The Closer

by Rhonda Nelson

  “Thank you,” she murmured when at last she drew back.

  Griff grinned and shook his head. “Tell me what I did and I’ll do it again.”

  “I couldn’t have done that without you,” she said. “When you look at me, you make me feel beautiful. You make me believe it.”

  “First of all, yes, you most definitely could have done it without me because you’re the bravest woman I know. And that’s saying something,” he added, “because I know a lot of brave people.” He slid a finger down her cheek. “Second, Jess, you are beautiful.” He shook his head, genuinely mystified. “I don’t know why you think you aren’t.”

  “It’s not that I think I’m not,” she said. “But knowing it and feeling it are two completely different things. You make me feel it. Just you.”

  “Griff?” Payne’s voice called through the curtain before he could respond.

  “Coming,” he said.

  “We’ll finish this discussion later,” he told her. “Remember, only stay a few minutes. We need to get on the road.” He paused. “Would you like one of the guys to come with you? I can—”

  She shook her head. “It’s you he’s going to be after,” she said. “Not me. Take them with you. I’ll be fine.”

  He knew that she was right, yet he hesitated.

  “Griff, go,” she encouraged, giving him a little push. “I’m not what he wants.”

  No, but she was what he wanted, he thought, momentarily paralyzed as the notion flitted easily through his head. His mouth parched and panic punched him hard in the chest.

  “Griff?” she asked, her smooth brow clouding with concern. “Are you all right? You look funny.”

  He shook himself. “I’m fine. I’ll, uh...I’ll see you upstairs.”

  Determined to think about anything but the little earth-shattering realization he’d just come to, Griff hurried out and found Payne, McCann and Flanagan waiting for him.

  “You should have taken the tux off before clipping that to your wrist,” McCann said. “Good job, by the way. You play the role of ‘slathering hound’ quite well,” he added, a faint smile on his lips.

  Irritated, Griff glanced at the top of McCann’s head and stared until the other man frowned. “What?” he asked.

  “It must be invisible,” Griff remarked as they boarded the service elevator.

  McCann scowled. “What’s invisible?”

  “Your dick hat,” he said. “I know it’s there because you’re running your mouth, but I can’t see it.”

  Payne grinned and Flanagan chuckled. “Dick hat,” Flanagan repeated, rocking back on his heels. “I’m so stealing that.”

  “Enough, gentlemen,” Payne told them. “If Keller’s still going to make a move, then it’s going to be in the next few minutes.”

  Griff glanced at him. “What makes you so sure?”

  He shot him a mild look. “Because that’s how I’d do it.”

  “Me, too,” McCann said after a small pause. “It’s made its debut, the buzz has started. What better way to increase the value?”

  “He’s not interested in increasing the value,” Payne said. “He’s giving it back, remember?”

  “He says he’ll give it back,” Flanagan pointed out. He winced skeptically. “But I have to tell you, I have a hard time putting my trust into the word of a thief.”

  “Just because he’s a thief, that doesn’t mean he’s a liar,” Payne told him. “If he says he’ll give it back, then he’ll give it back.”

  “You honestly believe that?” McCann asked him.

  Payne nodded once. “I do.”

  “How about we just don’t let him take it to start with?” Griff interjected. “I like that plan.”

  Flanagan slipped him a high five. “I do, too.”

  They finished the ride up to the sixteenth floor in silence, then exited, their guns drawn, careful to keep a close watch for anything out of the ordinary. Griff had slipped Payne the room key card earlier and it was he who inserted it into the lock. The suite was quiet when they entered, almost eerily so, but a thorough search revealed that they were alone and all was as it should be.

  Griff released a tense breath. “I’m going to change,” he told them. “Somebody give me an arm.”

  Payne offered his. Once the case was securely locked onto Payne’s wrist, Griff excused himself to go into the bedroom and quickly swapped the tux for a pair of jeans and a sweater. He’d just started packing up when suddenly the television came on in the bathroom.

  He frowned, pulled his Glock from the back of his pants and peered into the room.

  Nothing.

  “Welcome to Owl TV,” a voice said from the screen. “Trust me. You’ll give a hoot.”

  Owl TV? A prickling of unease slid up his spine and camped at the base of his neck. Anticipation spiked, quickening his pulse. “Payne,” Griff called quietly.

  “Yes, yes, do call Payne,” the voice continued. “I’m looking forward to seeing him. He’s an old friend, you know.”

  What the hell? How was the damn television talking to him? Griff edged farther into the room to better see the television set. An image of a great horned owl perched on a thick tree branch filled the screen.

  “Come on in,” the owl said, its beak moving as though it was actually speaking. “Don’t be shy. It’s important that all of you hear this.”

  Payne, Flanagan and McCann all warily filed in and he watched as each of their faces registered the same grim shock he was feeling himself.

  “Payne,” the bird said warmly. “It’s been a long time.”

  Payne’s face was an unreadable mask, his gaze cool. “Where are you, Keller?”

  “That’s classified information, soldier,” he said. “But don’t worry, we’ll get a chance to catch up soon. For the moment, you simply need to listen. I’m going to take that lovely bra off your wrist, keep it for forty-eight hours, then I’ll return it personally to you at a location I’ll share with you at a later time. You’ll need to come alone, of course. You were never a snitch and I doubt that you are now, but better safe than sorry, I always say.”

