Cant Let Go GO PL

by Barbara Freethy

  "I screwed up with Griffin," she said.

  "What? How?"

  "I lied to him. He hates me, Kate, and I—I think I love him." Her voice broke as she said the words.

  "Oh, Annie, I'm sure he doesn't hate you."

  "I wish you were right."

  "First, tell me if you're safe," Kate ordered.

  "Yes, I'm safe."

  "Okay, then tell me what happened with Griffin, and don't leave anything out."

  * * *

  "Are you listening to me?" Vinnie asked.

  Griffin started, realizing he hadn't heard a word Vinnie had said to him since the alarm guy had driven away. He'd been thinking about Annie, wondering if she'd agreed to another interview.

  He'd seen the guilt flash through her eyes when her phone rang, and he was quite certain it was the company she'd interviewed with. They probably wanted her to come back for another interview, and he knew how much she wanted the job.

  Was he being callous and unreasonable about the sketches?

  They'd been a shock at first, but she'd said they were just seed ideas, that the characters would grow and develop and move beyond her inspiration. Was that true? And even if it wasn't true, wasn't it about time he gave up on the idea of living an undiscoverable life when clearly he'd been discovered?

  "All right. I'm going to go," Vinnie said. "You need to talk to Annie."

  "Actually, I don't need to talk to her."

  Vinnie gave him a sharp look. "Is something going on with you two?"

  "It's a long story, but she hasn't been completely straightforward."

  "About what? Does she know something about what happened to Shari, or what's been going on here at the bar?"

  "No. No," he said quickly. "It's nothing like that."

  "Then what is it?"

  "She's been drawing us. Making cartoons with you and me, Justin and Shari, turning us into some superhero team."

  "Seriously?" Vinnie asked in surprise.

  "Yeah, she pitched a movie idea with us running an underground railroad through the bar. She said she did it before she actually knew about our arrangement with Paul, that she was just using her imagination and making a story up in her head. But all this time she was drawing me and she didn’t tell me about it. I don't see how I can get past that. How can I trust her?"

  "Well…I don't know what to say." Vinnie paused. "I actually do know what to say. Are you crazy? You've been living a double life and lying to everyone you've met the last four years."

  "I had a good reason. That was different."

  "What's Annie's reason?"

  "I don't know. She said something about artist's block. She was having trouble coming up with an idea until she came into the bar. The train décor and the people inspired her."

  "What did I look like?"

  He frowned. "Does it matter?"

  "Yeah, I want to know if she made me, you know, good-looking."

  "You had bulging tattooed muscles from what I recall."

  "I like that."

  "You're not taking this seriously, Vinnie."

  "And you're taking it way too seriously. I don't think she meant us any harm, and she didn't know what we were actually doing until she almost got run over."

  "I know that. It's just…"

  "What?" Vinnie asked.

  "She let me down."

  "Is it that? Or are you falling for her and looking for an excuse to end it?"

  Vinnie's words hit close to home. "You told me to get rid of her days ago."

  "That was before I knew how much you liked her and before I realized she was already in trouble. To be honest, I think Annie is great. And if she wants to make me a superhero, I could probably live with that."

  "It would blow our cover."

  "We're already blown, Griffin."

  "Well, I can't think about it right now. I have to focus on finding Shari's attacker and the person or people who are trying to destroy me." As he finished speaking, his phone rang. It was Paul. "I hope you have good news," he said.

  "I do," Paul said." I just got off the phone with Detective Baker. They picked up Kenny Taylor at the airport."

  Relief flooded through him. "That's a huge break. Is he talking?"

  "At the moment, he's rambling. The detective said he's high as a kite, but he keeps telling them to make him an offer, so I think he will talk eventually."

  "I want to speak to him."

  "Don't go down there, Griffin. Let the police handle this for now. You'll have your turn, but let's figure out if there's anyone else involved first."

  He knew Paul was right, but he was itching to take action instead of always playing defense.

  "I'm heading out your way," Paul said. "I'll probably be in town later tonight. I'll give you a call."

  "I appreciate you getting involved in this."

  "You've done a lot for me. I'm happy to help. By the way, there's a very eager FBI agent who's butting her nose in, too. Says she's Annie's sister."

  "Kate Callaway," he said. "Annie called her."

  "Well, she's got Baker on his toes, so it's a good thing. I'll call you when I get into town."

  He let out a breath as he hung up. "They caught Tom's cousin, Kenny Taylor. He is high on drugs but wanting to make a deal. They found him at the airport. He must have been about to skip town."

  "That's good news," Vinnie said. "Maybe he was done."

  All evidence pointed to that possibility, but it didn't quite ring true. "I'm not so sure."

  "He could have panicked after he stabbed Shari. Decided he'd gone too far," Vinnie added.

  "That's possible. I really want to talk to him. I need to know if he was acting alone."

  "But Paul said to stay out of it, right?"

  "Yeah."

  "You going to follow his advice?"

  "For the moment."

  "Do you think we should open the bar up today now that they have him in custody?"

  "No. Let's stay closed until we talk to the police—just to be on the safe side. We don't know if Kenny was working alone, but hopefully we will have more information soon."

