Breaker's Point Bad Boy Billionaires Boxset (39 page)

C
ami gripped
the steering wheel tightly as she swung her car onto her street. Her stomach continued to roll uncomfortably as she parked the car and stepped out onto the pavement.

She gasped, her hand covering her mouth as she caught sight of Griffin propped against the doorframe, his face a bloody mess. He'd been so badly beaten that it actually hurt to look at him, and Cami fought the urge to go running up the steps to him.

Sophie sat on the front step watching him, her heart-shaped face filled with curiosity.

"Sophie, go inside and get some water in a glass for Griffin," Cami said, her heart hammering in her chest as she made her way slowly up the path.

"You know him?" Sophie asked, turning to face Cami, her expression suddenly suspicious. "Is he your boyfriend?" Her voice took on the childish sing-song quality she was so fond of using when she really wanted to irritate Cami.

Cami knew she clearly wasn't forgiven for not being home before Sophie had gone to her friend's sleepover.

"Sophie, the water. Griffin is too badly hurt for you to start messing around."

Sophie shot her a dirty look and Cami took it without saying a word. She watched as the girl stomped up the last step and carefully tiptoed around Griffin, who appeared to be unconscious.

Sophie had said he was awake when she rang her and Cami feared he may have internal injuries that were causing him to lose consciousness.

She took the last few steps and paused next to him, automatically reaching to check for a pulse when Griffin's hand caught hers.

He opened his eyes and stared up at her in confusion. Cami felt her heart sink. Whoever had beaten him had obviously done such a good job that he didn't remember who she was, which made the situation far more complicated than Cami had ever imagined.

"What are you doing? I'm not dead," he said, his voice tinged with pain.

"Sophie said you were awake and when I got here… I was worried you might have internal bleeding or something."

Griffin pushed himself up a little higher and released Cami's hand.

"I was pretending to be asleep. Sophie asks a lot of questions and there are some things a girl her age doesn't need to know."

Cami dropped her gaze to the stone of the step she was kneeling on. Griffin couldn't have been more right even if he tried; it was the one thought that Cami fought the hardest against. There were some things a girl of Sophie's age didn't need to know and yet life had a cruel habit of often doing the exact opposite of a person's best interests.

"You were pretending? I knew you were a faker!" Sophie's voice was high and pitchy as she stood in the doorway with a glass of water in her hands.

"Sophie, give Griffin the water and then go inside and do your homework."

"Not until he apologises!" She stamped her foot as colour flushed her cheeks.

"Sophie!" Cami warned, giving her a look that brooked no argument.

She pulled a face and set the glass down on the porch just enough out of Griffin's reach that he would have to stretch to get it. Sophie turned on her heel and fled into the house, slamming the front door behind her hard enough to make it shake to its very foundations.

"I'm sorry about that, she's got quite the temper sometimes," Cami said, reaching over and handing the glass to Griffin.

He shook his head, hissing out through his teeth as he wrinkled his face in pain.

"We really need to get you to a hospital," Cami said, watching as he took a small sip of water and then set the glass back down on the porch.

"I don't have time for the hospital. I'll be fine."

"You're not going to be fine. We don't know what's going on inside you, how much damage has been done."

He shook his head and tried to push himself to his feet once more, gritting his teeth as he fought to drag his body up against the door frame. He failed and dropped back down, the air whooshing out of his lungs as he hit the ground.

"Maybe I need a hospital after all," he said, low enough that Cami wasn't sure if he meant for her to hear him.

"But only if you take me. We need to talk about a few things." Griffin opened his eyes and stared up at Cami; the vulnerable look she'd seen in them the night before was back, causing her heart to clench.

"Griffin, I don't know, I…"

"Look, I can't get there myself. I can't stand so I'm pretty sure driving is out of the question."

Cami nodded and glanced up at the house, the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention as she felt someone watching her. She scanned the windows and caught sight of Sophie staring at them from the front room. She was torn; Griffin couldn't get to the hospital himself, but how could she take that risk?

Cami glanced back at Griffin, the lines of his face telling her just how much pain he was actually in. She knew she had no choice.

"Fine. I'll drive you to the hospital, but that's it."

He nodded and closed his eyes, his face and body relaxing back against the doorframe.

Cami's stomach flipped as she watched him. She reached out to him once more, grabbing his arm with her hand and shaking him gently.

