The Last Griffin

by Wendy L. Koenig

  Without waiting to see if anyone responded, he grabbed the handles on Olivia’s chair and lurched toward the door and out to his car: a dark burgundy Fiat Spider. A fine powdering of dust covered the auto, and she noticed more than a few dings. It had definitely seen better days. She looked at the car and then back at the six-and-a-half-footedness of him. In an effort to lighten the tension, she asked, “Is there enough room for me in there, or should I ride on the roof?”

  By way of answer, he narrowed his eyes and shook his head. Was that a glint of amusement? He actually had a sense of humor? She’d have to explore that further. Opening the passenger door, his voice showing mock exasperation, he said, “It’s fine. Just get in.”

  Once she’d crawled from her hospital chariot to her seat in the car, he pushed the wheelchair to the side and climbed into the driver’s seat of the car. Miraculously, he fit, though as he drove, she noticed he liked to hunch over the wheel and he clenched it tightly with both hands, as if driving was an unsafe necessity. The dings on his car gave testimony of that. She asked, quietly, “You’re not a cop, are you?”

  “Nope.” He glanced at her anxiously.

  “You’re a private investigator?”

  “We work with a lawyer and right now, I’m more like a bodyguard.” He flashed a smile at her. “Trust me. You’re safe.”

  She wondered why she was so willing to do exactly that. Trust him. True, she was in no shape to argue or escape, for that matter, but she could make life difficult for him, if she wanted. Still, he’d saved her life. Surely that counted as something.

  The rocking of the car on Boulder’s streets kept an easy rhythm, like a cradle with an infant. Olivia leaned her head back and let herself doze.

  Somewhere in the night she woke, her eyesight fever-blurred. She couldn’t get a grasp on her surroundings. Nothing looked right. It couldn’t be her apartment. Then clarity seeped in and she remembered the attack, the hospital, and the escape. And Brian.

  The low lights created dark ominous monsters from shadows of things she couldn’t quite make out. She lay on a couch, behind a coffee table. Though there was no television, the place had a definite homey feel to it. Had he brought her to his house? Did his “special skills” work best here?

  A tall, deathly-still figure stood to the side, not in front, of the living room window, staring out into the blackness. Brian? She certainly hoped so. She was too woozy to defend herself if it wasn’t. Before she passed out again, she thought she felt someone smooth a lock of hair out of her face.

  It was Brian who pulled her out of sleep the next time she woke, lifting her to a sitting position and then slipping in behind her to support her upper body. She supposed it was easier that way for him, but she still found it odd. But then, she was beginning to expect odd from him. His body felt warm and solid. Comforting. Safe.

  A quick glance out the window confirmed it was still night. Table lamps had been turned on high, filling the room with light. There was no overhead light fixture. She identified the monsters of the dark as statuettes. The scariest shadows had been dragons and Chinese dogs. They stared at her now, mocking her earlier fear.

  Brian held a stone mug in front of her. “Drink,” he said in a gentle voice. “It’ll make you feel better.”

  His warm breath bathed the nape of Olivia’s neck and goose bumps sent shivers crawling across her skin. It added to her already spinning head. She couldn’t even lean away from him if she wanted. But, she put her hand over his on the handle of the mug, holding it at bay. “Will it make me sleep again? I don’t want to sleep anymore. It’s too dangerous.” At least that’s what she tried to say. It sounded more like a mumbled bunch of gibberish to her.

  Either he understood or he guessed at her objections because he said, “You need this for your fever, and you need to sleep. I’ll watch over you.” Stretching his arm, he neatly evaded her grasp. He pointed the mug at a full wineglass on the maple coffee table next to them. The round goblet held a dark red vintage. “See what you get for dessert?”

  “Alcohol with medicine?” This time the words came out easier. And quieter. Did she really hear him say that? The wine did look good, though. Maybe she could have just it.

  A smile entered his voice. “It’s holistic. In this case, alcohol is part of the medicine.”

