Chapter 9 Griffin Colson
~ Griffin Colson ~
A GUN IS DISASSEMBLED on the cleaning mat in front of me.
My coffee is already cold by the time she comes padding down the hallway, rubbing her eyes.
All thoughts I had on my plans for the day vanish.
It doesn’t look like she’s hurting as much this morning.
Other than a slight stiffness, she seems fine.
Turning my attention to my weapon, I clear my throat. “Sleep okay?”
“Your bed is really soft,” she mumbles sleepily.
The reminder that her body was between my sheets last night has me shifting in my chair. She walks over to her bags by the door.
“Hungry?” I clean out the barrel again, forgetting I am reassembling it.
“I’m alright.” She bends over to rummage through her suitcase.
The bruises on her upper and lower arms are visible. The bandage on her back held up well through the night. But that’s not where my eyes are. Her flowy top rides up and there’s nothing but soft cotton over her round ass. An ass that is turned directly at me.
“Christ,” I mutter, dropping the barrel on the table with a clatter. “Gonna go check the perimeter.” I’m pissed at myself because I’m split between protecting her and wanting her in ways that complicate the hell out of this situation.
I yank open the front door and walk out into the cool morning air, hoping it will clear my head and calm.
.. other things. I pace the length of the clearing, forcing my mind to focus on the mission.
The threat of Sokolov, the possibility of his men tracking her here, a way to take down the whole operation without getting either of us killed.
But no matter how hard I try, it strays right back to supple curves and injured wings.
I stare into the forest, bracing myself against a tree, before closing my eyes.
I concentrate on breathing, exhaling through the tension in my body.
Focus, Griffin. Focus on the job, not on her.
I’m so lost in thought that I almost don’t hear the crunch of gravel.
I draw my pistol, pressing it flat against my thigh as I melt into the shadows.
My breathing slows, every sense is razor-focused on that sound.
Another crunch, closer this time. Then a flicker of movement.
I don’t hesitate. I fire a single shot into the ground inches from the intruder’s boot.
“The next one goes between your eyes,” I growl. “Show yourself.”
“For fuck’s sake, Griffin. Put the gun down before you give me a goddamn heart attack!
” Jax steps into view, his cocky smirk in place despite the new groove in his boot tread.
His hands are raised in front of him. “You always greet visitors with bullets?” He eyes the barrel pointed at him. “Cause that’s pretty rude, man.”
I lower my pistol with a muttered curse. “What the hell are you doin’ here, Jax? You were supposed to wait for me to call.”
“Yeah, well.” He rolls his eyes and walks closer. “When you’re radio silent almost eighteen hours after telling me you found Sokolov, I start assuming shit went south.” He nods toward the cabin. “She in there?”
I holster my gun and cross my arms over my chest, glancing toward the front porch.
“Damn. So it did go south.” He whistles, his grin widening. “Just not in the way I thought.”
“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He raises an eyebrow, looking from me to the cabin. “That she’s pretty,” he says like he’s being helpful. Which, of course, means he’s provoking me and getting a fucking kick out of it. “You playing personal bodyguard? That shit’s never happened before. So there’s only one reason.”
The front door swings open. Seriph runs out onto the porch in the process of yanking a T-shirt over her head. She’s barefoot and wearing skin-tight flared blue jeans.
Her eyes light on me and she relaxes, pulling her shirt the rest of the way down. “Oh my gods, are you okay?”
Something hot and possessive flares in my chest at the knowledge that she ran out of here like that, for me.
“Well, that answers that question,” he quips.
Her eyes snap to him. And that adorable crease appears on her brow.
“Shut it,” I growl at him before turning to her. “I’m fine. It’s alright. This fucker forgot he should call first before trespassin’ on private property.” I poke a thumb towards Jax.
He puts a hand to his chest and feigns hurt, but the grin on his face tells another story. “Rude, and after I drove all night with intel that’ll make Sokolov wish he’d never left Myshkin.”
He tosses a thumb drive at me, I catch it and turn my attention to Seriph.
“Go back inside,” I demand harsher than I mean to, then softer. “It’s cold out here.”