"Griffin, you can't go to sleep yet, not until you're in the hospital and a doctor has seen you."

His eyes opened slowly and he seemed to take her words on board.

"Fine, but you're going to have to help me up."

Cami nodded and climbed onto the porch next to him. She quickly wrapped her arms around his chest and allowed him to throw his arm across her shoulders. Griffin gripped the edge of the doorframe with his other hand and Cami pushed upwards. He gritted his teeth and groaned out as Cami put pressure on his ribs. She had a feeling at least one of them was broken.

It was a struggle to get him on his feet, but once he was up he seemed to be a lot steadier.

"Are you ready to try and get down to the car?" she asked, holding him around the waist as tightly as she dared given the risk of internal injuries.

She glanced up at him; his face appeared ashen beneath the blood that had dried along his cheeks.

"Yeah, no point in prolonging it," Griffin said as he took the first step down.

The walk to the car was agonisingly slow and Cami felt bad every time Griffin sucked in a pained breath. She helped him into the passenger seat before running back to the house and pushing open the front door.

"I'm taking him to the hospital…" She didn't have the chance to finish her sentence before Sophie appeared at the top of the stairs with her backpack in her hands.

"Fine, I'm going to Angie's. I'll do my homework there."

There was no escaping the anger in Sophie's voice, and Cami sagged against the door frame. It didn't seem to matter what she did; Sophie always seemed to be upset about something.

"Okay, but you really have to do your homework this time. I don't want a repeat of what happened before."

Sophie just rolled her eyes and pushed out the door past Cami.

"Whatever!" she said, half skipping down the steps and out the gate.

Cami watched her until she reached the house at the end of the street and disappeared up the path to the front door. At least at Angie's house she'd be safe for the evening, but Cami had a sinking feeling that Sophie's attitude problem was going to become the topic of their next family meeting. And a discussion like that would only lead to one thing.

War.

Sighing, Cami hurried around to the driver's side and climbed into the car. Griffin was silent; she cast a worried look in his direction but he half smiled, reassuring her that he was still in the land of the living.

Cami started the engine and let the car roll gently away from the curb before building enough courage to ask him the one question that had been circling her head from the moment she'd first seen him on the porch.

"Who did this? Was it the same people who killed your manager?"

Cami glanced over at Griffin when he didn't immediately answer, and he let out a long sigh in response.

"Yeah, I went to see them this morning to find out what the hell they were playing at. Steve was a good guy who didn't deserve to end up dead."

Cami nodded and concentrated on the road ahead of her before asking him another question. Her stomach knotted in fear as she prepared for an answer she knew she wasn't going to like.

"Why did you end up on my porch, Griffin?"

Cami didn't look at him, afraid that his reaction to her question would confirm her suspicions.

"I don't know. I guess they left me there…" he said, his words falling into the tense silence that flooded through the car.

"I don't understand why they'd do that. Why not leave you with your bandmates? After all, Steve was your manager. I didn't know him."

"They know you were there, Cami. They know you're a witness…"

She swallowed hard, his words almost causing her to lose her grip on the steering wheel.

"Wow, easy! I'm beat up enough already. I really don't fancy my chances in a car wreck," Griffin said, putting his hand on the wheel to steady the direction of the car in the lane.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, it's just a shock. Seeing what they did to you and knowing they murdered your manager…" Cami let herself trail off, disappointed that her voice was so badly strangled by the fear and panic she was feeling.

"Cami, I swear I won't let them hurt you or your kid."

His words hung in the air and for a moment she felt confusion wash over her.

"Sophie isn-" Cami stopped herself before she blurted out one of her deepest secrets. Fintan was the only person who knew Sophie was her sister, and that was only because she felt she could trust him to keep his silence.

Griffin cast her a look that Cami ignored as she pulled the car to a halt outside the main door of the emergency department.

"You know you can tell me anything, Cami. It'll never go any further than me."

She turned to look at him. The blood drying on his face and the swelling around his jaw and left eye weren’t enough to take away the handsome boyish charm she'd seen in him the minute he'd first walked into the bar.

There was a part of Cami that wanted to trust him, that wanted to tell him every sordid detail of her past and present.

But she couldn't.

Griffin had already gotten her into trouble without even knowing anything about her. What would happen if he finally found out the truth? Cami just couldn't take that chance, not when it wasn't just her future at stake.

