Chapter Seven

Meg flinched. Shook her head.

The cold touched her again.

She jerked awake.

Raymond sat beside the bed, his muzzle resting on the quilt. Even as her gaze focused in on him, he nudged her with his cold nose again.

Meg laughed and swiped at her eyes. "Morning, boy."

The light filtering in through the window had her frowning. What time was it? She grabbed her cell from the bedside table and sat up. 7:30 a.m.

Her eyebrows reared up. She never slept past 5:30 or 6:00 a.m. Ever.

She threw the covers back and bounced out of bed. "Raymond, why didn't you get me up sooner?"

He stared up at her with a questioning look as if to ask how he was supposed to have done that.

"You're right," she agreed as she dug through her overnight bag for clothes, "I should have set the alarm on my phone."

But she usually woke up on her own. Maybe knowing someone else was in the house with her had helped her sleep more deeply. She dragged on her jeans. Not just someone but a friend. A good friend.

She pulled on a tee, finger-combed her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail using the scrunchie she wore as a bracelet whenever it wasn't in her hair. Not just a friend, she admitted. A guy she respected, thought was sexy and was kind of attracted to. Truth was she'd lain in bed for hours last night thinking about him just down the hall. Wondering what it would be like to be in his bed. Wishing she could just enjoy that opportunity and never worry about consequences.

That was the reason she'd overslept. Even at thirty-four, a girl could be kept awake by fantasies.

"Not smart," she muttered, slipping on her favorite sneakers.

She straightened the covers on her bed and hung her nightshirt on the footboard. She folded yesterday's clothes and set them on the bed. Maybe she'd have a chance to launder them later. She didn't have many things with her and she had to stay prepared.

At the door, she opened it wider and peeked out. The hallway was clear. She hurried to the bathroom, freshened up and did necessary business. Then she headed for the stairs. Raymond followed her to the top of the stairs. As they descended the staircase, the scent of coffee had her moving faster. Downstairs, she headed for the kitchen. The smell of toasted bread and maybe bacon had her stomach rumbling. If the man cooked too, she might just have to marry him.

Even the thought had her feeling an odd little jab in the center of her chest.

Not possible.

Approaching the kitchen, she paused and grinned at the scene. An apron was cinched at Griff's waist. He carefully lifted pieces of browned bacon from the pan to a plate lined with a paper towel. The light in the oven showed a tray of biscuits. The man made biscuits? Then he turned to another pan and gave it a stir with a spatula. Eggs? Grease popped and he swore. Meg leaned against the door jamb and folded her arms over her chest to watch.

But Raymond had other ideas. He scooted in around her and gave a single deep-throated bark.

Griff turned around and looked from Raymond to Meg. His face flushed a little. "Morning."

"Were you just going to let me sleep all day?" She pushed off the door and joined him at the stove.

He shrugged. "I figured you didn't sleep much the last couple of nights and needed a little extra."

A reasonable conclusion. "Thanks." She surveyed the bacon and eggs. "Looks and smells great. What can I do to help?"

He turned off the oven, removed the pan of biscuits and gestured to the table. "Have a seat. It's all done."

"Then it's only fair that I do the cleanup." Meg crossed to the coffee maker and poured herself a cup.

Griff plated the eggs and bacon, then added a biscuit to each. He settled the plates on the table and then rounded up forks and napkins. "You may have noticed I don't have a dishwasher."

"Neither do I." Truth was, she mostly used paper plates. Not to mention, she ordered from the diner really often. Cooking for one was not so much fun. She took a seat at the table and savored a taste of coffee. So good she moaned. "You make really great coffee."

"I'm glad you like it." He sat down in the seat opposite her. "How about we do the cleanup together, and then I don't have to feel guilty about my guest washing dishes by hand."

She laughed. "I certainly wouldn't want you feeling guilty."

Raymond decided he wasn't getting a treat, so he stretched out on the floor next to Meg's chair.

"Please tell me you didn't make these biscuits from scratch." She bit into the soft, fluffy baked good and moaned again. She might just moan and sigh through this entire meal.

"My mama's recipe."

Meg rolled her eyes. "You put me to shame, Avery Griffin. I couldn't make a biscuit from scratch if my life depended on it."

