Cant Let Go GO PL

by Barbara Freethy

  "Oh, I think I would be successful."

  She made a sudden move, throwing one leg over his, so she was straddling him, turning his body instantly hard. She leaned down to kiss him, her silky hair brushing his face as her hot mouth invited him in. He only got one tantalizing taste of her tongue before she pulled back. His senses were screaming for more, and she knew it.

  "Want to tell me what else you said now?" she asked.

  "Not yet," he managed to get out, despite the fact that blood was racing out of his head, and he could barely think.

  She pulled her top over her head. "What about now?"

  He cupped her breasts with his hands as she kissed him once again, and her soft curves just about killed him.

  "And now?" she asked.

  "I said you make me smile," he conceded. "Are you happy?"

  "Not yet, but I'm getting there. Why don’t you help me out?"

  "Love to," he murmured, pulling her back to him.

  Twenty-Three

  Griffin woke up to the sun streaming through Annie's windows on Monday morning. Turning his head, he saw her curled up on her side facing him, the sunlight casting a warm glow on her creamy skin and the light dusting of freckles on her nose and shoulders. Her hair fell about her face, her lips parted, her breath peaceful and relaxed.

  He wished he could keep her like this: happy, carefree, not worried about anything. But as soon as she opened her eyes, all that would change. Her sweet, sometimes innocent, nature might be exposed to some really dark things, and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it.

  He wished he could put her somewhere safe, but he was afraid that if they split up, he'd just be making Annie an easier target, someone to get to in order to hurt him. He had to keep her close.

  Slipping out of bed, he went into the bathroom and took a shower, then dressed and headed for the kitchen. They still hadn't had time to shop, but after riffling through Annie's cupboards, he found pancake mix and some syrup. After whipping up the batter, he heated the grill and made pancakes. When he had a couple of good batches, he put some turkey bacon in a pan and fried up.

  "I smell bacon," Annie said, as she came into the kitchen.

  Wrapped in a soft, pink robe, she looked deliciously sleepy and sexy. She walked over to him and gave him a kiss that took him right back to the love they'd shared the night before.

  "Breakfast again? You're going to spoil me," she added.

  "It's not much, but it's something. Sit down, it's ready." He took out the plate of pancakes he'd stashed in the oven and put it on the table.

  "Wow, these are all perfectly golden. You didn't even burn the first pancake. That's a feat, one I have never accomplished."

  "You just have to get the griddle hot enough before you start."

  "Maybe you should be doing the cooking at the Depot and not Vinnie."

  "I can't even come close to his skills." He sat down across from her and helped himself to some pancakes.

  "What are we doing this morning?" she asked, as she put a piece of bacon into her mouth.

  "We need to stop in at the hospital, and see if Shari is talking. Vinnie was going to call our security company this morning. If he can set up a meeting today, I'd like to be there. What about you? You have class this afternoon, don't you?"

  "Actually, I don't. It's finals week and since mine is an art class, the students just have to turn in their final project a week from today. I will not have to put you through the torture of babysitting me at the college."

  "I would be happy to do it. When you talk, I am never bored."

  She wiped her mouth with a napkin, and he wished she hadn't moved quite so quickly, because he wouldn't have minded licking that bit of syrup off her bottom lip.

  She gave him a questioning look. "Something wrong?"

  "Nope. All good."

  She stood up. "I'm going to take a shower, and then we can get going."

  "Sure." After Annie left, he took the plates to the kitchen, rinsed them off and put them in the dishwasher. Spying a couple of coffee mugs on the dining room table, he went over to grab them.

  As he moved by the corner of the table, he accidentally knocked Annie's tote bag on to the floor. A dozen items fell out, including a file folder filled with sketches. Squatting down, he started to pick up the pages, frowning as the cartoon characters seemed to be familiar.

  A bad feeling ran through him as he moved through the pages.

  What the hell?

  He picked up the pages and spread them across the table. Three of the sketches appeared to be him in some superhero form with bulging muscles and sharp features. He was riding a motorcycle, a surfboard, and serving drinks in a bar.

  The bar was the Depot. All the details were there, but they were exaggerated symbols of the old train station. She'd drawn Vinnie, who wore his apron almost like a cape, Shari who looked like a gothic bird, and Justin, as some kind of boyish hero.

  He couldn't believe she'd used him and his friends and the bar without telling him.

  There was even a woman who looked like Megan.

  Annie had started these sketches the first time she'd come into the bar.

  He felt sick to his stomach. He'd thought she was so honest, so transparent, so guileless…

  "I left my brush in my bag," Annie said, coming into the room in her bathrobe, her hair still wet from her shower. She stopped abruptly when she saw her sketches on the tabletop. Then her gaze met his. "Griffin, I can explain."

  "What's to explain? You were using me. You were using all of us. That's why you were hanging out at the bar so much."

