Slow Agony (17 page)

He kissed me.

“I love you,” I said, feeling safe and happy in the circle of his arms. I didn’t want to move.

“I love you too,” he said. “We should get married.”

It took a second for the words to sink in. “What?”

“I said we should—”

“No, I heard you.” My heart had picked up its pace.

His grip on me loosened. “Well, okay, then.”

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

He rolled away from me. “Exactly.”

“Griffin.” I pressed my body against his back, flattening my bare breasts against him. “Yes.”

He turned, and I had to extricate myself from him again. “Yes?”

I nodded. It wasn’t too soon, and we weren’t too young. I was a college graduate. Griffin and I knew each other very well. And I was in love with him. I wanted to be married to him. “Yes.”

“Good,” he said.

“That’s it? Good?” I poked him under his ribs. “You suck at this, you know?”

“
I
suck at it?”

“Yes, you do. You’re supposed to get down on one knee. You’re supposed to have a ring and stuff. And you’re supposed to actually ask, not just say what we should do.”

“Oh,” he said, grinning. “So if I’d done it that way, then you wouldn’t have responded with, ‘What?’”

I shrugged. “Well, you’ll never know now, will you? That was the moment you proposed to me, and we’ll never get another chance.”

He rolled on top of me, grasping my wrists and holding them over my head. “I guess I ruined everything, then, didn’t I?”

“Pretty much,” I said.

He brought his lips close to mine, almost touching mine.

When I tried to kiss him, he yanked his head back. “Nope.”

“You’re awful,” I said.

“Will you marry me?” he said.

“I don’t even know anymore.”

He kissed my chin. “Will you marry me?”

“Maybe,” I said.

He trailed kisses up the line of my jaw, settling on the spot just below my ear. The spot that made me shiver. He kissed me there. “Will you marry me?”

I groaned.

“What was that?”

“Griffin,” I sighed.

“You’re not answering the question.”

“And you’re not on one knee either.”

He raised his head to face me. “And I don’t have a ring.”

“You don’t.”

“I’ll fix it,” he said, kissing me. “Later.” His hand snaked down my torso to find my breast.

I gasped.

“Little busy right now.”

“It’s not very traditional,” said Griffin.

“We’re not traditional,” I said, admiring my hand. The ring was settled on my finger there, a large, tear-drop-shaped stone. But it wasn’t a diamond. It was deep red—the color of passion, the color of blood. And it was a better representation of the way I felt about Griffin that any delicate colorless stone would ever be. This stone was blocky, rough, big, and bold. That was my love for him. “It’s the one I wanted.”

“You should take it off,” he said. We were sitting outside at a café. The waitress had taken our breakfast orders a few minutes before.

I shot him a reproachful look. “Take it off? You just gave it to me. You’re taking it back?”

“Give me the ring, doll.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

I yanked it off my finger and slapped it into his palm. “You’re very mean, Griffin Fawkes, and I hope you realize this.”

He closed his hand around the ring, grinning. “See, now just last night you were telling me how perfect I was. What happened, huh?”

“What happened is that you bought me a really beautiful ring and then you took it away from me.”

He got out of his chair.

And then he was kneeling next to me.

Suddenly, I felt embarrassed. “Oh,” I said in a tiny voice.

“Leigh Thorn,” he said, looking up at me.

“You don’t have to,” I whispered. “I was joking.”

He held up the ring. “Will you marry me?”

I closed my eyes. “Yes.”

“Give me your hand.” His voice was gentle.

I put my hand in his. He slid the ring back on my finger. We both looked down at the scarlet stone.

“Yes,” I said again.

And then I kissed him.

“So, do you think I should call my mom?” Griffin asked me. He was sitting at the turquoise-colored desk in our hotel room.

I was lying on my stomach on one of the beds, my ankles crossed in the air behind me. “Well, it would be cool if there was
someone
we could tell. And I don’t have any family.” My mother had disappeared when I was too young to remember her. My father had his memory wiped. I was alone.

“Yeah,” he said.

“But if you think it would put her in danger, then maybe we should wait?”

He sighed. “That’s the thing. I hate that our lives are being disrupted because Marcel is an asshole. Why do we have to drop everything? Why do we have to run?”

