Breaker's Point Bad Boy Billionaires Boxset (37 page)

I
nviting
him inside her house was mistake number one. As hard as she tried to rack her brains, Cami couldn't come up with a good reason for her sudden lack of caution. Maybe it was the blow to the head she'd taken. Perhaps this was how a concussion behaved? But as much as she tried to blame it on the fall in the alley, she just couldn't picture lowering of inhibitions as being a symptom of a concussion.

Mistake number two was turning in his arms as he reached past her to grab the bottle of rum from the top shelf. She should have pushed away from him, moved out of reach when he took a step back.

He had obviously tried to give her a way out, but instead she'd stared up at him like he was a tall, cool drink in the middle of a desert.

Mistake number three had happened when he kissed her. The sensation of his mouth on hers had stolen the last of Cami's senses. And the worst part? She knew she'd allowed it to happen.

Balling her fists into the front of his shirt, she tried to pull him closer even though they were already pressed so tightly together that she could feel the heat of his body scorching through her clothes.

Cami moaned softly as he lifted her effortlessly onto the counter, the feel of his fingers digging into her ass as he picked her up making her wriggle against him.

He pulled away from her, his breathing ragged as he stared down at her. Cami could see reflected in his eyes the promise of pleasure that he would bring her tonight, if only she would let him. And for once she wanted to do something just for her, something utterly selfish and reckless.

The voice of caution tried to reason with her, but Cami smothered it beneath the pleasure of Griffin's touch against her body.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his question catching Cami by surprise. This wasn't the man she'd imagined him to be. A guy like Griffin Reynolds, who could have any woman he wanted, didn't ask if she was certain. He didn't need to ask his conquests anything; they would simply melt beneath his seductive and passionate kisses.

She chewed her lip thoughtfully, his question almost breaking the spell he'd cast over her. But then his eyes darkened and Cami knew she was lost.

Grabbing the front of his shirt once more, she dragged his face down towards hers.

"I'm sure…" she said. Her voice, little more than a husky whisper, was swallowed the moment his mouth found hers. She gave in to the passion that rolled through her body.

Griffin lifted her from the counter and carried her into the lounge. Cami knew what she was; she wasn't the petite waif she'd always imagined men like Griffin would go for and yet here he was, tugging her shirt off over her head as he dropped her onto the couch, his mouth never leaving hers.

Her hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, her fingers clumsy as she fought to undo them as smoothly as he'd opened hers. But she failed and Griffin smiled as he pulled it off over his head.

Cami tried to capture the moment as perfectly as she could in her head, trying to commit to memory everything that was going on. There would only be this night, of that she was certain. Griffin wasn't the type of guy to be anything other than a one night stand, and Cami certainly didn't expect anything else from him.

She let her hands slide up the front of his chest; the feel of his muscles beneath her palms made her want to close her eyes, but then she knew she wouldn't be able to drink in every detail of his face and the look of dark hunger filling his eyes.

He leaned over her once more and Cami shifted beneath him as something dug into her back. She winced and struggled to reach beneath herself to pull it out but it wasn't until Griffin gave her a helping hand that she succeeded.

Griffin tugged the uncomfortable lump out from beneath her and Cami giggled as she dropped back down onto the couch. He stared down at the object in his hands and shot her a quizzical look.

It was then that Cami looked a little more closely and saw Sophie's rose-coloured daisy backpack glaring accusingly back at her. At that moment, Cami felt the guilt she'd been fighting to suppress all evening rear its ugly head once and for all.

"Something you want to tell me?" Griffin asked with a smile as he reached down to set it on the floor.

Nausea rolled up over Cami and, without thinking, she pushed against him, sending him tumbling with the backpack down onto the floor.

"Hey!" he cried out, staring up at her with an odd look in his eyes.

"I just can't. I'm so sorry, I thought I could and then… but no… I'd like you to leave." Cami's words were a jumbled mess but there was nothing she could do about it. The only thing she knew for certain was that she needed time to herself, a chance to think.

"Look, it's all right, really. We don't have to do anything. We could just have that drink if you want?" The confusion in Griffin’s voice only made Cami’s guilt that much worse.

"It's just not a good idea. Please, Griffin, just go," she pleaded with him. He was well within his right to get angry at her, but instead he looked up at her with eyes filled with hurt and confusion.

