Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2

by Susan Sleeman

  “She wants to spend time with Dad and I feel better knowing she’s with him. At least one of us can be there.”

  He nodded, scanning the faces of people walking through the lot to their vehicles. “Boone will let me know when he drops you back at the house, but you might text me, too.”

  “Will do.”

  Her voice was subdued and she sounded disheartened. Even though Griffin was doing his job, he felt as if he should do more. Reassure her or something.

  Frustrated, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t here to hold her hand, although that was what he wanted to do.

  Shifting his focus back to the job, he said, “Next time we talk, I’ll be able to tell you if Arrico’s lawyer has a tattoo or some kind of mark on his left wrist.”

  “Then we’ll at least know if he’s the one who tried to strangle me.”

  “If I can place him at the hospital. And bust any alibi he might have.”

  “Oh. Right. I hope you find something concrete on the attorney today, one way or the other.”

  “I know waiting for answers is frustrating, but we’ll get some.”

  “Yes, but when? I don’t mean to sound unappreciative. It’s just—”

  “Your time is limited. I know.”

  “I appreciate your help. I really do.”

  Her gratitude caused a warmth to spread through his chest.

  “I know you’re doing everything you can. I just feel like I’m doing nothing sitting here.”

  “You’re donating bone marrow.”

  “Until then, I feel useless. I can’t visit my father. My aunt has to shoulder the entire load of caring for him. This just isn’t right.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “I may never see Dad again. It feels like I’m serving a harsher sentence than Vin. He may be in prison, but he can still see his friends and whatever family he has left. I was forced to give up everything and everyone in my life. Yes, I made bad choices and I paid for them, but I feel as if I’ll be paying until the end of my life. Or Vin’s.”

  She exhaled, sounding embarrassed at her mini rant. “None of this is your fault. I’m sorry.”

  “No.” Griffin stopped her quietly. “You’re due a good gripe. You were ripped out of your world and thrown into a new one. Now it’s about to happen again.”

  “Still, I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and my family.”

  “I know that.” He wanted to reach through the phone and take her hand. What was wrong with him? He cleared his throat. “I can’t make any promises, but I’m going to do everything I can to tie these murder attempts to Arrico. If that happens, you might have a chance to return home with your own name.”

  “If anyone can get the job done, I know it’s you, Griffin.”

  She sounded completely certain. Did she know how much her belief in him meant? Not only because they hadn’t known each other long, but also because he hadn’t been able to get the job done in Afghanistan.

  Those men had believed in him, too, and they had all died. Humbled by her words, he said quietly, “Thanks for that.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Have you already spoken to Yates today?” Griffin asked.

  “Yes. He’s working on my next identity. I guess that’s what set me off.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “Thanks for letting me complain,” she said quietly.

  “Not a problem. By the way, did you say your aunt’s phone is missing? Could you check her room and also the blazer she wore yesterday?”

  “Yes, I’ll do it now.”

  “Thanks.” Several seconds later, after she’d had time to reach her aunt’s room, he heard drawers open and close.

  Laura came back on the phone. “I’ve looked everywhere, but I can’t find the phone. Now I’m worried. What if it was stolen?”

  “We’ll find it.” Griffin deliberately kept his tone nonchalant. It very well could’ve been stolen. If it had been taken at the hospital, either the nurse or the pastor could’ve taken it. But Griffin didn’t want to add to Laura’s other concerns. “It’s probably in the bottom of that giant purse she carries. There could be a truck hidden in there for all we know.”

  Laura laughed, which was what Griffin wanted.

  He smiled.

  “Ah,” she said. “Boone is driving up right now.”

  “All right. I’ll talk to you later.”

  They disconnected and Griffin stared out at the bank building, its glass glittering in the winter sunshine. She’d said she was fine. She’d sounded fine. But his need to want to confirm that for himself was exactly why he needed distance from her.

  He’d been a little surprised by Laura’s anger toward Arrico. Not that she felt it. Griffin got that. She truly had given up a lot more than her criminal ex.

  But for the first time, Griffin had seen past her poise, seen the fury she must have battled, especially at the beginning of her stint in protected custody. Despite all that he knew about her, he felt as if he’d seen a part of her few people ever did.

  Griffin was amazed that it had taken this long for her resentment to surface. Even though afterward she had apologized for complaining.

  Was that what having faith did for a person? Helped them handle the bad things in life with a touch more patience or understanding?

  Catching a movement from the corner of his eye, he looked up to see Harlan Thompson weaving his way across the parking lot, headed this way. Griffin didn’t move, but every muscle tensed as he waited for the man who might have hurt Laura.

  In build and height, the attorney resembled the man who had attacked Laura in the ladies’ room. Was he also the man Griffin had seen going toward the hospital elevator yesterday with Nurse Inhofe? He hadn’t been able to see that guy’s face.

  Through the window, Griffin heard Thompson curse. He looked over to see the lawyer open the driver’s-side door of his sedan and toss in a briefcase. He slammed the door and marched to the slowly opening trunk, where he removed his spare tire along with a jack and wheel wrench.

