A good friend would listen to your sob story, your issues, your mistakes, but a best friend—the closest friend—would show up with a shovel to help bury the problem.

  She had to find a way to take Griff out of the line of fire.

  * * *

  GRIFF RUBBED THE towel over his skin. He hadn’t heard much of Meg’s conversation, but what little he had didn’t sound good. She was in real trouble. He desperately wished he could make her understand that she had friends here. The past didn’t matter. Ernie would help. Sheriff Norwood would go with whatever Ernie suggested. Loads of other people would be more than glad to throw in their support.

  But Meg wouldn’t take the risk.

  It wasn’t for her own safety that she ignored this option. She was doing it to protect him and the people she considered friends.

  How did he convince her that she was looking at this all wrong?

  He swiped his palm over the foggy mirror and then finger-combed his hair. Rubbing a hand over his jaw, he realized he needed a shave far more badly than he’d realized. But grooming had been the furthest thing from his mind for the past twenty-four or so hours. Staying alive and making sure Meg stayed that way too was priority one.

  Not that she wasn’t damned good at taking care of herself. Her skill with a weapon—hell, in hand-to-hand combat even—was stellar. Like nothing he’d ever seen in real life. In the movies, yeah, but not in what he’d thought to be an everyday person. The real problem was, in his opinion, if she was so busy keeping everyone else safe, she might fall down on the job of protecting herself. He intended to ensure that didn’t happen.

  He hung the towel over the shower curtain rod and pulled on his already worn clothes. By daylight, it would be necessary for them to move, so he had until then to convince her that she should accept help from him and the people who cared about her. As smart as she was, she would see through his attempts if he pushed too hard.

  Griff opened the bathroom door and walked out, determined to do whatever was necessary to convince her to trust him, to work with him before going out on her own. She stood in the kitchen near the sink eating a protein bar. He smiled, couldn’t help himself. She looked so young and vulnerable in that dim light.

  He almost laughed at the thought. Young, she was. Vulnerable, not so much.

  “The shower’s all yours,” he announced. As tired as he was, he felt a little better after his. All things considered, he supposed part of it was simply being thankful that they were both still alive.

  She finished off the bar, tossed the wrapper on the counter. “Turn off this light and keep a watch out the windows while I’m in there, will you?”

  He nodded. “You worried they’ve found us already?”

  “Nope. Just want to make sure none of the neighbors who might be out for a nightly walk notice activity in here and nose around.”

  “I can do that.” He reached out and flipped off the light, leaving them in total darkness.

  She took a slug of water. “Thanks.”

  “What about your phone?” he asked. “You threw mine away—I’m assuming so it couldn’t be traced. What about yours?”

  “There are ways to prevent a cell phone from being traced. I’ve made a point of knowing them all.”

  With that she walked away. The sound of her bare feet padding across the wood floor had him following the vague outline of her body in the darkness. He loved the shape of her, the smell of her—even after huddling in a pile of rocks for what felt like hours and plowing through the woods for endless minutes. There was a sweetness about her skin. She tasted so good. Not to mention she was seriously hot to look at.

  How many times had he covertly analyzed her long toned legs and licked his lips while tracing her hips or her breasts with his gaze. It was a miracle she hadn’t caught him eyeing her like that. Several of his friends had mentioned how gorgeous she was. The best part about it was that she didn’t seem to even notice how good she looked. All she had to do was glance in the mirror, but apparently she didn’t see herself that way. She was just who she was. Good-natured. Kind. Sweet.

  He shook his head. Sweet? Actually, what she was, was badass. He grinned. Seriously badass.

  When the water started to run, he decided to do something she wouldn’t appreciate if she caught him. He opened her backpack and had a look inside. He found two passports. One under the name Eleanor Holt. In the picture, her hair was darker and she looked younger. The next passport was under the name Elle Longwood. The photo in this one was Meg with her usual dark hair but lighter than in the other photo.

  There was a wad of cash. Drivers licenses under the same names as the passports. Keys to what looked like lockboxes and maybe houses. Another smaller handgun. Snacks, bottles of water.

  Who was Eleanor Holt? Was Holt actually her last name? What kind of operation had she been working on when things went south and she had to disappear? Who was this guy whose voice she recognized? Had he been a partner? Colleague? Lover? She’d indicated yes to all three, but was she telling Griff what he expected to hear? He had learned that about her. Maybe it was some kind of psychology move. Tell a person what they want to hear and they stop asking questions.

