Griffin doesn’t talk about him much, but I know his uncle is the only family he has left. He took him in after his baseball career fell apart. He also sucked him into this lifestyle.
I can’t imagine what I would do if someone told me I could never see Paul again.
I plaster on a confident expression. “I have faith he’ll do the right thing. I do. I can see the change. Not just in behavior but attitude, as well.”
Judge Johnson nods. “I hope you’re right. I may need to send more of my Last Chance candidates your way.”
I laugh and hold up my hands. “It’s been interesting, but Griffin may be all I can handle.”
At that moment Griffin walks across the room, two glasses of sparkling water in his hands. My heart flutters and I know that I may be biased, Griffin has won me over, charmed me. I know what I feel is real, but does he feel it back? He watches me closely and nods in greeting at Judge Johnson.
“Judge.” Griffin hands me my glass.
“Griffin,” Judge Johnson replies, offering his hand. The two shake hands and you’d never know the last time they’d seen one another, it’d been in the courtroom. Formal attire has a way of equalizing people. “I was just talking to Ms. Frayer about your progress. Sounds like it’s going well.”
“It is. Thank you for giving me the opportunity. I know I didn’t deserve it, but I’ve learned a lot from Maverick and her brother, Paul.” He laughs. “I guess if I’m honest, I’ve probably learned more from Dexter and Hamilton though.”
“Other staff?” the Judge asks.
“Not exactly. Our resident donkey and pig.” I smile. “You should come out some time. See the farm for yourself.”
“You should,” Griffin says, glancing down at me, “especially to talk to Maverick about the animal cruelty legislation coming up. The things these guys are getting away with are pretty bad. I never really understood how violent and damaging it was until I saw the consequences first-hand.”
“I like that idea.” Someone calls the Judge’s name out and he looks across the room. “Ah, I’ve been summoned. Griffin,” he says, holding out his hand again. “I’ll see you in a few days, in my courtroom. I expect it to be a positive visit.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Ms. Frayer, we’ll talk soon about the legislation. I suspect you have some good ideas.”
“Thank you,” I reply, smiling. “That would be great.”
“Have a good night.”
He walks off and I look up at Griffin. “Thank you.”
He frowns. “For what?”
“Bringing up the legislation. I was trying come up with a way to ease it into conversation. You did it effortlessly.”
“It’s easy to talk about your work, Maverick, it’s important.”
His hand slips around my waist and I lean into him, feeling the warmth and security of his frame. “Well, it was easy to tell him that I thought you’d changed. I’m impressed with the work you’ve put in at the farm and at Redemption House.”
His jaw tics, once, and a flicker of worry runs through his eyes, before they soften again. “Thank you for having faith in me. It means a lot.”
The rest of the night comes easily. Food and drinks. Introducing Griffin to people in “the industry.” He takes it all in stride and it’s possible to see a glimmer of the person he was before he fell in with his uncle—the confident, personable Griffin with nothing to hide.
“Mave!” I turn and see two people walking through the crowd. I smile when I see Lewis and Kat. Lewis’s eyes roam over me—we’d gone out those few times. Griffin’s hand, which has been hovering gently over my lower back, slides around my waist. Lewis's eyes flick down.
“Hey guys,” I say. “Griffin, this is Kat and Lewis, they run the transport service I was telling you about.”
“Oh, right,” Griffin says, nodding at Kat and offering his hand to Lewis to shake, while not letting go of my waist. “Nice to meet you.”
“Sorry I cancelled for tomorrow, but the adoption open house went well today,” I ask.
“That’s nothing to apologize for! I’m glad you had a great day.” Kat smiles. “It works out anyway, we have a pretty full van anyway—relieving some foster parents.”
We talk for a bit longer—discussing the transports and how they’re also in need for fundraising. “Hopefully we can apply for a grant after tonight and keep the program running for a while longer,” Kat confides. “We really need a new van. The old one is a gas guzzler.”
“I’m sure you will. You’re definitely one of the highlights of the program,” I reply. “I’m happy to help in any way.”
“Griffin,” Lewis says, “You look familiar—have we met before?”
I stiffen. It’s entirely possible that they saw Griffin’s photo in some of the emails in our animal rescue group about dog-flippers. I have no doubt he’d admit to that, but it’s not what I want for him tonight. Tonight is about change and moving forward.
“I know,” Lewis continues, face lighting up, “You played baseball at the university, right?”
Griffin, blinks. “Yeah, I did.”
“I was in school at the same time and I’ve always been a baseball lover. I went to every home game. You were an awesome player.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that.”
Questions linger in Lewis’s eyes—obviously he wants to know why he quit and what happened to his promising career, but he’s a nice guy and he keeps it to himself.
“I think we’re going to try to catch Commissioner Gannon’s ear,” Kat says a few minutes later. “Put a face to our names.”
“Good idea.” I give Kat a hug. Lewis nods in my direction and they head across the room.
Once they’re gone, Griffin turns to me and wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tight. The band shifts into a slow song at that very moment and he looks down at me. “Will you dance with me?”