"I’m not going to go in with you, but when you're out, we'll talk, okay?" Cami said, hoping that it would be enough to put him off her track for now. He was her only chance of getting out of the hole she'd wandered into.

Griffin studied her for a moment before nodding. "When you think you can trust me, I know you'll tell me the truth. I can wait until then."

Cami smiled and felt her shoulders sag as the air rushed out of her lungs.

Griffin climbed from the car, and it took every ounce of Cami's strength not to get out after him and help him into the hospital. He didn't look back as he hobbled towards the door. A doctor heading in the set of double doors caught sight of him and started to help, and Cami let the car roll away.

Cami drove away from the hospital and parked the car a couple of blocks from where she'd left Griffin. She held the wheel as hot tears started to fall down her cheeks unchecked.

Why she was crying wasn't clear to her. The only thing she knew for certain was that she had an ache in her chest that refused to unknot itself. She'd been running for so long she was beginning to doubt herself, and she was tired of constantly having to lock out everyone around her who tried to break through the walls she'd built.

But how did you explain to someone like Griffin that the walls were there for a reason without having to tell him the truth? He wasn't the type to just take something at face value, and yet Cami knew she would have to ask him to do just that.

And if he didn't, she was in far more trouble than she'd ever believed possible.

A
s he sat
in the hospital room, Griffin waited for the shit to really hit the fan. He'd made it through the door on his own steam, but that had sapped all of his strength.

Passing out had caused the doctors to search for identification and, of course, a contact for next of kin.

"What the hell happened, Griffin? And I expect a proper answer this time, not the crap you tried to fob me off with last time."

Griffin sighed and sank back against the crisp white pillows as Riley swept in the door without so much as a “hello,” or “how are you feeling?” It was typical of his family to go for the jugular first and ask questions later.

Griffin groaned and angrily pushed upright in the bed as Stuart sauntered in the door after Riley. The look he shot Griffin was far from friendly and the position he took near the door spoke volumes of what he was used to doing every day of the week in his work as private security.

"I'm fine. You didn't need to come down here. It was just an overreaction on behalf of the hospital. Something about protocol." Griffin tried to force a lightness into his voice that he wasn't particularly feeling, but he failed miserably, his words coming out a lot bitterer than he had intended.

Riley stood at the end of the bed and shot Griffin a withering look. There would have been a time when Griffin felt the weight of his brother's stare and complied with whatever was being demanded of him. But not anymore.

"I want the truth. I want to know why you're lying in a hospital bed looking as though you were run over by a two ton truck. And I want to know where the hell my guns are."

Griffin ducked his gaze at the mention of the guns. There were many secrets he could keep from Riley but that wasn't really one of them, particularly after what Elijah had threatened.

"You better start talking or I'll finish whatever rearrangement was attempted with your face."

Griffin snorted and winced as the pain of his bruised ribs lanced through his utter derision of his brother.

"It's more likely you'll have Stuart do your dirty work for you. Why else would you have brought him with you? I know it certainly wasn't because he was worried about my welfare."

"Actually…" Stuart started to answer and then seemed to change his mind. He shook his head, a mocking smile on his face. "I'm not even going to bother answering that, so think what you like, little brother."

It was typical of Stuart to duck out of the conversation rather than delving into the nitty-gritty of what was really bugging him. Ever since they'd had their big argument all those years ago, it had felt as though Stuart was looking down on him. Griffin was tired of it.

"We don't have time for this. You two really need to get over your petty differences and just move on. We have far more important issues at hand to be concerned with," Riley said, his commanding tone grating on Griffin's nerves.

"I need a name, Griffin. I need you to tell me who did this."

"Why? Why is it so important that I tell you who beat the crap out of me? What does it matter now; it's over and done with, and I'll be better prepared next time."

"Is his name George?" Stuart blurted out. Griffin could see his anger simmering just below the surface, and he knew it wouldn't take much to send him over the edge.

"George who? Why would you ask if his name was George?" Griffin asked, his mind suddenly whirling with suspicions.

He watched Stuart and Riley exchange a look between them, a secretive look that only they understood, and Griffin felt his own anger rising.

"What the hell are you two not telling me? Who's George?"

Riley sighed and pushed a hand back through his dark hair.

