Page 9

How had this happened so fast?

Meg had known time was short after that reporter managed a shot of her. But that had only been last night. Even as it was picked up on the AP, Lorenzo’s people couldn’t have seen it and gotten here this fast. It wasn’t possible. There had to be another explanation.

Damn it.She’d wanted to lead the bastards away from here, not bring them in like long-lost cousins.

“Is it true?”

The sound of Griff’s voice snapped Meg from her musings. “Is what true?” She shook herself and realized she was still holding the weapon at the ready. She lifted the top of the console and placed it inside. She had to shake this haze of disbelief. She had to be better prepared. On her toes. His life—she looked at him—depended on her.

Griff glanced at the console, then at her. “Is your name really Angela Hamilton?”

Anger stoked in her belly. “Did she tell you that?”

Lizbeth Franks, aka Darlene, whatever she’d called herself today, was one of Lorenzo’s top guns. Being female and on the petite side worked to her benefit. Opponents always underestimated her physical ability and her intellectual ruthlessness. The woman was utterly heartless. She would shoot her own mother if it served her purpose.

“You mean the woman you shot?”

So, it was that way, was it? “At least she was still breathing,” Meg allowed, “unlike her friend.”

Griff looked at her again, and this time his gaze lingered long enough for her to wonder if he’d forgotten he was driving.

“You killed that man.”

“We discussed that already,” she pointed out. “If I hadn’t, you would be dead now. Me too, assuming he could catch me.”

She understood that Griff did not fully comprehend any of this. Who would? How many people experienced this kind of situation in their lifetimes? Sure, there were criminals out there who shot each other up on the street. Thugs who robbed places like the Gas and Go all the time. But this was a whole different level. That part he obviously got. This was something only those who lived in the world she had once lived in fully grasped. It was glamorized, badly, in movies and in novels. But this was not a movie or a novel. This was real life, and fearlessness along with finesse would be required to survive.

Griff braked for a traffic light that had turned red. He turned to her. “Who are you?”

Meg considered this for a moment before she answered. Part of her desperately wanted to tell him everything. To make him understand her situation so he wouldn’t look at her that way. But that would put him in more danger than he’d already fallen into. The truth was too dangerous. Just being close to it had already put his life in jeopardy.

Still, she needed to give him something. As much for herself as for him, she didn’t want him to feel about her the way she suspected he did right now. She couldn’t bear the way he looked at her.

“You can call me Elle.” Her father had called her Elle. She’d been named after her grandmother Eleanor.

“So, you’re not Angela Hamilton, aka Angel, a cold-blooded assassin?”

“I recognize that it may seem like I am when you consider what’s happened the past couple of days. But I have never taken a life unless mine or someone else’s was at stake and there was no other option except to intervene with deadly force. If I was a merciless killer, those two men who invaded my shop would be dead. Lizbeth—Darlene—would definitely be done. She doesn’t deserve to keep breathing, but I chose not to make that decision since I had the situation under control without having to end her life.”

Griff pressed her with those golden eyes that made her want to say whatever was necessary to reverse this situation.

“Then why are your fingerprints connected to that name?”

Her jaw dropped. “How do you know that?” She had figured Darlene or her dead friend gave him that name.

A horn blew behind them.

Meg put her hand on the console as she whipped her head around. The driver behind them threw up his hands in question. Meg realized the light had changed back to green, and they’d just been sitting there. Griff realized the same and hit the accelerator.

“Ernie worried there was something else going on after the attack on you by the Joneses, so he ran your prints. The Los Angeles Police Department responded almost immediately.”

Of course they had. Great. No wonder Lorenzo had gotten someone here so quickly. He had eyes and ears in the LAPD. Same with the sheriff’s department in Los Angeles County and numerous others. The man owned the West Coast.

When Lorenzo didn’t hear from Lizbeth in a timely manner, or if he did, assuming Ernie allowed her a phone call, he would send others. He wouldn’t stop until she was dead.

She had to get out of here.

“Where are we going?”

She needed to think. Things were complicated now. There would be no slipping away with no strings, leaving this man and all else behind. Lizbeth would believe that Griff was in this with Meg. She would hunt him down and use him for luring Meg back.

