by Rulon, Genna
“Let her go, asshole,” I heard Meg say as his body jerked against mine.
Whatever Meg had done succeeded in getting him to drop the knife, but his arm was still locked around me, his hold unbreakable.
As if in slow motion, he spun us to face her, pulling a gun from god-knows-where in the process. I didn’t even have time to call out a warning before the gunshot echoed, causing my ears to ring. Meg crumpled to the ground as he pulled me backward in a hurry, the gun pressed to the side of my head as he moved away from her body.
“Stupid fucking bitch stabbed me. Motherfucker! Blood is gonna be everywhere. Fuck.”
Meg…oh my god, Meg—the stupid, brave idiot. He killed her, my friend…she was trying to save me and he killed her. I dropped my head and vomited. He stopped moving and cursed.
“These are new shoes, you bitch. Christ.”
I heard a whoosh to my left where the gun was pressed against my head and braced for the bullet. A loud crack sounded near my ear, different from the shot he fired earlier. Seconds later, he shrieked and released me. I fell forward, crashing to the pavement in a painful heap. I caught most of my body weight with my hands, but the forward momentum still caused me to thump my head against the ground. I lay still for a moment, until I heard a familiar sound—thunk-squish-crack…thunk-squish-crack. I lifted my head to find the most miraculous back facing me. Griffin was on top of the bad guy, beating him like he had Robbie.
I wasn’t horrified this time; I wanted Griffin to kill him for hurting Meg. I wanted it so badly, but I couldn’t let Griffin carry the burden of taking a life, even in my defense. I sure as hell would let him knock the bastard out, but then I had to stop him.
I crawled closer to him until I could see if the guy was conscious. Nope. Out cold.
“Griffin, love. That’s enough. You saved me, he’s knocked out. You need to stop now, because I need you to help me. Meg was shot, and I don’t know if she’s alive…we need to get help.”
He turned to face me and blinked twice. I saw the fog lift as he came back to me.
“You okay?” he asked me gruffly.
“No, but I’m going to keep it together until we get Meg help.”
“Stay there for a minute.”
He grabbed the guy’s arm and dragged him carelessly to where Meg was laying. He seemed to fuss with the guy’s body for a moment before raising his arm and lowering it quickly. What the hell was he…oh, he’d figured out a way to restrain him. When Griffin backed away, my suspicion was confirmed. The parking lot light reflected off the handle of a long hunting knife that was now imbedded through the guy’s hand, deep into the ground beneath. He definitely wouldn’t have been able to get free without making noise.
Griffin turned and kneeled next to Meg as I rose, making my way to them.
“She’s breathing,” Griffin said, his relief evident. “Do you have your phone?”
“No, it’s on the ground somewhere with my purse.”
“Come here and put pressure on her wound. I’ll call for help.”
He whipped off his shirt and handed it to me before calling the police.
There was a puddle of blood spreading from beneath her, but I kneeled beside her anyway. I pulled up her shirt and pressed my makeshift bandage to her stomach, where I found the most blood. I prayed with all my heart that she would survive and be okay.
As Griffin ended the call and approached, I whispered, “She was trying to save me. He had a knife to my throat, and she stabbed him so he would drop it. I have no idea where he pulled the gun from, but he just shot her without a second thought.”
I heard the sirens blaring nearby before doors began slamming.
“Over here,” Griffin called.
He rose slowly with his hands up.
“I have the attacker disabled on the ground. The victim’s here; she’s been shot.”
The officer quickly assessed the scene before speaking, “Get the paramedics in here, the scene is secure.”
Moments later, my hands were guided away while professionals assessed her.
“She’s breathing, heartbeat’s steady,” one of the paramedics said to no one in particular.
The officer turned his gaze to the assailant, who showed the first signs of stirring, and smiled when he saw the knife protruding from the guy’s hand.
“Man, remind me never to piss you off.”
“He had a gun pressed to my girlfriend’s head when I got here. He’s lucky he’s breathing.”
“Miss, are you hurt?” the officer asked me.
“I just have a small cut on my throat,” I replied.
“Are you able to answer questions or do you need medical attention first?”
“Let’s do it now,” I sighed, hoping I never had to provide a ‘statement’ to law enforcement ever again.
After I had given my account of the night’s events and answered the officer’s questions, he said we were free to go.
“Get it checked at the hospital and have them document the injury,” the officer instructed.
I nodded. I was headed there to check on Meg anyway.
When we arrived at the hospital, we checked with the emergency room nurses and found out Meg was in surgery. The nurse promised that the doctor would find us in the waiting room when there was news.
After about an hour, a doctor examined my neck, then decided cleaning the wound and sealing it with some skin-friendly crazy glue would do the trick.
When we settled ourselves in the waiting room, I called Ev and Hunter to explain what had happened. When her shock wore off, Ev promised to meet us at the hospital and Hunter was off to talk to the police.
Everleigh arrived a half-hour later, joining us in the waiting room.
“How is she?” Ev asked with concern.
“In surgery,” I replied.