“You can dance?”
“I may be a criminal, but I’m not a heathen.” He guides me on the dance floor. Sure enough, he glides across the floor like a pro. I must look incredulous, because he laughs and says, “My mom was big on manners and stuff. I spent seventh and eighth grade in cotillion.”
I look up at him. “Interesting.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Not all of it is bad.”
I sense the sincerity in his tone—the wistfulness of wanting to share himself with someone. To trust.
“I’m here when you want to share it with me.”
His eyes bore into mine. “Same. Good or bad. Happy or sad. I want to know everything about you.”
Emotion rushes through me and I press my cheek against his chest, overwhelmed. He guides me across the floor, his hand tight against my back, holding me against him.
For the first time, I want to tell someone about myself, about my life, my mother and my grandparents and my hopes and fears.
It may not be the right place or time, but when the song is over and we walk off the dancefloor, that’s exactly what I do.
“How many stuffed animals?”
“There were about forty in all, each with their own names and personalities, but at bedtime there was a firm three animal limit.” I laugh. “My mom was afraid I’d get smothered.”
“I guess you figured out a way to buck that system,” he says, with an appreciative smirk.
“I guess so—just less stuffed animals and more real animals.”
The wind bushes past us, whipping my hair across my face. We’re out on the patio overlooking the river, lights twinkling on the water. Griffin reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear, fingers trailing down my neck.
“I bet you were cute back then.”
“Back then?” I ask playfully.
“Now you’re gorgeous.” He steps closer, blocking the wind. “And fun and smart and caring.”
“You’re pretty great, too.”
His eyebrow arches. “Great?”
“Amazing, handsome, charming.”
<
br /> His hands settle on my hips and he gazes down at me. “This may sound crazy, but getting arrested may be the best thing that ever happened in my life.”
My chest feels like it’s filled with butterflies. “It doesn’t sound crazy. I feel the same way.”
His lips brush against mine, gentle, yet firm. I sink into him, his strength, his warmth, his resilience. A month ago, I didn’t want Griffin in my life or near my farm. I would have told anyone that suggested I’d fall in love with a dog-flipper that they were straight-out crazy. But now, I can’t imagine going forward without him.
Maybe Griffin isn’t the only one that’s changed.
27
Griffin
It’s past midnight when return to Redemption House. Up in my room, I quietly change, trying not to wake my roommate Hayden, and think about the night. Dancing. Kissing. Shaking hands with the judge.
I felt good.
I felt right.
I also felt shame, because by this time tomorrow both Maverick and the Judge are going to feel differently about me. They’ll see the real Griffin McGuire and have to decide if that person is worthy of redemption.
Crawling into bed, I prop my hands behind my head and stare up at the ceiling, trying to hold on to the good as long as I can. I know the call is coming, and I know that I’ll answer it. I told James I would be there—that I’d do the last job.
A job I’m certain is going to implode in our faces.
By tomorrow I’d most likely be back in jail, freedom lost, but even worse is the fact that I’d definitely lose the woman I love.
I meet James at a gas station in town, dropping off my Jeep and getting in the cab of his rusty truck.
“You look like crap,” he says, eyeing me.
I rub my face. “I didn’t sleep well.”
“Don’t tell me your conscience is getting to you.”
I shoot him a glare. “Let’s just do the job, James, there’s no need for commentary.”
“It’s the girl, isn’t it?”
“What girl?”
“The one that runs the animal place. You’re sweet on her.”
How he knew about Maverick is a surprise to me, except James isn’t an idiot. That’s the problem. He’s a conman with zero morals, but he’s not stupid. He probably did his research on the Farm before I even set foot on the property.
“This isn’t about a girl, it’s about the fact I’m done with this life. One last job. We agreed.”
“Well you picked a good one to go out on. The payout’s huge. The guy we’re taking the dogs too…he’s got money. A whole operation. We’re not handling anything. Just passing them over.”
I don’t respond, I just hunch down in the cab, watching the scenery pass. It’s still dark, but I do see the sign on the side of the road.
Welcome to Watkinsville
I rub the back of my neck and clear my throat. “Where did you say we were going?”
“The van makes a few pick-ups—the last one in a parking lot of a vet clinic. We’ll wait until they take off and stop it.”
I glare at my uncle. “We’re carjacking a van? Full of dogs? Dude, that’s way more than snatching a few dogs out of backyards. That’s serious time!”
I could easily imagine the disappointment on Judge Johnson’s face, and the heartbreak on Maverick’s.
“I may have fudged on the details.” His eyes cut toward me. “I wasn’t sure I could trust you.”
My hands curl into fists. “Well, I need you to get pretty specific if you want this to work.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes. I can tell he thinks I’m weak, unpredictable. It hurts. I’ve always done what he’s told me to do, but now that I’m asking questions, legitimate questions, he doesn’t trust me. It’s gives me a pretty good idea of how he really feels about me.