"Fine," he said, climbing to his feet and grabbing his shirt from where he'd thrown it just moments before, when they were…

Cami forced her mind to trail off; she didn't need to start thinking about what had almost just happened between them. Her body ached with unfulfilled need and she had no desire to hear the voice of reason in her mind filling her head with all the 'I told you so's' that were bubbling just beneath the surface.

She watched as he headed for the door, part of her willing him to turn back so she could change her mind. It was stupid and irrational, and yet a part of her couldn't help but think she was making a huge mistake.

But he didn't look back, he didn't even pause, and the slamming sound of the front door made Cami jump even though she knew it was coming.

Grabbing her own shirt from the floor, Cami pulled it on and practically ran to the kitchen towards the bottle of rum that had started it all. It was easier to blame what had almost happened on something else, anything but her own weakness.

She scooped up the bottle and quickly unscrewed the cap before reaching for a glass. Cami paused with her hand on the tumbler as the memory of Griffin's touch almost made her knees buckle.

What had she been thinking? Sexy as all hell wasn't an excuse for losing one's head, and that was exactly what she'd done.

But it was more than just that. Cami was always worrying about the future, planning and scheming new ways to keep Sophie safe. Just for once, Cami wanted someone else to make her feel safe.

And despite knowing just how ridiculous it was, Griffin made her feel safe. For the first time in years, Cami believed she could finally let her guard down.

That thought alone was enough to make her drop the glass. It slipped from her fingers and shattered against the counter, small splinters spraying out across the floor.

"Shit," Cami swore beneath her breath and carefully stepped away from the broken shards on the ground.

She carried the bottle into the lounge and curled up on the sofa where she'd almost…

She killed the train of thought by taking a long slug from the bottle of rum, the alcohol burning down the back of her throat and causing her eyes to begin watering. A warm feeling spread through her body as she drank another large mouthful.

Cami knew she'd done far too good a job at remembering every little detail of her encounter with Griffin, and now she wanted to forget. If that meant downing every last drop of the bottle, then that’s what she would do.

Tears pricked the back of her eyes as she ran over the night's events in her mind. Life wasn't supposed to be so complicated. She wasn't supposed to be up to her neck in criminal activity and lusting after a guy she could never have.

A sobering thought washed over her as she swallowed down another mouthful of the rum. She couldn't remember what had happened in the alley, her mind still blank to the details. But that didn't mean she hadn't actually witnessed something.

And if she had watched that poor man die, then whoever had killed him knew she was a witness.

An icy feeling spread through Cami's body, and no matter how much she tried to drink it away it couldn’t be dispelled. She had one job: to keep Sophie safe. If she was a witness to a murder, then how the hell was she supposed to protect her? What if whoever had killed that man now came looking for her?

Cami had known from the minute she'd set eyes on Griffin that he would be trouble, but she never would have guessed it would lead to this. And now she had no idea how she was supposed to fix it.

S
tanding
in front of the tiny white sink in the dingy bathroom of the motel room he'd booked for the night, Griffin filled his hands with water and splashed it onto his face. The shock of the cold water was enough to clear at least some of the fog swirling through his mind.

Sleep had eluded him all night, and as he moved out of the bathroom towards the bed he wondered if Cami was experiencing the same problem.

But then again, why would she? After all, she was the one who had kicked him out. She'd probably sleep like a baby with the knowledge that she'd done the right thing.

Griffin groaned and dropped down onto the edge of the bed. Everything was such a mess, but no matter how hard he tried to untangle the web of crap that encircled him, he only found himself getting buried deeper.

Grabbing the shirt from where he'd dumped it on the floor, Griffin tugged it over his head and scooped his keys out of his pocket. There was really only one way to try and set at least some things right. And there was only one place to begin.

G
riffin hammered
on the door to Spike's motel room, silence greeting him the moment he lifted his hand away from the off-white laminate door.

He contemplated kicking it down; it was flimsy enough, and Griffin knew the wood would give way easily beneath his heavy black boots. But that would entail criminal damage, and if he was being honest with himself he didn't really want to spend his time dodging the cops on top of everything else that was happening.

"Spike!" he hollered, his voice echoing around the courtyard of the motel complex.

Balling his hand into a fist once more, Griffin pounded against the door and let out a frustrated sigh when there was no response.

He took a few steps back and prepared to launch his body at the door. Rather than kicking it in, he could just shoulder it open and then the only thing that would need replacing would be the lock.

The door swung open as Griffin rushed towards it and Spike stood framed in the doorway. Griffin pulled up short and narrowly avoided barrelling straight into the other man, an action that would have resulted in both of them tangled on the floor of the motel room.