"It's a long story, one we don't really have time for right now, but suffice it to say I'm relieved to hear his name wasn't George."

"Thanks, is that what you came here for? To ask me stupid questions and act all relieved when I was almost killed by a different psychopath who was not the one you were worried about?"

"You know that's not why we're here," Riley said.

"Well, not the only reason." Stuart smirked and folded his arms across his chest, propping himself against the doorframe.

"We saw the news. We know your manager is missing and when we got the call to say you'd been involved in some sort of situation and were in the hospital…"

"You thought I had something to do with what happened to Steve?" Griffin couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd always known his brothers to be a bunch of dicks, but never as bad as this.

The memory of Steve lying in the alley, the blank look in his eyes, and the trickle of blood running down his face was enough to send a cold shiver running down Griffin's spine.

"Well we couldn't know for certain, which is part of the reason we're here," Stuart piped up. "The other reason is that we know you took all those guns and the ammo, and Riley wants them back. So where are they?"

Griffin sighed and fought the urge to order his brothers out of the room. The thought of watching security manhandle them out was almost too much temptation, but he pushed it aside.

"Look, I took the guns because I needed them. I needed the protection."

"Protection from what, the panties your groupies throw at you when you're on stage? Because I'm pretty sure a gun might be considered excessive force," Stuart said, the infuriating smirk back on his face.

"Stuart, let him finish," Riley warned, and Griffin couldn't help but swallow hard as he noticed how intently his brother seemed to be studying him.

"I told you I needed a quarter of a million and you wouldn't help me out so I took the guns instead."

"You're really in that much trouble?" Riley asked, his face draining of colour. "So much trouble that you felt your life was in danger? Why wouldn't you tell me that when we were back at Breaker's Point?"

"Because I knew what would happen if I did. You'd want to stick your nose in my business and you'd ruin everything… You wouldn't mean it but it would happen, Riley. I know you."

"Is it drugs? Do you owe a drug dealer a quarter of a million?"

"Why not pay him out of the money you made from your band? You guys have to be minting it," Stuart added, the smirk disappearing from his face.

Griffin dropped his head and stared down at the bed sheet that was so white it was practically luminous.

"There is no money and there is no drug dealer. Well, he might be, but I don't owe him money for drugs. Black Special is broke; I borrowed the money from a loan shark called Elijah Scott to fund our latest tour. Halfway through it the money was gone and we hadn't recouped even a fraction of what we'd put out."

Riley shook his head, his expression one of shock. "Griffin, how is that possible? I've looked at some of the stock for your group and Black Special is worth a small fortune. I don't understand how the money could just be gone."

Griffin shrugged. "The hell if I know. The only thing I am certain of is that the money is definitely gone and now the debt has come due."

"And did your manager take the money? Is that why he's missing?" Stuart’s tone was serious and matter-of-fact.

Griffin swallowed hard, suddenly unsure what he was supposed to say. Spike had warned him to keep everything under wraps, that it was a secret between them and nobody else. But how could he keep a secret like that from his brothers?

"We think Elijah killed Steve." Griffin opted for a half truth, which was enough to get them off the trail of believing that Steve was to blame whilst also letting them know just how dangerous Elijah truly was.

Stuart let out a low whistle, his expression serious as he leaned against the door.

"Wow, little brother, you certainly know how to pick 'em. What made you think borrowing money from a loan shark was a good idea?" Stuart's words were enough to cause Griffin's anger to boil over.

"And what the hell was I supposed to do? Turn to my family and ask for their help because, newsflash, neither of you have been particularly helpful in the past. So why would I expect anything from you now?"

"Why did you need to turn to anyone in the first place? If you'd been a little more responsible with the money you were making from the group, then none of this would have happened. Instead you've been throwing money around like it would never disappear." Stuart stretched himself to his full height.

"So that's what it all boils down to, is it? You're still jealous after all this time? Well I'm sorry, Stuart, if you didn't have any talent our parents could exploit. 'Boring' isn't exactly marketable," Griffin said. The grim satisfaction he got out of watching his barbs hit home wasn't exactly enough to take the sting out of Stuart's words.

Stuart started to cross the room but Riley caught him before he had the chance to reach the side of Griffin’s bed.

Griffin knotted his hands into the covers and watched the pure rage flow through Stuart's eyes. He'd obviously struck a nerve, but why it was still a trigger after all this time was beyond Griffin.

