GRIFFIN

by Paula Cox

  While one of them obviously belonged to the motorcycle parked outside, there were other keys as well. Most likely they belonged to a house or an apartment. She wondered if he lived with a family or lived alone.

  Thoughts like that were not particularly helpful, and she knew it, so she shook her head to banish the terrible thoughts from her mind. What was the point in lingering on that man’s life? He had made his choice, hadn’t he? Would he be thinking the same thoughts about her if he had managed to successfully kill her after all? For some reason Natasha wasn’t convinced.

  “Just keep it together, Morrison,” she whispered. “It’s going to be okay.”

  It didn’t help as much as she wished that it would, but saying something out loud solidified her reality for a little bit. Gripping the keys in her hand, she struggled to her feet with shaking knees and made her way to the door.

  No! She realized suddenly. She was missing something; she could feel it. Natasha wracked her own brain in an attempt to remember what she had forgotten when it hit her.

  My cellphone.

  She bolted back towards the bed, nearly tripping over the body on the floor. Her cellphone lay on the bed where she had left it, and she quickly glanced at the screen in the hopes that Griffin had contacted her in the last few minutes. She had received nothing, and while it wasn’t a particular surprise to her, the lack of contact only served to make her worry grow. Natasha gripped her phone tightly, as though afraid of losing it again, and pondered whether or not to take anything with her when she left.

  None of it mattered, but she grabbed her duffle bag full of clothes on the way out. If anything, it might keep them from finding her, and it always helped to have an extra change of clothes.

  It was easy to find the bike, parked directly outside as though ready for a quick getaway. Natasha smiled in sick relief. It was still going to be used for that purpose; it just had a different rider this time.

  As she mounted the bike, even more relief washed over her, so intense it nearly took her breath away. She could see a light at the end of the tunnel now; more guys weren’t going to burst through the door and murder her, or if they were, at least they wouldn’t be able to find her. Plus, if they did find her, she would be ready for them. That thought gave her enough strength to turn the ignition. The motorcycle roared to life beneath her, and she sped off without a single look back.

  The wind in her hair felt delicious, and she allowed herself a moment or two of joyriding before remembering the task at hand. Once she felt as though she had put enough space between herself and whoever might be after her, she pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store, dismounted the bike, and walked in.

  She could feel the eyes settle on her immediately, and at first, she was annoyed at the handful of shoppers checking her out. Hadn’t any of them seen a woman before? It wasn’t until she made her way to the back of the store where the drinks were located and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass door of the drink case that she realized why so many had stared.

  Natasha looked like a mess, but she shouldn’t have been surprised by that. Her hair was still messy from the struggle with her would-be assassin. A trickle of blood ran down the side of her neck, the product of the assailant slamming her head into the bathroom floor most likely. She was still wearing the bloody vest, and she looked so tired. There was something else though, a danger that touched her eyes in a way that it hadn’t before. She thought it would scare her, this physical affirmation of her new self, but instead she decided that it suited her. She looked alive, and it was electrifying.

  Grabbing a bottle of water, she walked to the front of the store, making sure to make eye contact with as many of the people who were staring at her as possible. Most of them had the grace to look embarrassed, but a few stared back with a mixture of curiosity and arousal. Good, let them look. With those people, she gave a little smile, maybe the ghost of a wink before she paid for the water and left. Never in her life had she felt so sexy.

  Walking back to her stolen motorcycle, she couldn’t help but feel incredibly powerful as she slung one long leg over the bike and slid onto the seat. She cracked open the water and took a gulp. The cool liquid immediately soothed her throat, and once she felt properly hydrated, she took her phone out of her pocket and glanced at the screen like she had done hundreds of times since Griffin left the motel room. Still nothing.

  Should she actually call him? What if he was still in the middle of the raid? Clearly, if he were in the midst of battle, he wouldn’t just pick up. Would that just make her feel worse? Her fingers played over the keys of her cell phone. At least if she called him, he would know that she needed to get in touch with him, and it wasn’t as though she was being annoying. A man had tried to kill her. She was pretty justified in calling him at this moment. If she called him, then he would know to at least call her back. With a deep sigh, she pressed on his name and brought the phone up to her ear as the number dialed.

  She didn’t realize how scared she had been until she heard the phone’s tinny ringing on the other end. Her heart started to pound in a furious rhythm, the edges of her vision seemed to sharpen with the panic.

  The phone continued to ring. She could feel the curious eyes of the people in the store still watching her as she stood there, straddling her bike, praying for an answer.

  “Please pick up,” she whispered into the phone. “Come on, Griffin.”

  The ringing continued, and Natasha’s heart began to sink.

  Chapter 26

  Fuck, that hurt.