"What the hell is going on, man?" Spike asked, his voice hoarse with sleep.

"I've been out here hammering on the door for a good ten minutes with no answer, so I could ask you the same thing."

"I thought you were housekeeping and, well, I've been a little busy…" Spike answered sheepishly as he lifted his hand and ran it along the back of his neck.

Griffin peered into the darkened room and could just make out the prone bodies of two women. One of them rolled over in the bed, pushing her dark hair out of her face as she stared towards Griffin with bleary eyes, a scowl instantly sliding across her face as soon as she saw him.

"I see you weren't lonely after all, Leslie," Griffin said, remembering her name from the night before.

"You know Les?" Spike asked, his voice suddenly sharper.

"Nah, it's just an inside joke from last night," Griffin said, returning his full attention to Spike. "I think we need to talk privately, so if you could," Griffin gestured towards the women in the bed, "you know?"

"Oh, come on, it’s been a long night and I deserve a break. Can't it wait until later?"

"Spike, we're in serious shit, so unless you want me to blurt it all out in front of your friends, I'd advise you to get rid of them." Griffin pushed all of his authority into his voice. It was usually enough to get him whatever he wanted, especially where Spike and the other guys were concerned.

Spike opened his mouth, something in his face warning Griffin he was going to continue arguing. Griffin hardened his expression, staring Spike down with cold determination.

"Fine!" Spike said, throwing his hands up in the air and retreating back into the dark room.

"Right, bitches, time to move!" Spike shouted as he started tossing scraps of clothing and shoes on top of the two women in the bed.

"But, Spike, you promised…" The other woman pleaded as she rolled over in the bed, the sheet slipping down to reveal a series of bite marks across her breasts.

"Margie, Daddy's gotta work. You know the rules."

"My name isn't Margie, you asshole, it's Crystal. I told you a million times last night it was Crystal!" Her voice was shrill as she sat up in the bed and grabbed one of the stilettos Spike had tossed at her.

Griffin turned away as she launched the shoe at Spike’s head, the sheet slipping off her naked body.

There was a small, surprised squeal of pain followed by the sound of flesh on flesh. Griffin returned his gaze to the room, half expecting to see Spike with the heel of a stiletto embedded in his forehead.

Instead, the other man was half kneeling across the body of the woman who'd called herself Crystal. He pinned her against the mattress, one hand wrapped firmly around her throat as he choked her and raised his other arm to strike her across the face.

"Jesus Christ, Spike, what the hell are you doing?" Griffin raced into the room and grabbed his friend around the waist. He tugged him off the woman and threw him across the floor.

"Have you lost your mind? First Cami and now this woman? What the hell happened to you?"

"Screw you, Griffin, she was asking for it." Spike scrubbed his hand across the back of his mouth and pushed himself to his feet. "Go on, get out!" he shouted over Griffin's shoulder in the direction of the women on the bed.

Griffin shook his head and turned away from Spike. Where had it all gone so wrong? There had been a time when Spike had been a normal guy, always a little bit angry but nothing like this. Lately he seemed to be turning into a violent, misogynistic animal.

From the corner of his eyes, Griffin watched Leslie and Crystal gather their clothes and scamper from the room. They looked like the sort of girls who would be only too happy to sell a story to the press. Griffin could already imagine the headlines. It was the last thing the band needed, but why Spike couldn't see it was beyond Griffin.

Spike grabbed a bottle of vodka from the scratched dressing table and lifted it to his lips as he dropped onto the end of the bed. Griffin's stomach turned as he watched him down an eye-watering quarter of the bottle like it was nothing more than water.

"You know they'll sell their stories to the press and they'll only be too happy to print a juicy story like that."

Spike shrugged. "Who cares? All publicity is good publicity."

"Spike, for God's sake, will you just listen to yourself? You just assaulted a woman without so much as batting an eyelid, and now you're trying to tell me that when it turns up in the tabloids it'll be a good thing?"

"We need the exposure. So what if I got a little rough with that whore; she'll be only too happy to climb back into my bed again tonight, and I'll make it up to her then." Spike leaned forward, his elbows resting against his knees.

"What are we going to do about last night?" Griffin asked, choosing to change the subject. It was clear Spike needed help; the combination of drugs and drink was really beginning to affect him, but until Griffin could come up with an effective way to help him there was no point in carrying on the conversation.

"What do you mean?"