"I want you both to leave," Griffin said, turning his back on his brothers as he rolled over in the bed.

A moment of silence followed and Griffin fought the overwhelming urge to glance over his shoulder to see if, for once, they'd actually listened to him.

"Fine, but only so you can rest. I'll come back this evening and I expect the truth, Griffin. It's the only way you'll get any help from us," Riley said, his voice low and authoritative.

His brother’s last words had Griffin intrigued. He'd always assumed that he was on his own; neither of his brothers had helped him before, so to hear it offered now was more than a little surprising.

Griffin didn't answer, his own stubbornness holding him back. He honestly had no way of knowing how to stop it.

A
sharp rap
on the door woke Griffin from his doze. Groggily he opened his eyes, expecting to see Riley and Stuart back for round two.

Instead a petite blonde woman stood framed in the doorway; everything about her, from her posture to the stony expression she wore, screamed she was a cop. Griffin's stomach dropped and he fought to push himself upright in the bed.

"Mr. Reynolds, Griffin Reynolds, do you mind if I have a word with you?" She stepped into the room without waiting for him to answer.

"And you are?" he asked, the hostility in his voice instantly recognised by the woman who was approaching the bed. Griffin watched her take note of his immediate reaction to her and internally berated himself.

It was a stupid mistake to let her see his true feelings about law enforcement. And yet Griffin couldn't help but feel guilty over everything that was going on.

He'd never been a particularly good liar, especially when it came to lying to the cops.

"I'm Detective Andrea DeMarco. I just want to ask you a few questions about your manager, Steve Robinson. I don't know if you heard yet but his girlfriend has reported him missing?"

Griffin nodded, trying to keep the tension out of his hands as he gripped the edge of the bed sheet.

"It's not common for us to take on a missing person report so quickly. Normally the person has to be gone for at least twenty-four hours before we start to mobilise a search."

"So why was Steve different? I mean it's not unlike him to fall off the grid for a day or so; he'd always resurface with a story of searching for new talent."

Detective DeMarco smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant expression. Griffin felt a tendril of fear curling around the base of his spine. She couldn't possibly know anything. There was nothing to know; Spike had reassured him of that.

"I'll keep that under advisement, but Mr. Robinson's case is a little different. We found his Audi burnt out, the interior of the car completely stripped down."

Griffin couldn't keep the surprise from his face and he swallowed hard. Spike hadn't mentioned anything about a car and, as far as Griffin could remember, he hadn't seen Steve's Audi in the parking lot of Holey Moley's the night he was shot.

"Did you remember something, Mr. Reynolds? Anything at all that could help us with our search for Mr. Robinson would be greatly appreciated at this time. Anything at all." There was an edge to DeMarco's tone that made Griffin uneasy.

It was almost as though she knew something she wasn't telling him. And if that were the case, it would only take one wrong word from him to make her even more suspicious than she already was.

"I don't know anything. I'm sorry, I wish I did."

She nodded and flipped open a notepad that she pulled out from the inside of her jacket.

"You were quite close to Mr. Robinson, is that true?"

Griffin nodded. "We all were. He was our manager."

DeMarco smiled and shook her head. "I've been led to believe that out of all your bandmates you were by far the closest to him. Almost as though it was a father-son relationship instead of a manager-band setup."

The pit Griffin had felt in his stomach earlier came roaring back with a vengeance. It was a struggle not to tumble headlong into it.

"We were very close, yes. I admired Steve; he was a great man and an even better manager. I trusted him to never lead us astray and he never did."

DeMarco nodded thoughtfully and scribbled a few notes onto the pad in her hand.

"And when did you last speak to Mr. Robinson?"

Griffin shrugged. "I don't really remember. A lot has happened over the last few days."

"Did you speak to him yesterday evening?"

The short conversation he'd had with Steve just hours before he'd died came flooding back to Griffin and he nodded without meaning to.

"How did he sound to you? Was he worried at all? Did you argue?"

"He sounded fine. He sounded like Steve, nothing out of the ordinary."

"What the hell is going on in here?" Riley's voice cut through Griffin's answer.

Griffin turned and watched as his brother strode into the room with an expression that would have made lesser cops wilt beneath the weight of his stare. But DeMarco held her ground, a tight-lipped smile on her face as she turned to greet Riley.