Chapter Thirteen

Meg watched Griff sleep. As much as she understood this thing with him had been a mistake, she couldn't really see it that way. She had never been in love. Ever. She had dearly loved her parents. She'd cared very much for friends and even some work colleagues. But she had never been the textbook definition of "in love."

Despite her lack of experience in the area, she felt confident this feeling that sizzled between her and Griff was exactly that—being in love. She wanted desperately to spend time with him, to simply be with him. She had never been a social butterfly. She'd had no long or impressive list of boyfriends or lovers. She had always been more focused on education and then work. Filling her social calendar or satisfying her physical needs had never been at the top of her agenda. Never a high priority. There were far too many other things that took precedence.

She and Griff had enjoyed each other's bodies until exhaustion had overtaken them just before sunrise. He'd fallen asleep while she showered again, and she was glad. She'd wanted to just sit and look at him. To watch him breathe. To study his face and his naked body in the morning light.

He was the nicest and kindest man she had ever met. Before Griff, her father had held that standing. He had been her idol. Her father had known how to treat a woman. He had respected and supported her mother. Always backed her up. Always stood at her side. Even as a little girl, she had known this was the kind of man she wanted to fall in love with one day.

And here he was, but the timing could not be worse.

How was she supposed to follow her heart? To pursue this love she had found? She couldn't if she wanted to protect him from the trouble that had descended upon this new life she had created.

She was out of options. The smart thing to do would be to leave now before he woke. She could write to him later and explain how difficult the decision had been. He wouldn't understand, but at least he would be alive.

Except the only way that worked was if she turned herself over to Lorenzo. They had connected Griff to her, and they would use him against her. If hers and Ridley's positions were reversed, she would do the same. To win, being heartless was by far the better position of strength.

She stood, rounded up her backpack. She had already dressed in the one change of clothes she'd had. Creeping through the house, headed for the front door, she forced herself to keep staring forward.

Don't look back.

"Are you leaving?"

Without me, he didn't bother to add. The answer was obvious.

She stalled at the front door, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Deep breath. She braced herself and turned to face him. That he stood there dragging on his jeans did nothing to make this any easier. From his sleep-tousled hair to his bare feet, he was as sexy as hell. The way he looked at her, disappointed and at once hopeful made her feel a level of regret she couldn't pretend away.

"Leaving is the one step I can take that will protect you and everyone else here who I mistakenly allowed to get close to me. I just can't risk what might happen to one or all of you by staying."

Griff braced his hands on his lean hips. That he had left his jeans unfastened made her want to sigh. Made her hungry for more of what they'd shared in the wee hours of the morning.

"What you're saying," he suggested, "is that if you leave—run away—we'll all be safe because you're gone. These thugs will just leave, probably in an effort to pick up your trail."

He knew she wasn't saying that. "They will leave when I leave because I will give them my location."

His lips tightened. She watched, vividly remembering the feel of those lips on her skin, on every part of her.

"You're going to sacrifice yourself to protect me and the others." He shook his head. "Doesn't sound all that smart to me. Based on your actions so far, I was expecting a far more ingenious plan. This one sounds a little like the easy way out."

"Less complicated," she agreed. "Not so much easier."

She would not sacrifice him or anyone else who'd had the misfortune of landing in her path to save herself. No way.

He stepped closer. She had trouble drawing a breath.

"All right then. If you have to go, then I'm going with you."

Damn it.What part of this did he not understand? "You can't do that."

"Why not?" His chin went up in defiance.

"Think about your family. Your mother. Your sister and her family. The animals. All those dogs, cats, horses...chickens." She shrugged. "They're all depending on you. You can't just walk away."

"Lonnie will see that the animals are taken care of," he argued. "I'll find a way to see my family when I can."

He was serious.

"Griff." She exhaled a weary breath, felt suddenly exhausted all over again. "This is on me. I have to handle it. I promise you that if I can find a way to come back, I will. But you cannot be involved in what happens today."

"If," he echoed, "you know they'll kill you, then there's no coming back."

The tremor in his voice as he said the words ripped her apart inside. "They've tried before." She forced an exaggerated smile and a lackluster shrug. "Killing me isn't as easy as they'd like it to be."

"If I can't talk you into staying," he said, "then at least let me help you."

How could he be that sweet, that willing to sacrifice himself to help her? He could not be that dense. He surely understood that to go with her was pure suicide.

"I'm willing to listen to what you believe you can do to help." It was the least she could do. He deserved her respect even if she would never agree to whatever he suggested.

Her tone no doubt conveyed the lack of confidence she had in the possibility that he or anyone could help her.

"We set a trap," he offered, "lure them in using the two of us as bait."