Jax snorts, “Smooth.”
I take a swing at him and he sidesteps with a laugh, holding his hands up again in mock surrender. Meanwhile, she’s standing in the doorway trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
“Intel better be worth it,” I grumble, before rubbing my temple.
“Oh, it is.” He shifts his weight, a manila folder tucked under one arm. “Bank account numbers, some offshore accounts, safe house locations. Even found out who Sokolov’s got on payroll inside the local PD.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath from the porch.
“Get inside.” I wave my hand at the cabin. She doesn’t need to worry about this with everything else she’s carrying on her shoulders right now.
“It’s not like you have to hide shit from me. I’m already a dead woman walking,” she replies stubbornly, crossing her arms.
Her hip juts to the side and I have to fight to focus on the conversation. Then I remember what made her come out here in the first place and my temper flares.
“So that gives you the right to go runnin’ after a gunshot?” I snap in warning but I’m silently pleading with her.
Jax looks from me to her like we’re in some kind of tennis match. The smirk on his face grows wider at whatever he ‘thinks’ he’s seeing.
“I thought you could be hurt!” she tosses back.
That possessive feeling heats my chest again and I have to push it away.
“Was I supposed to leave you to bleed out?” Her hands are on her hips.
“Yeah,” I growl again, taking a step in the direction of the cabin.
I can’t tell if I want to drag her inside or lay Jax out to relieve some of this frustration.
“That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.
” My voice drops to a register only she seems to be able to pull out of me.
“Because if I am hurt? First thing Sokolov’s men are gonna do is put a bullet in you for runnin’ toward them like a goddamned idiot. ”
Jax whistles from behind me. “Damn, someone woke up on the stabby side of the bed this morning.”
There’s an intensity that makes the air feel charged.
My jaw works and I bite back ten different things I want to say.
I grit out, “You don’t run toward gunfire, Seriphina.
” Her name rolls off my tongue with something that curls low in my gut and refuses to let go.
“Not for me. Not for anyone.” I don’t add that if she got hurt because of me, it would wreck me in ways that bullets never could.
It’s simmering under the surface like an ember waiting to ignite.
Jax clears his throat. “Uh, I’m just gonna...” He gestures behind him before backing away slowly.
Before he can take another step, Seriph throws up her hands. “Ugh, whatever!” Turning on her heel, she stomps inside and slams the door.
I sigh and rub my hand over my face. I think I could count on one hand how many times I’ve done that in my life before meeting her.
This woman infuriates me in ways I didn’t know were possible.
I stare at the cabin for a long hard moment.
I know I have no right to tell her what to do.
But, goddamn it, the mere thought of her running into danger for me sets my skin on fire and has my heart beating like a fucking jackhammer.
I have to stop myself from storming in there after her, throwing her against the wall and telling her how fucking reckless she is.
All while having her close enough to feel every word as it vibrates from my chest. Instead, I turn around to face Jax, giving him a glare that says ‘don’t fucking start’ and I yank the file folder out of his hand.
“Talk,” I grumble, while flipping through the contents of the folder. “What else you got?”
He wisely keeps his remarks to himself and gets down to business.
“You told me to look into the three men that went into her store the other night. Well, I found them. Names, addresses, how far up the fucking totem pole to Sokolov. Everything you need to know to do whatever it is you’re planning. You gonna tell me what happened?”
“No.” I stop on the photos. Two of the faces I recognize from her store last night.
One I remember tailing to a rundown house on the edge of town.
Viktor Andreev, Stepan Tarasov, and Yuri Popov, all three born in the states with familial ties to Russian mafia.
Low-level guys trying to make a name for themselves through Sokolov.
Too bad for them, they aren’t going to live long enough to climb that ladder.
I study their faces before turning a few more pages.
Jax continues rattling off information he dug up.
I go completely still when I reach a document with Seriphina Joseph written across the top.
I read quickly, scanning over her location of birth, social security number, birthday, her parents names, and where she went to high school.
Fuck, he was thorough. He’s even got the names of the pets she had as a kid on here.
Why am I not surprised she’d have a cat named Lucifer?
