Chapter 15
3:45 pm that afternoon
“Okay,we’ve got two undercover officers wearing UT toboggins, patrolling the area,” Grant Miller told them via their phones as Samuel Trent, their security guard, drove them to The Main Place. “But I still think this is a bad idea. How’s your knee?”
“An hour with my physical therapist, an hour in the whirlpool, ice, and some good over-the-counter pain killers and I am a man reborn,” Griff declared. “Not ready for a marathon, but good for this.”
“So why do you want to play it like this?” Miller argued. “You gave us a copy of the tape from Sapphire’s you made. That’s enough to bring him in for questioning.”
“If Clark wants to do a meeting today, then something’s up,” Griff said. “If we can get him to admit the girls are underage, then you can arrest him today. If he’s stupid enough to keep working against Big Daddy, he’s gonna be glad he’s in police custody.”
“Is he really stupid enough to do that or just greedy?” Beneath the same silky jacket and dress that she’d worn to Sapphire’s, Elaine’s heart battered against her ribs, making it hard to breathe evenly. They were getting close to finding Chelsea and the others. So close. Please Lord, after all this time, let us find her and bring her home.
“I’ll take one or both if it helps us find those girls,” Griff said grimly. “Elaine’s wearing her locket with the recording device, and I have one in my watch, so we’re going to get the bastard dead to rights. Patrick is already down there. Again, code word to move in is, ‘Go Vols!’”
“Got that,” Miller acknowledged. “I’m just glad the Vols have an away game today otherwise The Main Place would be more crowded. Ready?”
Griff looked at Elaine. “Ready, Miss Hottie?”
“You call me that again and I’m going to stab your other knee with my hat pin.” Elaine patted her black fascinator. “It’s hidden pretty well, don’t you think?”
“Never know it was there,” Griff agreed. “Let’s go get that creep. Signing off, Miller.”
Samuel stopped the car on Summit Hill near the old TVA towers overlooking The Main Place. It made it a bit of a stroll to their rendezvous spot, but it would give them time to compose themselves before meeting with Clark.
“We’ll text you when we’re ready, Samuel,” Griff said as they got out of the car. “We shouldn’t be long.”
“I’ll park in that garage around the corner,” Samuel told them. “I don’t like the idea of being too far away if you should need me.”
“We’ll call at need,” Elaine told him, and the man gave her a quick salute.
The afternoon had turned cool but with a kiss of warmth still in the air. Heady, mouth-watering aromas from nearby food trucks wafted around them and in the distance, the great Smoky Mountains blazed in autumnal shades of russet and gold. To all appearances, it was a typically beautiful November day in East Tennessee, and they were a strolling couple without a care in the world.
When just ahead was a man who might hold the answer to ending Elaine’s four-year search, and she tried to focus on the task at hand.
She put her hand on Griff’s upper arm and wished she’d practice walking down a flight of stairs in the stilettos before they left the safehouse. Through the soft fabric of his jacket, she felt a coiled strength in his upper arm and realized how very safe she felt with this man. “Are you packing?” she asked.
“Yes ma’am. Smith and Wesson, and I do have a permit to carry,” he said as they approached the steps leading down to The Main Place. “Big enough to make a difference if needed but small enough not to be noticeable under the vest and jacket.”
She stopped and looked at him. In the heels, they were almost equal height. “How’s your knee?”
“It’s fine, Elaine,” he said. “Marines bounce back quickly. And we can go dancing later if you don’t believe me.”
“You dance? Really?”
“Ms. Prescott,” he drawled, “this Southern boy can out fox-trot and out-lindy any man you know. And don’t get me started on my Charleston.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she chuckled. “But let’s still take it slowly.”
They continued their descent to the large square that was The Main Place. In front of the boutiques and restaurants, booths lined the sidewalks, their vendors doing a brisk business. As they approached the Burn Memorial, Clark spotted them and half-rose from his place at the picnic style table. Bile rose in Elaine’s throat at his open-mouthed study of her, filling her with revulsion.
“If he touches you, I’m going to kill him,” Griff murmured.
“You can have what’s left when I finish with him,” she answered, and forced herself to give Clark a saucy smile.
They sat and Elaine turned to the side and slowly crossed her lacy stockinged legs, despising Clark’s continuing lascivious stare. But if it got him to talk, tell her where Chelsea and the others were, so be it. She would need a long, hot shower to scrub away the sensation of something slimy crawling over her skin. Maybe Griff could join her. Heat scalded her cheek, and she shook her head at his sidelong questioning glance.
“Nice hat,” Clark said, resuming his place. Around them, people mingled, throwing coins into the wishing well or buying sweets from a fund-raiser’s table. A man in sunglasses and a yellow jacket marked STAFF on the back swept leaves onto a nearby mound of grass.
“Thanks,” she said. “Just bought it.”
“You said you wanted to talk business,” Griff cut in. “So. Let’s talk. Tell us about The Honeys.”
“I’m thinking, since your friends want them so badly, you might pony up some more money,” Clark stated without preamble. “I’ll need to find some replacements for the other parties and that would cost, you know?”
“How much money are we talking?” Griff studied his nails.
“What can you offer?” Clark demanded. “I’m taking a huge risk even meeting with you if Collins finds out. Abernathy Enterprises has deep pockets, so I know you can afford it.”