  Alcohol as part of the treatment. Olivia liked her new doctor-protector very much. She grabbed the mug and chugged it back, gagging with every swallow. Nasty stuff. It tasted like burnt garlic and skunk musk. It only reinforced her theory that holistic meant bad-tasting. Brian had the wineglass at the ready when she finished, and she took two huge swallows right away. Merlot. Probably a lot better quality than she could afford. It definitely shouldn’t be gulped. Her protector behind her was comfortable to lean against, so she stayed put and sipped the complexities of the fruity wine. Besides, he kept the room from spinning around.

  Eventually, though, she felt Brian shift beneath her, so she leaned forward with his help, letting him get to his feet. It wasn’t until he was up and she looked over at him that she noticed a second half-empty glass of wine on the corner of the coffee table. It made her smile that he’d already foreseen that he’d be her pillow for a while. Or, maybe he hadn’t planned it, but it worked out like that. Either way, it had been companionable and comfy.

  Olivia sat twisted, halfway propped against the back of the couch, with one leg off the side. It occurred to her how little she knew of this man whom she’d come to trust with her life. He walked around her world, ordering it to suit his mission, even with a sense of humor. Yet he seemed to be almost a cardboard cutout of the perfect bodyguard: “Insert photo of mysterious hunky guy here.” Guarded was the term she’d put on him, she thought. Very guarded.

  She looked around the room, trying to get a grip on Brian’s personality. Mellow blues played in the background, but she didn’t know the musician. It seemed her bodyguard was an artist. A sketch pad and charcoal nub sat on the coffee table. With a start, she recognized a mostly finished sketch of her sleeping. Other loose pieces of paper with charcoal drawings or landscape paintings were pinned on the walls between Chinese-type works mounted in heavy-looking gold frames. There wasn’t an inch of bare upright surface. Dragons, horses, and cherry blossoms stared down at her from every angle. Even more loose sketches and paintings littered the tops of the furniture in the room, which appeared to be actual antiques, as heavy in design as the picture frames, with ornate carvings and inlay. Clocks, vases, dragons, gilded Chinese dogs and other weighted items covered the tops of almost everything. Even she could tell there was quite a lot of money tied up in that room. The only exception to all this was a tiny modern desk in the corner that looked distinctly out of place. Paper overflowed from its top and piled onto the floor.

  Olivia’s eyes lit on a dark chess board with what looked to be hand-carved pieces. She struggled into a fully upright position with both feet off the couch, sitting as people on couches should. He must have heard her because he turned from his sentry duty beside the still-dark window. She pointed at the chess board. “That’s a gorgeous set.”

  He smiled and his deep brown eyes smiled too. His face became animated. And handsome. Very handsome. The dimples made an appearance and dug deep into his cheeks. Grin creases formed at the corners of his eyes. “You play?”

  She shook her head and answered, “Not well.” Truthfully, though, it was not at all. Miss Atwood had tried to teach her as a child, but finally wrote her off as hopeless at chess.

  Brian didn’t seem to notice her staring as he came to the coffee table and moved her wineglass to the side. “Would you like a game?”

  Shrugging, Olivia said, “Sure, but, like I said, don’t expect much of a challenge.” Or any challenge, for that matter. But, at least he’d been warned. The fever could provide the excuse of a lousy player so he wouldn’t know the extent of her inability.

  If anything, Brian’s grin deepened, and she discovered she liked his dimples very much. He fe
tched the board and brought the chair from his desk. His eyes sparkled and danced like they had swirls of glitter in them. The smile never left his face.

  Chapter 10

  After Brian set up the game, he walked into the kitchen for the rest of the bottle of wine. He felt as if his insides quivered like gelatin. Who was this woman in his home? Why did she move him so much? Why did he feel so protective of her? Was she a chance at his redemption? Or had he fallen prey to a rescuer syndrome? Somehow, he doubted either. And it wasn’t just because of their situation. Protective, hell. He was plain out attracted to her. Had been ever since the first time he saw her fighting in the apartment.

  Angry at himself, Brian shook his head to clear himself from the desire that had overcome him. He needed to focus on the task of keeping her safe, not romance her.