It was four hours later when the doctor finally came out. Meg was doing well. The bullet had perforated her small intestine, but the doctor was able to extract the bullet, repair the damage, and stitch the entry wound. He said she was lucky, all things considered, and that she would need to take it easy for the next six weeks. I knew her family lived in North Carolina and they weren’t close. Griffin and I immediately agreed to have Meg stay at my house, where I could assist her for the next few weeks during her initial recovery.
We were finally allowed to visit her when she was assigned a room. She was woozy from the anesthesia, but was happy to see us, me especially. She explained that she saw the man attacking me and grabbed a knife before charging to my rescue. Sheepishly, she admitted it didn’t occur to her to call the cops, she was too focused on her rescue attempt.
I explained the plan after her release in two days. She tried to decline my help, but when I pressed her about who would help for the first few weeks, she admitted she didn’t have anyone she could ask. My suspicions confirmed, I gave her no choice and she soon relented. We left so that she could rest, but promised to return the following day. Ev had brought her iPad for Meg to use in case she got bored. It was still loaded with books and movies from my stay last year.
Hunter met us as we were exiting. He looked tormented, but said nothing other than to inquire how Meg was doing.
“What’s going on? Did the police find out who that guy is?” I asked.
“We don’t know anything conclusive yet. I have to head back to the station to coordinate with the police. I should know more tomorrow.”
I nodded. We exchanged our goodbyes before heading to Griffin’s truck, where I fell asleep before we’d even exited the hospital parking lot. I vaguely remembered Griffin carrying me to bed and stripping off my blood-crusted clothes before joining me.
"The lack of money is the root of all evil." -Mark Twain
I entered the kitchen the next morning still dazed after a nightmare-riddled sleep. Griffin had been there each time I woke with soothing words and comforting caresses. Thankfully, these dreams were not like the terrors I used to experience, but they were still unpleasa
nt—my brain painting alternative outcomes to the night before. Griffin was ending a phone call when he noticed me.
“Right, man. I’m going to talk to her now. We’ll see you at the hospital. I’ll text you either way. Thanks bro, I’m gonna need it.”
He ended the call and picked up two mugs of coffee before leading me to the great room. When I was settled on the couch, he handed me my coffee and waited for me to swallow a few sips. Becoming impatient with his lack of explanation, I opened the conversation.
“Who was on the phone?”
“Hunter.”
I guessed right. This was not going to be good news.
“Did he get the guy to talk?”
“He did. The attacker was a sub-contractor who rolled on his contact. The police found the guy last night and Hunter went to question him after he left the hospital. It took a little time, but Hunter was able to break him. This contact was actually contracted by someone else who they are still trying to track down, but he knew enough. Hunter had a unit bring in the source…the guy who ordered the hit.”
He stopped talking and sat down next to me, moving my coffee to the table before taking my hands in his. His face was completely blank…this was the therapist-Griffin face.
“Lo-baby, it was your father. Hunter arrested him early this morning. After speaking with his lawyer, he confessed. He is being charged with multiple Class A felonies, including conspiracy to commit murder, assault, and kidnapping.”
“What?” I had heard every word he said, but their significance was more than my brain could process.
“We all thought it was Heath behind the threats, so the FBI never looked beyond the Varbeck family. They looked guilty as sin because they had been paying off witnesses not to testify, and the fact that the threats stopped after Heath’s death seemed like further confirmation. The FBI was still investigating, but it was put on the back burner when the threats stopped—the DA wasn’t interested in pursuing bribery charges when the case was dead,” Griffin said gently. “After you were attacked, Hunter knew it couldn’t be the Varbecks; with Heath dead, they had no motive. Hunter was able to trace the hit back to your father after he interrogated your attacker.”
“He actually confessed?” I asked.
“Yes. Hunter thinks your father’s attorney recommended he confess. Because of the ‘preponderance of evidence,’ they will probably try some type of diminished capacity defense. Your father—”
“Don’t call him that,” I said sharply. “Do not call that man my father—he’s a hell of a lot of things, but a father is not one of them.”
“You’re right, love, he’s not.”
“Why? Why would he do it? Disowning me was fucked up, but killing me…he paid someone to have me killed?”
“And threaten you…he was behind it the whole time. He admitted he first hired someone to threaten you, and then later contracted the hit. The Varbecks never had anything to do with it.”
“So all those ridiculous poetic threats were from my father? I can’t see him writing those,” I said, confused.
“I doubt he wrote them himself. Your father hired one of his less reputable associates to threaten you; I guess the guy had a flair for the dramatic. When the threats didn’t work, he hired a professional hit man to kill you.”
“I don’t understand. Why was he trying to kill me? There was no trial.”
“You are trying to understand something that defies logic, baby. What he did violates human nature on a level no sane person could ever comprehend. He’s in police custody now. They will arraign him tomorrow and Hunter assured me he’ll be remanded without bail. Hunter also managed to pull some strings if you want to see him. If there’s anything you need to say, I can take you.”
Did I want to see him? No—I definitely didn’t want to see him, but I needed to say my piece, then walk away and never look back.
“He probably won’t deign to answer my questions, but there are things I need to say,” I said, determined.