  Griffin didn’t move, as he heard the clatter of the Los Diablos as they gathered up what they could and left. There had been a few more gunshots, most likely for any remaining Lost Disciples survivors that Griffin had brought on the raid. However, he knew he shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. Griffin could feel the blood as it poured out of his body, and the only thing he could truly focus on was the beating of his heart. It was everything to him at that moment, and it was getting weaker, but he knew that if he moved while they were still there, they probably would just shoot him again, and this time it would probably stick.

  He could still feel Damon’ gaze on his skull in the minutes after he had pulled the trigger. Griffin had made as much eye contact with the bastard as possible before closing his eyes, hoping that he would make a convincing dead man, at least convincing enough not to warrant that second shot.

  With his eyes closed, he could hear Damon walk over to him. He could feel the closeness of his former leader, could feel the metal of the gun as it pressed against his forehead. It was still hot from the original shot he had taken, and Griffin could almost hear the small sizzle of the heat against his flesh. It took all of his will not to flinch in that moment, and he prayed that Damon didn’t notice.

  So here it was, the end of the line. In spite of everything he had been through, he couldn’t stop thinking about Natasha. It felt as though he had failed her somehow. If he died in this moment, he wouldn’t be able to protect her anymore. Sure, she could handle herself well enough, but she wasn’t as seasoned as the guys he knew, and if Damon was in the pocket of the Los Diablos, who knows how many Disciples were? Those guys weren’t amateurs, Griffin knew that, and Natasha definitely didn’t.

  The moment only lasted for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. It felt so long that Griffin almost couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t sitting there with a Damon’ gun pressed against his head and when the wait for death was completely eternal. Soon he heard Damon give a little sigh and take the gun away from Griffin’s head. It was a struggle not to sigh in relief, but Griffin managed to do it. There was absolutely no way he was going to give this asshole the satisfaction of actually killing him right then and there. If he was going to die, he’d do it on his own damn terms and no one else’s. He didn’t care if he dropped dead the minute after Damon left the room, but he would be damned if he allowed this asshole to watch his last breath.

  “Boss!” G
riffin heard someone call from outside of the building. “You done yet?”

  Griffin could hear Damon’ breathing as he thought, and he wished he had the strength to take a gun and shoot him. Griffin knew that it definitely wasn’t possible; he had been stripped of his weapons when the group had been attacked, and he couldn’t stand, let alone lunge for anything that might be nearby. The futility of that, mixed with the knowledge that most of his men were dead, made everything look so incredibly bleak.

  Focus on your heartbeat, he thought wildly. If you forget that your heart is beating, you’re going to die.

  “Did you finish everything up out there?”

  “I got most of them, but I think we’re missing a guy.”

  “I took care of Griffin in here,” Damon explained, and Griffin felt a rush of annoyance at his smugness.

  “No, not that, boss,” the man said. “Looks like one of them got away.”

  Yes! Griffin thought, excitement rushing through him. It had to be Julian; it definitely had to be. The thought of his friend out there—still alive—gave him some hope. He knew that Julian wasn’t the kind of guy who would have been easily taken out by just a raid. He knew that Julian didn’t like talking about his time in the service, but sometimes he could see it. As long as Julian survived, they were going to be okay.

  Damon gave another sigh. Griffin could hear him take a step back, and he decided it was a good thing. Griffin had already been forgotten, which was probably the best place he could be at this point. Another eternity passed until Damon finally walked away, and Griffin stayed as still as possible since he could hear the voices talking outside. Although his life felt as though it was draining out, he kept as quiet as he could in the hopes that he would be able to overhear what their next plan was.

  “Okay, we got these guys, but there are probably a few stragglers back at the Disciples’ clubhouse who won’t be on our side.” Damon’ voice took on an authoritative tone that made Griffin want to scream about how much of a fake he was.

  The man whom Damon was talking to gave a chuckle. “You know, we were always jealous of your pool table,” the Los Diablos member admitted.

  “Well, once we clear it out, that can be the next Los Diablos clubhouse.”

  “Really?” The note of hope in the other man’s voice almost made Griffin vomit.

  “Yeah, we’re going to need a new one soon, aren’t we?”

  That was when Griffin first heard the sound of pouring liquid and could smell the gasoline.

  Shit. Shit shit shit. This was bad. Griffin was sitting there with his life bleeding out, and pretty soon, the clubhouse was going to be on fire.

  It was then that his phone began to vibrate in the breast pocket of his leather jacket. His weak heart began to speed up, as he realized that it was either Julian or Natasha. For obvious reasons, he desperately hoped that it was Natasha, because at least then he would know if she was okay. He opened his eyes and saw no sign of Damon or any of his newfound friends, which for a moment worked for him. He slumped to the side as though death had made him boneless and eased his phone out of his pocket. Natasha’s name flashed on the screen and he almost cried with relief.

  Griffin held his breath for a moment before he heard the sound of a few motorcycle engines kicking to life and could smell smoke. While the clubhouse wasn’t that big, he knew it would take a little while for the place to burn, and if he tried hard enough, he would probably be able to make it out okay. Moving slowly, just in case someone had stuck around to make sure he didn’t get out, he brought the phone to his ear and clicked “accept.”

