by Rita Herron
He shook his head, vying for calm when he wanted to shout, “Hell no.”
“That’s not going to happen, Ginny. Even if we set up a meet and exchange, you can’t trust that he won’t kill her.”
Her face turned ashen, making him regret his harsh words. But he couldn’t retract them because they were true. He certainly didn’t intend to let Ginny offer herself up like some sacrificial lamb. Too many things could go wrong.
“I just feel so helpless,” she cried. “Mitzi’s with that maniac because of me and I’m just sitting here doing nothing.”
Emotions overcame her and she sank onto the couch again and dropped her face into her hands. Her body trembled.
Unable to help himself, he crossed the room to her, sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms. “I know it’s terrifying, but you’re not alone now.” He rubbed slow circles across her back, and she leaned into him and pressed her hand against his chest.
She was so small and delicate that he dropped a kiss against her hair and whispered soft assurances that everything would work out. She nestled against him and he closed his arms around her, praying he could deliver on his promises.
The warmth of the fire seemed to cocoon them into a more relaxed state, the sound of the crackling wood in the fireplace comforting. Her erratic breathing finally steadied, and she lifted her head and looked into his eyes. Griff’s breath lodged in his throat.
In spite of the fear pounding in his chest, fear that mirrored hers, tension simmered between them. The kind of tension that stirred his desires and made him itch to be closer to her.
She placed her hand against his cheek, and he angled his head and studied her. The last thing he wanted to do was to frighten her or make demands upon her.
The tiniest inkling of sexual awareness flickered in her eyes, then they filled with longing and encouragement, and she parted her lips. He slowly leaned toward her. She leaned in at the same time, but he still hovered within an inch of her lips, determined to give her every opportunity to pull away if she wanted.
But she didn’t pull away.
She tilted her head and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was gentle and so tentative that emotions he’d never experienced for another woman blossomed in his chest.
A second later, she threaded her fingers in his hair, drawing him nearer as she deepened the kiss. It took every ounce of his willpower not to lower her onto the sofa, climb on top of her and run his hands all over her sweet, supple body.
But this was Ginny, a woman who’d been bullied and abused and threatened. A woman who didn’t readily trust.
He could not break the tentative bond he’d built, or the connection simmering between them.
Even if he couldn’t have her, he’d protect her so that madman couldn’t get to her.
* * *
GINNY HAD NO idea what had come over her, but every cell in her body screamed to kiss Griff. To let him hold her and chase away her demons, at least for a little while.
It had been so long since she’d kissed a man, or even wanted to kiss a man, that his lips sent a flurry of excitement and desire through her. Reservations whispered through her mind, but she ignored them.
Griff was nothing like Robert. He wasn’t pushy or rough, hadn’t tried to charm her pants off her. He’d done nothing except be honorable and protect her. Even now, in his arms, although strength and power emanated from his muscular body, his touch was tender and gentle.
She had no doubt that if she wanted him to stop, he would.
She just didn’t want him to. Not yet anyway.
She craved the comfort of his arms and lips. Wanted to remember that once there had been joy in life, not just the mind-numbing fear, anger, grief and sadness consuming her for three years.
Griff stroked her back, their bodies rubbing together as he teased her lips apart with his tongue. She welcomed his sensual foreplay as the kiss became more frenetic. Hunger built inside her, heat and need making her cling to him, and she silently urged him to continue. He pulled away and looked into her eyes, questions lingering.
Affection for the handsome, sexy firefighter replaced the cautionary voice in her head, and she dragged his mouth back to her, taking what she wanted. His hands slowly roamed downward to her waist, and she ran her hands over his shoulders and back, reveling in the way his corded muscles flexed beneath her touch.
The sense that she had control emboldened her. She had the power to turn him on. To take without fearing he would force himself on her or explode violently if she decided to leave.
The realization was mind-blowing and cathartic and intensified her desire and her admiration for him.
As if he understood her needs, he trailed kisses down her jaw and neck, suckling the sensitive skin of her throat as his hand moved toward her breast.
She arched into him, her breath puffing out in tiny pants that burst into the stillness of the night. The sound of the wind battering the glass broke into that stillness though and shattered the fog of desire wrapping its tentacles around her heart.
Griff seemed to understand that, too. He traced a thumb over her cheek, then cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again. This time there was hunger, but also the tenderness of a man’s understanding and respect.
He gently pulled away from her, his breathing erratic. “I smell like smoke. I’m going to shower. Lie down and try to sleep, Ginny.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be here, and the alarm is armed. Hopefully, tomorrow Liam and Jacob will have answers.”
He was right. She couldn’t allow herself to fall into bed with him and forget that it was her ex-lover who’d kidnapped Mitzi. That Mitzi’s life was in his cruel hands.
She had to focus on the reason she’d come to Whistler. And falling for Griff Maverick had no part in it.
* * *
GRIFF DOVE INTO the shower, anxious to cleanse himself of the acrid scent of smoke and soot. Granted, he was accustomed to the odor, but when he’d kissed Ginny, he’d realized he’d wanted to come to her fresh and clean, not covered in the remnants of sweat and ash from his job. Or the violence created by her stalker.