“We’re going to create a minor accident with the transport van after it picks up the last dogs. The drivers will get out to check the car, and that’s when we’ll act. You’ll drive the truck. I’ll take the van. Then we deliver it to our contact and make the trade.”
“Money for the dogs.”
“Yep.” He grins. “I told you it was easy.”
Except the carjacking part—and making sure no one, human or animal, got hurt.
I remain silent while James parks the car behind a wooded area just down the way from the veterinarian office. We switch spots, me in the driver’s seat, him in the passenger. It’s Sunday morning, no one is out in the little town of Watkinsville—too early for church or even breakfast at the twenty-four-hour diner.
“You understand what you need to do?” he asks.
I get the explicit feeling this is a test—not just of my driving skills but of my loyalty. James has no intention of letting me go after today. If anything, it feels like an escalation—like maybe he wants me to get caught. If I go to prison, I’ll be dependent on him for the rest of my life.
From a distance I see the transport people, Kat and Lewis, shuttling dog crates into the back of the van. It doesn’t take long and a few minutes later they’re on the road.
“It’s time, Griff,” James says, patting me on the arm.
I crank the engine and shift the truck into gear.
It’s time, all right, for me to seal my fate.
28
Mave
The incessant vibration of my phone wakes me from a deep sleep. I fumble for the device, knocking it on the floor. When I finally get it in my hand, and squint at the messages, I see that they’re all from the Animal Rescue group.
AR: Activity at the dog fighting warehouse.
AR: Marco is on the move.
AR: Photos?
It’s too early for a dog fight, there must be something else going on. Something big enough for the group to want to document it.
I quickly type back my reply.
After the fundraiser the night before and talking to Judge Johnson, I have renewed motivation to get this legislation passed. I may not be able to get Marco arrested right now, but I can show the lawmakers exactly what he’s doing.
I change quickly, grabbing a coat and my shoes. I go down in my socks, not wanting to wake up Paul. I’m in the kitchen, sliding them on, when the door to the porch opens and my brother stands in the doorway. Buddy slips past his legs into the house, tail wagging.
“Buddy needed to go out,” he says, rubbing his face before getting a better look at my clothes and shoes. “Where are you going at,” he squints at the microwave clock, “five a.m.”
Any answer I could come up with would be a big fat lie. So, I say nothing instead.
Paul exhales. “Let me get my shoes and coat.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yeah, sis, I do.” He runs upstairs and is back down a few minutes later, slipping a fleece over his head.
I look down at Buddy and say, “We’ll be back soon.”
Paul opens the door and I walk outside, heading toward the truck. I don’t like this part of the business any more than my brother does, but I can’t turn my back on these animals. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last month, it's everyone deserves a second chance.
Paul makes me tell him everything on the way to the warehouse.
“You’ve been here before? To a fighting ring?” He runs his hand through his hair. “Jeez, Mave, I knew you were involved with some shady stuff but dog fights? Everything about this is dangerous.”
“If it makes you feel better, Griffin came with me last time.”
He shakes his head. “Not sure that does make me feel better. He’s on probation, coming somewhere like this could only get him in more trouble.”
I glance out the window. “I didn’t mean for him to come—not the first time. He followed me when I forgot to sign his paperwork.”
“And the other times?”
“Just one more—when we rescued Buddy, and that wasn’t a fight, more like a rescue mission.”
My brother’s hands clench arou
nd the steering wheel. “I knew there was more to that story. This whole time I was worried he was the one breaking the laws.”
“This is different.”
“Is it?” he asks. “Trespassing? Stealing dogs. Spying on criminals?”
“I can’t let these guys get away with this any longer. I don’t know what’s going on, but my contact seemed to think it was important to be here this morning. It could be something big.”
“We’ve talked about this; you can’t save everyone.”
I lift my chin. “I can try.”
Paul’s quiet the rest of the drive and as we approach the warehouse, I direct him to kill his lights and pull into the back of the parking lot. Paul parks the truck and shifts in the driver’s seat. “What now?”
I lean against the truck window. “We wait.”
29
Griffin
The idea of intentionally causing an accident goes against every fiber in my being. My parents were killed when their car was hit head-on by another driver. There’s no way I can back out, not without blowing this whole thing wide open.
I crank the engine and glance out the window at James crouching beside the bush. He gives me an anxious thumbs up and I wrap my hands around the steering wheel. Stepping on the gas, tires squealing, I speed across the road. Although I’ve given plenty of time for the van to stop, unfortunately the truck's brakes are shot, and the vehicle skids, careening into a stop sign across the road.
The bumper crumbles like aluminum foil and the hood buckles.
The van screeches to a stop, the driver, Lewis, and the passenger, Kat, hopping out of the vehicle. I see James dart from this hiding spot and circle the van.
“Griffin? Are you okay?” Kat yells. I ignore her and shift the car in gear. It doesn’t move.
Rescuing the Bad Boy: Bad Boy Sweet Romance (Last Chance at Love Book 1) Page 12
