GRIFFIN

by Paula Cox

  “In what way?”

  “Well, he’s up to his eyeballs in it now, but how deep was he back when he was covering up for Thad? Was it a personal thing—a favor between friends? Or was he part of a bigger criminal ring, like a gambling cartel or something?”

  “Why does that matter?”

  Cassie waved to Shana at the top of the big slide. “It matters because it might tell you who you’re up against here. If it’s just Bernal covering his own ass, that might not be so bad. He might only have a few guys on his payroll. But if he was under orders back then, if he was told to cover up for Thad, then it might be the whole cartel trying to cover its ass. You might have stirred up a hornet’s nest.”

  Tiana looked away. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Bernal said you don’t know who you’re dealing with. Did that sound like an idle threat, just tough talk? Or did he sound scared when he said it?”

  “Um, I don’t know. I believed him, if that means anything.”

  Cassie nodded pensively, then gave her a hard stare. “I’m sure you’ll be okay.” She gestured to an empty bench at the bottom of a grass verge, and they strolled to it. “So how’s it going with Dax, apart from all the head-breaking?”

  “Okay. No, it’s better than okay. He goes out of his way to make me feel at home. It’s really sweet, actually. I can tell he’s not used to it.”

  “To what?”

  “To staying home this much. I reckon it’s only going to be a temporary thing, until he’s gotten used to me being there. I think he wants to make sure I feel safe with him before he starts incorporating his old routine. And that’s okay. I don’t want him to give anything up.”

  “Except the eligible bachelor bad boy routine. Am I right?”

  “Now, now, sis…be nice.”

  Cassie pretended to zip her mouth shut.

  “So he’s not exactly been a monk,” said Tiana.

  “To put it mildly.”

  “But I have to believe he’s ready to settle down, right? I mean even Warren Beatty settled down at some point. George Clooney, too. Maybe I’m that girl for Dax Easterling.”

  “Well, you two do seem to be getting it together. And to think, all one of you needed to do was ask the other. Was it that hard?”

  Tiana cringed when she recalled how lonely and low and pathetic she’d felt, hiding away in Len’s bedroom instead of… Yeah, but I did almost die. Maybe I needed that time to myself.

  “Put it this way,” she said, “I think the hardest part is over.”

  “I’m certain of it.” Cassie treated her to an extra-generous sisterly hug that didn’t feel the least bit embarrassing, despite the packed playground. “For what it’s worth, he seems like a stand-up guy,” she added. “And you know I don’t use words like those lightly.”

  “I know. You never said that about Thad.”

  Cassie said nothing. She brushed a few loose strands of hair away from Tiana’s eyes. The girls both gave screams of delight as the dad of one of their friends spun the roundabout faster and faster. It was great to see them enjoying themselves like that. They didn’t always get along, but when they did, it reminded Tiana of when she and Cassie had been growing up together, protective of their own separate little girlish worlds, but also eager to share and relish the crossover turf, those games and activities that were only worthwhile if they both took part. Those had usually been the most fun: hide and seek, two-player PlayStation games, jump rope, and dance-offs at the arcade simulator.

  “They’re cute when they’re like this,” she observed when Len helped her little sister grip the bar of the roundabout.

  “While it lasts,” Cassie lamented. “We can enjoy it while it lasts.”

  “Len’s growing up fast, huh.”

  “Too fast. Why can’t they stay like this forever?”

  Strangely, hearing that longing in her sister’s words, that wistful regret in her voice, triggered something inside Tiana. A yearning all her own. It wasn’t the first time she’d considered having children, but it was the first time she’d felt unequivocally hopeful about the idea. With Thad, there’d always been doubts in her mind. He’d never mentioned having kids, not in all those years. All evidence pointed to him not even liking them, though he’d never admitted it. Also, he’d never proposed to Tiana or even mentioned it—no plans to make their relationship permanent, let alone to start a family. But even if he had, what sort of father would he have been?

  She shuddered at the thought.

  Dax, on the other hand, would probably be an excellent dad. He could be tough, he could be tender, he had a strong sense of right and wrong, but most of all he had that fierce protective instinct that would never let anything happen to his family. Sure, his first marriage had been a train wreck, but he freely admitted he’d been young and stupid at the time. He’d changed. Life and war had changed him. If he was ready to settle down, Tiana could absolutely see herself wanting to have his kids.

  That, right there, was a future worth fighting for.

  “If I ever have kids,” she said, “I think I’d want at least one girl.”

  Cassie looked surprised. “You know, that’s the first time you’ve ever mentioned having kids.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh. All this time, I just assumed you didn’t like the idea.”

  Tiana pondered that for a few moments. “Maybe I didn’t. Not really.”

  “But things have changed?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe you’re starting to see things more clearly. About what you really want. If that’s the case, I’m glad. I’m so glad. It means he’s good for you.”

  “Yeah. I think so, too.”