The cool water helped alleviate his hard-on, then he cranked the temperature up to a blasting hot to scrub his body and hair. Smoke tended to linger and cling to every possible surface of his skin. He didn’t want Ginny to associate the odor with him.
Forget it, man. She only kissed you out of gratitude. And fear. You’re protecting her and she was afraid. That’s it. Period.
Sobering at the thought, he soaped and scrubbed himself until his skin felt raw and every vestige of lust was wiped from his mind. Yet as he climbed out, dried off and pulled on clean sweats, a more disturbing thought hit him.
It wasn’t just lust with Ginny. He was falling for her.
Except Ginny wasn’t even her real name.
He had to remember that. When Bouldercrest was caught and put away, she would return to her life. She sure as hell didn’t need another man attaching himself to her. Dreaming up unrealistic expectations. Trying to tie her down.
She needed her space. And to feel safe.
He’d damn well give that to her.
He towel-dried his hair, brushed his teeth, then went to check on her. She’d curled up on his couch and fallen asleep in front of the fire. Only she was tossing and turning, murmuring protests as if she was running from that madman in her sleep.
Exhausted and hating to see her suffer, he slid onto the sofa, lay down beside her and wrapped his arms around her. She snuggled into his arms, and he rubbed her back and dropped kisses into her hair, soothing her nightmares until she settled into a deep sleep.
He closed his eyes and held her, forcing his fears about Mitzi at bay. He trusted Jacob and Liam to do their jobs. Tonight, he’d protect Ginny and get some rest.
He had to be prepared to help tomorrow if they got
a lead on Bouldercrest. Or if Ginny decided to run again.
Exhaustion overcame him, and he drifted to sleep. But just like when he was on duty, he never truly relaxed. If the alarm sounded, he had to be quick on his feet.
Sometime later, sunlight crept through the curtains, jarring him to wake. He glanced at the clock. Seven thirty in the morning. He’d slept over two hours. Not bad considering the situation, he guessed.
Ginny sighed in her sleep, and he stroked her hair gently from her face. Lying on her side in his arms, she looked so peaceful that he didn’t want to disturb her, so he hugged her tighter and lay there with her for another hour, listening to the wind blowing outside and the sound of birds chirping their morning song. Firelight flickered off her skin, making it look almost golden. Although the sight of the bruise on her cheek brought reality back with a vengeance.
“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, willing his heart to be rational when it was already too late. Why had Ginny broken through the barrier around his heart now?
Especially when he and his brothers still needed to find his father’s killer.
His phone buzzed on the coffee table. He stretched enough to snag it and checked the message.
Liam. Have information on Bouldercrest. Meet me in an hour?
Ginny shifted against him, and he struggled for control as her hips rubbed against his sex.
“Griff?”
Jacob’s voice jerked him from his lustful thoughts.
He texted his brother in return. Stop by here. Don’t want to leave Ginny alone.
A second passed. Then two. Liam responded that he’d be there in half an hour.
Griff eased himself from Ginny and laid her head on one of his throw pillows, then grabbed the afghan from the couch and draped it over her sweet body. Then he shuffled over to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee to brew while he hurried to take another shower.
A cold one to kill his morning erection before his brother arrived and started asking questions.
* * *
THE DELICIOUS AROMA of coffee brought Ginny out of a deep, exhausted sleep. She blinked to orient herself, then realized she was asleep on Griff’s couch. The memory of his arms around her all night and his warm body pressed against hers taunted her.
She wanted to burrow into that place where she felt safe and...cared for.
Something she’d never felt with Robert. She had been a possession to him, someone to fill his needs. Hers hadn’t mattered.
Footsteps from the kitchen brought her to a sitting position, and she saw Griff’s back as he poured coffee into a mug. Firelight played off his broad shoulders and dark hair making him look sexy and tempting.
She had no business thinking about Griff and sex. “Coffee smells great,” she said softly.
He turned to her with a small smile, then gestured to the mug. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Just black,” she said. “I need something strong this morning.”
“Me, too.” He poured a second mug, then walked over to join her. He offered her a cup, and she took it, warming her hands with the hot mug.
“Liam is going to stop by in a few minutes. He has information on Bouldercrest.”
Her pulse jumped. “Any word on Mitzi?”
“Not yet. I texted Jacob, and he said they’re still combing the town and woods.”
Ginny sipped her coffee. Every hour that passed dimmed the chances they’d find Mitzi alive.
“I’d better freshen up then.” Suddenly self-conscious wearing the sweats Griff had given her to sleep in, she stood and carried her coffee with her to the guest bathroom. She closed the door, then studied herself in the mirror.
Hair tousled, eyes a little foggy from sleep, pale skin. What did Griff see when he looked at her?
A woman in trouble. One he was helping. That’s all.
She splashed water on her face, then finger combed the tangles from her hair. Her color was starting to fade, her auburn roots showing through. Time for another dye job.
