Chapter 5

CHAPTER5

“Ineed to get her to take me to that wedding.” Griffin sighed into his bottle of beer.

It was a balmy Friday night, and tourists crowded the sidewalks of Farragut North. Griffin and his buddies, Adam and Ben, were enjoying a cold one while sitting at an outdoor cafe a few blocks north of the White House.

“And this is the guy who runs from any mention of matrimony.” Adam tossed a chicken wing bone into a plastic basket in the center of the table.

“He’s got to be desperate to solve this case if he’s willing to venture within five miles of bridesmaids.” Ben shuddered theatrically.

“He’s more than desperate,” Adam explained. “He wants to be a bridesmaid’s plus-one.”

Ben whistled. “On the other hand, maybe he’s not that desperate. Bridesmaids usually put out.”

The two men chuckled out loud before clinking their beer bottles together.

“I’m sitting right here, you know.” Griffin wanted to flip them both off, but the place was filled with too many families. “If you two clowns are finished joking around, can we come up with a plan that will convince Marin to take me to that damn wedding?”

Adam leaned back in his chair and studied Griffin over the steeple of his joined fingers. “So it’s Marin now. Since when did she graduate from ‘the pastry chef’?”

Since I touched her.Which had been a stupid thing to do. Fucking stupid. He needed to keep her strictly in the suspect category. Last night, though, in her rumpled uniform, with that crazy hat askew on her head and a wayward streak of flour adorning her smooth cheek, Griffin had felt… need. A deep and urgent need to protect and possess her all at the same time. Which was ridiculous. Fucking ridiculous.

“It doesn’t mean anything, Sigmund, other than Marin is quicker to pronounce,” Griffin said before taking a swallow of his beer. Ben mouthed the name “Marin” and then “pastry chef” wearing that same look he’d use to solve complex calculus problems. Griffin slammed down his beer. “Damn it guys, can we cut the bullshit and work on this case!”

His two friends exchanged a look before both leaned their elbows on the table, their faces finally serious.

“Okay, dude, but first tell us what you can. What connection do the Chevaliers have to the counterfeit ring?” Ben asked.

Griffin ran a hand through his hair. “Hell if I know. But my gut is telling me not to ignore the possibility.”

Adam lowered his voice as the three men leaned in closer. “You said some of the counterfeit drops were in or near several of their overseas hotels.”

Griffin nodded. “But the trail goes cold from there.”

Just like every other trail in this damn case.

He’d spoken with Leslie this morning. The FBI forensics lab hadn’t found any evidence on the box truck or its driver. Not that Griffin was surprised. He was surprised, however, at Leslie’s demeanor on the phone. The FBI agent was very assertive that he hustle back to New York, almost going so far as to suggest she missed him. A booty call with Leslie might go a long way toward slacking the sexual tension that had been building within him since touching Marin yesterday. Except, every time he thought of sinking into his colleague-with-benefits, it was Marin’s face he saw. And that pissed him off.

“So, it might just be a coincidence that one of their family is working at the White House.” Ben held up his hand to stop Griffin from interjecting. “But we can’t ignore the fire in her kitchen. That was not a coincidence. Or an accident.”

“Do we know if any artwork was switched out during the fire?” Adam asked.

“We can’t know for sure, but there is so much beefed up security in the House right now that it hardly seems possible,” Griffin said. “Marin was pretty anxious about all the extra staff wandering around on the residence floor, though.”

Anxious was an understatement.Last night Marin was downright frazzled. Her demeanor only made him suspect her involvement that much more. He should have been excited he might have finally found a viable lead. Instead, he felt only disappointment. Griffin wasn’t sure whether it was with her or with himself for being attracted to her and that, too, pissed him off.

“I spoke with the admiral this morning,” Griffin continued. “It could be several weeks before he has a complete catalog of what is fake and what is real. Until then, eyes-on security is our best bet.”

“And then there’s the dead curator. Any leads there?” Ben asked.

Griffin shook his head. “We’ll have the preliminary results on Monday sometime. If we’re lucky, they’ll be able to determine whether he killed himself or if someone else did the job.”

The three men fell silent as they leaned back in their chairs.

“Well,” Adam eventually said. “I could always do some snooping when I’m at the wedding.”

Both Griffin and Ben stared at Adam in disbelief.

