“I know. I know it hurts. I’m so sorry.”
“You . . . okay?” she pants.
“I’m fine. Don’t talk. I’ll call an ambulance. Stay with me,” I order as I dial 911. I give them my address and answer their questions with clipped responses while I hold her. “They’re coming. Just stay with me.”
It seems like it takes an eternity for the paramedics to arrive, and when they do, the paparazzi are right behind them. It won’t be long before the entire thing is leaked to every gossip rag in the world, but I don’t care. All I care about is making sure she’s okay. I don’t care that they’ll compare it to Allison’s death. How they’ll speculate that I was involved with two women who ended up hurt… and one dead.
They load her into the ambulance, and police and medics head my way. I can’t help but remember a scene almost exactly like this when Allison was carted away after the accident that took her life.
Someone else is hurt because of me.
Chapter Seventeen
Phoebe
“How are you feeling?”
Dozens of people have asked me that question over the past few days, but aside from Emily—who called me freaking out and hasn’t stopped texting every few seconds—Catherine is the only other one who I feel genuinely wants to know. Of course, the one person I want to ask me has been suspiciously absent. I try not to think too much about it, but it stings.
“A little sore, but the doctor says I’m healing nicely.” Luckily the knife missed anything major. I was only required to stay in the hospital for a few days before being released and allowed to go back to work, much to Catherine’s dismay. “The police think they may have a lead based on a blood sample found at the scene. The shot that missed him must have nicked him after all.”
“That’s wonderful, but I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
“Thank you, and I apologize for the inconvenience. I hate that you’ve had to get someone else to cover for me at the studio.”
She waves away my concerns. “Don’t you worry about that. But I do have some news you should know.”
I shift a bit so that I’m sitting up straighter. She’d wanted to have a conversation at my apartment so I could rest, but I was determined to get out and about and insisted on meeting at her office. “Good news or bad news?”
“Depends on where you’re standing, I guess. Good news is that you don’t have to worry too much about missing work. Bad news is that you don’t have to worry because production is halted until they can recast Mr. McNalley’s role.”
I’m stunned silent for a second before my lips part, and I sputter a broken, “Wha—what?”
Catherine’s sigh is explosive. “Mr. McNalley has pulled out of the film at the request of Mr. Oswald. Lawyers are involved, so no one knows any details other than filming has been temporarily suspended. The press has been having a field day. We’ve done damage control, but from a publicity standpoint, having you out of the public eye and radio silence from the studio is about as good as we can hope for.”
I heard her. I swear I did, but my brain is just having a hard time comprehending how he just walked away from the project.
“Griffin was fired?” I’m so stunned that I forget to call him Mr. McNalley. She hasn’t brought up the fact that I was at his apartment at five in the morning . . . yet.
“That’s what I was told. Is something wrong?”
“Catherine, I have to be honest with you. Griffin and I . . . we are . . . well, we were in a relationship of sorts. I know it’s against CJJ policy, and I know this puts you in a terrible position. You’ve given me so many opportunities, and I squandered them at the first chance.”
Her expression is grave, and my stomach sinks. “I can’t deny that I’m disappointed. I explicitly told you not to get involved with a client. While I can empathize with loving someone to distraction, blatant fraternization can’t be abided.”
My heart joins my stomach at my feet. “I’m so sorry, Catherine. I understand if you need to ask for my resignation. It’ll be on your desk this afternoon.”
It wasn’t going to be easy returning to Florida with my tail between my legs, but the truth is, I’ve failed. My first assignment and I did the one thing my boss warned me not to do and, as a result, got the movie paused and the star recast. So far, I’m batting zero.
Catherine tilts her head to the side and smiles patiently. “That would be unfortunate, considering Mr. McNalley has informed production he’ll no longer be working on the film.”
I blink at her. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am. He told Oswald he was through, even though it may mean the end of his career.”
“He did not.”
“While I’m not thrilled with your decision to flout company policy, as he’s no longer affiliated with the project, I’d like to have you see it through to its completion. Oswald seems to have a sweet spot for you now. He wouldn’t hear of letting you go.”
“I hope this doesn’t come out the wrong way, but I find that hard to believe.”
Catherine smiles. “Believe it. And show me I’m not making the wrong choice keeping you on. I’ll see you back here once you’ve healed up. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“No, Mom, everything’s great, really.”
The lie rolls easily off my tongue. My parents don’t watch the news because, according to my dad, it’s too negative, and according to my mom, it’s too political. So they have no idea what happened, and I have no interest in ever telling them. The last thing I need is to have the entire Hart family camped out in my apartment. I wouldn’t put it past my dad to sit outside my front door with a shotgun in his lap, daring whoever hurt me to try him.
I’d been putting off calling them until I wasn’t a train wreck, but they were insistent. I managed to convince them to call instead of video chat, but barely. I’m still sporting a bit of a hunch and a big bandage, so video chatting is out of the question. The doctor says I should be able to ditch the bandage and officially go back to work next week if I take it easy.
