“God,” she said, still panting a bit. “That was incredible.”
“It wasn’t bad,” Griff said teasingly as he pulled out of her body with nothing but regret.
“Wasn’t bad?” she echoed. “You think it can get better?”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Yeah, OK.” She gave a small laugh as his green eyes sparked with a competitive flare. “It’s a challenge, sexy.”
He turned her in his arms then got to his feet, hauling her with him as he stood. She squealed in surprise, clung to his neck. Griff wrapped her legs around his waist, his cock already hardening as he felt her slick softness. She smiled and rubbed herself against him, watched those incredible green eyes turn hot and intense once more.
“Challenge accepted, baby,” he said roughly as he carried her to the tiny bedroom. He threw her on the bed, started to tear off the rest of his clothing. “Challenge sure as hell accepted.”
**
Claire was all curled up against Jack in bed, feeling like she was in the safest place on earth.
It was safe, because she’d told him the truth last night, and he hadn’t pulled back or away, and he hadn’t rejected her. He’d listened, and what he’d heard had made him not only want to stay, it had made him want to make her his.
She wasn’t his, of course. Not yet. She understood now that really belonging to someone took time, and it took openness, and it took honesty. This whole thing between them was fast, really fast, but in her view, that wasn’t what was stopping him from fully claiming her.
No, she couldn’t be Jack’s because he still didn’t know who he’d be claiming. He didn’t know her real name. And until he did, he didn’t have her whole story.
He deserved to know. She ran her fingers through the blond hair on his chest, and she gathered up the courage to tell him.
Griff ran his fingers up and down her back, gathering up the courage to tell Claire the truth. Yeah, he should have told her before they’d made sweet, hot love on the sofa, he knew that. But as always where this woman was concerned, he wasn’t ruled by his brain or his logic or his usual play-by-the-rules approach to life. No, as soon as Claire showed up, Griff was all about emotion. About passion. About grabbing the moment, and just disappearing into it with her. About forgetting about the world, and forgetting what was right or proper or acceptable.
About just being with her.
But time had run out now, and he damn well knew it. He’d deceived her badly, and he’d betrayed her trust, and he’d lied to her face, and he’d done all of those things over and over again. Oh, sure, he’d told her the truth about many things… and he sure as hell had never lied about his feelings for her. Every touch, every kiss, every thrust deep inside her quivering body – they’d been honest. They’d been true. They’d been John Griffin reaching out with his best, purest heart.
How to make Claire see things that way? Was it even possible?
Griff didn’t know, but he had to try. She deserved to know the truth, and she had the right to do whatever she wanted with that truth once he’d set it at her feet. Including kicking it back in his face.
Griff opened his mouth to tell Claire the truth; Claire opened her mouth to tell Jack the truth.
Both so damn afraid; both so damn determined to keep the best of faith in each other.
That was when all hell broke loose.
**
The pounding on the door of the trailer made them both jump.
“What the –” Claire began, then the shouting cut off her words, struck her dumb.
“Claire!” The pounding got louder, angrier. “Claire Worthington!”
“Oh,” Claire gasped, all the color draining right out of her face as sheer terror set in. “Oh, my God…”
“Claire!” The voice rose. “I know you’re in there, you fucking bitch! Open the goddamn door!”
Jack was on his feet and in the living room, putting on his boxers at the speed of light. He tossed Claire her denim shirt from the floor. “Stay there –”
Just then, the unlocked door burst open. Claire screamed, and covered her naked body with the bed sheet as a tall, dark-haired woman stalked into her home. Her dark eyes fell on Jack, and she stopped dead.
“Griff?” the woman snapped. “John Griffin?”
“Leeza?” Jack said, stunned. “What the hell? How did you –”
“You’re fucking her?” the woman said angrily. “You’re actually fucking that bitch?”
“Leeza, please –” Jack was walking towards the woman now, slowly, his hands held out in a calming gesture. “Let’s just go and talk about this…”
“Fuck you, Griff,” the woman shouted. “We’re not talking about anything, you and me. I’m here to talk to Claire, snd Claire alone. I have a few things to get off my chest.”
“I don’t – I just – Jack, who’s Leeza?” Claire stammered. “And… and who’s John Griffin?”
Chapter Fourteen
Griff shut his eyes as Claire’s words washed over him. It was all going to come out now – and it was going to come out in the worst possible way imaginable.
This is all your fault, man.
“Claire,” he said, turning to face her. “Claire, baby…”
“You know my name?” she whispered. “My real name?”
“Hell, yeah, he knows your real name,” Leeza spat out. “He’s known it from the beginning.”
“From the beginning?” Claire repeated, numb. “Jack…”
“His name’s not Jack,” Leeza said. “It’s John Griffin, and I hired him to get close to you and investigate you… Claire.”
“Enough, Leeza!” Griff’s words were like a whip, cutting the air. “No need to be cruel.”
“Cruel?” Leeza’s voice rose with rage and disbelief. “Me cruel? What about her?”
“Please.” Claire was fumbling with her denim shirt now, trying to do up the buttons with shaking hands. “Please, I don’t know what’s happening here. I don’t understand –”
“Well then, allow me to explain.” Leeza’s dark eyes flashed. “You killed my father.”