  Cassie shook her head at the girls when they shouted for her permission to go climbing trees with two older girls. Shana tended to get carried away trying to keep up with those bigger than her, and she’d injured herself a few times recently. Cassie had therefore put her foot down until she could properly supervise them, which wasn’t today.

  “We’ll have to go out for dinner sometime,” she suggested. “You and Dax, and me and Avery. I think Avery would like to meet him. He watches pay-per-view boxing with his drinking buddies, probably UFC as well. He thinks I don’t know. I’ve banned him from watching contact sports at our house, so he never lets on. But I have my spies.”

  “Dinner it is! I know Dax and Avery would get along, even without the fight talk. Maybe when all this bad business has blown over, we’ll arrange it.”

  “You don’t think it’s over then?”

  “I don’t know,” Tiana answered. “It’s like you said…it depends on how deep this thing goes, how many are involved. If Bernal was just blowing smoke, trying to make me paranoid, maybe he’ll back off with all this official heat on him. But if he was telling the truth and my testimony is implicating other powerful people…” She shrugged. “Too late now anyway. I’m not sure if I can afford to think that far ahead.”

  “You can’t afford not to,” Cassie reminded her. “If I was you, I’d hire a private investigator and see what he can dig up on this.”

  “We have a lawyer.”

  “Not the same thing. A private investigator will ask questions a lawyer can’t. He’ll dig where a lawyer can’t be seen looking. If this is a rat’s nest like we think, you need someone who’s not afraid to crawl in dark holes in order to get information.”

  “Okay, okay. I get the idea. Hire a scuzzy gumshoe. Check.”

  “Ugh. No one says ‘gumshoe’ anymore. You watch too many old movies. You’d better get Dax to hire him.”

  “Aw. No fair.” Tiana pouted. “I want to visit the smoky office with the seedy lighting, so I can turn down bad coffee from a sassy secretary named Elaine.”

  Cassie shook her head. “Sad.”

  “Hey, I am taking on the bad guys. Maybe even a whole cartel. The least I deserve is a hat and a cigarette.”

  “I think Shana would have more luck.”

  “You’re m
ean.”

  “That hurts.”

  Tiana received a message alert on her cell. She flipped the phone open and saw the text was from Dax. “He’s out of the hospital, on his way home,” she said. “Says he’ll pick me up from your place whenever I’m ready.”

  “How about another half hour—give the girls a bit longer?” Cassie suggested.

  “Aces.”

  “Wow. You have been watching too much Bogie and Bacall.”

  “What can I say? I’m feeling…old-fashioned lately.”

  “Hold that thought for our dinner date,” said Cassie.

  “Why?”

  “Because women never paid for anything back then.”

  Tiana shot her a puzzled look. She’d never paid for a meal with a man in her life. “And they do now?”

  Cassie gazed back at her, then spluttered a laugh. “Sis, you go on just the way you are. Don’t change. And don’t listen to anyone.”

  “I don’t intend to, you patronizing broad.”

  “That’s my Tiana.”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Shana and Len didn’t want their Aunt Tiana to leave. It was the first time she’d visited their house since leaving to go live with Jean-Claude Van Easterling, and they insisted she at least stay for dinner, or, better still, take them to Burger King. Tiana promised she’d visit again soon, but Jean-Claude, a.k.a. Dax—an even cooler fighting name, they agreed—was coming to pick her up at any minute.

  After hugging her nieces and her sister, Tiana said goodbye. She waited at the edge of the driveway to save Dax having to puzzle out which house was which. There were so many cars parked on the street this afternoon—somebody popular was having a birthday party a few houses down—his Jeep would barely squeeze through as it was. Finding Cassie’s house in the middle of this vehicular mayhem? Forget it.

  The sound of firecrackers made her jump. She glanced across to the party house and saw a bunch of balloons rising high in the sky, then a few streamers arcing just above the roof. She smiled as they sang Happy Birthday at a raucous volume. She almost wanted to join in.

  On the second “Hip, hip, hooray!” a car pulled up in the middle of the street. A dark gray sedan. Sunlight reflected blindingly off the minted bodywork. Tiana shielded her eyes to see who it was. Probably someone looking for a parking space or wanting directions. A door opened—the passenger’s, not the driver’s. A partygoer running late? She half-expected a girl dressed in a Frozen princess dress to climb out waving a handmade silver wand.

  It was a man instead. The blinding sun hid his face, but she saw he was not in a hurry.

  Tiana took a few steps back. “Can I help you?”

  No reply.

  She clipped the stone lawn border with her shoe, stumbled backward onto the grass. No longer blinded by the reflection of the sun, she watched the man approach. He wore a plain blue polo shirt. Gray trousers. Shades. He looked fit, like a tennis pro. Maybe thirty-five years old. She was about to repeat her question more firmly when he nodded at her. He stopped just before the lawn.

