Chapter Fourteen

"I don't like the idea of you going in there alone," Sheriff Norwood said.

Griff didn't like it either. "They know I'm with you," he tossed in. "Why wouldn't they expect me to be with you?"

"At this point," Meg argued, "any and all things beyond my walking into that diner are irrelevant."

Griff refused to believe there was nothing else that could be done. The sheriff had put in place a roadblock at each end of the boulevard. She'd set up a sort of command post at Pampered Paws. The view of the diner from Meg's upstairs apartment provided a good vantage point. Having all involved come in through the back had provided decent cover as well.

Norwood continued to argue with Meg's conclusion about what happened next.

Like him, the sheriff believed they needed a damned better plan for going in.

"Either way," Griff tossed in once more, "I'm going in with you."

Meg looked from Griff to Norwood. "If he goes with me, that's just another casualty to have to deal with, because this will not happen without casualties. The fewer bodies in their path, the fewer lives lost."

Her insistence that Griff couldn't help in any capacity infuriated him. "I'll take that risk," he growled.

Norwood held up a hand for him to settle down. The other four deputies in the room stood back, waiting for orders.

"I've got Deputy Phillips on the second floor of the urgent care. He's got a direct view into the diner. We know this Ridley character has three others with him. Two males, one female. Phillips can take them out if he catches one or more in his crosshairs. He was a sharpshooter in the military. He won't miss."

Meg shook her head. "Ridley will never be that careless, and if one of the others is taken out, there will be retaliation. People will die."

Meg had insisted they call in a bomb squad. Just in case. The one Chattanooga had wouldn't be here for another ten minutes.

"Sheriff."

The word rattled across Norwood's radio. "What've you got, Phillips?"

"Ma'am, look closely at the diner window. Something's happening."

Norwood, Meg and Griff rushed to the window. Norwood had binoculars. Meg had the ones they had found in the cabin. Both peered for a long moment toward the diner. Meg drew back first and passed the pair she'd used to Griff.

He moved closer to the window and set the binoculars in place. Next to him, Norwood swore.

"He's lining them up to provide cover." She swore again.

Jodie, Dottie, Ernie and all the other Piney Woods residents in the diner, including Katie, the owner, now stood in a line along the plate glass window. There would be no sniper shots getting to one of the bad guys. No flash bangs or smoke bombs would be thrown in through the window. Griff drew back. His attention landed on Meg once more.

"I told you he wouldn't take any chances." Meg turned to Norwood. "I'm guessing your man Phillips doesn't have sights on Ridley or any of his people now."

Norwood spoke into the radio. "Phillips, can you get any of the targets in your crosshairs now if they step away from the counter?"

So far, all four had stayed just beyond the sniper's line of vision into the diner.

"Negative," Phillips confirmed.

"It's time," Meg said. "I have to go."

Griff stepped toward her. "I'm going with you." When she would have argued, he said, "Unless Norwood takes me into custody or you kill me, I'm going. Either with you, or I'll run down the middle of the street behind you."

THEMANWASthe most hardheaded—

Meg drew in a big breath. She was wasting time. "Fine. You can go with me and get yourself killed too."

That was exactly what would happen. They would walk in and they would both be killed. Ridley would likely kill Griff first just to torture her. The endgame was shutting her up. She had nothing else to offer. Nothing to use in trade. The only potential distraction she dared to hope might give her a fighting chance might not come through. At least she had tried.

Norwood pressed her lips together and shook her head in something that resembled defeat. "We've got people in the woods behind the diner. Deputy Porch is working on getting into the diner's attic from the one in the bookshop. If he's successful, he might be able to help. We've got Phillips directly across the street watching through his scope, ready to take one or more out. Roadblocks. Whatever happens, they are not getting away."

Meg decided it was pointless to tell the sheriff that she had no idea who she was dealing with. Ridley would find a way. It wouldn't matter if no one else survived. He would take care of himself above all else. He would vanish like fog rising off a lake in the sunshine.

It was the way they were trained. Meg had her knife in her sock. Her gun at the small of her back. And her one secret weapon that may or may not prove useful.

If she was really, really lucky, it would work, but she'd have to get that extra luck to even hope.

"There's just one more thing," Meg said to Norwood.

"Whatever we can do," the sheriff insisted.

"Get your guy Phillips on the radio."

Norwood did as she asked. "All right."