"We could do that," she agreed. "If we're lucky, we could take down Ridley and his crew."

"Then why aren't we planning that move right now?" He turned his hands up in question. "It makes sense."

It did. To a point. Good men like Griff believed in standing on the side of right. Of fighting for truth and fairness. He couldn't fathom the depths of depravity to which someone like Lorenzo would go. "Here's the sticking point in your plan. Lorenzo will send someone else and then someone after that. He will keep sending hired killers to take me and anyone close to me out until the job is done."

Griff turned his hands up, clearly out of suggestions. "Then we go after him."

That wasn't a suggestion; that was a death sentence.

"Many have tried," she said with a genuine note of sadness. "All have failed. They either end up dead or working for him."

He looked away. "I guess that's a good enough reason to simply give up and let him win."

Now he was just trying to anger her. "There are some wars that can't be won." She couldn't keep doing this. "Goodbye, Griff."

She turned back to the door.

Her cell vibrated. She started to ignore it. To wait until she was in the SUV and driving away to check the screen, but some deeply honed instinct warned that she shouldn't miss this call.

She pulled it from her back pocket and checked the screen. Not a number she recognized. She hit Accept and pressed the device to her ear. "Yeah."

"Long time no see."

Ridley.

"Not long enough." Why sugarcoat it? He was one of them now.

He chuckled; the sound held no amusement. "Look, I'll cut to the chase."

"Please do, I have places to go." Except she had a feeling her travel itinerary was about to change dramatically. "You know, I talked to the boss about you. He was surprised to hear you were working for the other side now."

"You see, Elle, that's what happens when you stay out of the loop for too long. Things change. Maybe the boss didn't mention it, but he works on this side too. He doesn't like to talk about how the government has left him needing to plump up his personal retirement plan. You just can't rely on anything anymore."

Why wasn't she surprised? "You can't trust anyone either."

"No," he agreed, "you cannot. Speaking of which, several of your friends and I are having breakfast at the diner in this quaint little town you've been holed up in. We'd like you to join us, oh say, no later than eight thirty."

Equal measures of fear and fury roared through her veins. "You know me, Rid," she shot back, keeping all that fear and fury out of her voice, "I don't have any friends."

"Let's see," he mused, "we have Jodie."

A squeal told Meg he'd nudged Jodie with his weapon or made some other thuggish move. Meg gritted her teeth to hold back a reaction.

"Dottie."

Another yelp.

Meg flinched.

"There are half a dozen others sitting around waiting for breakfast. Including Deputy Battles and one of his little minions. I'd hate to see anyone get hurt, but you know how the boys I hang with can be sometimes. Oh wait, I should mention that the two deputies are a little worse for wear, but not to worry. It's nothing a good ER doc can't fix. Assuming they arrive in a timely fashion."

Her rage mounted, searing away the fear. There were things she wanted to say to him. No, actually she wanted to shove her weapon into his mouth and blow his head off. That would make her immensely happy. But chances were, she would never get the opportunity. Not now.

She smiled sadly. This was the life she'd chosen. The one that had made her feel as if she were making a difference. Too late to regret those decisions now.

She glanced at Griff. Too late for a lot of things.

"I'll be there," she assured him. "By eight thirty."

She ended the call. Stared at the screen for a long moment.

"Wherever you're going," Griff said as he tugged on a shoe, "I'm going too."

He'd already pulled on his shirt. As she watched, her ability to relay the gist of the conversation suddenly unavailable, he slipped on the other shoe, then stuffed the tail of his shirt into the waistband of his jeans.

"Where are we going?" he asked, moving closer.

She cleared her throat, somehow found her voice. "That was Ridley. He has Jodie and Dottie and Ernie. Some others too. At the diner. He and his pals are holding them hostage until I show up."

The look on Griff's face lanced her heart. He understood just how bad this was.

"I'm calling Sheriff Norwood."

Meg wanted to tell him it wouldn't matter, but why bother? The debate would only waste time.

Griff held out his hand and she placed her cell phone there. He made the call and talked to the sheriff, giving her a quick overview of their state of affairs.

Meg listened to the way he framed the situation, to the things he said about her. The way he described Meg as a hero in need of backup. Her throat tightened; her heart expanded, making it impossible to breathe.

His words reminded her of something she'd almost allowed herself to forget: you could be down or you could be beaten. As long as you were still breathing, the choice was your own.

She smiled. She was down for sure, but she damned well was not beaten.

She had one potential ace up her sleeve. Making that call was a risk. A damned huge risk, but it was better than going down without a fighting chance. She knew the whole truth now. Maybe it was time someone else did as well.

Maybe it would help, maybe it wouldn't. Either way, distraction always provided opportunity. Whether it kept them alive or not was yet to be seen.