  The water shut off, and he remembered she’d asked him to keep watch on the windows.

  Feeling like as ass, he moved from window to window and surveyed the dark yard and trees. No movement. No sound. He confirmed that both the front and back doors were locked. Then he went back to the kitchen and grabbed a protein bar. He had no idea what time it was. The digital clocks on the stove and the microwave flashed midnight as if there had been a power outage at some point and no one had bothered to set them. The last time he’d looked at the clock in the SUV, it had been after midnight, so it had to be one or well past that by now.

  If any of the events had hit the news, Griff’s mom and sister would be beside themselves. He should call his mom and let her know he was okay. Maybe Meg would let him call since her cell was untraceable.

  Considering how tough Meg was, she might not see him wanting to call his mother as very manly or strong.

  But he had the perfect excuse. He loved his mother and he didn’t want her to worry. He thought he knew Meg well enough to believe she would feel the same way if her parents were still alive. Had all the talk about her parents been lies? She had said it was all true...

  The bathroom door opened, and he turned in that direction, pondering the fact that she was all alone in this world and that circumstance had perhaps nudged her toward such a risky career. Except she had him and the other people in Piney Woods who adored her. She didn’t have to do that anymore. Would driving that detail home help her to see that she didn’t need to run? They could fight this battle together.

  She rubbed her hair with the towel to dry it since there was no hair dryer. “All clear?”

  “All clear.” His eyes had adjusted to the darkness so that he could just make out her form and a little of her face.

  “We should get some sleep,” she said. “There’s a rug in the living room but not much elsewhere except the hardwood floor.”

  “Works for me.”

  She picked up her backpack and walked in that direction. He followed. She dropped her bag on the rug and sat down next to it, still working on her hair. He settled on the rug on the opposite side. He searched his brain for a way to kick off the conversation they needed to have, but nothing readily bobbed to the surface. Maybe he was just too tired to sort this out.

  “I’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice softer than usual.

  Since they weren’t worried about anyone overhearing them, her quiet tone had him coming to fuller attention. “Me too,” he confessed.

  She said nothing for a few seconds, then, “You go first.”

  Frustration thumped him. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just let her go on. There was no taking it back now. He drew in a big breath. Just say it. “I think you underestimate how many friends you have in Piney Woods. We’ll band together and help you if you’ll only let us.”

  She laughed softly. Sighed. The laugh part worried him.

  “I’m going to tell you everything,” she said. “I think it will help you see how what you’re suggesting won’t work.”

  When he would have argued, she added, “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, and I do know that I have many friends in Piney Woods. I am very grateful for all of you.”

  “Then let us help you.” The sound of her voice in the darkness had his body reacting. Come on, Griff, get your head in the right place.

  “First,” she said as she tossed the towel and stretched out on her side to face him, “let me tell you what I’m up against.”

  He opted not to correct her, but it was what they were up against. He lay down on the rug facing her, a safe distance between them. No pushing, he reminded himself.

  “I joined the LAPD right out of USC—the University of Southern California. I went to the academy and rose to detective in record time. Then four years ago, I was approached by a man who was putting together a special team of operatives composed of police detectives, DEA and FBI agents. It was to be the first of its kind. He selected members of law enforcement who had excelled in their fields. He vetted hundreds of people. When he selected his group, the team’s first mission was to go after the biggest drug lord on the West Coast, Salvadori Lorenzo.”

  “I don’t know the name.” Griff hated admitting this, but it was true. No point pretending. If she wanted to tell him the story, he wanted the whole story. He needed it.

  “I’m not surprised. He isn’t exactly a household name. The average Californian thinks he’s just another billionaire who lives in Beverly Hills and donates to all the right causes and parties. But people in the higher echelons of law enforcement on the West Coast know who he is. He is the primary connection in this country to one of Mexico’s most notorious drug cartels. When he says jump, even the top member of that cartel asks how high on the way up. He is untouchable.”

  “Your job was to infiltrate his business,” he surmised. Griff knew it. She wasn’t a killer. She was a cop. An undercover cop. A smile tugged at his mouth, and he wanted to reach over and hug her hard.

  “Not in the beginning. I had other operations. It wasn’t until things went sour with the operative we had inside Lorenzo’s clique.”