“I – I what?” Claire managed to get to her feet, her legs shaky beneath her. “I don’t –”
“Harry Burns. My father.”
“I’m sorry,” Claire faltered. “I don’t know who that is.”
“Of course you don’t.” Leeza spoke slowly. “He gave every penny of his savings and pension to you and your husband, and he lost it all… his life’s work, his future, his house. You took it all from him, and he lost hope.”
“And he – he died?” Claire said, horrified.
“He shot himself in the head.” Leeza’s words were slow, precise. “He killed himself because of you.”
“No!” Claire shook her head. “No! I didn’t –”
“You did. Oh, you sure as hell did. You swanned around without a fucking care, just watched while your husband stole from decent, hardworking Americans, and then you took your fucking platinum card and went and bought another goddamn designer purse. Yes, you did, Claire.”
“No –”
“OK, that’s it,” Griff snarled. “Look, Leeza, I get that you’re upset, alright? But this investigation is over. Claire wasn’t part of the Ponzi scheme, not at all. She had no idea what Wilbur was doing, and that’s the simple truth. She was left with nothing, and she won’t get anything. She doesn’t have access to the bank accounts, she isn’t sitting on a huge payday. This –” He waved his hands around to indicate the trailer. “This is her life now. This, her small business, her friends.”
“Bullshit!” Leeza was enraged. “Just because you’re thinking with your dick and you’ve fallen into her magical pussy, don’t think that the rest of us are so easily fooled, Griff.”
“You obviously haven’t watched the news this afternoon, Leeza,” Claire said quietly. “Because if you had, you’d know that my magical pussy has nothing to do with my innocence.”
Both the words and the ton
e made Leeza pause. “What the hell are you talking about, bitch?”
“I got a call from the SEC this morning to tell me that Wilbur has just been indicted on all counts,” Claire told her. “It’ll be all over the news by now that the feds found something big on Ted Foster, Wilbur’s former CFO. Ted will now be testifying against Wilbur as the key Crown witness when it all goes to trial. The first thing that Ted did was give up the offshore bank account numbers… the second thing that he did was give a formal and legally-binding statement that I had no part in any of it. That I didn’t know what was going on, that I don’t know the account numbers, that I have no access to the stolen money and I never did. That I was a goddamn moron about the entire thing, actually. Just a stupid little woman who shopped and looked good and went about my life, blissfully unaware.”
Both Griff and Leeza stared at her. Claire turned to Griff.
“So… it’s John, isn’t it? You see, John, that’s why I went shopping this morning. I was celebrating it all being over, finally. I was getting ready to tell you my name. To tell you the whole thing, beginning to end. I felt so badly about having lied to you, and I was praying that you’d find it in your heart to forgive me.” Her blue eyes were so cold, it gave Griff a chill just to look at them. “But clearly, I wasn’t the only one being less than forthcoming with the truth, huh?”
“Claire…”
“Shut up,” she replied, strangely disinterested in anything that the man might have to say. “Shut up and get out. Both of you.”
“No.” He was begging and he knew it. “No, kitten, please. Just let me –”
“No way.” She crossed her arms over her chest, literally holding in her own rage and heartbreak. “Get out.”
Leeza left then, quietly, abashed and horrified. In her whole life, she’d never felt more sorry for anything she’d done… ever.
Why hadn’t she trusted Dallas when he’d called her to the Solid Security offices, and sat her down, and told her that the op was over? Why had she stolen the folder marked with her own name from Roxanna’s desk as she’d stormed out of the office? Why had she read it cover to cover, and then decided to pay Claire a visit at her home?
Why hadn’t she just let it all go and trusted the process?
Those were the questions that were going to keep Leeza Burns awake through many, many long, lonely nights to come. And the final answer was going to be, because she’d been a devastated daughter, one who’d wanted justice at any cost.
It wasn’t an answer that exonerated her, and it wasn’t an answer that excused a damn thing. But it was the only honest answer that she had… and it was the one that she had to make peace with. Somehow, and one day.
After Leeza had gone, Griff and Claire stood and stared grimly at each other.
“Claire,” Griff said. “Just please let me explain…”
“What the actual hell is going on over here?”
Startled, they both turned to see Cole standing in the open doorway.
“Cole,” Claire said, relieved. “Thank God…”
“You OK, Caitlin?” he asked, taking in her half-dressed state, her pale face, Griff’s tension. “Did he do something to you?”
Her laugh was brittle and bitter. “Yeah. You could say that.”
“Did he hit you?” Cole took a step towards Griff, his hands bunched into large fists. “Did Jack hurt you, sweetheart?”
“Oh, his name’s not Jack,” she explained airily, beyond caring about absolutely everything. “And I’m not Caitlin.”
Cole paused. “Say what?”
“Yeah. Turns out, we’re both big, fat liars.”
“Claire,” Griff began again. “I really think that we need to sit down and talk, kitten. Just us, OK?”
“Screw you, John,” she said, almost amiably. “I want you to fuck off and die, preferably with lots of pain.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Maybe Cole could help with that part?”