She needed another shower, too, but that could wait. Getting naked in Griff’s bathroom with him and his brother nearby seemed too intimate. After they talked, she’d go to the inn, shower and change clothes. She needed a little distance between her and the handsome firefighter who made her suddenly want things she could never have.
She quickly dressed in the clothes she’d worn the day before, smoothed out the wrinkles on her shirt, then sipped her coffee as she returned to the den. Griff set a plate of cinnamon rolls on the coffee table.
“You made these?” she asked, impressed.
He chuckled. “They’re from a can.”
She laughed, which sounded foreign to her own ears.
The doorbell rang interrupting the moment, and he hurried to answer it while she refilled her coffee. His brother Liam appeared, solemn faced as he entered. Griff offered him coffee, and the men filled mugs then joined her in the den.
Liam spoke to her, then set a file on the table.
“Any word on Mitzi?” Ginny asked.
“Jacob thinks they found a cabin where Bouldercrest might have been staying, but he’s gone. No sign of Mitzi at the moment, but Griff called in the SAR’s dogs to track the scent.”
Griff retrieved the baggie holding the river rock and Mitzi’s hair and handed it to his brother. “This came last night. Somehow he found out Ginny was here.”
Liam cursed beneath his breath, then reached for the file. “Let me tell you what I learned about Bouldercrest.”
Ginny tightened her fingers around the mug as he opened the folder. “It took some digging, but I think this is the man you called Robert.” He showed her a photograph, and Ginny confirmed that the image belonged to Robert.
“His real name is Ansel Holmes,” Liam said. “His parents were Louise and Jimmy.” Liam laid out a photograph of the remains of a burned house and then a picture of a small auburn-haired woman. “This is the mother. When Ansel was five years old, she died.”
Ginny pressed her fingers to her mouth to stifle a gasp. His mother’s hair was auburn...
“What happened?” Griff asked.
“Apparently the couple had marital issues,” Liam filled in. “Neighbors reported domestic violence and police visited the house twice. According to a neighbor, the mother planned to leave her husband and take her son with her.”
“But the father wouldn’t let that happen,” Ginny murmured.
“Right,” Liam said. “Neighbor overheard Holmes tell his wife she’d never leave, and she certainly wouldn’t take his son.”
Ginny set her coffee on the table and twisted her hand in her lap. The conversation sounded too familiar.
“Then what happened?” Griff prodded.
“One night about a week after that incident, neighbors reported a fire at the house. When police arrived, they found the mother’s body inside.”
“Let me guess,” Ginny said. “She was strangled?”
Griff cleared his throat. “And police speculated the fire was set to cover evidence?”
“Right again. But it gets even more disturbing,” Liam said. “Police believe the son witnessed the murder.”
A tense second passed. “Did they arrest the father?” Griff asked.
Liam shook his head. “He disappeared with the boy. That’s when they became the Bouldercrest family.”
“He learned to kill from his father,” Ginny said under her breath. “And when I tried to leave him, it triggered the memory of his mother trying to leave.” Because she had auburn hair.
And now in his mind, he was killing his mother over and over and over...
Chapter Nineteen
Ginny fought the urge to feel sorry for Robert. Witnessing his mother’s abuse and murder had obviously traumatized him.
Yet not all kids from abused homes grew up to be killers.
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“A profiler would say that he chose his victims as surrogates for the mother who he perceived abandoned him,” Liam said. “It doesn’t excuse his crimes, but understanding his thought processes can be helpful in finding him and eliciting a confession from him when we do.”
“He doesn’t think he did anything wrong,” Ginny said matter-of-factly. “He functions on learned behavior and values. His father probably pounded it into his head that the man was head of the household, that the woman was subservient and supposed to obey.”
“Archaic,” Griff muttered.
His comment warmed Ginny’s heart. Yet she was piecing together the dark corners of Robert’s mental processes. “In his mind, he justifies his actions by how he was raised. He thinks he was good to me, to the other women, and that we were ungrateful for all he did for us.”
“He’s psychotic,” Griff muttered.
“Narcissistic personality disorder,” Liam said. “Combined with obsessive-compulsive disorder and the abuse. His father may have forced him to watch when he beat his mother, said he was teaching her a lesson and teaching him to be a good son.”
“She was supposed to be the perfect wife,” Ginny murmured. “I heard that more than once. Only I didn’t measure up.”
Griff squeezed her arm. “You do realize that it had nothing to do with you. That you weren’t inadequate, Ginny. That none of this is your fault.”
Her counselor had drilled the same sentiment over and over into her head. “I do. But when it’s beaten into your skull, it’s difficult not to feel that you did something wrong.”
“Well, you didn’t,” Griff said. “Look at his past. His thinking is totally screwed up.”
“Griff is right,” Liam agreed. “With this type of disorder, nothing a woman or anyone else does can measure up to his twisted and unrealistic standards and beliefs.”
“When someone really cares about you, they focus on the positive,” Griff pointed out. “And on pleasing you. Not on what you can do for them or how they make you look.”