“Because he takes pleasure in torturing you?”

Griffin glowered at the desk. “I need to stop him.”

“We don’t know where he is,” I said.

“No,” he said. “We don’t.”

“I don’t know if I want you going after him anyway. I would worry.”

“You want us to spend the rest of our lives on the run?”

I bit my lip. “No.”

“Look,” he said, “we have to take our lives back. And the first step is acting like we’re not frightened of him. And we do that by living the way we would if he weren’t doing this to us.”

“But we aren’t living that way,” I said, a little confused.

“Not yet,” he said. “But we will be. The first thing I’m going to do is call my mother and tell her that we’re engaged.” He picked up his phone deliberately, as if challenging me to stop him.

“Well, if you think it’s okay,” I said.

He dialed. “I’m going to put it on speaker phone.”

I smiled. “Okay.” I did feel excited. I liked Griffin’s family. I hadn’t gotten the chance to know them real well, but from what I knew of them, they were great.

Griffin set the phone on the table. The speaker was on, and I could hear it ringing.

It rang five or six times before someone answered.

“Hello?” Griffin’s mother had an even thicker New Jersey accent than Griffin did. Even though she’d relocated to Texas, she sounded just as east coast as ever.

“Ma?”

“Griffin, is that you? Oh, thank God. I’ve been trying to get you on the phone since last night.” There was a tremulous quality to her voice.

He heard it, and his smile melted away. “Something wrong?”

“Oh, Griffin, he’s got your sister.”

He stiffened. “Who does?”

I sat up on the bed.

“I don’t know his name. All I know is that he called me, and he told me that he had my Christa, and that if I didn’t get in touch with you, he’d kill her.”

Griffin dragged his hand over his face. “No.”

“He says you gotta come home, baby,” she said. She sounded close to tears. “And I want you here. I’ve never been so scared in my whole life. He said if I called the police, he’d kill her. Do you think I should?”

“No,” he said. “No, you did good, Ma. Don’t do anything else. I’m in Austin. I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

“Be careful, Griffin,” she said. “Please be careful.”

“I’m coming,” he said. He hung up the phone. He turned to look at me, his face twisted and angry. “Fuck.”

“Griffin.” I got to my feet and went to him.

But he brushed me away, balling his hands into fists.

“Griffin, please don’t hit anything in the hotel.”

He rounded on me. “Goddammit, doll.”

I put my hand on his cheek. “We’ve got to go. We’ll go.”

“Do you think he followed us? Do you think it’s because I went by their house?”

“There’s no way to know that,” I said. But I had told him that was a possibility, hadn’t I?

“I should have
listened
to you.”

“It doesn’t matter. We can’t change it now.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” He stalked across the room, shoved his clothes into his pack and headed for the door. I struggled to gather my stuff and keep up with him.

Griffin’s mother met us at the door. She looked as if she hadn’t slept. There were dark circles under her bloodshot eyes. But that didn’t stop her from hugging both of us tightly. “Oh, Leigh, I didn’t know you were coming, but I’m so glad to see you.”

Last Christmas, when I’d come to see Griffin’s family, she’d made me feel right at home, like I belonged. I hugged her back. “I’m so sorry, Beverly. We’re going to get Christa back.”

She ushered us into her kitchen, which was immaculate. Perhaps she’d been cleaning to ward off her worry. Or maybe she simply hadn’t bothered to come inside this room.

“Ma, you gotta tell me what happened,” said Griffin. “Everything.”

“Sit down,” she said, pointing to the cherry-wood table. “Are you two hungry?”

“Never mind that,” said Griffin. “Christa’s been taken by a crazed man. How can you think about food?”

Beverly looked hurt. “I’m doing what I can. I don’t know where your sister is. I’m losing my mind here. But if you were hungry, I could fix you something to eat. That’s something I could do.”

I put my hand on her arm. “It’s okay. Griffin’s only worried.”

“We’re not hungry,” said Griffin.

She patted my hand. “And you, sweetie?”

I shook my head.

“What happened?” said Griffin again.

