Griff stood slowly to face her. A muscle worked in his jaw, and he splayed his hands as if to placate her. “That’s why I’m trying to talk to you now. Explain why we can’t be together so I don’t hurt you anymore.”
“Ha.” She pushed out a huffy breath and glared at him. “You claim you don’t want to hurt me? Well, you are! Every minute of every day, you hurt me. The only way you won’t hurt me is by finally loving me.”
She threw the words out there like bullets, but somehow they didn’t hit their target. They floated around in the air between them and then settled to the carpet, harmless, ineffective, lame. He obviously didn’t love her. She should appreciate that he didn’t want to hurt her, but what did that help when he was ripping her apart by not returning her love?
“I’m sorry,” he muttered.
“Argh!” She screamed, threw her hands in the air, and stomped around him. She got to the theater door and turned back. “You should’ve let the wolves rip my jugular out. It would’ve been less painful for both of us!”
“Jane,” he murmured, his blue eyes dark with pain.
“My name is Scarlett!” With that final scream, she ran from the room, down the hallway, up the two flights of stairs, and into her bedroom.
She slammed the door and locked it, but that didn’t seem like enough. Dragging the closest dresser in front of the door took a few minutes, but she was strong enough to punch her fist down a wolf’s throat; she could move this stupid dresser. She grunted and pushed, and it slowly moved into place. Even Griff couldn’t get through that door. She grunted with satisfaction and brushed her hands.
She stood there looking at the dresser, at the door, waiting, waiting. He should come, try to bang down the door. Nothing. Not a footstep on the stairs. Her chest heaved with emotion and exertion. Why? How could he be incapable of feeling anything for her? Scarlett wearily sank to her knees, uttering a desperate prayer to understand where Griff was coming from. Especially since she’d thrown a fit and hadn’t let him explain. It just hurt so much that she couldn’t even tell him she loved him and she’d finally snapped, slapping him, yelling at him, and then running away. She wasn’t proud of her reaction, and she needed help forgiving and relating to him.
She closed her eyes tightly, and her heart twisted as she envisioned Griff in his darkest hours: body splayed wide, his hands and feet tied to posts, and his bare back being shredded by a whip, blood dripping down to the ground. He didn’t cry out; he didn’t react at all. His jaw was clenched and his body taut. The only emotion was in his eyes—raw fury and retribution. When he got loose, he was going to kill his tormentors.
Griff’s men were bound at either side of him, sagging against their bonds. They were either dead or dying. And there was nothing he could do but watch as the whip cracked again.
Scarlett crumpled to the floor and sobbed as she felt a mere taste of what Griff had felt. He was desperate, alone, and filled with torment. His anger wasn’t for his pain or his torture. It was for his men.
She curled into a ball and continued to weep for him. No wonder he couldn’t love her. Maybe it hadn’t happened like she was imagining, but whatever had happened had scarred him more deeply than what she’d seen on his back. Too deeply to recover. The man she loved was gone, and she was living in a fantasy world if she thought he’d ever return.
Chapter Sixteen
Griff berated himself for his careless treatment of Scarlett, once again. Maybe he just couldn’t communicate all of his issues in a way that wouldn’t further break her heart. He couldn’t believe he’d been so naïve to take this job and assume he could remain detached. Some part of his hardened heart had recognized, even before he agreed to protect her, how deep Scarlett was inside of him. His Jane. The only love he’d ever had.
He was a careless, selfish idiot. Sutton had dozens of men who could’ve done this op, protected Scarlett, and not emotionally wounded her over and over again. He wanted to run upstairs, bang open her door, and just hold her, but that would only make her hurt worse when he had to walk away, and especially when he was killed. Walk away he would. A man like him had no business loving anyone, let alone an angel like Scarlett. She deserved so much.