Next week can’t come soon enough. As I end the call with my family, I turn up the TV. I’m hoping the sound of the game show I’m watching will drown out my thoughts enough so I can go back to taking it easy, but it doesn’t. No amount of improv comedy can distract me from the fact that I haven’t seen Griffin since the hospital. Hell, he never even called to check on me or tell me he was quitting the movie.
It doesn’t seem like him.
Or at least, it doesn’t seem like the man I thought I knew.
But can you ever really know someone? I thought I did. The Griffin I knew was strong and stubborn and kind. He’s the kind of man who’d drive a woman home at night, even though he’d been working like a dog all day. The kind who wouldn’t think twice about paying for an expensive hotel room to make sure she was safe. He’s also the kind of man who falls asleep with his arms wrapped around you like you’re the most important woman in the world.
I couldn’t have been making that up.
As though I conjured him by wishing alone, my doorbell rings. I check the app on my phone and see Griffin on the screen. My heart beats double time. Is this going to be more bad news? The expression on his face doesn’t bode well.
I limp carefully to the door and open it. He stands on the other side in a T-shirt and jeans with his hands in his pockets. It wasn’t just the grainy video feed. He looks about as bad as I feel.
“Hey,” he says without smiling.
“Hey.” My voice is dry and cracks, but I’m too caught up and emotional to care. “What’s up?”
“Can I come in? I won’t take long.”
I take a step back, and he comes inside. I don’t try to hide the limp as I walk back to the nest I’ve made on my couch and wrap myself in a blanket, not caring that it probably looks like I’m putting up shields. Maybe I am. I feel like I have to protect myself from whatever’s coming.
“Catherine told me you quit the movie,” I say whe
n he settles into the seat across from me. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I did. I thought Arthur was going to give himself a stroke,” Griffin admits, his expression still unreadable.
“I guess it’d be useless of me to try and convince you otherwise.”
He clears his throat. “Yeah, probably.” There’s a long pause, then he says, “I just came by because I wanted to let you know I asked Jackson to put up a guard here at your apartment to keep an eye on you until the bastard’s caught. They’ll be in the building across the street.”
“Why do you need Jackson to do it? Won’t you be here?” I sound pitiful. Like I’m begging. But I don’t care.
Griffin can’t meet my eyes. He feels bad because he’s telling me goodbye. I mean, I’m not an idiot. I’d be freaked out too if the girl I slept with nearly died in my arms.
“I think it’s probably best if we take some space away from each other. I’ve done nothing but put you in danger. You’ll be safer with real round the clock protection. People who can be objective and who can keep you safe.”
“You did keep me safe. I’m alive, aren’t I?”
He lifts his gaze to my bandages, studying my face like he can read the exhaustion there. “You call this safe?”
“This isn’t your fault. You can’t just run away now, after everything.” I grip the blankets around me like they’ll hold me together.
“I’m not running away.”
The anger that fills me surprises me. “I’ve run away plenty of times in my life, and that’s exactly what you’re doing. Was it sleeping with me that scared you off or me nearly getting killed? Do you regret being with me?” The questions come spilling out whether I want them to or not.
He shakes his head. “No, of course not.”
“Don’t lie. You can barely look me in the eye. If you regret being with me, you could just break it off like an adult. You don’t have to fuck up your whole career. Despite what happened, I can still be professional. We can work together if that’s what you’re worried about. Oswald likes you. You shouldn’t throw that away because of one night.”
“I don’t regret sleeping with you, but I don’t think it would be a good idea if we took this any further. My decision about Oswald has nothing to do with it.”
“Then what are you so afraid of?” I demand.
“I can’t be the man you deserve. I’ve got blood on my hands. You deserve someone who loves you as much as Paul loved you. You deserve the future he was going to give you. I can’t give you that. Don’t you see? Things go wrong when I’m around, and you’ll end up dead, just like Allison. You’re better off without me.”
The tears come hot and hard. My head pounds. I can barely think straight. “You think you’re this big risk-taker. You’re the biggest coward I’ve ever met. Don’t worry about putting a guard at my place. I think we both know no one can hurt me as much as you just did. I can take care of myself. I am no longer any of your concern. Just go if that’s what you want. Leave!” I shout when he doesn’t move an inch.
Fight for me, my ass. All his words were just that. Words.
When push comes to shove, he doesn’t fight for me.
He walks away.
I bury my face in my hands and wait for the sound of the door shutting behind him before I let the sobs come even harder. I knew it was coming, but it still hurts. Letting myself love him was the biggest risk I’d ever taken, and now he’s gone.
No.
I’m not going to let him get away so easily.
I can’t lose him, too.
If he can’t fight for me, then I’ll fight for him.
I remember him telling me about Allison. How everyone speculated Griffin was trying to kill them both in a fit of jealous rage. But Griffin, in all the time that I’ve known him, has only ever been protective and kind to me, if a little broken sometimes. He never would have knowingly put anyone in danger. Especially in a stunt. Himself, maybe, but never anyone else.
He would never put anyone else in danger. The thought sticks and begins to repeat.
He would never put anyone else in danger.
Get over it, Phoebe. He’s gone. No amount of mental gymnastics will bring him back.