He chuckled. "I guess I'll just have to teach you."

The suggestion filled her head with all sorts of notions that had nothing to do with baking.

"Speaking of family," he said after a few minutes of devouring the delicious meal, "my sister called this morning. She insists that we come to lunch at her place on Sunday. You have any plans?"

She would so love to say yes, but she couldn't even be sure she'd still be here. Yet, the hope in his voice, in his eyes, had her agreeing. "I do not have plans. I would love to go."

"Great." He dove back into his meal, but not before she noticed the sparkle her answer had put in his eyes.

She really hoped she didn't have to disappoint him.

Determined not to borrow more trouble than she already had, she put all else aside and just enjoyed the moment. It felt good, maybe too good, chatting with Griff over the breakfast he'd made and then washing the dishes together. She imagined this was how it would be if they were together.

Do not go there.

She knew better, but it was impossible not to imagine how it would feel to live this life, this partnership with the two of them working together and laughing and feeling just like a team. What would it hurt to let herself dream for a few minutes?

In her back pocket, her cell vibrated, drawing Meg from the fantasy. She stilled, withdrew it and checked the screen. Long ago—right after she exited her former life—she had set up notifications for anything that appeared online related to who she was previously. For a while, the notifications had come frequently and furiously. She'd topped the headlines on the West Coast for a few months.

Eventually, the notifications had dwindled to nothing. Since moving to Piney Woods, she hadn't received a single one. She was gone, probably dead, and there wasn't a soul on the planet who cared.

But this notification wasn't about the person she used to be. This was about Megan Lewis, owner/operator of Pampered Paws in Piney Woods, Tennessee. This was about her life now.

The one that was, as of this second, officially over.

Her heart sank to her knees.

Her name and, worse, her photo filled the screen. Several news outlets in both Tennessee and Georgia had picked up the story. That was troubling enough, but it was the pickup by the Associated Press that sealed her fate.

No One Messes with This Woman

The story explained how Megan Lewis of Piney Woods, Tennessee, was a hero. Not only had she rescued a young girl from a savage fate, she had taken on the would-be killer's vigilante family, kicking butt and taking names.

Cold seeped into her bones as she read several versions of the same story. Her face appeared over and over—images all credited to the one reporter who'd lingered after yesterday's invasion at Meg's shop.

"You okay?"

Meg blinked. Shoved her phone back into her pocket. "I'm sorry, what?"

Griff had moved in toe-to-toe with her. He searched her face. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

She had. Meg swallowed back the dread rising in her throat. Her own.

"It's nothing." She forced a smile. "What's next on this morning's agenda? I'm guessing there are a lot of animals ready for their breakfast."

She couldn't think. Couldn't kick the voices from her head. They will see this. They will come. Your life here is over.

She had to get Griff moving into his day so she could figure out the best plan for exiting this life, for leaving everything behind. She thought of Raymond, and her heart hurt.

Griff's worry shifted into a grin, somehow dragging her from the painful thoughts. "Mornings are my favorite part of the day."

She forced a smile, hoping he wouldn't see through it. "I can't wait to see what makes you say so."

He led the way to the barn, where they hayed the horses and cows. Added a bucket of feed to the pig trough. Meg struggled with keeping this new reality at bay so that she could enjoy this last morning with Griff and the animals. After the big animals were done, they moved on to the cats and then the dogs, all of which were freed to roam. Griff allowed the cats and dogs free range all day every day. He preferred putting them back into their kennels at night. The animals seemed to feel more comfortable that way, he explained. Maybe because the routine of it felt comforting. Then Meg and Griff gathered a few eggs in the chicken coop and restocked their feeders. She understood exactly why this was the best part of his day.

Meg felt so grateful for having been able to share it with him.

"I should drop Pepper at the vet clinic." She reached down and rubbed Raymond on the head. He'd followed every step they had taken. She suspected he sensed something was wrong. "Is it okay if I leave Raymond here until I get back?"

"Sure. I have some work to do in my office." He grinned at the dog. "Raymond can keep me company."

"Thanks. I'll just get my wallet and keys, then I'll load up Pepper."