  "Sounds good, although I'm itching to reopen. It's a busy time of the year. We lose a lot of cash every hour we're closed."

  "I completely agree. I'd say tomorrow looks good, but let's wait to make a final decision until we can talk to Shari and the police.

  "All right. Don't forget to take a look at the security footage from last night. Maybe you'll recognize Taylor," Vinnie said.

  "I'd almost forgotten about that."

  "To be honest, I couldn't make out more than a vague figure, who looked a little like the guy who slashed Annie's tires, but we definitely need better high-definition cameras."

  "And fewer problems," he said. "I feel like I should be apologizing to you, Vinnie."

  Vinnie shrugged. "You've always been straight with me. I knew what I was getting into. We've built a good business, and this is just a small obstacle in our path."

  "When did you turn into Sally Sunshine?" he asked with a small smile.

  "When you turned into Debbie Downer," Vinnie retorted. "One of us has to be optimistic. At any rate, I'm heading to the hospital. What about you?"

  "I'll be there soon. I need to talk to payroll and look at the cameras."

  Vinnie paused in the doorway. "I'm just going to say one last thing, Griffin. Don't let the anger between you and Annie fester. Have it out with her if you need to, but don't lock yourself up again. It was good to see you come out of your shell the past few days. You deserve to have a full life. Maybe this is your chance."

  "Maybe," he said, wanting exactly what Vinnie had suggested—a life that could be lived in the light of day, no more shadows, no more hiding, no more running—and a woman, unlike any other.

  * * *

  Annie came out of the bathroom after rinsing her face with cold water and dabbing at her tear-swollen eyes. They were still a little bloodshot and the last thing she wanted was for Griffin to think she'd
been crying. Not only did she not want to show that weakness, she also didn't want to distract him from the bigger picture, which was finding out who was trying to hurt him and possibly herself. That was really the only issue they should be dealing with right now.

  It had felt good to talk to Kate, even though she felt a little guilty for dumping all of her problems on her younger sister, but Kate had reminded her that this was probably just a bump in their relationship, that if it was as strong as she thought it was, they would get past it.

  As she moved into the bedroom, she sniffed, wrinkling her nose at the very strong stench of gas. The bedroom door was closed, and she didn't remember closing it.

  Her body went on high alert, every muscle tightening, every nerve tingling.

  She moved across the room and turned the door handle. It didn't open, but it wasn't locked, because the lock was on her side of the door. Someone must have pushed something up against it, because she couldn't get it to budge even an inch or two.

  What was going on? She'd been sitting in the living room less than ten minutes ago. Someone had to have come into the apartment while she was in the bathroom and barricaded her inside the bedroom. Why would they do that?

  With the smell of gasoline starting to make her feel sick, she had a very bad feeling in her gut. She couldn’t call anyone, because her phone was in the living room.

  She ran toward the windows. Unfortunately, the view from the bedroom also faced the old train tracks. There was no one in sight to flag down for help.

  She opened the window to let in some cleaner air, but it only went up about six inches. There was no fire escape, but there was a narrow ledge about four feet down. It was barely a foot wide if that, but it did extend across the entire building. Ten feet away, there was a pull-down fire escape ladder, located next to the window for the second apartment.

  If she could get the window all the way up, she might be able to climb out and get onto the ledge. But once she let go of the window frame, there wouldn't be anything to hang on to; she'd be walking a balance beam two stories above the ground, and she'd never been good at gymnastics.

  Thoughts of her foot slipping and visions of her plummeting to her death ran around in her head, paralyzing her from taking action.

  She turned away from the window, pacing back and forth at the end of the bed, trying to come up with another plan.

  The smell of gas was getting stronger. Someone had to have doused the living room with gasoline, which could only mean one thing.

  They were going to start a fire. They were going to burn down the bar.

  Think, she told herself.

  She was a firefighter's daughter. There was no smoke coming under the door yet, but it was probably only a matter of time.

  She ran into the bathroom, soaked a towel in water and then went back into the bedroom and stuffed it under the door crack.

  Then she looked for something she could use to break the window, but there wasn't much furniture in the room—a bed and a dresser and Griffin's guitar. The guitar would probably break before the window.

  Fear raced up and down her spine. She didn't want to panic, but she was coming close.

  Where was Griffin? Was he still in the office with Vinnie? Was he as trapped as she was? Or had something happened to him?

  It was too damn quiet.

  She opened the closet door and to her shock saw a baseball bat and a glove resting in one corner. Just what she needed.

  She grabbed the bat and went back to the window. She hesitated for one more second.

  Would breaking the window bring more danger?

  It was a risk she had to take. Because there was no way she was going to die in this room without a fight.

  Twenty-Five

  Griffin spent more than twenty minutes on the phone with payroll, his second call in two days, and it was once again a frustrating experience. He really needed to change services. It should not take this long to make adjustments. When he was finally finished, he set down his phone and turned on the computer to look at the security footage from the night before.

  Sure enough, there was the same hooded figure he'd seen slashing Annie's tires several days earlier. He appeared to be lurking around the back door. And then he disappeared.