“They’re taking the Counter Assault Team to a wedding?” Ben asked.

“POTUS and FLOTUS are going to the wedding?” Griffin said at the same time.

Adam grabbed another chicken wing off the plate. “FLOTUS is friends with the bride’s aunt.” He shot a steely-eyed look in Griffin’s direction. “That would be Marin’s mother in case you’re not keeping score. Another reason not to presume her guilty without any hard evidence.”

“The admiral has made me aware of the connection,” Griffin said. “Several times, in fact. I just didn’t put two and two together about the wedding.”

“Yep. Problem solved. I’ll keep an eye on your little pastry chef.” Adam grinned wickedly before he chomped down on the chicken wing. “I could offer to help her out and pose as her date. I like… baked goods.”

“That works,” Ben agreed.

Like hell it did!Griffin didn’t particularly like the way his friend said the words “baked goods.” Nor did he like the idea that Adam would have the opportunity to manhandle Marin, because he would be touching her, dancing with her, and doing God-knew-what with her if she were his date. Adam enjoyed women. And Griffin didn’t like the idea of his friend “enjoying” Marin. Not one bit.

“I mean, she’s only a suspect,” Adam went on to say. “It’s not like I’m poaching on a woman you’re sleeping with.”

Griffin ground his back teeth. Adam was baiting him, looking for something that wasn’t there and never would be. Adam was correct about one thing. Marin was a suspect. And that was all she’d ever be.

“Not gonna work,” Griffin said. “You don’t know the subtleties of this case. She might unwittingly give you a clue, and you’d miss it. It has to be me.”

Adam shot Ben a smirk that shouted “I-told-you-so” before he tossed the chicken wing bone into the basket. “Hey, I was just trying to help a brother out.”

“I guess you’ll have to depend on that legendary charm of yours,” Ben added.

Griffin sent his friend an unamused glare.

“Dude,” Ben continued. “We all know I’m the brains of this trio.” He gestured at Adam. “Adam is, and always has been, our enforcer. And you? You’re the Rico Suave of the group. You’ll figure something out. You always do.”

“Well, I hope it happens soon. The wedding is next week.” Griffin scrubbed a hand down his face, glancing at the passersby on the sidewalk as he did so.

He did a double take when he saw Marin striding toward the Metro station across the street.

“Speak of the devil,” he murmured as he rose to follow her. “Metro card.” He frantically patted the pockets of his jeans. “Damn it! I need a Metro card to go after her. Ben, give me your Fast-Pass. You always have enough fare on yours.”

“Seriously, dude? I need it to get home tonight.”

In a few steps, Marin would be on the escalator. If Griffin didn’t catch her now, he’d lose her. “Adam will drive you home. You’re both going to the same damn place. Now, come on, man, this is serious.”

Ben huffed as he slowly pulled the card out of his wallet. Griffin snatched it out of his hand before jumping the iron railing that surrounded the café and jogging down the sidewalk.

“Don’t worry folks,” Adam joked. “He likes to think he plays a cop on TV.”

Ignoring the honking horn of a cab, Griffin made his way across Connecticut Avenue and ran onto the escalator, dodging tourists who didn’t know well enough to stand on the right side. Once he’d reached the bottom, he spied Marin pass through the gate and head to the northbound platform. He swiped the pass and followed her to the escalator leading down that way.

“Marin,” he called out from the top.

She stumbled slightly as she stepped off the escalator before turning to face him. The look on her face warned him she was still prickly. Griffin hoped the legendary charm Ben seemed to think he had wouldn’t fail him.

* * *

Agent Keller took the steps two at a time. There was no reason for him to hurry; the surprise at seeing him in the subway tunnel had rooted her feet to the floor. Marin couldn’t move if she tried.

After their encounter last night, she’d gone home and downed a hefty glass—maybe it was two—of wine before soaking in a hot tub. She’d spent today hiding out in the chocolate shop, meticulously pasting the sugar image of the White House to the cookies. The task was mind-numbing, but she was at least able to hide in plain sight. Now she was looking forward to another glass—or two—of wine and a bath. Unfortunately, the reason for her being so discombobulated was bounding down the subway escalator after her.

“Agent Keller,” she managed to say. “I’m starting to get the feeling that you’re following me.”

“Griffin.” He sounded winded, as though he’d been running.

“Griffin?”

