllister will do anything to expose the Parish family’s covert operations. Gracie is his ticket in. He’ll use everything he’s got — fair, unfair, or just plain wrong –to uncover the truth. But the more he gets to know Gracie, the harder he starts to fall.

As the smoldering attraction between Dusty and Gracie heats up, his investigation ignites a deadly threat from her past and reveals the haunting reason someone wants her dead.

With danger closing in, Dusty must choose between his job or helping Gracie. While Gracie must decide if she trusts Dusty enough to let him help. Because now it’s not just her vigilante lifestyle in jeopardy, it’s her life. And that of her son.

Praise for The Price of Grace (Black Ops Confidential Book 2)

“Stewart’s badass Band of Sisters 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 


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.”

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