Never married, engaged once but he cheated on her before they made it to the altar.
Hospital records indicate she was in an abusive relationship at one point.
After a history like this, I’m surprised she trusts me at all.
A little further down the page, I tense.
Both parents were killed in a car accident five years ago; she sank the entire insurance payout into Moonglow.
It’s not very profitable so the money is gone.
Her attachment to that store goes way deeper than making a living.
It’s all she has left of her family. No other living relatives, a couple of close friends.
But that’s it. Shit. I have to get her home.
My head snaps up. “Hold up. Say that last part again.”
He arches a brow. “Sokolov’s moving operations tonight. He’s shifting his cash, weapons, girls, everything out of the penthouse. But get this—” He taps the flash drive in my hand. “He’s not using his usual crew. He hired outside muscle for transport. Mercs with no ties to him.”
My eyes narrow. “Why?”
He shrugs. “Dunno yet, but my guess? He smells trouble coming. Doesn’t trust some of his guys.” He glances at the cabin, the tip of his mouth twitching when he looks at me. “Or maybe someone made him real nervous last night when they started breaking noses over a witchy shopkeeper.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Those mercs have names?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “I can get a full background on them in an hour, two tops.” He pats the laptop bag he has slung over his shoulder.
“Do it.” I look toward the cabin. “Keep an eye on her for me.”
He grins. “Hell yeah.” His expression screams kid in a candy store at the prospect of being left alone with Seriph. “Got it, consider me glued to her side.” I glare at him and he gestures placatingly. “Relax, I promise to keep any inappropriate body parts at least a foot away. I mean unless—”
“Jax,” I growl, taking a step closer to him. “They fuckin’ raped her.”
That wipes the grin off his face. For once, in all the time I’ve known him, he’s speechless. The humor fades away and is replaced with something more serious. “Damn,” he murmurs. “That’s why you brought her all the way out here.”
“Among other reasons,” I say, reeling myself in. “She wanted to try and take them on herself. I planned to watch her until I could convince her otherwise. But then they fuckin’ hit her last night and...” My fists clench at the memory.
“She tried to take on the fucking Russian mob alone?” He looks at the cabin with his mouth hanging open, eyes wide.
“That’s... everything is starting to make sense now.
You didn’t ask for info on those guys so you can turn them in.
” He shakes his head. “I’ll watch her. You’ve got nothing to worry about. ” He heads inside.
I walk to the treeline and take out my phone.
William Bishop answers on the second ring. “You better not be calling about fucking Sokolov.”
“I need backup.” I sigh. “He hired mercs.”
On the other end of the line, he groans. “Hell, I knew it. Where are you?”
“Meet me at the Wheelhouse Motel off of I-70. It’s two hours west of the cabin, you know the one.” I pause. “And Bishop? Pack heavy.”
He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, ‘fucking bounty hunters and their fucking death wishes’ before grumbling, “Four hours. Try not to get shot before I get there.” Then he hangs up.
I pocket my phone, sighing and run my fingers through my hair.
I know Bishop will come through. I know Jax will keep her safe.
None of that stops the gnawing in my gut that tells me this is far from over.
Sokolov fucked up when he sent men after her.
And I’m going to make sure the fuckwad regrets it down to his last fucking breath.
I should go in and talk to her, try to explain my behavior earlier.
But I’m shit with words. And every second I spend hesitating, is another second she isn’t safe.
Sokolov won’t wait and after the altercation last night my cover is blown.
I’ll need to be twice as careful. Even if they don’t know who I am, they know there’s someone armed and capable aware they are in town doing shit they shouldn’t.
After one final lap around the perimeter, more for my sanity than actual security measures, I walk inside.
I don’t look in her direction, going straight to the weapons room.
I keep all my gear for my jobs here and Jax has an outpost of sorts set up inside to help me with overwatch.
I pack a duffel with everything I need for the meet up with Bishop.
I stop for a brief moment in the living room.
“Leavin’ for a while.” I meet her gaze before looking away quickly. “Jax stays. Don’t stab him unless he deserves it.” Before I can do something stupid like kiss her goodbye, I walk out the door.