“Griffin. It’s my first name.”

“Oh.” Because, what else could she say?

The metro was normally busy at this time on a Friday evening. Tonight, with all the tourists in town for Easter and the Cherry Blossom Festival, the platform was shoulder to shoulder with people. Griffin stepped out of the path of the escalator and indicated that she should follow. Like a lamb to slaughter, she did.

“And I was following you tonight.”

His admission startled Marin even more.

“I was hanging out with some friends when I saw you walk by the restaurant,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you. To ask you something.”

“To ask me something?” Anyone listening to their conversation would think that Marin didn’t have the strongest handle on the English language.

“It’s about the wedding you need a date for.”

Marin’s breath froze in her lungs. Was he serious? He wanted to rub it in that she didn’t have a date to Ava’s wedding? She didn’t want to have this conversation with Agent Keller. Griffin. She wanted wine and a bubble bath. Marin shook her head. Then she allowed the sea of tourists to propel her in the direction of the train tracks.

“You’d be doing me a huge favor if you’d let me go with you,” he called out after her.

What did he just say? She’d be doing him a favor?

He was beside her again, looking a bit flustered and unsure of himself. Marin wondered what he was up to because she was sure there wasn’t ever a moment when this gorgeous man was unsure of himself, not to mention flustered.

“At least hear me out. Please.”

She blew out a breath. “Suit yourself. I get off at Dupont Circle. It’s the next stop, so you’d better make your case quickly.”

The corners of his mouth turned up in a conqueror’s grin, his dimples so potent Marin saw the woman next to her clutch her chest in delight. The lights on the edge of the platform blinked to indicate an incoming train and the crowd pressed closer together. When the train arrived, and the doors opened, Marin and Griffin were lucky to get the last two spots against the doors. Just as they began to close, a young black woman leaped aboard the train. She smiled gleefully before she accidentally shoved into Marin.

“Sorry,” the woman said.

There was a shout from the platform, but the doors had already closed. The train lurched forward. Marin had to move in closer to Griffin to make room for the latecomer. He braced his arm above her head, holding them steady in the crowded car.

“The train ride is barely three minutes,” Marin said.

“I’ll have you agreeing in less than two.”

She rolled her eyes at his arrogance and forced herself to look away from his compelling stare. That was when she saw the blood. Lots of blood. The young black woman’s chin was tucked to her chest. She seemed to be gasping for breath. Her hands clutched the front of her white shirt that now had a dark red stain seeping out from her flat abdomen.

“Griffin!” Marin cried, but he’d already seen it.

He pushed Marin flat against the wall and edged himself over to the woman.

“I’ve got you,” he told her. “When the doors open, you just lean on me.”

He looked desperately toward the back of the car.

“Hey!” he yelled. “Someone pick up that phone and tell them we need an ambulance at Dupont Circle!”

As the train slowed, a man made his way to the emergency phone near the doors that joined the cars together.

“She’s barely conscious,” Griffin said. “I’m going to have to carry her out.”

Marin maneuvered her arm around enough to pull her dirty chef’s jacket out of her backpack. She handed it to him. “Use this to apply pressure.”

The doors opened. The woman would have collapsed on the platform had it not been for Griffin’s hold. Marin wadded her jacket up and thrust it between him and the woman. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the stone bench along the back wall. Many of the passengers stampeded out behind Marin, some fearful, while others remained in the Metro car, oblivious that a stabbing had even occurred. Two Metro transit officers charged down the escalator.

“Did anyone see what happened?” one of them asked the assembled crowd.

The woman on the bench moaned. Marin crouched down next to her. “She was smiling when she got on the train.” Marin swiped at the tears she hadn’t realized were streaming down her face. “She has such a pretty smile,” she whispered.

There was a sudden frenzy of activity when the EMTs and DC police arrived on the scene. The woman, still unconscious, was quickly whisked away to the hospital. Marin barely remembered the seven-block trip up New Hampshire Ave to the police station. Griffin hovered over her like a sentry as they both told, then retold, their account of the incident to police detectives.

“Surveillance video at the McPherson Square station shows a figure running from the train as it was pulling away. The perp could be a man or a woman. Hard to tell,” one of the detectives told them. “He or she was dressed in a giant hoodie and baggy pants. Typical gangbanger garb. Of course, that only narrows our search area down to most of Southeast DC and half of Baltimore,” he added sarcastically.