But I can’t stop thinking about it.
Griffin wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone.
My mind begins to race. Griffin said there were faulty brake lines. What if they weren’t faulty but tampered with? I press a hand to my head and wonder if Allison had received threats, too? What if the brake lines had been tampered with, not to harm Griffin, but to kill Allison like they were trying to kill me?
What if the same person is now targeting me?
I push to my feet and rush to the door. I have to talk to him if only to convince him he’s wrong. No matter how much he pushes me away, he has to know I’ll be there for him through everything. He has to know I don’t think he did anything wrong with Allison.
The only way we’ll get through this is together. We’ll figure out what really happened to Allison, and if I’m right, we’ll tie it to what is happening to me. There has to be a common denominator.
I fling open the door, determined to find him and figure this out, but I stop in my tracks.
Chapter Eighteen
Griffin
Telling her I was ending things is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
But as I leave, I refuse to let my steps falter. If I pause, even for a second, I’ll lose my nerve, turn around, and beg for her to take me back. I don’t deserve her, that much is true, but no matter how much I want her, I will keep my distance if it means she’ll be safe.
That’s all that matters.
For the longest time, I tried to bury the thoughts of Allison and the memories of the aftermath of her death. It was impossible with every network and tabloid dredging up our pseudo-relationship and blaming me for her death. So I turned to alcohol to drown the thoughts away.
The thought that I could be responsible has haunted me since she died. I can’t go through that again. I don’t want to make the same mistake twice. By the time I reach my car, I’m wracked with indecision. I’ve always been so sure of myself, so certain of my next move. When it comes to Phoebe, I’m not certain of anything except that I want her with me.
I’m not in my car a minute before I’m out again, sprinting to her apartment. I don’t bother knocking and try the handle first. It’s unlocked. Dammit, Phoebe, lock your damn door. When I pull it open, I find Phoebe behind her couch, shaking and holding her stomach. Her eyes meet mine, and they’re wide with fear.
Standing on the opposite side of the couch is Seth.
“Step back,” I say, pulling my gun from its holster and leveling it at him. Adrenaline surges through me, but my hands are steady, my aim straight. Seeing him shocks me to my core, but I can’t process that now. All I can focus on is Phoebe.
Seth laughs, laughs, and holds up his hands. “What the hell, man? Put that thing away before you hurt someone.”
“You didn’t kill Allison,” Phoebe shouts. “You didn’t. It wasn’t your fault.”
This distracts me enough to look away from Seth. “What?”
“I think she’s got something wrong with her,” Seth says like it’s all a big joke. His eyes are wild despite the forced, carefree tone in his voice. “I just came to talk to her about your decision to leave the movie and how she needs to spin it for the press. She went crazy, man. Maybe she should see a doctor.”
“Since when do you do that without talking to me about it first?” I ask as I inch my way toward Phoebe. If I can get between them, everything will be okay. All I can think about is getting her out of here. Getting her safe. Protecting her.
Seth raises his hands defensively. “Sorry, man. I thought I was doing you a favor.”
“If that’s true, then you’ll give Phoebe and me some space. We can talk later. I’ll get her some help.” I don’t want what Phoebe says to be true. I’ve known Seth for a hell of a long time, and
in all those years, I’ve never known him to hurt anyone. Never done anything other than annoy the shit out of me about the stupid stunts I pull.
The expression that comes over Seth’s face isn’t one I’ve ever seen on him before, and it chills me to the bone. It’s as though he’s turned into someone I don’t recognize. A stranger. A stranger with the face of a psychopath. “Give you some space? I’ve been there for you since the beginning. It’s been you and me this whole time. You and me. Now this bitch shows up, and because she says ‘jump,’ you say ‘how high’? Fucking nice, man.”
The practiced calm that comes over me in high-pressure situations begins to fail me. This isn’t like it was with Allison at all. I cared about Allison, absolutely, but my feelings for her were nothing, nothing, compared to what I feel for Phoebe. When I manage to speak, my words are choppy, betraying my growing panic. “I’m asking you, as a friend, Seth, please. She hasn’t done anything. Why don’t you and I just talk?”
He’s already shaking his head, his laugh high-pitched and out of control. It’s as though he doesn’t even hear me anymore. “Didn’t I warn you about her in the beginning? Didn’t I say for you to keep your distance? This was supposed to be your big break. I don’t know how you landed the role, but working with Arthur Oswald would have been our ticket to fame. But no, everything we’ve worked so hard for, you just threw it away. And for what? This bitch?” The look he sends Phoebe is so full of venomous loathing it can’t be described as anything other than evil.
“Fine, then let her go. She’ll resign from CJJ, and she won’t be in the way anymore.” A sick feeling is rocketing through my stomach like a tidal wave.
Seth’s eyes are wild. How have I never noticed his obsession before? Have I been so self-centered I’d let this psychopath close because I couldn’t be bothered to pay attention? “I tried scaring her away. Her apartment. On-set. If she had left, I wouldn’t have had to hurt her.”
Reckless: A Salvation Society Novel Page 10