"Steve? How about the fact that he was murdered, we found his body, and then we covered up a crime, Spike. That's serious."

Spike smiled and shook his head. "No need to worry. It's all taken care of."

"No, it's not. We covered up his murder and helped the people responsible to get away with it. We can't let that stand, Spike, and you know it. Steve deserved better than that."

"Oh, look who just grew a conscience. It's a little late now, isn't it, Griff? The deed’s already done."

"It's not too late. We could still go to the cops and tell them what happened, tell them about the threats…"

"Now who's lost his mind? We can't go to the cops when there isn't a body."

"What do you mean, there isn't a body? Of course there’s a body. I saw it."

"And I told you I was going to get rid of it. I've got a buddy who takes people out to dive with the sharks, who knows all the best feeding spots, and we took a little trip out there last night with the body."

The way Spike spoke about it was so matter-of-fact, as though it was just a fun trip out on the ocean and not a felony. Griffin's stomach flipped at the thought of what he'd just been told.

He'd been an idiot to agree to something so terrible.

You didn't do it for you; you did it because of her. Because of what she might have seen and the danger you placed her in.

Griffin turned away from Spike and shook his head. He hadn't endangered Cami, murdered Steve, or even told Steve where they were. It was just unfortunate that she had been the one to find the body when instead it could have been anyone else.

But it wasn't just anyone; it was her.

No matter how hard he tried, Griffin couldn't shake the guilt that he was the one to blame for the mess they were all in. And if it was his fault, then he had to be the one to fix it. There was only one he could do it.

"Griffin, stop taking it all so seriously. I know you were fond of the old man, but you gotta look at this as the blessing it really is.

"He was holding us back for far too long, and the only way out of the contract was to pay the ass for something we were entitled to do anyway. Now we're home free without ever having to break the contract.”

"Spike, sometimes I wonder if you have any real feelings left or if they’ve all been swallowed by your addictions."

"Don't get all pissy with me!"

"A man was murdered and you don't even care! We screwed up big time and it's high time we set it right."

"What the hell does that mean? I told you, you can't go to the cops because there's no body."

"I'm not talking about the cops. I'm talking about confronting the people who did this. We can't just stand by and watch them pick us off one by one. What if next time they decide that murdering someone a little closer to home is the way to get our attention?"

Spike's face drained of colour and he sat up a little straighter on the end of the bed.

"You can't be serious. You can't go and confront Elijah. He'll kill you for sure."

Griffin shook his head, a grim determination settling over him.

"He won't kill me, not if he wants any chance of ever recovering his investment. I struck the deal, so I need to go and make sure Elijah knows what the terms are before he makes any more stupid moves against us."

Spike pushed himself to his feet, the genuine look of fear in his eyes surprising Griffin. After the way he'd been behaving, Griffin honestly hadn't been expecting such a response from one of his oldest friends.

"I'll go with you," Spike said, his tone of voice betraying that he'd rather be doing anything else.

Griffin shook his head. "No. This is my mess and I'll clean it up, but if I do this then you have to promise me something, Spike."

"Sure."

"Flush the pills and get rid of the alcohol. I don't care what you have to do to get sober, just do it. We need you on top of your game if we're going to stand any chance of putting Black Special back on top."

"Griff, I'm fine, I…"

"No more excuses, just do it. You're not fine, you couldn't be further from it. And if I'm going to put my neck on the line to ensure Elijah backs off then I need to know it's worth the risk, that there's something worth saving."

Spike looked far from convinced but he finally nodded. Griffin watched as he swallowed hard and carried the bottle of vodka into the bathroom, the sound of it running down the drain telling Griffin that he was at least willing to try.

Without waiting for Spike to come back out of the bathroom, Griffin left before his friend could attempt to dissuade him again. It would have been far too easy to just give in and pretend there was nothing to be done. Far too easy to stay away and not kick the hornet's nest.

Reaching the car, Griffin popped the trunk and stared down at the black duffle bag he'd carried from Riley's house without him even noticing.

Griffin grabbed the bag and tugged the zipper open, revealing the guns and ammo he'd taken from Breaker's Point. No doubt they'd realised it was missing, which was probably the reason they'd been so insistent with their calls.

Grabbing one of the glocks, Griffin hefted it in his hand, letting the weight of it fit comfortably into his palm. Elijah wouldn't want to talk to him, of that he was certain, but sometimes desperate times called for desperate measures. And Griffin knew just how persuasive cold hard steel could be.