Chapter 7 Griffin Colson #2
I chuckle as I slip my phone back into my pocket and exit the diner.
I shouldn’t be indulging in this, letting myself get distracted with banter and sharp wit.
But damn does she make it hard to focus when she’s playful and teasing like that.
I glance in the direction of Moonglow before heading back to the hotel to eat and shower.
I’m supposed to keep my mind on the job.
I need to focus on finding all the weaknesses in Sokolov’s operation.
I’m a professional. I don’t do serious relationships or have time for emotional entanglements.
I always keep myself out of deep water, period.
But this? This feels like I’m sinking deeper and deeper into a bottomless sea.
And I’m happy to drown. Here I am, smiling like a lovesick fool because some witchy shop owner decided to flirt with me over text.
I clench my jaw and force my mind back on track, back to the task at hand.
I spend the rest of the day in the shadows, tailing Sokolov’s men and making note of locations they visit.
I pay attention to who comes and goes from the Miller Hotel.
Recon and stakeouts, this is what I `know.
This is what I’m used to. I fall back into a familiar routine.
That doesn’t mean she’s not lurking in the back of my mind.
That new game of ‘what if?’ I’ve found myself playing since I met her nags at me.
What if she couldn’t get to her phone in time?
What if she decided to deal with it on her own?
What if she doesn’t trust me? I push it out of my mind and focus on watching the two men I followed enter an old house on the edge of town.
Right as they go inside, my phone buzzes.
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Wildflower: They’re here
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My heart slams in my chest. I abandon my current position mid-surveillance and peel away from the curb.
I text her back and before I hit send, I’m already racing down the street.
No hesitation. No second guessing. I don’t care if this whole operation goes up in flames.
She’s in danger and nothing else matters.
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Me: On my way
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I park down the road and walk up, peering through the window.
My phone vibrates and I answer it. As soon as I hear the voices on the other end, I mute.
She managed to call me. I hold the phone to my ear.
She stands behind the counter, terrified.
She presses her arms into her sides to hide the way her hands are shaking, shrinking back from the two men across from her.
One is obviously the muscle, bigger and bulkier than the slimeball next to him.
Based on the fear in her eyes this is the guy.
I take in his features, committing them to memory.
It takes every ounce of self control I have not to rush in there and make him pay for hurting her.
For now, I wait. I let her try it her way.
I know she will never get the kind of information she’s after or be able to count on local law enforcement to do anything with what she does manage to scrape up. But I have to earn her trust somehow.
“You think this is a fucking game?” the shithead snaps. “We told you how this is gonna work.”
A muffled thump echoes from the speaker and a duffel bag lands in front of her. He grabs her wrist, yanking her forward. My body goes solid and the growl that rumbles in my throat isn’t a sound I’ve heard myself make before. She flinches and I have to stop myself from moving.
Her voice is strained. “I can’t move that much that fast—”
“You think we care about that? We own you now, sweetheart,” he says, cutting her off. “Maybe you need another lesson.”
I see fucking red. Every nerve ending in my body is on fire with the need to go in there and make him remove his filthy hand from her.
The only thing stopping me is the thought of blowing my cover.
And the knowledge that she wants to handle things.
But the idea of letting her go through anything like what happened to her yesterday makes my gut churn.
And I can’t do a damn thing about it. At least not yet.
“No, no, please. I don’t bring in enough money to move that much.” Her voice shakes. “I need more—”
A sharp smack cuts through the line the same time her head whips to the side.
“You don’t get to negotiate!”
My vision tunnels. Like a caged predator snapping its chains, I’m moving without thinking.
The bell above the door rings violently as I slam inside.
Their heads whip around at the sound. He’s gripping her wrist and the other guy goes for his piece.
I move. My fist smashes into his nose before he clears his holster.
He crumples to the floor with a choked gargle.
The fucker who laid his hands on her, again, gets my pistol jammed up under his chin before he can do so much as twitch.
“Touch her again,” I snarl, my voice like molten rage, “and I start removin’ body parts.”
The air in the shop crackles with barely contained violence. He goes deathly still. His eyes are wide, dropping her wrist like it burned him.
“Duffel bag,” I order. I flick my gaze to her long enough to make sure she’s alright. “Take it.”
He hesitates. I cock the hammer back with a click. He swallows hard and reaches for it, shaking as he grabs the straps.
“Now walk out that door. And if either of you so much as look at this street again, I won’t be so polite.”
He drags his bleeding buddy upright and they both stagger to the door like whipped dogs. The bell jingles again. It’s only when their footsteps fully fade that I lower my weapon and turn to her. I scan her for injuries, lingering on her face where he hit her.
“You alright?” I tuck my gun back in its holster and step closer, gently prying her hand from her cheek.
“What have you done?” She’s not looking at me but at the door.
“What I did...” My fingers graze over her soft skin where it’s already starting to bruise. “Was keep those pricks from hurtin’ you more. What did they do?”
“He only hit me.” Her eyes narrow. “But you just ruined the whole plan. I’m never going to be free of them now. And he’s going to do so much worse when he comes back...” Moisture gathers in her eyes. “They’re going to kill us both,” she whispers.
I catch a tear with my thumb before it can fall.
The mark on her cheekbone makes something dark and vicious coil in my chest. But I force it down.