“Look,” Griff said, ignoring the fact that the other man moving closer to him. “We can work this out. I know we can. All we have to do is talk –”
“No.”
“Claire…”
“No.”
Griff stopped. The hurt in her voice was as big as her anger, and he knew that pushing her now wasn’t going to do any good. Best to back off, let her think and calm down. Try again the next day to get her to at least talk to him; try again the next day to win her back.
“I get it.” He spoke softly. “I’m going, baby. But I want us to talk, alright? When you’re ready, even if you just want to yell at me… you let me know. I’ll be here in a heartbeat. I’ll be here for anything you want or need. OK?”
As he got dressed, Claire looked down at her bare feet, denying Griff one last look at those amazing eyes. Eyes that had so recently looked at him with sweet, hazy lust and desire. Eyes that had closed in ecstasy as he’d given her pleasure over there on that sofa and in that bed. Eyes that had looked at him like he was the most incredible man that she’d ever known.
Eyes that were now cold and closed to him.
Griff walked away then, just walked away and out. He shut the door behind him, and that was when he heard her wail. The pain in it took his breath away, and he stopped, every inch of him wanting to go back to Claire, to take her in his arms and comfort and soothe her.
But that wail was because of him; he’d caused her that uncontainable pain. And since it was his fault, he couldn’t do anything to help her. Staying was just going to hurt her more deeply, more completely.
So he left. It damn near killed him, but he did it.
Inside the trailer, Cole had his massive arms around Claire as she sobbed uncontrollably. He didn’t have the first fucking idea what was going on here, but he knew that it was bad. Bad enough to make a strong woman fall to pieces; bad enough to make her sound like her soul was being ripped to shreds by wild animals.
It took about fifteen minutes, but she finally calmed and went a bit limp in his embrace. That was when Cole led her over to the tumbled sofa and sat her down, then pushed her hair back off her cheeks and wiped her tears with his thumbs. He looked her in the eye, and his tone was gentle, non-confrontational, non-judgemental:
“Who’s Claire, sweetheart?”
“Me.” The word was a sound of surrender. “I’m Claire Mason. Formerly Claire Worthington.”
Cole nodded, still utterly clueless, but knowing that there was only one solution to all of it. “I think I’d better go get my whisky.”
She gave a watery laugh, and then sighed. “I think you’re not wrong.”
Chapter Fifteen
Six weeks later
Griff had been to Canada before, of course, but he’d never been this far east. He was practically in the damn ocean.
He walked down the main street, his collar turned up against the wind whipping off the Atlantic, wondering why the hell the woman always picked the coldest damn places to live, looking for what he’d been told was the last café in town…. and the only one that he hadn’t checked out yet.
He spotted it now, crossed the street. He paused outside, giving himself one final pep-talk, preparing himself for what was definitely not going to be a warm welcome. If she started throwing coffee cups at him, Griff wouldn’t be even slightly shocked.
He opened the door, stepped into the warmth. It was busy and bustling, and no surprise, because it was just past eight a.m. on a Wednesday. There were people grabbing takeaway coffees and pastries as they headed off to work, and there were mothers with kids in strollers, and there were students gearing up for their day of classes over at the high school a few streets over.
And there was her.
She was here.
My star. My Claire.
Jesus God, but she was beautiful.
Griff just stood there and stared at her, just allowed himself that luxury. Just took it selfishly and fully, before sighing under his breath, and moving towards her.
She was sitting in front of her laptop, a pai
r of bright pink earbuds in her ears, totally absorbed in whatever she was doing. His research had shown him that her Etsy shop was thriving, and he was fiercely glad for her that all the upheaval and stress of the past couple of months hadn’t hurt that part of her life, at least.
How badly her flight from Denver had hurt the rest of it was what Griff really wanted to know. Oh, sure, it was possible to find out a lot about her by calling in favors at the airport, and by having Dallas’ people track her passport and bank activity… but it wasn’t possible to find out the most important things.
Things like how her head space was, after Griff’s horrific betrayal, and after she’d up and run from the life that she’d worked so hard to build up over a year.
Things like how her heart was doing after the loss of Spider, Mirrie and Cole, and after she’d started to let a man into it, just a little bit… and then he’d smashed it to bits with his stupidity and cowardice.
Griff stopped in front of her table, glad that it was in the back against the wall, and set a bit away from the other customers. It was a bit quieter back here, a bit more private, and he figured that was the best he could do. He’d considered waiting outside her small apartment, but in the end, he decided that she’d find that an absolute and unforgivable invasion of her privacy. So the café that she came to most days it was, and he hoped that she’d feel more secure surrounded by other people.
She didn’t look up at him, though; she just frowned at something on the screen and shook her head. Her hair was its natural blonde again, and it caught the sun with the movement. Griff shifted his weight from foot to foot, and waited for her to notice that a hulking guy was standing in front of her, drinking her in like a man who’d crossed a desert without water and was now gazing at a beautiful waterfall.
He was seconds away from falling to his jeaned knees at her feet, actually. To just going to the floor and begging her forgiveness, and worshipping her, and promising her anything and everything that he could. But that wasn’t going to fly in this busy café, so he just waited patiently for Claire to see him.
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