“Collins?” Griff repeated. “Obidiah Collins? You mean Big Daddy?”
“Yeah, he’s one of Sapphire’s new owners and investors, and one mean dude.” Clark took a quick glance over his shoulder. “The kind you don’t fuck with. Didn’t you see him when you left the other day? Big muscley guy, built like a brick shithouse. He’s my new boss and he sure don’t need to know about our little agreement.”
“So, you’re double crossing your boss?” Griff asked. “Guess there’s only one thing a man can say–”
The now too familiar crack of a gun split the air as the man in the yellow jacket threw aside his broom, took a pistol from his pocket and fired in their direction. A screaming Clark fell onto the pavement.
“Down!” Griff shouted, shoving Elaine off the bench, and taking out his weapon. Around them, panicked people ran in all directions as the undercover officers drew their weapons and crouching low, moved forward.
The shooter wheeled, fired twice and both undercovers went down. He tossed his weapon aside and took off. Griff bolted after him as screaming onlookers threw themselves to the ground or crawled under tables. Griff’s breathing was coming hard and fast, his knee burning with every step. He pushed harder, gaining ground until he could almost hear his quarry’s own breathing. Another few steps, and he could grab–
But in a burst of speed, the man shot forward, rounded a corner, and dove through the open door of an idling car, waiting by the library. It screeched off, leaving the scent of oil and burning rubber and one very angry Griff.
“Damnation!” he roared, putting his gun away. “By all hell’s devils!”
“Holy Mother,” Miller gasped, joining him. “Did you get a good look at him?”
“White guy.” Griff sucked in a lungful of air. “Medium build, shorter than us, but no good look at his face because of the freakin’ sunglasses. What about your guys?”
“Wearing the newest body armor,” Miller replied, wiping his forehead with his arm. “They said they were alright, but EMS had just arrived, so I came after you. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“These shoes were not designed for running,” Griff complained as they hurried back to the square where it looked as if half of the city’s police force was there, with people giving statements from under store awnings, benches, or restaurant tables. No doubt the bars would be doing brisk business later.
EMS was there too, loading a moaning Clark into the vehicle. A female EMS worker was talking to Elaine, who gave him a thumb’s up. He nodded in return and followed Miller to talk to the undercovers. Two EMS technicians were going over them, but while pale, the men were sitting up with no visible signs of injury. “Are you guys alright?” Griff asked.
“Yeah,” said one. “First time we’ve used the new body armor. Those bullets kicked like my grandpappy’s mule, but we’re still here. Bruised, but still here.”
“The vests were a gift from your boss at Brotherhood Protectors,” said the other. “In return for the help we gave them earlier this year. Tell him thanks.”
“Our pleasure,” Griff told them. “I’ll let him know.”
He headed back to Elaine. She was seated on the bench, holding what looked to be a cup of coffee and talking to the EMS worker. An aproned woman stood nearby holding another cup.
“You really need to let me put your arm in a sling, Ms. Prescott,” the EMS worker advised. “That was a nasty fall you took.”
“I’ll be fine,” Elaine said. But her lips were pressed together, and her features were tight with what he guessed was a lot of pain. She looked at him and the glitter in her eyes suggested she was not the happiest woman on the planet. And not because-with his help-she’d fallen off the bench. He gave his attention to the EMS technician and asked, “Is she injured?”
“Her left arm is gonna be hurting tomorrow from where she hit the ground,” the woman said. “Probably some bruising, so she should try to keep it still.”
Elaine stared at Griff again. “That will be two of us injured,” she said grimly. “Though some of us had the sense to stay where we were.”
“I’ll take care of her,” he promised, and the woman picked up her kit and went to join her colleagues.
“Here’s another cup of coffee, Ms. Prescott,” the woman said. “It’s on the house.”
“Thank you,” Elaine told her, and she too moved away.
“Do you know her?” Unease shuttled down Griff’s spine as his gaze searched the area. Too many people were still here, anyone of them with a weapon and they were right here in the open.
And accepting Clark’s call to meet here had made Elaine an open, easy target. Damn, damn, damn. Miller was right. What the hell had he been thinking?
“She heard the EMS worker ask me if I knew my name and where I was to see if I was oriented,” he heard Elaine clip off her words, pulling him back to the moment. “I guess she thought I needed coffee. What happened to the shooter?”
“Got away,” Griff fumed. “After that PT session, I should have caught the creep.”
“Why shoot Clark?” Elaine asked, putting the untasted coffee on the table. “And who would know he was going to be here?”
“Big Daddy,” Griff said heavily. “He figured out what Clark was doing and had him followed. What do you want to bet he’s got Clark’s office bugged? Maybe his phone too.”
You could have gotten Elaine killed. Damn, damn, damn.
“If he does, then it’s only a matter of time before he figures out the two of you are more than entrepreneurs in the adult entertainment industry.” Patrick joined them. “Do you think Clark was his target or you?”
“I don’t know,” Griff admitted. “Does Miller want our statements?’
“He said he’d join us at the safehouse later,” Patrick said.
“Then let’s get out of here,” Griff said, guilt beginning to eat up his insides. “Staying here makes us sitting targets.”
And from the set of Elaine Prescott’s mouth, Griff had no doubt he was about to become one.