  Yet, here she was. In his home, his private sanctuary. On his sofa.

  He’d never met a woman as fierce and strong as her. Of course, the more he admired her, the more attracted to her he became and the more he fell for her. He would do anything for her. Even kill. After all this time, he’d kill again to protect her.

  Of course, he was living in a dream world. Love with her could never be. If she came too close and discovered the secrets he hid inside, she’d run the other way. If he had been Tony, he would seduce her anyway. Then dump her before she came too close.

  But he couldn’t treat any woman that way. Especially Olivia.

  As he reached for the original bottle of merlot, he changed his mind on what he wanted to serve next. This wine had been strong and full-bodied; it helped to cover the flavor of the medicine. Now, he wanted something a little more subtle, a different merlot. He knew exactly which one he wanted. Opening the tall thin cabinet in the corner of his kitchen, he reached for one of the dark 2011s he’d cached to age. Though relatively new, it had buttloads of finesse. Perfect for a chess game.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he answered without looking at the identity of the caller. It would be Tony. “Yeah.” He reached into the top drawer next to his stove and removed a flat-pronged cork puller. Glancing at the clock above the refrigerator, he saw it was almost two in the morning.

  “It took me a while to get the security video from the hospital. I have to say, it’s pretty damning. You walked right up to the guy and punched him in the face. Then you threw him in the maintenance closet. No hesitation, whatsoever.”

  “No way was he a hospital employee.” Brian told him about the cart driver’s behavior while he wedged the prongs of the puller on either side of the cork and then tugged. The bottle opened with a sigh and a deep thup. The cork was moist and clear of fungus. He sniffed the wine and compared what he smelled to the label. All good. Setting the bottle on a tray he pulled from a lower cabinet, he then found a small decanter and filled it with cooled water from the refrigerator. “He had a buddy too. We ran into him on our way out.”

  Now, his friend cursed. “They won’t let up until she’s dead. How is she?”

  “You mean our angel? She’s settled on the couch, drinking wine.” Brian placed the filled decanter next to the merlot bottle on the tray and added a small towel. He reached into an upper cabinet for a box of almond wafer cookies.

  “Dammit, Brian. Stop and think before you get involved with this woman. Remember the last two times?”

  “I survived.” His hand froze in mid-search. The last two relationships hadn’t exactly ended stellar.

  “Yeah, that’s because I was there to pick up the pieces. I mean it, Brian. Stay the hell out of that corner. I’ll come babysit her. You go to the other end of the house and leave her alone until I get there.”

  Brian had a fierce grip on his anger. It showed in his thin, tight voice. “Am I supposed to become like you? Seduce her and run? Never love anyone? Never be loved? I’d rather have my world shattered a million times than live like that. You need to mind your own damn business.” The angry energy he held back came out in the flurry of his hand as he violently shoved boxes in the cabinet from side-to-side, searching for the misplaced cookies.

  Tony said nothing for a minute. Then, in a voice as tight as Brian’s had been, he said, “I’ll go see Cujo, then.”

  At his friend’s deflection, Brian felt his fury slowly leach away. He pursed his lips and blew out the final dregs of his anger before saying anything. “Good idea. He might know something about Hall. Check with Bellerophon, too.”

  “Why her?”

  “To find out Olivia’s part in all this.” As Tony hung up, Brian’s hand finally closed on the box of cookies and he brought them down to the tray. He stood, for a moment, facing the cabinets, leaning on hands balled into fists. Still, Tony was right. He was headed to a heartbreak. It was like watching a tidal wave approach a city. Olivia would hurt him; it would swamp him. She couldn’t understand him. Would never, because she wasn’t like him at all; she came from a different world. If she caught a glimpse of what raged within him, she’d be terrified. He needed to keep that in his mind at all times. His emotions were way too twisted up over her. Maybe, he should listen to his friend, this once. Leave her alone in the romance department and not pursue anything more. Friends only.

  How the hell did he get back to that from what he felt now?