  His gut tightened. Was that person Kenny Taylor?

  He remembered Kenny as having broad shoulders, a stocky build; this figure seemed shorter, thinner. But no matter how many times he looked at the images, he couldn't see any identifying characteristics.

  What had the man been doing outside at four in the morning? Had he been trying to break in? Or was he using the key that Shari had given him?

  He should have asked the police to check if that key was still in her possession. Not that it mattered; she could have made a copy. It was still difficult to believe she'd sold him out. But while he was angry, he was also worried for her. Ultimately, this whole situation was on him. He'd brought the danger to San Clemente. Hopefully, today, with Kenny in custody, they could figure out who else had been involved and put an end to everything.

  His optimistic outlook ended abruptly when a loud crash overhead sent him to his feet. As he drew in a deep breath, he was assailed by the strong odor of gasoline.

  A bolt of fear sent him rushing to the door. Annie was upstairs—alone. And it had sounded like the crash had come from his apartment.

  Dammit! Why had he left her on her own?

  He threw open the door and was only a few steps down the hall when a hooded figure came out of the bar and stepped in front of him, a gun pointed at his face.

  "Stop right there."

  He was shocked by the sound of the female voice. Then her hoodie slipped off her head, revealing thick, dark-brown hair, furious brown eyes. His heart stopped. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't believe it.

  It wasn't possible!

  "What?" he stuttered. "You—Paige?"

  She gave him a hard, unforgiving, hateful gaze.

  "You're not happy to see me, Michael?"

  "What's going on?" He suddenly realized the floor was wet, soaked in gasoline, and there was a large gas can by the bottom of the stairs. "What the hell are you doing?" He started to move toward her.

  "One more step, and I will shoot the floor and ignite a firestorm."

  He froze, wanting to take her down, needing to get upstairs to Annie. God!

  Had Paige already been upstairs? Had she hurt Annie?

  "We're going to have a little chat before this place blows up," Paige said. "I'm sure you must have some questions. But if you're not interested in answers, I can shoot you right now. Just remember…if you die, you won't get to her in time."

  Which answered his question about Annie. "What did you do to Annie?"

  "Annie," she said with a sneer. "Nothing. She's alive…for now. But she can't help you."

  "I can take that gun away from you, Paige."

  "You can try. But I'm a good shot. You know that."

  He did know that. Her father had taught her to shoot when she was barely a teenager, and there was nothing she loved more than going to the firing range. "Why are you doing this?"

  "Because you have to pay. You destroyed my life and Tom's. Now, you need to lose everything."

  He heard the raw pain in her voice, and it seemed deeper than it should have been. "What happened to Tom was his fault, not mine. I didn't set him up. He did what he did. I just told the truth."

  "You didn't give him a chance to make things right. You weren't loyal to your own partner, a man who had saved your life. You put him in that prison. And now he's going to die. If you hadn't turned on him, he never would have been there. He never would have been attacked. It's time you paid for what you did."

  "Did Kenny get you into this?"

  "Kenny hates you as much as I do, but he's too stupid to figure anything out. I only brought him along because I needed the muscle, and he's easy to control. All I had to do was keep him high enough not to ask too many questions."

 
He was stunned by her cold, calculating words. Where was her heart? Where was her compassion? Where was the woman he'd once cared about? She certainly wasn't this woman.

  "Kenny stabbed my friend. He almost killed her," he said. "Was that part of your plan?"

  "She came at him with a knife. It was self-defense."

  "You were there? You watched it happen?"

  "We weren't going to kill her. All she had to do was give us the key to your apartment; it was very simple, but she suddenly got cold feet, despite the large amount of money we'd already paid her. She got herself into trouble. She fought with Kenny. I had nothing to do with it."

  "You were willing to let a woman die for revenge against me? What happened to you?"

  "You happened," she said fiercely. "You hurt me, and you hurt Tom, the only person who ever gave a damn about me. You took him away from me."

  There was something off about her words. Paige had never been with Tom; she'd been with him. She'd been his girlfriend. But Paige was acting like…

  "What are you saying? Were you in love with Tom?"

  "Yes. I loved him," she cried. "And not just as a friend."

  "When did that happen?" he asked, once again stunned by her words. "Was it after he went to prison?"

  "No. It was before that—when you were partners, when we were all spending time together."

  "Then why were you with me?" he demanded.

  "Tom always said he was too old for me. But we had a connection that was very strong, very real. He understood me, the real me. He was fun. He wasn't all dark and moody like you, expecting me to guess your every thought."

  "Did you sleep with him?"

  "I wanted to, but he turned me down. He didn't want to screw you—his partner, his friend. And what did you do? You turned him in. You ruined his life and mine. And now you're going to pay."

  "Why didn't you tell me how you felt about Tom? Why not be honest with me?"

  "Because I wanted you to change your mind about testifying. I didn't think telling you I was in love with Tom would help that cause. Not that it mattered in the end. You did what you wanted. You destroyed a really good person. Tom did one bad thing—"

  "Tom did many bad things," he interrupted.