He hitched his head toward the house. "You get your stuff. I'll load Pepper into your truck."

"I appreciate it."

Meg walked back to the house, holding back the urge to run. The longer she stayed at this point, the more dangerous for anyone who had been associated with her. Trudging up the stairs, she considered that leaving Griff a note would be a nice gesture, but there was no time to explain. No time to say the things that had swelled into her throat. How did she tell him that all he thought he knew about her was a lie? Whatever suspicions he had about her based on the events of the past two days would never in a million years live up to the truth. The truth was far scarier and far uglier.

Some secrets were better left buried.

Except hers was about to be exhumed in the worst kind of way.

The friends she had foolishly made, the reputation she had built would all be shattered when the truth came out, and it was coming. There was no holding it back at this point. She couldn't stop the hurricane. Her only hope was to try and limit the devastation.

She picked up her backpack. Leaving the overnight bag was necessary so as not to draw suspicion from Griff when she walked out. She descended the stairs and hesitated at the front door. A last, lingering look around and she was gone. Allowing herself to get so attached had been a bad move on her part. She had known better.

Griff waited at the driver side door of her truck. When she reached him, he opened the door for her. Why did he have to be so nice? So caring? Her entire soul ached. So damned handsome?

"I should drop by the shop," she said, hoping to extend the time she had before he started to wonder why she wasn't back.

"Just be careful," he said. "I called Ernie, and he says there's no one else in the Jones family you need to worry about, but they haven't interviewed all the members of that biker club yet. You need to be careful until we know if the threat is over."

He had no idea.

Meg gave him a little salute. "Yes, sir."

He caught her hand when she lowered it. "It's important to me that you're careful, Meg. To tell you the truth, I'd feel better going with you."

If he hadn't stared into her eyes that way, she might have been able to ignore the way his hand held hers so protectively. "I appreciate that and I promise I'll be careful. You have plenty to do here. I'll be fine."

And then the final nail in her coffin. He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers.

If she had been smart, she would have drawn away, but she simply could not. She wanted more. If she never saw him again after today, at least she would have this one kiss to remember him by.

So not smart.

But oh so sweet.

She melted into him, her backpack hitting the ground and her arms going around his neck. His arms went around her waist and pulled her closer.

The desperation that clawed through her was nearly more than she could bear, but she had to resist. She would not allow the danger to find her here, where he could be hurt. She had to go. She had to go now. Drawing the trouble away from here—away from him was paramount.

She drew back. Pressed her forehead to his chin because she didn't dare look into his eyes again. She might be strong, but she was not that strong.

"I should get going."

"I wish you didn't have to go."

Her hands slid down to his chest, and she levered herself away. Somehow managed to meet his eyes. "See you later," she lied.

He nodded. "Later."

She picked up her backpack and climbed into her truck. Before pulling out, she waved. He waved back, and then he watched until she was driving away. She watched too as he grew more distant in her rearview mirror.

Gripping the steering wheel as hard as she could, Meg kept going. She glanced over at Pepper and smiled. "Don't worry. Griff will bring you back home after all your tests."

He would take care of Pepper and Raymond.

Meg didn't have to ask or to wonder, she knew he would. That was the kind of man he was.

Dropping Pepper off at the vet clinic was easy enough. She told Lonnie if he couldn't reach her with the test results to call Griff. Lonnie assured her that he would, and Meg headed into town. A truck parked in front of Pampered Paws sported a glass repair logo. She was glad Jodie had found someone who could come so quickly. Meg parked in the alley behind the shop next door. She needed to talk to Jodie—and Dottie too if she was in. She wasn't sure just yet how the conversation would go, but it had to be done. She could simply rely on the letter she'd left, but this way would be better.

The usual crew of dogs were in the back play space. Meg gave individual attention to each of the animals as she made her way to the back door. She entered the code and stepped inside. Pop music played softly. Meg smiled. Jodie was in for sure. Dottie preferred country music. If she was in, she would insist that customers preferred country as well. Jodie never argued with the older woman. Whether it was respect or friendship, she always allowed Dottie to have her way.