Kneeling down in the darkened theater, he found himself returning to his roots, praying like his parents and pastor had taught him. He started with thanking the Lord for protecting Scarlett from the wolves. That battle had divine intervention written all over it, and Griff couldn’t deny it any more than he could deny how much he loved the tough woman who had punched her fist down the alpha wolf’s throat. That memory would never leave him, just like dozens more of his Jane. She was unreal.
After he muttered out his gratitude as eloquently as he could, he begged the Lord to help Scarlett to forgive him, to heal her pain, to help her to move on and forget Griff, and—last and most painful of all—to find a man worthy of her beautiful, giving heart and untarnished soul.
He finished and hoped for some warm approval or something like he’d been taught he should feel. Nothing came. He glared up at the ceiling. “What do you want from me? I know I’m a monster, but I’ve worked and sacrificed to protect those who can’t protect themselves, to try to atone for brutally taking lives. I’ve tried.” He rested his head on his forearms, and hate boiled in him again. Not for his captors. Not for a hundred other ops in the military and working for Sutton where he’d dealt with evil, depraved people. It was always kill or be killed for him, and he instinctively put himself in the worst situations possible.
This intense loathing was only directed at himself. He hated what he’d become. He hated that because of the atrocities he’d committed and the way he reacted in battle, he could never find happiness, never be with his Jane again. Most of all, he hated himself for the hurt he saw in her beautiful green eyes.
Scarlett went through the rest of the day in a painful haze. She didn’t leave her room, didn’t eat, didn’t run through the house searching for Griff like she wanted to. She’d been given that insight into what he’d gone through, and it felt very, very real to her. Her stomach was sick, her forehead was burning, and her back ached like it had been shredded by that whip. She prayed she was coming down with the flu. How wonderful would that be to just crawl into bed and be out of her head for a few days? Maybe the person who instigated her hit would be caught and she could escape this beautiful place with vicious wolves outside and the man she loved inside. The man who was incapable of loving her back. She didn’t blame him anymore for being so hardened to her and to her love, but it still was a miserable reality she lived in right now.
Darkness mercifully crept across the landscape below her window. As she’d stared out her window today at the river and trail below, she could see bright red spots where the wounded wolf had left his mark, and she remembered watching Griff fighting for her. He was such a superhero. That had to be part of why they couldn’t be together. She might pretend to be heroic, but Griff was a true hero. He’d given his life to protect others, and a life like that wasn’t conducive to love and soft touches.
She groaned, more agony rolling through her as she lost him all over again. It seemed even worse to her than when he’d ditched her years ago, but maybe that was just because it was the present and the old wounds had started to heal.
She moved the stupid dresser back away from the door and then started a bath, thinking maybe it would feel good. Searching through the cupboards, she found lavender bath salts and poured them in. If anything could help her sleep, she’d be so grateful. She’d been stupid not to put sleeping pills of some sort on that list for Griff to buy. She should’ve realized being cooped up with him would make it impossible to sleep peacefully.
As the large jetted tub filled, she stared dully around the spacious bathroom. Her gaze settled on the bottle of blonde hair dye on the counter. She smiled for what felt like the first time in days. A trip down memory lane was silly, but she wanted to say goodbye to Griff in a way that he would always remember. A trip down memory
lane might at least get him to open up to her so she could show him that she would always love him, even if he couldn’t return it.
Picking up the bottle, she opened it, pulled everything out, and started reading the directions.
Chapter Seventeen
Griff slept, which was another gift from above. He still felt groggy as he awakened, though, and he wanted nothing more than to run dozens of miles in the crisp air outside, but he couldn’t leave Scarlett. He put on a shirt, shorts, socks, and shoes and slipped out of his room. Weights and the treadmill would have to substitute for an outside run today.
Scarlett’s door was still closed. She’d spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in her room yesterday. Would she emerge today? He wanted to better explain himself, but he was afraid he’d muddle it all up and injure her tender heart even worse.