  "No. I mean yes. Partly." She waved her hand in the air. "The first night I came to the Depot, you were rude to me. I was curious about you. Then I saw Paul bring Megan in, and you whisked her upstairs. There seemed to be some kind of mystery. My imagination kicked in. Later, when I started thinking about pitching a new movie idea, I thought about the bar, all the characters there. I didn't know what you were up to with Megan, so I made it up in my head. And I couldn't seem to stop drawing you or the others. I didn't know what I was going to do with the sketches. I was just drawing. That's what I do. I'm an artist. I express my feelings through my art."

  He shook his head, not wanting to get sucked in by the plea in her eyes. "You lied to me."

  "I didn't lie to you; I just didn't tell you."

  "It's the same thing," he said harshly.

  "I was going to tell you about it."

  "Yeah? When? You've had plenty of time to bring this up. We've been together every minute for the last few days."

  "There have been a few other things going on," she pointed out. "Look, I was going to say something after the interview, but then things were happening so fast, and you were distracted, and it didn't seem that important. I haven't done anything with the sketches, Griffin."

  "You showed them to the people you interviewed with, didn't you? Do you know how much jeopardy and danger you could have put me in? And not just me—Megan is in there, too."

  "I didn't pitch the Megan character in the meeting. I didn't show her sketch, because I knew her story by then, but I still didn't know about your past, Griffin. I had no idea you were hiding out under an assumed name."

  "Would that have made a difference?"

  "Of course."

  "I don't know if that's true. You need this job. And you don't have any other ideas, do you?"

  "Not at the moment, but I'll come up with something, or I won't get the job. Nothing was going to go any further without your knowledge. You have to believe me."

  "I'm not sure I can."

  Hurt filled her green eyes. "Griffin, I wasn't trying to cause you problems. It was just a lark in the beginning. I let my imagination go when I'm in interesting places, and the bar was fascinating to me—a train station turned into a kind of underground railroad for people in trouble, heroic figures taking care of the wounded or the endangered. It felt like an interesting plot. And you're a hero. You saved my life. You save
d Megan's life and God knows how many other people."

  "I'm not a cartoon character. This is not a movie."

  "I know that. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

  "You didn't tell me, because you knew I wouldn't like it."

  "I did know that," she conceded. "But I thought if they were interested, I could make you see that the characters wouldn't really look like you or anyone else in the end. This is just the seed of an idea. It gets changed a million times."

  He shook his head, so much anger running through him, he didn't know what to say.

  He walked through the door leading out to the deck and slammed it behind him. He really wanted to go farther than just the deck, but how could he leave her now? She might have lied to him, but she could still be in danger.

  He paced back and forth along the railing, wishing he could be out on the ocean, riding the waves, forgetting about his problems, but that wasn't an option.

  He'd told his grandfather last night he was done running. He had to find whoever was after him and then he had to decide what to do about Annie.

  Until fifteen minutes ago, he would have done anything to try to keep her in his life. Now he didn't know if he wanted her in his life for another five seconds.

  Annie came out onto the deck, obviously still wanting to defend herself.

  He turned, putting his hand up. "I need a minute," he said tersely. "Can you give me that?"

  "No. We need to talk this out," she said stubbornly. "I'm not letting you go back into your shell."

  "Is there really more you have to say?"

  "Yes," she said, a fire in her eyes. "There's a lot more to say. Let's not forget that you lied to me, too, Griffin. And your lies were way worse than mine. You slept with me before I knew who you really were. How do you justify that?"

  He ground down on his teeth, his jaw tightening. "I can't justify it."

  "I forgave you for that. I stuck by you." She paused. "After you saved my life, you were a hero in my head, but I didn't even know your name. I couldn't stop thinking about you, so I started to draw your face. That's how it began. Everything else came later. I told myself that I was coming back to the bar to get story ideas, but that wasn't true. It was you. I had a freaking crush on you, and I couldn't forget about you."

  There was an undeniable passion in her voice. She believed what she was saying and he wanted to believe her, too. But could he really trust that she wouldn't have used the sketches in the end, wouldn't have put her career goals before his privacy?

  "Griffin? Say something."

  "I need to think. I want to storm out of here. I want to put a few miles between us."

  "But?"

  "I can't leave you unprotected. You're still in danger; that hasn't changed."

  "I can take care of myself."

  "No, you can't."

  She frowned. "What do you want to do then?"

  "What we were going to do before. Get dressed. I want to leave as soon as possible."

  She drew in a breath and let it out. "All right."

  He turned his back on her as she went into the house. He put his hands on the rail and stared out at the sea. He'd been looking for a reason to break away from Annie, and he finally had one. But did he really want to use it? And was he a complete hypocrite for calling her a liar when he'd hidden his entire past from her?

  His phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw Vinnie's name on the screen. "What's going on?"

  "I have a new security guy coming over in a half hour. Can you be here for that?"

  "I was going to stop at the hospital."

  "Shari is still asleep; I just called."

  "I thought she'd be up by now."

  "They want her to rest as long as possible. I was assured that she's still in stable condition."

  "That's good."

  "Something that isn't good—I was going over the security footage from last night. I saw a figure by the back door. He blended into the shadows, but he was definitely looking for a way in."

  "When was this?" he asked, his nerves tightening.

  "Around four a.m."