"Phillips, if you get Ridley in your sights—"

"How will I know which one is Ridley?"

Meg purposely kept her gaze from Griff as she responded, "Because I'll be with him."

Griff's forehead creased in question, but he said nothing.

"Noted," Phillips said.

"If you get Ridley in your sights," Meg went on, "take him out. I don't care if you have to take me out with him. Just take him out."

Meg didn't give Norwood or anyone else time to argue, she walked away. Griff followed. They hurried down the backstairs and out the rear exit of her shop. Griff said nothing, just followed until she had loaded into the SUV.

He stood at the open passenger side door, but he made no move to get inside.

She glared at him. "I have to go."

He nodded. "I know. But don't go to the diner. Drive away. Get as far from here as possible. I'll go take care of this for you."

What the...?

He slammed the door and hurried away. She got out and shouted across the hood. "Griff, we have to go now. Get in the damned vehicle."

He kept going, moving faster. Then he vanished around the corner of the building.

She jumped back into the driver's seat and started the engine. By the time she had backed out and driven around to the street, he was in a dead run and nearly to the diner.

"Son of a..." She rammed the accelerator, barely overtaking him before he reached the diner. She made a hard right and stood on the brake to skid to a stop directly in front of him.

She jumped out and met him at the hood before he could get past her. "Don't even think about it," she warned, the air sawing in and out of her lungs, her heart thundering. She should kick his ass right now.

"You should have kept going," he said, breathless, his voice loaded with something like regret.

The worry, the fear and the hurt in his eyes was like a knife ripping her open. "Just remember one thing for me."

He blinked. "What?"

"If I have to take a call, the moment I say hello, drop like a rock and roll under a table."

"What?"

"Just remember that."

She turned her back on him and walked the remaining few yards to the diner. The terrified faces of her friends and neighbors, as well as Ernie and another deputy, stared out at her as she approached. The fearful gazes sent cracks running clean through her heart. This was her fault.

The one thing that kept her putting one foot in front of the other and not falling to her knees and weeping like a child was the possibility that she would be able to put a bullet in that bastard Ridley's head.

She pushed the door open and walked into the diner. Griff moved up behind her. The bell over the door jangled as it closed.

Besides the people lined up in the window standing on the wide ledge, much like the one in her apartment, there was only Ridley and the female he'd brought with him behind the counter. Meg didn't dare take her eyes off the two to look for the others. They would be here somewhere.

"Only thirty seconds late," Ridley said.

He hadn't changed much. Still wore his jet-black hair military short. Still sported that fashionable stubbled jaw. Tall, handsome, smart. And evil. Her finger itched to wrap around a trigger and put one deep into his skull.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Meg said with a careless shrug.

"Yes, you are."

One of the other two minions appeared from the kitchen. She got it now. They were keeping watch on the rear entrance. It was the only other access to the diner. The third member of this little party patted Griff down, then did the same to Meg. She kept her eyes on Ridley the whole time. He was the one she had to watch. He was the most unpredictable. The one—she knew with complete certainty—who had the most to lose.

Number three took Meg's gun and her knife. She'd known that would happen. Then he took her cell phone. He was new to her. Younger. Blond. Gray eyes. Too bad he'd chosen the wrong side.

He placed all three items on the counter and stepped back, blending into the background near the jukebox to wait for further instructions.

Ridley took aim at Griff. Meg held her breath. "Hope she was worth it, buddy."

Her cell phone rang.

Thank God.

Ridley stared at the phone, then at Meg. "Why is someone calling you?"

Incredibly grateful that his eyes were now on her and not on Griff made her weak in the knees with relief.

"No clue," she lied.

"Answer it," Ridley said to his female cohort. "I know that area code."

The woman stepped forward, picked up the phone and accepted the call. "What?" she barked. Two seconds later, her face paled. Three seconds after that, "Yes, sir," she uttered meekly. She turned to Ridley and extended the phone toward him. "It's for you."

He made a face. "Who the hell is it?"

The woman, her eyes wide, shook her head.

Meg barely restrained a smile. Maybe luck was on her side after all.

Ridley accepted the phone with his left hand and pressed it to his ear. "Who the hell is this?" he demanded with his usual arrogance.

His own eyes flared wide for an instant, then his gaze landed on Meg. She stared right back at him as he listened to the person on the other end of the line.

"She's lying." The weapon in his other hand swung in her direction. "She's freaking lying. You know who is loyal to you."