“Any chance I could get a look at that video?” Griffin asked.

“Any chance you’ll tell me why you’re so interested?” the detective responded.

“Professional curiosity,” Griffin said. “Maybe seeing the video will jog something in my memory. Years on a protective detail gives you a different perspective. We’re trained to spot things in the crowd.”

The detective sighed. “Just as long as you promise to share if you do see anything.” He got up from his desk. “I’ll download a copy to a disc for you.”

“The victim is a student at Howard University,” the female detective said. “But her brother is a known member of the Deuce Deuce gang. He’s currently serving time for drug dealing. We’re probably looking at some sort of retaliation crime here.”

A young, innocent woman, brutally stabbed because of who her brother was. The thought made Marin physically ill.

“What’s her name?” Marin quietly asked. “I want to pray for her.”

The detective looked from Marin to Griffin. He brought his hand to the back of Marin’s neck and gently rubbed. The detective cleared her throat before looking down at her notes.

“Anika,” she said. “She suffered injuries to the liver and spleen. Doctors are operating now. They’re optimistic.” She looked at Marin and smiled kindly. “But prayers are always good, too.”

Two men who seemed to know Griffin joined them. One man looked vaguely familiar to Marin.

“Our ride is here,” Griffin announced.

He helped her to her feet. She was grateful for his arm, as well as his presence of mind to get them a ride home. Her legs felt too unsteady to walk farther than the elevator. Marin gathered up her backpack, but she felt as though she was forgetting something. She glanced around at the table they’d been sitting at for the past hour.

“You gave your chef’s coat to me,” Griffin reminded her gently. “It must have gotten left in the metro station.”

Marin nodded. The entire evening felt like one of those dreams where she was supposed to know what was going on but didn’t.

“Yeah,” she said. “I don’t know why I’m so confused about everything.”

“Shock will do that to you,” one of Griffin’s friends said. “I’m Ben, by the way. I brought you some water and peanut butter crackers. Hydrating and getting some food in you will help.” He handed her a brown bag.

“Ben’s a perpetual Boy Scout,” the one who looked familiar to Marin said as he pushed the button for the elevator. “Which makes me Adam, the chauffeur.” He bowed deeply just as the elevator doors opened. “At your service.”

“Ignore these two jokers.” Griffin guided her onto the elevator. “They would have never gotten through West Point without my help.”

Their humorous bantering helped to chase some of the fog in her brain away. Griffin kept his hand at the small of her back and her body relaxed into it. She took a few swallows from the water bottle, suddenly realizing how hungry she was. Lunch had been nine hours earlier.

Adam led them to a small SUV parked out front. Griffin handed her into the back seat. Adam and Ben got in front while Griffin walked around the car and slid in beside her. His warm body felt comforting next to hers as she munched on the crackers. The sense of calm that had been absent for the past couple of hours slowly returned. When they pulled up outside her apartment building, she was surprised, however.

“I didn’t tell you where I lived.”

She met Adam’s bottle green eyes in the rearview mirror.

“It’s the Secret Service’s job to know where all the White House employee’s live,” Adam informed her.

That explained why he looked so familiar. Griffin had gotten out and was opening her door. “Well then, I’m glad you were the ones who came to pick Griffin up. Thanks so much for the ride.”

“Oh, trust me,” Adam replied. “If there wasn’t the promise of meeting a beautiful woman, Griffin would have been taking the metro home.”

Marin blushed at his words as she slid out of the car.

“I’m going to walk Marin inside,” Griffin told is friends. “Just drive around the block a few times until I get back.”

“Sure thing, Miss Daisy,” Adam called out before Griffin shut the door.

Arnold, the weekend doorman, jumped from his seat at the concierge desk when Marin and Griffin entered.

“What’s cookin’ tonight, Chef?” he asked, reciting one of his frequent quips.

Marin smiled graciously, even though the doorman was always the only one who thought his line was funny.

“Easter eggs,” she replied. “Thousands of them.”

“My grandbabies are looking forward to it, Chef Marin.” Arnold beamed as he buzzed them through the secure gate leading to the elevators. “Thanks so much for those tickets.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Griffin steered her toward the bank of elevators. He’d likely already taken in the opulent lobby. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see his reaction when they rode up to the penthouse. It was no secret that the Chevalier family was wealthy and Marin made no apologies for how she lived. But something about giving Griffin a glimpse into this part of her life made her uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to come up,” she said.