  "I'll be over there as soon as I can." He hung up just as Annie stepped out on the deck. She'd put on tight black jeans and a turquoise sweater, her hair gleaming in the sunlight, her face somber but as pretty as ever. How the hell was he going to cut her out of his life?

  But he couldn't be worrying about that today. There was too much else going on.

  "Who were you talking to?" she asked.

  "Vinnie. He has a security guy coming over to the bar in thirty minutes and Shari is still unconscious."

  "I'm sorry to hear that."

  "Me, too," he said tersely.

  She frowned. "How long do you think you're going to be mad at me, Griffin? Is this a forever kind of anger or maybe you'll get over it in a few days or weeks?"

  "We'll have to see," he returned. "But for now, we need to find whoever attacked Shari and stop them before they hurt someone else."

  Twenty-Four

  Griffin didn't talk to her on the way to the Depot. Annie wasn't surprised. He didn't talk a lot even on good days, and today was definitely not a good day. She'd been mentally kicking herself ever since she'd seen him looking at her sketches. Why hadn't she told him about the drawings?

  She knew why she hadn't said anything in the beginning, but that was before she'd gotten to know him, before they'd become friends, gotten intimate, explored each other's bodies with great enthusiasm, and certainly before she'd fallen in love with him.

  Maybe that was it. She'd been afraid to fess up because she'd known he would use it to push her away, and whatever they were building together would be destroyed.

  She snuck a quick glance at him, but his hard profile, the grim set of his jaw, and his extreme focus on the road ahead told her he was not in a forgiving mood yet.

  While she understood his reaction, she hoped he would come to realize that they had both made mistakes. She might have taken his private life and drawn some cartoon characters and created a fantasy world, but he'd actually been living a lie. She'd forgiven him for the deception. He should forgive her, too.

  What if he couldn't forgive her? What if it was over?

  She wanted to fight for them, but she needed him to fight, too.

  As much as she wanted to press for that, there was too much else going on. She needed to give him some time, as difficult as that was to do. She hated the uncomfortable awkwardness between them, but she had a feeling she would have to deal with it for some time to come.

  Griffin drove into the parking lot behind the Depot. She saw Vinnie's car in the lot, as well as a work van labeled Sloane Security Systems.

  Griffin shut off the engine. "I don't want to discuss your drawings in front of Vinnie," he said.

  "I understand."

  They got out of the car and walked through the back door. She could see Vinnie and another man in the office. She was debating whether she should sit in the bar or go upstairs when her phone rang. The number for the production company flashed across her screen.

  Last week, she would have been thrilled to get the call. Now, she felt torn.

  She needed to tell them she was interested in the job, but that her idea was off the table. She had a feeling that would be the end of any possible job offer, but it was the right thing to do.

  Griffin stopped abruptly, pulled out his keys and handed them to her. "If you need to call someone back, you can use the apartment."

  He gave her a pointed look, and she had a feeling he knew exactly whose call she'd missed.

  She wanted to tell him what she was going to do, but Vinnie was calling his name, and he was already walking away. She needed to just do what she needed to do and then tell him it was done.

  She went up the stairs and entered Griffin's apartment. It looked exactly the same as when she'd been in it a few days earlier. She paused in the doorway to the bedroom, thinking back to the first night they'd spent there together, how happy she'
d been. The next day had only gotten better when Griffin had whisked her away to celebrate her birthday.

  How she wished they could be carefree and happy, no dark past hanging over Griffin, no secrets between them. Could they get there again? She really hoped so.

  Sitting down on the couch, she pulled out her phone and called the production company. The HR person, Heather Baines, answered.

  "Hello, Annie, thanks for calling me back so quickly," Heather said. "I have great news. They want to bring you back for a second interview. They're hoping you can come in on Wednesday. What's your schedule?"

  "I can probably make that work, but I need to talk to you about something. I pitched an idea and some drawings for a superhero-themed movie, and I'm not going to be able to use that idea or those characters. Unfortunately, they were inspired by some real-life people, and I'm going to have to protect their privacy. I should have gotten their permission first, and I didn't."

  "I'm really sorry to hear this. I know David and Rita were very excited about your ideas. You definitely cannot use them? There's no way we can get a release?"

  "No. I'm sorry. I have other ideas, but that one is a non-starter. I wanted to be up front about it."

  "Well, let me talk to the group and see if they're still interested in meeting. I'll get back to you."

  "Thanks. I would love to work with them on other projects if that's a possibility."

  "I'll be in touch," Heather said.

  She ended the call and tossed her phone down on the table, feeling frustrated, angry, and disappointed in everyone, most especially herself. She wished she could leave, put some distance between herself and Griffin, because it was so hard to see the anger in his eyes, to know that she'd let him down like so many other people in his life had let him down. She'd wanted to be the person he could trust, the one he could count on, but she'd blown that big-time, and she had a feeling that earning his trust back would not be that easy, if it was even possible.

  Picking up her phone again, she decided to call Kate. She didn't want to get in Griffin's way, so she'd hang out here until he was done.

  But when Kate answered, she didn't even ask about the investigation, because what she really needed was some sisterly advice.