Fury contorted the features of his face. "One second, sir." He pressed the phone to his shoulder. "Get over here, you damned bitch."

That was her cue. Meg kept her gaze on his as she walked to the other end of the counter and moved behind it. He glared right back at her as she approached him. Gun in his right hand. Phone in his left. She fixed that image in her mind.

He grabbed her around the upper chest with his left arm and jerked her against him. Then he pressed the barrel of his weapon into her temple. She settled her gaze on Griff and urged him with her eyes to stay calm. He looked frantic, terrified. She gave him a wink as if to say, I've got this, and his features instantly relaxed.

"Take the goddamned phone and tell him you lied," Ridley roared.

Meg looked up at her former partner, her former colleague, her former lover. The muzzle pressed into her cheekbone. "Who is it?" she asked innocently.

"You know who it is," he snarled. "He suddenly believes I killed his son."

Oh, how she was loving this. The fear and outrage on his face. It was almost worth dying for. But not quite.

"Tell him," he sneered, the muzzle burrowing deeper into her face, "that you lied."

She took the phone from him, pressed it to her ear, her gaze back on Griff. "Hello."

Griff dropped.

The woman stepped forward to peer over the counter. The man at the jukebox moved forward.

Salvadori Lorenzo's voice echoed in her ear. "If you doctored that video somehow," he warned.

Meg braced herself. "I lied..."

The muzzle dug deeper into her temple.

"...it was Ridley—"

She shoved upward on the hand holding the gun.

The weapon fired, barely missing the top of her head.

The phone hit the floor.

Ridley ranted at her, attempting to get a hold on her once more.

The woman drew back from the counter and whirled toward Meg.

In the background, above the screams, she heard Griff shouting for everyone to get down on the floor.

Meg twisted, pulling Ridley with her even as he pulled off another round, this one going over her shoulder, damned close to her ear. Meg twisted again, shoved him backward, but his grip on her was too strong to fall free.

The woman's weapon discharged. The bullet plowed into the side of Ridley's skull. Meg charged the woman, using his suddenly limp body as a barrier between them. She shoved him harder, knocking the woman down. Her weapon discharged again, hitting the wall behind Meg.

Meg dove for the handgun Ridley had dropped. She grabbed it and turned just in time to pull the trigger, sending a bullet between the eyes of the jukebox man who'd jumped over the counter to help his friends.

The sound of the woman scrambling to get out from under Ridley's body had Meg rolling to her left. She pulled off another, hitting the woman in the center of her forehead.

Meg launched to her feet, glancing around. Where was the other guy? Some people were still screaming but all were on face down on the floor. Except...

Where was Griff?

"Drop it."

The warning came from the end of the counter nearest the kitchen door.

Meg turned to the final man, her weapon leveled on him, his leveled on her. "You still have time to run," she suggested.

"No way," he snarled.

She pulled the trigger and sidestepped because she knew he would do the same. The impact of his shot jerked her shoulder.

Another shot blasted in the air.

The man stared down at his chest where blood had started to bloom. Meg looked to her left. Griff stood at the counter, her gun locked in his hands.

The man crumpled to the floor.

Griff had shot him. She apparently missed.

Meg ignored the pain that radiated down her arm as she retrieved the woman's weapon and then the two belonging to the men. That was when she spotted the path a bullet had grazed along the side of the third man's head. So she hadn't missed entirely.

She suddenly became aware of all the crying and shouting around her. Deputy Battles was suddenly at the counter. The other deputy was ushering the people outside.

Griff appeared at her side, ushering her away from the bodies. "An ambulance is on the way. You should sit down."

She glanced at her left shoulder. Damn. She'd been hit. On some level she had known it.

Damn.

She looked at Griff then. "You saved my life."

She hadn't even known he could use a handgun, and he'd saved her life.

"Come on," he ushered her from behind the counter and toward a chair.

She glanced around. The place had cleared out in record time. A table to her left had been overturned. An obvious bullet hole marred its shiny red surface.

Her gaze went to Griff. "Are you hit?"

He shook his head as he settled into the seat next to her. "When I hit the floor and rolled under that table, I pulled it down for cover. The only shot the guy got off missed me."

Worry swam through her head, which was also swimming. "You could have been killed."

He grinned. "But I wasn't and neither were you."

She blinked, her eyes stinging. Griff had saved her life.