She doesn’t need more of my anger right now.
I cup her face in my hands, brushing lightly over her skin.
I relish the feel of her and something hot flows through me. My eyes lock on hers.
“They won’t hurt you again.” There’s a raw intensity to my voice that surprises me.
“You have my word. I will protect you.” I resist the urge to pull her into my chest, knowing she won’t want that kind of contact from me.
“Those bastards hurt you anywhere else?” I ask, worried they did more to her before I got here.
“No,” she replies, rubbing her wrist. She tilts her head to the side and shifts her weight. “Why are you doing this?”
I reach out before I can help myself and gently grasp her arm. Turning her palm over, I check for more bruises. Hesitating, I let go and rest my hands on her shoulders. “Does it really matter why?”
“I don’t understand why you’re here. I get helping when you found me last night. But why stay? Why come back?”
“Because,” I exhale slowly, gathering the nerve to continue.
“I couldn’t leave.” I don’t know what to say.
I can’t tell her that the idea of leaving her alone eats a hole through my insides.
“Some people make you walk through storms whether you want to or not. And you keep on walkin’.
But some? Some come along and make you want to stand in the rain. ”
I’m frustrated with myself for saying too much or maybe not enough. But there it is and I can’t take it back. “Point is,” I mutter, taking a step back and clearing my throat. “I’m here until this is done.” The words hang in the air like a promise. I shove my hands in my pockets.
“What do we do now?” She tosses her hands up. “Because the only idea I had, you blew all to hell.”
“Seriph,” I coax, “if you stay here tonight, they’re gonna come back with reinforcements. And I can’t protect this place from all of them at once.” I pause, my voice softens. “But I can protect you. So pack a damn bag. Because logic stopped workin’.”
Thirty minutes later, she’s coming down the stairs with an oversized suitcase and a backpack.
Her face is scrunched up and she winces a couple times.
Cursing myself for not helping, I take them from her.
Surprisingly, she lets me. She gets a marker and a piece of paper.
Fighting tears, she writes ‘Closed Until Further Notice’ and tapes it to the glass.
I feel my chest constrict. I know it will cost her to walk out that door not knowing when she can return.
But I’ve already made the decision to keep her safe.
And if that means yanking her out of her comfort zone, then I’ll do it.
I refuse to let her get hurt again. I can’t get the memory of her huddled on her shower floor out of my head.
I’ll be damned if this doesn’t hurt though.
She turns, her eyes wide and red rimmed.
I have to stop myself from dropping her bags to pull her to me.
I want to hold her until that defeated look disappears and she feels whole again. Instead, I gesture to the door.
“You ready?” I ask softly.
She nods and I don’t push, shouldering her bag like it belongs there.
She shuts off the lights and follows me out, locking up behind us.
I steer her to my jeep with a hand on the small of her back.
That simple point of contact is more for me than it is for her.
The streets are quiet. I scan the area, taking in every shadow, looking for threats.
I keep myself between her and the dark corners of the buildings.
Opening the passenger door, I wait for her to climb in.
Then I toss her bags in the backseat before rounding to the driver’s side.
The engine rumbles to life and I pull away from the curb.
“We will figure this out.”
“I need a pharmacy,” she says abruptly, her tone empty.
“You hurt worse than you’re lettin’ on?” That was the last thing I expected her to say.
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. If those cunts did more than slap her, leaving her bruised or bleeding somewhere I can’t see—I won’t be able to stop myself from turning around and hunting them down right fucking now.
“It-it’s because of last night. I need...” She pulls at one of her fingernails. “I need to buy a morning after pill.”
“Understood.”
Lights slide by outside the windshield. I’m angry. So fucking angry. But not at her. I’m angry at them; at Sokolov, at his men, at every twisted prick that’s ever laid a finger on her, at every system that’s failed to protect her. And mostly, at myself for showing up too damn late.
A short while later, I signal and pull into a 24-hour pharmacy parking lot.
I let the jeep idle. The idea that they left her with anything more than scrapes and bruises makes me want to tear a hole in reality so I can kill them twice.
But I ignore the bubbling fury inside my chest and focus on what she needs.
“Wait here.” It’s a request not an order. Before she can protest, I’m out the door and striding toward the entrance.
I return minutes later with a paper bag in one hand and two bottles of water in the other.
I pass them to her, sliding back behind the wheel.
I give her space while trying to make it clear that I’m not going anywhere.
She opens the box and takes the pill. A look of wary resolve on her face.
She stares out the window as I drive us onto the highway.
“I’ll pay you back,” she whispers.
“The hell you will,” I scoff. Silence passes between us, before I glance over at her again. “You good?”
“I’ll need a clinic in a few days, maybe a week. You know, for testing...” She's speaking so quietly I can barely hear her.
It’s like she’s going through the motions, there’s no feeling in her words. Leaving her store behind is weighing on her in a way someone like me will never understand. I’ve never put down roots so hard that I worried when they were severed. I consciously relax my hands on the steering wheel.
“I’ll take you.” My voice is unwavering. “Just tell me when.”
There’s no hesitation, no judgment. If she needs this, then I will be there.
The weight of what she’s saying isn’t lost on me.
And it’s another tally against the men who hurt her.
The silence stretches between us like an insurmountable force.
And I’ll be damned if I know the right thing to say to overcome it.