  Tiana remembered the distress signal on her bracelet, but it was too late. A second man grabbed her from behind, covered her mouth with his hand. He roughed her to the car and shoved her onto the back seat, where the first man joined her from the opposite side. Her scream for help lasted maybe a couple of seconds before the door closed. Even if anyone heard it, they’d just think it had come from the party.

  She kicked and screamed and fought him with everything she had, but it was no use. He held her down while he pressed the needle into her neck. The last thing she thought before she blacked out was that Dax would soon be following. All she needed to do was press the emergency button on her bracelet…twice…in quick…succession and he’d…be on…his…waaaaaay…

  ***

  Waking was a struggle. Three or four times she tried, and failed, to keep her eyes open long enough to get a grip on the world. The sedative they’d injected in her had hit her like a heavy, inky tsunami. Now that it was receding, she felt thoroughly wrecked and waterlogged.

  She was in the back of the sedan traveling at a regular speed. Maybe fifty miles per hour. Bits of gravel peppered the underside. It might be a new road, or maybe one out in the desert. It seemed dark outside, but maybe that was just the tinted windows. Her hands were bound by plastic cord behind her back. Apart from the driver, there was one other man in the car, the one who’d injected her. He was next to her, texting on his phone.

  Who are they? Who sent them? Where are they taking me?

  Slowly but surely she became lucid enough to start thinking of creative ways to get herself out of the situation. They were all daft non-starters, certain to get her killed within a couple of seconds. Dax’s security measures hadn’t worked, or rather she hadn’t been quick enough to use them! They’d taken her purse with the Taser inside. She’d failed to activate the tracking signal on her bracelet…though it was still on her wrist; she just couldn’t reach it.

  Then there was…the flick-knife.

  That was still there too, wedged in the back pocket of her jeans, tight against her butt. And she could probably reach it. But the trick was...how to reach for it without being seen. The guy was right there, breathing her air.

  Breathing my air. Hmm, would that angle work? She had just recovered from a strong dose of instant-lights-out. That was a better excuse than most to be feeling sick, to have to turn over in agony. Worth a try?

  Her groan was a little over-baked, but so was his body odor. First she climbed onto her knees, pretending discomfort, a need to shift position in order to find the one elusive comfortable one. She really was a little queasy as she collapsed onto her side, her other side this time, hiding her butt from him. He watched her for a few moments, then resumed his texting. With the fingers of a bound hand, she reached into her back pocket...forcing, feeling, grasping. Her fingertips were either millimeters or miles away from making contact.

  He grabbed her by the hair, pulled her upright. Tiana played woozy and flopped onto him. He shoved her off, jabbered something in an accent she didn’t understand, threatening to smack her if she didn’t stop wriggling. So she dutifully curled up into a ball—complete with whimpers and sobs—all the while digging in for the flick-knife.

  The bad news? Her jeans were way too tight against her butt while she was curled up like this. No way could she reach inside far enough with her hands bound. The good news? If she straightened her legs, stretched out fully, that would take enough pressure off the pocket. It would mean squirming some more, maybe incurring a beating, but if she didn’t do this now, she might never get another chance.

  Tiana decided it was worth the price of a beating.

  With a deep breath, she began to slide her legs out from under her. Toward him. It was cramped here in the back, with little legroom as it was. But this was really all about position...and timing.

  Screw it.

  She thrust her hips out toward him and arched her body backward. She dipped into her back pocket and, with straining fingertips, plucked the knife out. Clasped it in her fist. He reacted so violently she wasn’t sure if she’d signed her death warrant. Heavy blows rained down on her back and her ass and legs and any other part of her he happened to take a dislike to. However, through all this, she clung to the knife.

  When he was finally done punishing her, she was bruised, sore all over, and didn’t move for some time. He must have thought she’d learned her lesson. But underneath the semi-fake, convulsing sobs, she cut away at her plastic bonds using the most “intimate” weapon from Dax’s inventory. Out of sight. Out of choices.

  How long it took to saw through the cuffs she had no idea. None. It was getting dark for real outside, she could tell. Where were they now? How far were they taking her? Maybe they were almost at their destination. What chance did she have of escaping then, when there were likely more than just two men to deal with at the other end?

  No, she had to make her move now. On the move, when the
y least expected it.

  Dax, please hurry. I just hope I’m still here when you get here.

  First, she pressed the screw head on her bracelet, twice, as he’d told her. But she didn’t trust her shaking fingers; the second press had been too quick; it might not have registered. She repeated the sequence, this time with emphatic, staccato presses. Now he would know where she was. Then she sat up slowly, wrists together, hiding the cut bonds. The knife was in her right fist. The man looked at her, muttered to himself. Then he continued surfing the net.

  She waited for a bump in the road or a sharp turn, any unusual motion she could feasibly exaggerate into this killing strike. His neck was exposed—his jugular. Using her right hand, it will have to be a backhand stab. She’d played plenty of tennis at high school; the backhand was her wildest shot, but it had some zip when it hit.