Beverly sat down at the table. She took a deep breath. “Well, I told you most of it. Christa went out last night. She’s practically graduated from high school at this point. Only two more weeks. So I haven’t been paying as much attention to where she goes or what she does. She’s eighteen for goodness’ sake. Lord knows, I’m not going to give an eighteen-year-old a curfew.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “This isn’t your fault.”

“So she went out last night?” he said.

She nodded, biting her lip. “And I don’t know where she was going.” She burst into tears.

“Ma...” He put his arm around her. “Don’t cry. It’s going to be okay. It probably doesn’t matter where she was last night. She’s probably not there now.”

“Oh, Lord,” she said. “Where is she, then?”

“If I knew that,” he said, “I’d be there getting her back, now, wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, Griffin,” she said. “I don’t want you hurt. I thought I lost you once, and I couldn’t take it if I lost you again.”

Op Wraith had told Griffin’s family that he was dead, even though they had given him the serum and were training him to be an assassin. Beverly had been certain that her son was gone for years. When Griffin found her again, he told her that he’d been in a coma and that there had been a mix up in the hospital about his identity. He couldn’t find her until after he woke up. Of course, that was a lie. But Griffin didn’t want his mother knowing about Op Wraith. He didn’t want her put in danger because of it.

“I won’t get hurt,” he said. “I’m tough, Ma. So, when did you get the call?”

“Last night,” she said. “Around midnight.”

“Did the caller identify himself?”

“No.” She shook her head. “All he said was that he had Christa, and he was going to hurt her unless I got you to come home.”

“Nothing else?”

“Only not to tell the police.”

Griffin swore under his breath.

“You watch your mouth, young man.” She glared at him.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Did he call again?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “I spent all last night and this morning calling every number I’ve ever had for you, Griffin, and none of them worked.”

“I’ve been having to lay low ‘cause of this guy,” he said. “Sorry, but I thought if you were in touch with me, it would put you in danger.”

“Not being in touch with you almost killed your sister. If you hadn’t called me, she’d be dead.”

“I don’t get it,” Griffin muttered. “He wants me home? I’m home. Now what?”

I wasn’t sure. Marcel hadn’t dealt fair with us so far. And between him and Wolfman, they were proving to be careless with other people who were involved. Naomi and the girl from the bar were both dead because they’d been too close to us.

“He didn’t leave you anyway to contact him?” I said.

“No, or I would have told him that I couldn’t get a hold of Griffin.”

I thought of Marcel with the gun to Naomi’s head. It was like a cold hand had grabbed my spine. “He wouldn’t have cared.”

Abruptly, there was the sound of the front door opening.

We all froze.

“Who is that, Ma?” Griffin murmured.

“I don’t...”

“You two stay back,” he said. He took out the gun he carried and crept out of the kitchen.

It was quiet.

Beverly and I looked at each other. Her face was full of terror. My heart was in my throat.

What if something happened to Griffin? Would I be able to protect his mother?

“Jesus, Griffin, you scared me,” said a young female voice.

Beverly’s eyes widened. “Christa?” She scurried out of the kitchen.

I followed her.

I was just in time to see Griffin’s sister being squeezed by both her brother and her mother.

She coughed. “You guys. I can’t breathe.”

Christa was drinking a soda. “So, I lost my purse. Everything. I didn’t have money, my phone, my credit card, the keys to my car.” She was so sleek and put together. Her dark hair was perfectly trimmed to fall past her shoulders. It was thick and shiny. It made me wonder what Griffin’s hair would look like if he ever grew it out. Her makeup was artfully applied, her clothes stylish. It had only been six months since I’d seen her last, and she already seemed more grown up. “So, I wanted to call you, Ma, but I couldn’t. And I was stuck in Kirby overnight. I couldn’t get a ride until this morning.”

“You weren’t attacked?” said Griffin, glaring at her from across the kitchen. He and I were seated at the kitchen table.

“I told you, no, I wasn’t.” She set her soda on the counter. “Is that why you had a gun?”

Griffin massaged the bridge of his nose. “It’s for protection, all right?”

“Sweetie,” said Beverly, who was hovering behind Christa as if she wasn’t convinced she was real, “I got a call from a man who claimed to have you hostage.”

Christa whirled to face her mother. “What?”