  Griffin pulled a baseball cap low on his head and flipped up his collar. He got out of his vehicle, then walked past the next car and around the hood of the blue Cadillac to the passenger side. That way he would be able to get a quick and easy look at the man’s left wrist without being obvious.

  Hunching his shoulders against the frigid wind gusting across the parking lot, he asked, “Need any help?”

  Thompson barely looked at him. “No, thanks. I’ve got it.”

  The attorney fitted the wrench onto one of the lower lug nuts and twisted to loosen the bolt and remove it. He moved on to the next one, then the next, affording Griffin a look at the man’s left hand.

  There was something there, but it wasn’t a tattoo. It appeared to be a birthmark. It was dark and could easily have been mistaken as ink. It also spread to the back of the lawyer’s hand. That could easily have been what Laura saw the day she was attacked.

  Jacking up his car, Thompson glanced up. “I appreciate the offer.”

  “You’re welcome.” Griffin didn’t know for sure that Thompson was the person who’d tried to strangle Laura, but he might be. His hands curled into fists and he fought the urge to lay the guy out flat.

  Fighting his temper, he turned to walk away. “Hopefully, your day will get better.”

  “Yeah,” Thompson grunted.

  Griffin had to force himself to keep going, make himself get back into his SUV.

  Thompson was now officially a suspect. It didn’t mean the attorney was the assailant. It didn’t mean he wasn’t. Griffin had to prove it one way or the other.

  He pulled out of the parking space and drove toward the exit. By the time he left the lot, he had Morales on the phone.

  When his friend answered, Griffin bit out, “Can you find out if Harlan Thompson had a court appearance scheduled two mornings ago?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  �
�If he didn’t, I need you to hack his cell phone records and track his whereabouts using the GPS coordinates. Actually, I want everything you can get on him. Anything.”

  “No problem. What’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?” Anger rode him even though he’d tried to slough it off.

  “You sound…mad.”

  Griffin was mad. So what?

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you this angry,” Ghost mused. “You usually don’t get so invested in a client.”

  His friend’s statement drew Griffin up short. Morales was right. Griffin didn’t become involved to this extent in his cases.

  Slightly stunned, he said nothing because there was nothing to say. He was furious and it was on Laura’s behalf.

  The admission cooled him off a bit. He knew this had slowly become personal, but when had she begun to matter so much?

  In three days, she would go back to some WitSec-manufactured life and Griffin would go back to the tediousness of his. She would be gone for good. And he was glad about that.

  He ignored the voice in his head that called him a liar. He had to spend time with Laura; she was his assignment. But he couldn’t allow anything, especially his emotions, to interfere with doing his job. All he had to do was keep things professional between them until she was gone.

  *

  Laura’s disappointment and impatience from her conversation with Griffin still lingered two hours later. All she could do was keep a low profile. The inactivity, the helplessness churned inside her like acid.

  Griffin had tried to boost her spirits by sharing what he’d learned so far about the person they had seen leaving Rick Hughes’s house last night. They knew that man wasn’t the person who’d shot at Griffin, but they didn’t yet know if he was the registered bike owner. And there was still the possibility that the preacher was the one who’d fired on Griffin in the parking garage.

  A heaviness hung over her. Laura wasn’t sure if it was due to the side effects of her second injection a few hours ago or because of Vin. She had no energy, and the tiredness was aggravated by her latest bout of nausea and the soreness in her bones and muscles.

  Telling herself not to dwell on the discomfort, Laura’s thoughts turned to last night and the time she’d spent with her bodyguard. Griffin Devaney was tight-lipped, but she had managed to get a few things out of him. His hometown, for one, and the bombshell that he had once been engaged.

  It was difficult to imagine the self-contained loner getting that close to anyone. What had his fiancée been like? How long had they been engaged?

  Questions about the woman who had walked away from an injured man had dominated Laura’s thoughts. Although that wasn’t the only thing that had stayed with her since Griffin had opened up.

  The interest she’d seen in his blue-green eyes still made her heart beat a little faster. It also made her want to know everything about him, especially what had happened with his fellow SEALs. When she had tried to find out, he’d immediately changed the subject, just as he had on her first day here.

  Laura got the message loud and clear. Whatever had happened was off-limits and Griffin carried the burden like a scar. She wondered if her aunt knew the story. If anyone did.

  If she could stay longer, get better acquainted with him, would he tell her? She would never know. Once she left here, she would probably never see him again. Just as she wouldn’t see her father.

  She’d been right to think that yesterday’s visit would be her last. The separation from him and Joy hollowed her out just as much as it had when she had “disappeared” ten months ago. All because of Vin.

  Resentment blazed through her. The longer she was here, the more it enraged her. She would have loved to take out her frustration by running or kickboxing or doing some other exercise, but she barely had the steam to walk around. Her insides felt as if they were on fire.

  The slight symptoms she’d suffered yesterday were nothing compared to today. In addition, she battled the anxiety that followed her like a shadow.

  She was jumpy, and earlier she’d prayed, asking for guidance. To combat her nerves, she’d called Marshal Yates for their daily checkin. He had offered her some hope. That was what she should focus on.