Griffin pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead.
“Okay, Lo. We’ll go. Do you want to finish your coffee first?”
I shook my head. “I’m too nauseous.”
“Go get dressed. I’ll make you some peppermint tea to bring in the car.”
“Just hold me for a minute first, please.”
“Anytime.”
I huddled in Griffin’s arms for the next ten minutes, absorbing his strength for the impending face-off. He had been my lighthouse, leading me to safe harbor without fail. He’d weathered the storms with me, holding out hope I would find my way to him. His light never flickered, never went out. He was my steadfast beacon—my destination.
“I love you,” I whispered, engulfed in emotion and my gratitude, “so damn much. The forever kind.”
He lowered his arm, causing me to recline, and lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me sweetly. It was a kiss of appreciation and agreement.
“I love you, Lo-baby—forever. It will always be you.”
We arrived at Riverhead Prison at noon—high noon, the classic time for an epic showdown. Yes, I was feeling a tad dramatic. It was like the movies, high concrete walls topped with barbed wire, and a guard booth built on top of the wall. Griffin explained the procedure on the drive out, but entering the jail still alarmed me. Knowing the vast number of criminals contained within the walls—many violent—kept me glued to Griffin’s side. This was my first time entering a prison and it would be my last.
“You’re not allowed to do anything that gets you thrown in this place, got it?” I ordered him. “I’m totally creeped out.”
“Got it. The brochures are pretty accurate, so I wasn’t exactly planning our next vacation here,” he teased, obviously trying to distract me.
“I can’t believe you came here by choice. Now I’m questioning your sanity.”
“I was on a top secret mission…remember? I had to avenge your honor, right wrongs, be the sword of justice—”
“Stow your shield, Captain America, I understand. I would have been even more appreciative if I’d known you were coming somewhere like this.”
“Lo, it’s prison…people are incarcerated here. What were you expecting? They aren’t doing arts and crafts to decorate the hallways,” he said with laughter in his voice.
“I don’t know. There’s no natural light here. It’s worse than the worst dressing room lighting and everything is white except for a few blue accents. Even hospital rooms are stylish in comparison.”
“Again, love—prison. This is for the bad guys.”
I pressed closer to his side when we passed a group of inmates being led by a guard. Griffin was bigger than most of the prisoners and guards, but I didn’t want to risk getting close enough to be shanked.
Griffin chuckled beside me.
“I did it again, didn’t I?”
“You did and you’re adorable…but less talk about whose ass I can kick and people getting shanked,” he said lightly but his caution was clear. “We are going into one of the private visitation rooms just around the corner. Are you ready?”
“Just…give me a second,” I said, resting my head against his chest.
He wrapped his arms around me as I gathered my courage to face yet another monster.
“Yo, Doc.”
“Lionel, how are you?” Griffin responded to the disembodied voice booming behind me.
“A’ight. Lionel don’t play. Heard yo boy went down?”
“Yeah, I’d say I was sorry to hear it, but I try not to lie.”
“Bitch snitched to da kanga. Backdoor parole.”
I raised my head from Griffin’s chest to find his eyes, desperate for a translation.
“Do you mind if I explain?” Griffin asked the guy.
“Yo piece?”
“Yes,” Griff answered, never looking at me.
“Go.”
“Lo, Lionel was one of the inmates I met with while completing my clinical hours. He wasn’t a fan of Hea
th, especially after he complained about his treatment in prison. They aren’t mourning his death.”
Oh, this must be the guy. I felt compelled to say something. I turned until my back was pressed against Griffin’s front to address Lionel. Holy shit. This guy made Griff look like a freaking wimp.
Two barks of laughter rang out, drawing the guards’ attention.
“Thanks, baby. Every guy dreams of his woman calling him a wimp,” he said with a reassuring squeeze.
“Lionel likes. Why she here?”
“Her father’s here.”
“He need protection?”
“No,” Griffin replied sharply. “Let him swing.”
Lionel studied Griffin for a moment. “Sup?”
“Put a hit on her, almost got what he paid for last night,” Griffin answered calmly, but his body tensed behind me.
“Keep straight. Lionel gots this.”
The guys exchanged a chin nod.
“Nice to meet you, Lionel, and…thanks?” I said, sounding like a complete idiot.
“Shorty’s too sweet for here.”
With that parting comment, he returned to the guard who was waiting discreetly to the side and left.
“Sorry about all that. You don’t disrespect Lionel, even from prison he can make you pay. He told me you’re too sweet to bring here. He’s also going to make your father’s life hell. ”
“Oh, that’s…nice of him.”
“I think he has a crush on you,” Griffin said with a smile. “You ready?”
I nodded and he led me around the corner, opening the door for me. I walked through to find the man I had once called ‘father’ sitting at a table in the center of the room. The small spark that had hoped to see remorse on his face was extinguished by his obvious revulsion.
Griffin’s hand gripped the back of my neck, providing support and warmth, reinforcing me.
I waited long minutes for the man before me to speak, but he said nothing.
“Did Mother know?” I asked in a strong and confident tone, not asking for a reply…expecting it.