  Griff had heard enough. “Listen, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but—”

  The owl tsked and shook his head. “It’s rude to interrupt, Mr. Wicklow.” The great head turned back toward Payne. “Now, as I was saying, as a show of good faith, I’m leaving something in exchange for what I’m taking, of equal value, of course. And I have arranged an online auction for my piece, which is far from a Rossi, I’ll admit, but quite nice all the same. The auction will automatically commence in two hours. Payne, the auction company will only release the funds to you and you’re to give the money to the charity or charities of your choice. I, personally, prefer to make donations to agencies that help battered and abused children, but that’s just me.” He paused. “I’m looking forward to catching up.”

  The screen went black, the bathroom door suddenly swung closed and the room instantly filled with a smoky sweet gas.

  “Son of a bitch,” Flanagan muttered, a sentiment that was echoed in one form or another by the rest of them.

  They all bolted into action, stumbled toward the door, but none of them even so much as reached the handle. One minute Griff was covering his mouth with his sleeve, the next...the world went black.

  When he awoke, it was to the frantic shaking of Jess’s arms on his shoulders, the sight of her pale, tear-stained terrified face and a violent headache.

  “Griff?” A tear splashed on his cheek. “Griff? Oh, please, Griff,” she sobbed, sliding a hand over his face. “Please don’t be— I couldn’t bear it—” He felt her lips against his skin, her wet lashes brush against him, and he struggled to open his eyes, to let her know that he was okay. He groaned, blinked, and he felt her stiffen.

&nbs
p; “Griff?”

  “Shh,” he told her, his voice weak. “Don’t cry.”

  Her hands moved lovingly over his face. “Oh, Griff. Oh, thank God,” she said, her voice broken and thick with still-unshed tears. “You’re all right. I thought you were—” She hugged him tightly and he could feel her shaking with fear, her slender shoulders trembling. “But you’re not— You’re all r-right.”

  It took a few seconds for his fuzzy brain to catch up, but when it did, his gaze darted around the bathroom, saw Payne, Flanagan and McCann all on the floor as well, but beginning to stir.

  “Knockout gas,” McCann said a few minutes later, bathing his face with a wet cloth Jess had gotten for him. “That’s some wicked shit.”

  After confirming that the bra was, in fact, gone and had been replaced with another, this one a snowy owl design, which was primarily set with diamonds, pearls and varying shades of topaz, they’d all moved to the living room. There was something rather pathetic about lingering in the bathroom, McCann had pointed out, and the air was cleaner.

  Looking distinctly green around the gills again—he’d already emptied his stomach twice—Flanagan glared at Payne. “Fair warning. Old friend or not, I’m going to track that bastard down to the ends of the earth if necessary and beat the bloody hell out of him.”

  Griff snorted. “I’ll join you.”

  Not because he’d bested all four of them or out of any sense of impugned honor, but for Jess, who’d been terrified that she’d walked in on a quadruple homicide and was at the very moment wiping a tear from her cheek, saddened over the loss of her father’s work.

  He pulled her closer and pressed a kiss against her head, not caring who saw him. “He’s returning it to Payne, Jess. In two days.”

  “I know,” she said. “I just dread telling my father. He worked so hard on it. Remember what he said about the piece securing the Rossi legacy.” She offered him a watery smile. “I don’t think this is what he had in mind.”

  “Maybe not,” Payne told her. “But if his angle was exposure for your company, then having the piece stolen by the infamous Owl will certainly get him that. More than if it had never been lifted to start with.” He grimaced. “The press is going to have a field day and the only company involved that is going to come out of this looking like incompetent fools is Ranger Security. Because we let him take it. We failed.”

  Every startled gaze in the room swung to Payne.

  “We were gassed, Payne,” McCann said tightly. “I’m not willing to call that a failure. I call that foul play.”

  “Call it whatever you want, but we lost the cargo. We are no longer in possession of the item we were hired to protect.”

  “No, but we’re in possession of something of equal value and we’re insured,” Jamie added. “Furthermore, there’s the confidentiality agreement. No one knows Ranger Security was tapped to provide protection. Neither Clandestine nor Montwheeler is going to divulge that information. They’d be in breach of contract and we’d sue the hell out of them.”

  “You don’t think it’s going to get leaked?”

  McCann lifted his chin. “I think that if it does, we have the resources to track down the source—who could only be associated with one company or the other—and file suit. I think that when we meet with both parties, we need to make that little tidbit painfully clear.”

  Payne nodded. “I agree.” He glanced at Jess and lifted a brow. “Would you mind telling us exactly what you saw as you came back upstairs, in the elevator, the hall, and when you came into the suite?”

  “Of course,” she said. “I, uh...I went to the service elevator, but after several minutes, when the call button didn’t respond, I walked to the lobby and got on the Barry White elevator. I—”

  “The Barry White elevator?” Flanagan asked incredulously.

  Jess blushed and shot Griff a look. “It’s the elevator that always comes for us,” she said. “The very last one on the right and the music is...”