“We need to hide for a bit.” She considered the options. “I need to figure out my next move.”

Silence radiated between them for a mile or so. Meg wished it hadn’t come to this. She wished Griff had never needed to know about her past. If she hadn’t seen the guy at the Gas and Go—but then Jennifer would likely be dead—maybe she would still have her carefully structured quiet life.

But her life was not more important than Jennifer’s. Meg had done the right thing, and she would do it again. Damn it.

“I might know a place.”

Meg waited for him to go on.

“Ernie has a cabin.”

She laughed. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, considering he thinks I’m some sort of hired killer, and this woman who called herself Darlene will spin an even nastier tale—assuming she doesn’t kill him.”

“Ernie won’t do anything if I tell him we need time.”

Meg wondered if he really believed Ernie would go along with the idea. “Ernie is a lawman,” she reminded him. “I’m not so sure he’s going to want to go along with this idea, even for a lifelong best friend.”

Griff sent her a look. “He’s worried about you. About us. He will give you a chance.”

Meg contemplated his statement for a moment before saying more. “Does that mean you’re giving me a chance as well?”

She might be getting soft, but she wasn’t a fool. This could be a ruse to get her captured and him free of her. If she were in his shoes, that was exactly what she would do.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

That was the big question. Why wouldn’t he? Because he was a good person.

No question. She knew this with complete certainty. Ernie was a good person too.

“Okay. We’ll go to Ernie’s cabin and regroup.”

It might be the last decision she ever made, but she was willing to take the risk.

ERNIE’SCABINWAS, as the road leading to it suggested, deep in the woods. Perched on a creek bank and miles away from Piney Woods. Miles away from basically anything actually. As long as Ernie stuck by his word, Meg could live with the situation for long enough to pull together a workable plan.

They’d stopped at a convenience store and grabbed a few things well ahead of arriving in this area, paying cash. A quick call from the store’s landline to Ernie took care of a few loose ends and garnered a bit of an update. But she made sure Griff gave his friend the least amount of information necessary. Not that Meg expected Lorenzo to have access to someone inside the Hamilton County Sheriff’s Department, but she couldn’t be sure of anything. The man had money and power, and he was the epitome of ruthless. He wanted Meg nearly as much as he wanted his next breath. She doubted the scumbag had ever wanted anyone dead as badly as he wanted her that way.

The cabin’s front door opened, and Meg jumped in spite of knowing that it was only Griff.

“I parked the truck behind the cabin.”

So far, Griff hadn’t asked any additional questions and he’d cooperated without hesitation. She imagined that would change as soon as the initial shock and denial had worn off. There was a lot she wanted to tell him, but she still wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do.

And even if it was safe to do so, how did you walk back more than a year and multiple layers of subterfuge? She had lied to him repeatedly. Nothing about the tale she’d spun had been true. Well, except for growing up in Bakersfield on a farm and her love of animals. All of that had been the truth.

“Thanks.” For however long it lasted, she genuinely appreciated his help.

They should eat. That would buy her some time before he thought of more questions and would hopefully calm her jangling nerves. Bologna sandwiches had never been among her favorites, but the selections at the convenience store hadn’t been that great. She could eat a dead rat if it was roasted just right—if the need arose. She’d only had to do that once. She doubted sharing the experience would help her build her case about not being a ruthless assassin.

Since Griff leaned against the counter saying nothing, she opted to take the initiative. She removed the bologna from the fridge, where she’d stored it only moments ago. Next, she grabbed the mayo and mustard and bread. A couple of soft drinks and chips.

He watched as she prepared the plates. The cabin’s kitchen area, which was actually a corner in the main room, was well stocked as far as dishes and utensils, pans and dry and canned goods were concerned. There was electricity and running water, including hot water. So, not so rustic as far as the necessities were concerned. A bathroom with a shower. But only one bed that stood in another corner of the big room.

This should be an interesting night. The way she saw it, her biggest problem would be not allowing her desperation to guide her. Desperation never led to anything good.

Her gaze landed on the man who complicated an already complex situation even more. In more ways than he could fathom.

“We should eat,” she suggested as she pulled out a chair.

He moved away from the counter and took the seat across from her. They ate. No talking. Just eating, drinking and glancing at each other and then away. It was somehow disturbing and yet oddly sensual.