His eyes assessed her from head to toe. “It’s been a crazy evening. Let me be the gentleman here and make sure you get all the way home.”

“I’m feeling much better. The water and the crackers helped. Ben was very thoughtful.”

The elevator doors opened. “Humor me,” Griffin said, gesturing for Marin to precede him in.

“Your friends are very nice.” She pushed the button for the top floor.

“Mmm-hmm. I can’t imagine any other two people I’d want to have my back.”

His words caught her off guard after the earlier razzing among the men, but they didn’t surprise her. Griffin’s actions tonight had been those of a man with a good heart. She was having trouble reconciling that man with the one he was rumored to be.

The doors opened, and he followed her across the hall to her apartment. Marin steeled herself for his reaction as she turned the key. She opened the door to reveal a panoramic view of Washington, DC in all its nighttime glory. Griffin was silent behind her. She dropped her backpack on a Louis the XV chair she and her mother had restored after Hurricane Katrina.

“Wow,” he finally said, his tone slightly awestruck as he took in not only the view but the room full of antiques and rare treasures she’d collected over the years. “This place is… amazing.”

“My grandfather and I share a love of art and antiquities,” she explained. “He’s helped me to make some great finds.”

He walked deeper into the room, his keen gaze darting here and there. The critical way in which he seemed to be cataloging everything in the room told her he’d forever see her as the spoiled little rich girl who got her job through nepotism and not the accomplished chef that she was. Just like everyone else saw her.

“We never finished our conversation from earlier,” she said, trying to divert his attention. “You were going to tell me why taking you to my cousin’s wedding was doing you a favor.”

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah. Well… I’m thinking of getting out of the Secret Service in the next year or so. My goal is to work in private security. I know the Chevalier hotel chain has one of the best security reputations in the world. I thought if I took you to the wedding, you’d do me the favor of introducing me to someone within the organization. You know, get the ball rolling for when I do leave government service.”

At least he was honest.Griffin was using her to further his career. Had that been his intent when he got involved with the president’s daughter-in-law? To further his career? Was Griffin that Machiavellian? Of course, she would be using him if she took him to the wedding. Ava would be insanely jealous if Marin showed up with a man twice as handsome as the groom. It would certainly be a boon to Marin’s ego.

Except…

She’d felt that something again tonight. When he’d looked at her on the subway platform telling her his name, she’d thought he’d meant it as something more. And Marin wanted something more. She told herself she wanted that something from any man who’d see her for who she was and not who her family was. But she realized she was lying. She wanted that something from Special Agent Griffin Keller. And that was the most frustrating thing of all. Because he didn’t deserve her. Even if he did rescue damsels from fires or subway stabbings.

“Can I think about your proposal?”

He seemed startled by her words. Serves him right.

“Of course.”

He stepped over to where she was standing and lifted his hands to her shoulders. Marin wanted to shove him away, but her traitorous body reveled in the warmth of his fingers.

“Anika has a fighting chance because of you. She’s lucky you were standing next to her.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Get some rest.”

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

Griffin climbed into the backseat of Adam’s Rav-4.

“You didn’t tell me she was hot,” Ben said as Adam maneuvered the car away from the curb. “I mean in a Marilyn Monroe kind of way.”

“She’s got that whole innocent wholesomeness thing going on,” Adam added.

“She’s not,” Griffin snapped.

Ben glanced over his shoulder at him, a perplexed look on his face. “You don’t think she’s hot?”

“She’s not fucking innocent.” He pounded his fist on the seat. “Her place is full of expensive artwork. She’s a freaking art connoisseur. One who’d know exactly what to steal from the White House.”

Griffin was so close to busting this case wide open; he could taste it. Unfortunately, he could also still taste Marin’s skin on his lips. Despite his suspicions of her, he couldn’t seem to stop his body from craving more of her. All of her.

None of it made sense. This potent pull between him and Marin had to be screwing with Griffin’s mind. The woman had sat and cried beside an injured girl she’d never met. She was praying for her. It had to all be an act because, in Griffin’s experience, there was no honor among thieves. No hearts either.

He swore violently, ignoring the look that passed between his two best friends.