As he descended the stairs to the basement, he heard the cable machine weights clack together in the gym. Scarlett was in there. He should turn around and give her space, but his stubborn feet kept carrying him toward the gym. When he cleared the doorframe, his feet finally stopped and rooted to the floor. His jaw dropped open as well.
Scarlett flipped her long, now honey-blonde hair over her shoulder and turned his way with a brilliant smile. “Good morning, Griff.” She was bright, fresh, and beautiful. She had no makeup on, and her clear green eyes sparkled at him. How he loved her blonde, her natural color. How he loved her without makeup and in a simple T-shirt and shorts. How he loved her.
“Oh, Jane,” he sort of groaned out.
She smiled brightly. “Do you like it?”
“Do I like it?” He rushed across the space between them. He reached her, and she tilted her head up and grinned at him. Griff ran his fingers through her hair. It was as silky and enchanting as he remembered. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.
Scarlett’s bright smile changed to a knowing look that pulled him in even further. She knew what she was doing to him, but he sensed it wasn’t to trick him into anything. Perhaps it was a gift, helping him remember their love and innocence. He’d loved her and known he was going to go out and save the world. The plans had been twisted and scorched in the horrors of reality, but Jane’s love still shone through it all.
“Jane,” he moaned, his hands entangled in her hair. He gently pulled her closer to him. “I want to kiss you and love you. I wish I could explain how much I want to, but if I do, I’ll just hurt you worse when I leave again.”
She nodded and gave him a tremulous smile. “I know, Griff.”
He cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean, you know?”
She swallowed. “I had … a vision, I guess you could call it.” Her voice lowered. “I saw you being whipped. I saw the men next to you dead. I felt your anger at your captors. I understand why you’ve been so hardened that you don’t think you can return to me.”
Griff released his grip on her and backed away.
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t falter. “It doesn’t matter, Griff. I know your honor, your goodness, your—”
“I’m not good,” he cut her off.
“Yes, you are.” She stepped up to him. “And I’ll love you, no matter what. I know you’ll have to leave me again. I know you have to save the world. All I care is that, if you can, you come back again.”
Griff’s heart hammered painfully against his chest. Her love was the most precious gift, but he couldn’t take it. All that would do was give her more pain in the end. Was the Lord even listening to his prayers? Jane needed to forget him and move on, not pledge her love, pledge to wait for him as he did suicidal undercover assignments, took down trafficking rings, drug lords, and mafia families. He’d tried since Syria not to kill if he didn’t have to, but sometimes it was necessary, and someday soon he’d be killed in an op. He’d known that simple fact since his early days in the military when everyone around him, including himself, had discovered it was his natural reaction to run into danger, to go in when others were headed the other way. Yet if Scarlett had truly seen what happened in Syria, she’d understand part of the reasons why he had to stay away. How dark he’d become.
“You saw me in Syria?” he asked, his voice raw and painful.
She nodded.
“Did you see what happened before our imprisonment?”
She shook her head slightly.
If she hadn’t seen that, she hadn’t seen the deepest part of the darkness inside him. If he ever wanted her to give up on him, he had to show her. “You didn’t see all the people my men and I were ordered to kill?” It hurt so much to talk about this. “Men, women, children.”
Her lovely face blanched and she leaned against the cable machine. “Who ordered you to kill them?”
“Our superior officers.”
“You can’t be held accountable for that,” she said quietly.
“I did it!” he roared back at her, and she shrank away from him. Griff pushed at his short hair. “I’m sorry, Scarlett. I’m sorry.”
She stared at him, as if unsure who he was or what she was seeing.
“You saw us being whipped? You saw my men dead?” he asked her again. He wanted to stop now, but he couldn’t. The Lord had given her a partial vision of what he’d been through, but she needed the complete picture. A voice in his head whispered, “Stop,” but Griff was far past listening.
She nodded, her eyes wide.
“Did you see me pretend to faint?”
Her eyes registered confusion.
“Did you see them loosen my bonds?”
She shook her head slightly.