Jodie was just outside the newly repaired front entrance and was handing a check to the repairman when Meg entered the lobby. The man thanked Jodie and went on his way. Jodie came inside, closing the door behind her. Her face brightened when she spotted Meg.

"You're here. Everything okay?"

The urge to tell her no and all the reasons it wasn't okay surged into Meg's throat, but she couldn't go there. Now or ever.

"Everything's fine. I dropped Pepper at the vet's. Griff is going to take her in when she's ready to be picked up."

"Aww, that's great. Pepper will love it there. Griff is such a great guy." She waggled her eyebrows as she joined Meg behind the counter. "You know he's really stuck on you. I mean, seriously stuck."

Meg smiled sadly. "He's a great guy for sure."

Jodie rolled her eyes. "Just pretend I didn't say the rest."

Now or never."There's something I need to show you."

Her friend and employee picked up on the nuance of disquiet in Meg's tone. "What's going on?"

"You know," Meg began, "I don't have any family."

Jodie nodded slowly. "You told me, yes."

"After what happened on Saturday night, I got a little worried about things."

Jodie's face scrunched with worry. "Not to mention those guys busting in here yesterday. That had to be terrifying."

Meg nodded. "A little."

Jodie grinned sheepishly. "But you did kick their butts."

"I did." Meg pushed aside the images that immediately popped into her head. "Anyway, I wanted to make sure you knew about this." She reached into the cash register, lifted the cash tray from the drawer. She set it aside and picked up the unmarked envelope she'd tucked last year. "About six months ago, I started thinking about this, and I decided to do something about it."

Meg opened the envelope and removed the three-page document. She handed it to Jodie. "If anything were to happen to me or—" she shrugged "—if I just disappear, this shop and the business are yours."

"What in the world?" Jodie looked from the document to Meg. "Are you going somewhere? Has something happened that I don't know about?"

"No," Meg lied. She'd grown very good at lying over the years. "I just don't have anyone to leave things to, and I wanted to be sure that if I died or if I just decided I was done with things here that you take over. I see how good you are with the animals and the customers. I feel comfortable leaving all of it with you—if something happens. I also left something for Dottie. It's all upstairs on my desk. This is more or less a letter of instruction."

Jodie shook her head, refolded the document. "This isn't right. There's something you're not telling me."

Meg took the document from her, tucked it back into the envelope and placed it in the register drawer. "You don't need to worry," she argued. "Just know that it's here. I want you to take care of this place if I'm not here. Got it?"

Jodie blinked, emotion shining in her eyes. "Well, of course I will. But this sounds like—I don't know—something permanent."

"Hey," Meg said, "it's just insurance. Smart businesswomen don't take chances."

Jodie did another of those slow nods. "Okay. I guess I understand."

Meg hugged her. "Good. Now I have stuff to do, so you carry on." She gestured to the door. "Great job getting that taken care of first thing."

Jodie smiled, her cheeks a little flushed. "Thanks. I love this shop. I hope you know that I will do my very best to run it just like you, if ever the need arises."

Meg smiled. "See. I did the right thing."

With that out of the way, Meg went upstairs and checked her studio one last time just to make sure there was nothing else she needed, then she used the back stairs to leave. A female voice she recognized as one of the shop's regular customers told her Jodie was preoccupied. Just as well, Meg wasn't so good with goodbyes. She loaded into her truck and drove away.

Her eyes burned, but she refused to cry. She had enjoyed her life here. She'd hoped it would last, but there had never been and never would be any guarantees.

Not this time or the next.

ALLMORNING GRIFF hadn't been able to shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. That overwhelming sense of doom just lingered and lingered. Especially after Meg had left.

When he spotted Ernie's SUV rolling along his driveway, he understood his instincts had been right. Whatever news his friend was here to deliver, Griff suspected it was not good.

He waited on the porch, one shoulder propped against the post on the right of the steps. "Morning," he said as his friend climbed out of his SUV.

"Morning." Ernie glanced around. "Is Meg here?"

Griff shook his head. "She had to drop off that rescued beagle at Lonnie's, and then she was going to check in at Pampered Paws. What's up?"

"Good. I was hoping I could speak to you alone," Ernie admitted. "There's something you need to know about Meg."

"All right. Come on in."