  “Baby-making music,” Griff finished for her. “George Michael, Marvin Gaye and Barry White.”

  “And that’s the only elevator that ever responded to your call? There was never any instrumental Muzak playing?” McCann asked in amazement. He grimaced significantly and shook his head. “He’s been screwing with you from the beginning, hasn’t he?”

  Griff stilled, then swore. Of course he had. Anyone with the audiovisual skills required to manipulate the cable and stream a damn talking owl into the room could have easily influenced the elevators and music.

  “Let’s get back to Ms. Rossi,” Payne said, urging her to continue.

  “Anyway, I rode up the elevator. I was alone and it didn’t stop for anyone else, then I walked down to our room.”

  “Did you see anyone in the hall?”

  She bit her lip, considered the question, then shook her head. “No, not a soul. Not even any of the housekeeping staff.”

  “Okay, go on.”

  “When I got to the room, I realized that I didn’t have a key, so I lifted my hand to knock. That’s when I noticed it lying on the floor, just beneath the edge of the door.”

  “The key card?”

  “Yes.”

  “So he wanted her to be able to get in and find us quickly,” Flanagan remarked.

  “How thoughtful of him,” McCann drawled.

  “And then what?” Payne asked.

  “Well...the first thing I noticed when I came in was that weird smell,” she said. “It was sweet.”

  “The gas,” Griff told her.

  “I thought that it was odd that you weren’t in here,” she said, gesturing to the living room area. “And then I heard someone call my name and say, ‘Back here.’”

  Payne leaned forward, his gaze sharpening. “You heard someone call your name? Where did it sound like it was coming from?”

  “The bathroom,” she said. “I thought it was Griff, but...”

  All of them shared a look as a key piece fell into place.

  “He was still here,” Griff said.

  Flanagan whistled low. “He waited for Jess to get back, then he sneaked out as soon as she found us in the bathroom, when she was distracted.”

  “Ballsy bastard,” McCann said. “What if she’d run out screaming?”

  “He did his homework,” Griff said, reluctantly impressed. “He knew she wouldn’t run. She’s not afraid of anything.”

  She smiled at him and leaned over. “You keep forgetting the clowns,” she said. “But thank you, anyway.”

  “When you found us,” Payne prompted. “Was the bathroom door opened or closed?”

  “Open,” she said. “The vent was on. You were all on the floor,” she said. “Near the door. And the new case was on your wrist and the owl feather was on top of your chest.”

  “If you think of anything else, no matter how insignificant you think it might be, please tell us.”

  Jess nodded. “I will.”

  Payne thanked her, then pushed to his feet and started looking around. “All right,” he said. “Let’s get to work, gentlemen. Where the hell did he hide? How the hell did he do it?”

  The four of them fanned out, started sweeping the suite once again. Griff found a tiny camera mounted to the top of the television screen, which accounted for how he’d known who was in the bathroom. He’d been watching. McCann located the source of the gas—the canisters had been placed in the floor vents, which had been blocked off. Keller had remote detonated them. And Flanagan and Payne found his hiding place—the box springs beneath the bed. He’d torn away the thin fabric from the bottom and climbed up between the slats.

  “No way,” McCann said, crouching low to look beneath the bed.

  “Way,” Jamie told him. “I’m the biggest one here and I can do it.”

&n
bsp; He did.

  Jess bit her lip and darted a look at Griff. “You don’t think he’s been hiding under there the whole time, do you?”

  Griff shook his head. “I very seriously doubt it.”

  “I do, too,” Payne told her. “He’d only need a few minutes in here to do what he needed to do,” he said. “He wouldn’t have hidden in here long. Too risky.”

  “Do you think the surveillance tapes are going to be of any use at all?” McCann asked.

  “I doubt it, but we should look at them.” He glanced at Griff. “In the interim, I think that you and Ms. Rossi should head back to Shadow’s Gap and let the three of us wrap things up here. Once you’ve got her settled and brought her father up to speed, you can return to Atlanta.” He turned to Jess. “Ms. Rossi, the instant we have the piece back, you can rest assured that we will return it to your father for the repairs, then make sure that it’s delivered to Montwheeler.”

  She nodded. “I have every confidence in that, Mr. Payne.”

  “It’s Brian,” he said, shooting her a smile.

  She and Griff made quick work of packing up, said their goodbyes, then rather than wait on the valet to pull the SUV around, made their way to the parking garage. They’d barely settled into the seats when Jess turned to him.

  “There’s no way in hell you’re taking me back to Shadow’s Gap, not without that damn bra. I’m coming to Atlanta with you.”

  Griff grinned at her. “I never doubted it.”

  13

  “ARE YOU SURE you don’t want me to drive?” Jess asked, her gaze clinging to Griff’s profile. “I don’t mind at all and I know that awful gas had to have made you a little sick.”

  “I’m over it now,” he assured her. “No worries.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Honestly, when she’d come around the corner and caught a glimpse of his prone frame on the bathroom floor, she’d come as close to fainting as she ever hoped to. Her heart had dropped to her feet, the blood had rushed out of her head, roaring past her ears, and her mouth had gone bone dry.