Griff walked slowly toward her. The memories were all rushing back, and he needed her to understand the monster he was. He couldn’t simply love her, marry her, tell her, See you in a few months, honey, while I go dismantle the refuse of the earth, then come back all cheery and in love. It was not possible, no matter how deeply he loved her. He stopped a foot away from her.
“If you’d seen the end of the story,” he said in a low, gravelly voice, “you would’ve seen me slaughter them. All of them. When they were all dead, I freed my men and buried most of them. Only two of my men were still alive: Jimmy and Trace. By the time I found a copter and flew us to safety, Jimmy was gone. Trace has never been the same. He’s in a mental institution. His PTSD is so bad he can’t function.”
Scarlett’s green eyes brimmed with sympathy.
Griff closed his own eyes so he wouldn’t have to see her pity. “Don’t feel bad for me, please.” He opened his eyes because she needed to see his sincerity when he said the next part. “I tried to explain last night—poorly, I admit—how I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
He stepped in closer and cradled her cheek with his palm. She leaned into his touch.
“I’ve always loved you too, Jane.”
Her face lit up with the admission.
“Which is why I begged the Lord last night to help you to forgive me and to move on.” He cleared his throat, but it still hurt to say. “I prayed that you could find someone worthy of you, your beauty, your love.”
Scarlett straightened away from him and folded her arms across her chest. “You’re an amazing, impressive man, Griff Quinn, but you’re also an insensitive idiot,” she flung at him.
Griff shook his head. Did he need to keep going with his rap sheet? Tell her about the many other times he’d killed innocent and not-so-innocent people? Tell her how he was going to get himself killed because of the irrational, insane way he reacted in battle?
He studied her beautiful face and couldn’t do it. “Look,” he ground out. “I know I’ve hurt you, and I can’t stand to hurt you anymore. Your plan of us loving each other, while I go to do my ops and then come back to you on my off days?” He gave a disbelieving grunt. “You are the most amazing person, Scarlett. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re talented, but you truly live in a fantasy world. You have to realize someone like me in your life isn’t reality. It would never work.”
Her eyes
glinted dangerously, and she stubbornly tilted her head. “Who are you to tell me I can’t love you, I can’t wait for you? I realize your job is dangerous, but it’s worth the risk to be with you.”
Griff pushed out a quick breath. Risking her wasn’t worth it, no matter how badly he wanted to be with her. Yet she looked close to falling apart, and he couldn’t stand to fight with her anymore. “Oh, Jane. C’mere.” He opened his arms.
She glared at him for half a second, then threw herself against his chest. He wrapped her up tight, savoring the feel of her body against his, savoring this memory. He trailed his fingers through her soft hair and along her back. He tried to memorize the way her hands traced along his back, her acceptance of his scars, of him.
Finally, he forced himself to pull back. “I can’t think of how to explain to you how much I love you.”
She smiled, her green eyes soft with hope.
“And that’s why I can’t be with you.”
“Griff Quinn!” she yelled at him. “Don’t you dare do this to me again. I want to be strong for you, but I need you. You have to see that. You claim you don’t want to hurt me, but you’re going to rip me apart if you leave me now.”
Griff’s heart twisted painfully. “I should’ve never taken this job. You could’ve forgotten about me and been happy.”
“That’s what you don’t understand.” She pulled from his arms, and he let her go. “I have never been truly happy without you. I’ve lived in my make-believe world, as you call it, and I’ve chosen to have a good attitude and make the best of each day, but every night I’ve prayed that you would come back to me.”
“Oh, Jane,” he moaned.
“All of this …” She gestured around the room, but he knew she meant this whole deal with the million-dollar bounty and Sutton getting the intel to protect her and sending Griff. “It had to be an answer to my prayers. It had to be.” Her eyes narrowed. “Who are you to tell Him—” She pointed up. “—that He’s not in charge?”
Quinn Family Romance Collection Page 50