Ernie followed him inside. "Do we need something stronger than coffee to do this?" Griff asked, bracing for what he feared was going to be the bad he'd sensed coming. He wasn't usually one to drink in the middle of the morning, but his entire being was poised on the edge of panic.

"Another time maybe," Ernie suggested.

"I'm guessing we should sit."

Ernie nodded. "Yeah. That's probably a good idea."

Griff took the few steps to the living room and dropped into his favorite chair. It was an old one, had belonged to his daddy. At some point, he needed to consider getting it recovered.

Ernie picked a spot on the sofa. "I did something I wouldn't generally do after the scene at Meg's shop yesterday."

"What's that?" However hard he tried to relax, Griff's gut just tied in bigger knots.

"Truth is," Ernie went on, "that video in the Gas and Go just kept eating at me. I couldn't get it out of my head. It..." He shook his head. "It didn't feel right."

"Meg said she'd been attacked before," Griff countered. "She took her self-defense classes very seriously. That seems pretty reasonable."

Ernie nodded slowly. "Maybe. But then when I walked into her shop and saw those two men on the floor, I realized I couldn't ignore what my gut was telling me. Something was off. This was way more than self-defense classes. This was professional."

"I can see how it looked that way," Griff admitted—he'd been a little stunned himself. "But she didn't do anything wrong. Meg is a good person, and she had every right to do what she did."

Ernie held up a hand. "I'm not trying to say she did anything wrong. I'm just... I don't know." He shrugged. "I was worried she wasn't telling me the whole story. That maybe there was something she didn't want me to know."

Griff stood and braced his hands on his hips. "Just say whatever it is you gotta say, Ernie. This conversation isn't going to get any easier."

Again, Ernie held up a hand. "Just sit down, Griff. Don't get all riled up until you hear me out."

Griff took a breath. His friend was right. He swallowed his pride and dropped back into his seat. "So, what did you do?"

"I ran her prints."

Anger pierced Griff. "Like a criminal or a suspect of some sort?"

"I felt it was my duty," Ernie argued. "And I was right to believe something was off."

Griff's anger wilted a bit. "What do you mean?"

"Meg's real name is Angela Hamilton, better known as Angel—as in the Angel of Death. The reports I got back says she's a contract killer, Griff. She worked for this ruthless drug lord out in LA. Apparently, he did something she didn't like, and she killed his son. That's why she went into hiding—which I suppose is what she's doing here—hiding. If those people find her, she's dead. Maybe anyone around her too."

For a couple of beats Griff couldn't speak. Then he snapped out of it. "That can't be right." He shook his head. He knew Meg. She was too kind and too caring to be a cold-blooded killer. Even as his mind insisted that he knew this, the video from the Gas and Go played in his head like one of those social media reels stuck on a loop, then the images from the scene at her shop.

"Man," Ernie said, "I'm sorry as hell to bring this to your door, I know you like her, but this is scary stuff. Dangerous stuff."

Griff thought of the backpack she'd carried when she left and how she'd looked at him after that kiss with such regret. Dread welled in his throat, and he fought to swallow it down.

"What else did you do?" He looked at his lifelong friend and waited to hear the rest.

"Nothing." He held up both hands as if to prove his innocence. "I thought I'd talk to Meg, hear her side of it before..."

"Before what?" The anger was back, like acid burning a hole inside Griff's gut.

"Before doing what I have a sworn duty to do."

Griff's mouth worked before he got the words out. "What is it you expect me to do with this information?"

"If she comes back," Ernie said, his voice subdued with the guilt he no doubt felt, "I need you to let me know so I can come talk to her."

"You're going to arrest her," Griff tossed at him. "That's your intent, isn't it?"

"No," Ernie rebutted. "I'm going to talk to her, and we'll all figure it out from there." He stared hard at Griff. "Meg Lewis is a good person, you're right. And I like her too. But we have to figure this out, okay? She's a wanted criminal."

Griff nodded. "Okay."

Ernie stood. "Thanks. I realize this is hard. Just let me know when you hear from her."

Griff nodded. "Sure."

But not until he knew the whole story. No way was he throwing Meg under the bus until he was convinced there was no other choice.

No way in hell.