  “Natasha?” his voice sounded weak, and it squeaked out of him from what felt like far away. God, how am I going to get out of here?

  “Griffin?!” She sounded as though she were about to cry from relief. “Thank God, I thought something terrible had happened.”

  Sitting in a room pockmarked by bullets—knowing that ninety-nine percent of the people who had come with him were dead and the president of the motorcycle club that he had pledged his loyalty to had not only betrayed him but also pretty much murdered the last president—a lot of terrible things had happened. However, as he listened to the voice of what was unmistakably his woman, completely alive in spite of Damon’ claims that he had sent someone to kill her, had given him more strength than anything else possibly could. He wanted to cry; he wanted to tell her that he loved her. However, the only thing that came to him was two simple words.

  “Help me.”

  “Are you okay?” Natasha asked. “Where are you?”

  Griffin heard another motorcycle engine roar to life and heard the sound of the final Los Diablos member leaving. The fire must have reached the house.

  “Fire,” he whispered to her.

  “Fire!? What? Oh my god, I see smoke.”

  That was the great thing about Brazos; it was small enough to see nearly clear across town.

  “I’ll be right there,” she told him. “Hang in there.”

  “Natasha…” There was a lot more he wanted to say, but at that point in time, it seemed like the best place to leave things.

  Chapter 27

  Once Julian saw the convenience store, he knew he was saved. Realistically, he knew that he probably wouldn’t have wandered the desert until his death; the desert wasn’t big enough and his navigation skills weren’t poor enough for that. Yet, in the beginning of his harrowing escape, he legitimately thought that he had gotten himself turned around too much to help himself. Now, seeing the dusty little building standing there, it felt as though he had found an oasis, and in a way, it really was.

  He thought that he was going to be the most shocking thing to walk into the store that day, but as he walked into the parking lot and set eyes on the bloody girl on the motorcycle, he realized that this was just going to be par for the course for them.

  The girl looked familiar, but not as familiar as the vest she was wearing, and Julian’s eyes grew wide as he realized that it was the girl that Griffin had met in the bar. Quickly hanging up her phone, she took a moment to smooth her hair down and say something nervously to herself. Clearly, in her blood-soaked state, she had been through something nearly as terrible as what Julian just escaped from, and so he took a step forward towards her in order to commiserate.

  “Excuse me…” He kept his voice even, normal, but her eyes snapped up, and she looked at him with a wild and dangerous expression.

  “I have a gun,” she whispered to him. “You won’t be the first traitor Disciple I kill today.”

  “Whoa!” Julian took a step back and raised his hands in the classic gesture of surrender. “I’m no traitor. I know Griffin. He’s my best buddy.”

  She hadn’t pulled the gun, probably because of the people watching from inside the store. Julian gave her some credit for that. She was pretty hot, but he had always thought that, and yet, he couldn’t help but wonder what Desiree would look like stretched across a bike instead of this blonde. Her look of distrust faded as she studied his face.

  “You’re the guy who was at the bar,” she said.

  “Yes, Griffin asked me to be there to make sure no one got the drop on you. He’s…he was, like a brother to me.”

  The mention of Griffin again put the girl on edge. “Can you tell me how to get the Los Diablos clubhouse?”

  Julian shook his head. “You don’t want to go there.”

  “I have to. Griffin’s there. I just spoke to him. The place is on fire as you can probably see.”

  She nodded to the horizon from where he had come, and Julian followed. There, he could see a plume of smoke in the sky. His heart fell, and yet, there was hope.

  “You spoke to him?”

  “I just got off the phone, but he doesn’t have a lot of time, and I don’t want to go driving off into the desert to find him. So can you help?”

  Julian nodded and gave instruction on how to get there as quickly as he could, his eyes roaming the parking lot for an acceptable car to steal.
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  “I’m coming with you,” he said, as she nodded and revved her engine. She looked at him with eyes the color of cold honey, shaking her head.

  “No, you look half dead. Go inside and get some water. Once I get Griffin to a hospital, I’ll contact you, okay? We’ll need all the help we can get.”

  Julian wanted to protest, but the look in the girl’s eyes made him think twice about doing something like that. She looked like she was on the warpath, and the last thing Julian wanted to do at that moment was get in her way.

  “Okay. What’s your name? Mine’s Julian.”

  “Natasha,” she replied. “It’s Natasha Morrison.”

  Everything fell into place for Julian then. His mouth dropped open in shock, but before he could say anything to the strange woman who had just outed herself as an obvious relative of Emanuel Morrison, she had popped a wheelie and driven out of the parking lot. Julian stood there for a shocked moment before entering the store, feeling complete confident that no matter what happened, that girl was going to crush whoever stood in her way.