When he’d eaten every morsel on his plate, he pushed it away and stared directly into her eyes. “Who are you?”

She downed the last of her drink. Made a decision. “I can’t tell you all you want to know because that information could be a problem for you later. I don’t want to create more problems for you.”

“I’ve got Lonnie taking care of my animals and Ernie keeping watch for any new arrivals in town,” Griff said.

Ernie had agreed to covertly inform Jodie to close up shop and lay low for a few days.

With that one call she and Griff had done things they hadn’t wanted to do. The difference was that this was her problem, not his. The steps he had taken were out of the goodness of his heart, not necessity.

She owed him for giving her the benefit of the doubt.

“You owe me the truth.”

He’d read her mind. “You’re right.” She stood, stacked their plates and headed to the sink. She washed the plates and the utensils she’d used to make the sandwiches, then dried her hands and turned to face him.

He waited, still seated at the table, watching her every move.

“My name, like I already told you, is Eleanor, Elle. I’m from Bakersfield, California. Both my parents are dead, just like I told you before. I have no siblings. No ex-husbands or serious relationships. All the things I told you about my personal life were true. I grew up on a farm, etcetera.”

“You lied about everything else,” he countered. The distrust and disappointment in his voice and expression was a punch to the gut.

“Only about my career. Everything else was all true.”

“Is your former career the reason these people came after you?”

She nodded. “The man they work for is very powerful. If you believe in heaven and hell, good and evil, then he’s the devil. The one you heard stories about as a kid.”

“What does that mean exactly? The devil?” Griff’s voice warned that she’d lost ground with the analogy.

Okay, back it up.She took a breath. “It means I took something that belonged to him, and he’s spent nearly a year and a half trying to find me so he can have his revenge. Now, because of Ernie running my prints, he knows where I am.”

A scowl claimed his face. “You stole something from him?”

“In a manner of speaking.” She wasn’t prepared to explain. She’d already told him too much.

“You want me to go along with whatever this is, but you won’t tell me the whole truth.”

She braced her hands on the counter on either side of her. “I’ll be out of here by morning. I just need you to give me until then.”

He stood, turned his back on her and walked to the door. “I need some air.”

She hated like hell to say this, but she had to. “Leave the keys to your truck.”

He glared at her for a moment before tossing the key fob on the sofa, then he walked out the door.

That move hadn’t gained her any ground either.

Nothing she could do about that. Maybe he would understand later.

Doubtful. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips there. How the hell was she going to keep him safe from what was coming? If she took off, Lorenzo’s people would just find him and torture him to death in hopes of getting information on her.

Really, how could she possibly save him now without taking him with her?

He had family. A mother. A sister. Friends. A life. He wasn’t going willingly. She was a fool to even consider he might.

But if she left him here...

She knew what would happen. There was no question.

He would die, and his death would be her fault.

GRIFFWALKEDTOthe end of the narrow drive that twisted through the trees along the creek bank. He and Ernie had come here as kids. Had poker nights here once a month to this day. It was quiet, way off the beaten path and very few people knew about it. It was their getaway. Their man cave. Only now it felt like a prison, like hell on earth. Griff wanted to do the right thing. He wanted to help Meg.

But what if trusting her was wrong?

Ernie wasn’t so sure about Griff bringing Meg—or whatever her name was—here, but he’d deferred to Griff’s judgment. So far, no one else had shown up asking for Meg. At least not as far as Ernie knew at this point. The woman, Darlene—Lizbeth, Meg had called her—wasn’t talking. Ernie hadn’t given her a phone call yet. He intended to put it off as long as the law allowed. All because Griff had asked him to trust him.

But what if trusting Meg and, by extension, him was a mistake? What if he got Ernie killed?

His gut twisted hard.

If Griff still had his phone, he’d call and ask Ernie what the chances were that the criminal record he’d pulled up on Meg was somehow faked. She insisted that wasn’t her name and that she wasn’t a hired killer.

Griff had to admit he believed her, but what if his emotions had clouded his judgment? He had feelings for her, feelings not so easily dismissed.

Damn it.

She said she needed until morning and then she would be gone. Could he let her go like that? Pretend she never existed? Go on with his life like he hadn’t met her?