  Chapter 11

  As Brian returned from the kitchen with a tray, Olivia ran the basic rules of chess through her mind. Knight moves like an L. Queen could move any direction. Pawn could only move two squares on the initial jump. Bishop…Oh, God. What did a bishop do?

  Brian set down the tray on the end of the coffee table. He settled in his chair and focused on the board in the same unwavering manner he stared out the window, sat in the chair at the hospital or forced her to drink that nasty brew. She took another deep swig of wine to fortify her courage. She had no doubt this man knew his chess. He’d be able to predict every pitiful move she made. She was in big trouble. She cleared her throat and asked, “Where did you get this set?”

  “I won it.” He was still focused on the board that hadn’t had a single piece moved yet. Was he waiting for her to go first?

  Dear God. She had the white army. She turned the board, placing the white army in front of him and forcing him to make the beginning move. As Olivia leaned back, she caught his startled glance. Didn’t predict that, did he? She smiled and said, “Your turn.”

  He moved one of his center pawns. She supposed all the spaces had numbers and letters to designate them, but she’d never played the game enough to know. She moved one of her center pawns too. He moved another central pawn, but she moved one of her end ones.

  She again wondered why she wasn’t afraid of this man. She felt nothing other than comfort and safety with him. Yet, there was a closed feeling from him now. While he’d been in the kitchen, something had to have happened. She’d heard him talking. Had someone called him? The man who sat before her now was somber and too quiet. The twinkles in his eyes weren’t there, neither was his smile. Trying to get him to open up, she asked, “You said you won the board. Was that in China?”

  He nodded and moved his first white pawn one space.

  She brought out a third black pawn. He immediately confiscated it. Damn! And he still hadn’t said a word to help her understand him or why he’d suddenly grown so quiet. She thought to try a question that took an answer with actual words in it. Isn’t that what was taught in marketing? Never ask anything that can be answered with “yes” or “no?” Get them talking. “Where were you in China?”

  Glancing up at her, he said, “Everywhere.”

  She waited for more, but nothing came. So much for the great conversation opener.

  Olivia tried again. “What was your favorite city?” She emptied her glass of merlot and eyed the bottle.

  “I liked the Guilin Mountains.” He pointed to some tall pointy heaps in a painting.

  Now they were getting somewhere.

  He reached for her empty glass and wiped it with the towel, and then filled it half way w
ith water.

  “Drink up.” He did the same with his glass and waited until she downed the water and handed the glass back. Then he wiped her glass again, poured wine from the new bottle, and handed the glass back.

  She tasted it and realized the reason for the towel and water. This wine tasted similar but softer than the other wine. She thought she liked it, but would reserve judgment until she’d had more. She realized it was her turn and moved her second pawn forward, onto a black square. Safe enough, she figured.

  Brian leaned forward to move again and she realized her last play had left her first pawn unguarded. Instead of capturing it, he brought out another pawn and settled it into a position for her to take. Why would he leave hers and sacrifice his? Suspicion narrowed her eyes. Was he throwing the game? Before she accused him, she needed more evidence. Nor did she want it to be a big scene. She just wanted him to play right. And, she wanted him to keep talking.

  “Those are real?” Olivia motioned to the mountain painting. She’d seen tons of those in paintings at restaurants, but she’d always thought they were misshapen artistic interpretations, like the Chinese horses with big hips and shoulders, but tiny heads.

  Locking his gaze with hers, he said, “They’re stunning. I could spend my whole life painting them.”

  Finally, a conversation! “Why didn’t you?”

  He slumped in his chair and sipped his wine. His gaze took a pained and far-off look. “It became too touristy.”

  “Surely there were some places there still unpopulated.”

  “Yes. But, my perceptions of them had changed by then.”

  Chapter 12

  Carl Hall eased the black Chevy pickup along the curb and came to a stop in the fullness of the night. He opened the door and grabbed the top of it. He pulled himself out of the driver’s seat, pushing on the steering wheel at the same time. He was a big man, not only heavily muscled, but also tall and broad.