  The soreness in her body made her feel brittle, broken, and the nausea seemed to be getting worse. Lying down on the sofa until Griffin arrived sounded like a good idea. She slowly made her way to the soft suede couch in the living room.

  Just as she toed off her shoes, a sudden burst of noise from outside the house caused her to jump. A mini explosion followed from the same area, even louder.

  Icy fear paralyzed her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Were those gunshots? They sounded like gunshots.

  Heart racing, Laura struggled to stay calm. Maybe the sounds had been caused by tree branches that had been sheared off by the wind. Or something else broken loose by the gusts of frigid air.

  Even so, she pocketed her phone and headed across the wood floor, aiming for Griffin’s secret room. She listened hard as she walked into the laundry room and pushed the button on the bottom of the clothes rod.

  The back of the linen cabinet swung open and Laura started down the stairs, only now realizing she had left her shoes by the sofa. Another emphatic pop-pop-pop jolted her. The wind howled sharply and she could hear the heavy creak and groan of the trees. Forget her shoes.

  Motion-triggered lights flashed on as she made her way to the bottom of the staircase. She stopped at the edge of the large room that housed Griffin’s computers and security equipment.

  Shaking now, she could barely punch in the code that turned off the laser security beams protecting the entrance. The all-clear ding had Laura padding across the dark tile floor to the bank of flat-screen monitors.

  Cameras surveilled every inch of Griffin’s property. Between the house and the barn beyond, Laura saw movement. Monitor Two showed a man wearing a black ski mask approaching. He moved closer to the back door that led into the living room.

  Panic ripped through her. Before she could blink, a noise like a car backfire cracked the air. Louder than the first noise. Closer. Then she caught the acrid stench of smoke.

  She whirled and raced to the vault and the underground shooting range where she would have her pick of weapons and ammunition. Sweat slicked her hands and prickled her neck. Biting back a whimper at the fiery agony in her bones, Laura stopped in front of the steel door with its engraving of the SEAL trident.

  She bent to the recessed dark glass panel in the wall so her retina could be scanned. As Griffin had promised, a beep sounded, confirming that he had indeed added her to the system.

  She placed her clammy hand on the panel. A different tone buzzed and the vault’s bolt snapped open. Heart racing, she glanced over her shoulder as she rushed inside, laboring to pull the steel door shut behind her. She ignored the stings of pain in her arms and legs and moved slowly to the closest of the two walls full of weapons.

  She chose the Walther PPK she’d used for practice. At the waist-high cabinet, she opened the third drawer down and grabbed a box of cartridges.

  The intruder had to have been sent by Vin. How had he found her? Griffin’s home was the one place he could control her security. If someone had tailed him here, he would have noticed and told Laura. He wouldn’t have come home until he’d ditched them.

  She froze. Aunt Joy’s missing burner phone. It held a record of their phone calls and it must have a GPS signal. That had to be how this guy knew her exact location.

  Fumbling for her own burner phone, she called Griffin.

  “Hey—”

  “Somebody’s here!”

  “On the property?”

  “Yes. He was almost to the back door by the time I got downstairs.”

  “Okay, I’m already on my way. I should be there shortly. Are you in the vault?”

  “Yes.”

  “Locked in?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you armed?”
>
  “Yes.”

  “I just took the turn for the road leading to the house.”

  “Hurry!” Trembling, her muscles burning, she slid down the wall and sat facing the door. She loaded a clip the way Griffin had shown her and shoved it into her gun.

  With unsteady hands, she aimed the weapon straight ahead, ready to use it if she had to. Her body throbbed with pain as she tried to breathe through the agony and stay alert.

  Laura wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but she jerked to painful attention when the door’s lock clicked loudly. Pure terror drove through her. Quivering and icy cold, she gripped the gun tighter as the steel door began to open.

  SEVEN

  Griffin’s truck skidded to a stop in front of his house, spraying gravel and dirt. No one was at the front door.

  He jumped out, pulling his gun as he raced to the edge of the house. He paused, peering around the corner to make sure he wasn’t walking into an ambush. The sudden snick of a lock told Griffin the security bars had been activated. Metal bars slammed down over all the windows and doors.

  Griffin took off running and rounded the back of the house in time to see a man making tracks toward the barn and a faded green pickup waiting for him. As the man neared his truck, Griffin debated giving chase but knew he wouldn’t reach the barn in time to stop the guy. Besides, he was more worried about Laura.

  Sliding his gun into the small of his back, he approached the back door leading into the living room. Smoke puffed out from the pump room. A quick look told Griffin the fire was out. At the living-room door, he punched in a code on the keypad mounted inside the frame and the iron bars shot quietly up into place.

  His chest tightened as he went through the laundry room and started downstairs. There were no signs that anything had been disturbed, no signs of foul play. Good.

  He went down the stairs two at a time. The instant he set foot in the underground room housing his security equipment, he sprinted across the floor and punched in the vault’s override code.

  The lock snapped free and he opened the door. There she was, sitting on the floor with a gun pointed straight at him. Relief nearly bowled him over. On reflex he scanned the room, though he knew no one else was there.