He thought of the way she took care of the animals, of how she took care of the people around her. What he knew about her just didn’t fit with what he’d witnessed the past couple of days. It sure as hell didn’t fit with what Ernie had found.

Griff paused and recounted the facts.

She had dropped that guy—Ted—from a serious distance with a handgun. She was no amateur when it came to firearms. Then there was the way she’d handled herself. Having him secure the woman to that steering wheel. The way she’d taken down the guy in the Gas and Go. Then, she’d taken down the two in her shop without a weapon.

No question her actions could fit with a hired-gun type. On the contrary, she could just as easily fit the description of a well-trained cop. He toyed with the idea for a moment. Made sense. Fit with her caring personality more so than the idea of an assassin.

If she had been a cop, why not just tell him? Why all the lies and the running?

Maybe she’d been a witness to a crime. It was possible that was why she was on the run. But that scenario wouldn’t explain her special skill set. Or why she wasn’t in some sort of witness protection program.

Griff ran a hand through his hair, turned and stared at the cabin. If she had been a cop, why wasn’t she willing to tell him?

He walked slowly back to the cabin. Maybe if he gave her a little more time, she would decide it was safe to tell him more. He recognized that on some level, she didn’t trust him enough to tell him the truth. Or maybe it was like she said—too dangerous to tell him.

He’d thought they were friends. Had hoped they would become more than friends. That kiss they had shared sure seemed to suggest there was more.

Moving with more determination now, he approached the cabin. She had come out onto the porch and settled into one of the rocking chairs. Same ones that had been here for more than three decades.

“I’ve been thinking.” He climbed onto the porch and settled into the other rocking chair. “Where did you learn to shoot the way you do? I mean, there’s good and then there’s really good. You are really good. Most folks on farms learn to shoot rifles. You took Ted out from a hell of a distance with a handgun.”

“Lots of training.” She sighed. “I was the best in my class.”

He’d like to believe he was so charming she hadn’t even realized he’d been questioning her, but he knew better.

“Same class as the self-defense one?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

She wasn’t going to make this easy.

Time to ad-lib. “Ernie says the training for a cop is intense like that. Focus on marksmanship skills and self-defense.”

She said nothing.

“So, this guy—the devil, you called him—he was a bad guy. You were working on an investigation involving him. You took something from him in an effort to bring him down, but something went wrong and you ended up burned.”

She smiled. “That’s a hell of a story, Griff. You might want to pitch it to a movie producer.”

Frustration lit across his senses. “You could at least tell me if I’m getting warm.”

She watched him for a long time before she responded. He had decided she wasn’t going to when she finally spoke. “You’re a good guy, Griff. I truly regret being the reason you’ve been dragged into this. I had a plan. Sadly, it just didn’t work out.”

“Because Ernie ran your prints.” He got it now. “His doing so tipped off someone who informed this super bad guy, and he sent his people after you.”

“Something like that.”

He was getting closer. “If this Darlene character gets a chance to call him, he’ll know he needs to send someone else.”

“Unfortunately. Even without a call, he will be suspicious by tomorrow. He has no patience for lingering. He expects results on the immediate side.”

“Does he want you brought to him, or does he just want you dead?”

“Based on Lizbeth’s appearance, I’m guessing the latter. She isn’t known for her finesse with targets. She’s much better at terminating than transporting.”

Griff had come to that same conclusion as well. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

She leaned forward, pressed her forearms to her knees and clasped her hands. She stared at her hands for a moment before meeting his gaze. “I’m afraid there isn’t anything anyone can do. I’ll either outmaneuver him or I won’t.”

The barrage of emotions that churned inside Griff were impossible to isolate. The anger and frustration and worry and regret coalesced into something resembling dread and fear, but far more potent.

“I want you to know that whatever you’ve done, my opinion of you has not changed.” He fixed his gaze on hers. “I believe in you, Meg—Elle. I will do whatever I can to help you through this.”

She smiled. “You’re a really nice guy, Griff. You deserve a good life and a romantic partner who can give you as much as you give everyone in your path. But there is nothing you can do to help me. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

She’d said those same words before, but he had decided that was one part of her story he wasn’t going to believe.

She wasn’t the only one who could develop a plan.