  “Let me guess,” Griff offered, “the man whose voice you heard in the woods back there.”

  “The one and only. Kase Ridley.”

  “This drew you into Lorenzo’s world.” Griff got it now.

  “It did. My boss, Arthur Wisting, set up my profile, Angela Hamilton, assassin for hire. My first step toward breaking into his tight little group was going after one of his men who’d stepped over a certain line. Lorenzo was so impressed by my courage that he hired me on the spot. It all went down exactly as Wisting had hoped.”

  She really was fearless. Damn. “You actually went after one of his men?”

  “I did. It was do or die. I tap-danced my way into his good graces, and he became quite fond of me during the months that followed.”

  Griff wanted to ask if she’d had to kill anyone to prove herself, but he wanted her to keep talking, and that question might just shut this moment down.

  “Things were rocking along exactly as planned until Ridley got himself into a no-win situation, and I was ordered to extract him.”

  He waited for her to go on, the urge to reach out and give her arm a squeeze of reassurance nearly overwhelming, but again, he didn’t want to stop the momentum.

  “During the attempted extraction, Lorenzo’s one and only son was killed. He believes I killed him.”

  Damn. “How old was this son?” He felt confident they weren’t talking about a child.

  “Twenty-nine-year-old piece of garbage who got off on watching people die. Do I feel guilty that he’s dead?” She laughed. “No way. The world is a better place without him.”

  “Wait,” Griff said, replaying what she’d said, “Lorenzo believes you killed his son. Did you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. He’s dead and Lorenzo wants me dead.”

  Griff had a feeling there was more to it. “The Ridley guy just let you take the fall either way.”

  “He was in deeper. It was better that I took the fall. Except then he disappeared, was presumed dead—until now.”

  “Wait.” Griff held up his hands. “Didn’t they offer to protect you?”

  “Sure.” She made a sound, a scoff. “Do you know how many cops survive in witness protection? I wouldn’t have stood a chance against Lorenzo’s reach. Case in point, Ernie runs my prints and less than twenty-four hours later Lorenzo has people right here in Piney Woods. He has ears everywhere. I knew my only choice was to disappear completely without any help from anyone.”

  Griff finally understood. Meg had been right. She would never be safe unless she disappeared, leaving no trace and no one who knew.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t understand.” She had the weight of all this on her shoulders, and she’d been carrying it alone all this time.

  She sighed. “I guess you kind of had to be there.”

  He reached over, took her hand. He held it gently. Wishing there was more he could do. More he could say.

  Her mouth was suddenly on his. She kissed him with such urgency, such need. He didn’t resist. He understood. She needed him in the only way he could help right now.

  And he intended to give her everything she wanted.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Givens Road

  Chattanooga, Tennessee

  6:00 a.m.

  Meg watched Griff sleep. As much as she understood this thing with him had been a mistake, she couldn’t really see it that way. She had never been in love. Ever. She had dearly loved her parents. She’d cared very much for friends and even some work colleagues. But she had never been the textbook definition of “in love.”

  Despite her lack of experience in the area, she felt confident this feeling that sizzled between her and Griff was exactly that—being in love. She wanted desperately to spend time with him, to simply be with him. She had never been a social butterfly. She’d had no long or impressive list of boyfriends or lovers. She had always been more focused on education and then work. Filling her social calendar or satisfying her physical needs had never been at the top of her agenda. Never a high priority. There were far too many other things that took precedence.

  She and Griff had enjoyed each other’s bodies until exhaustion had overtaken them just before sunrise. He’d fallen asleep while she showered again, and she was glad. She’d wanted to just sit and look at him. To watch him breathe. To study his face and his naked body in the morning light.

  He was the nicest and kindest man she had ever met. Before Griff, her father had held that standing. He had been her idol. Her father had known how to treat a woman. He had respected and supported her mother. Always backed her up. Always stood at her side. Even as a little girl, she had known this was the kind of man she wanted to fall in love with one day.

  And here he was, but the timing could not be worse.

  How was she supposed to follow her heart? To pursue this love she had found? She couldn’t if she wanted to protect him from the trouble that had descended upon this new life she had created.

  She was out of options. The smart thing to do would be to leave now before he woke. She could write to him later and explain how difficult the decision had been. He wouldn’t understand, but at least he would be alive.

  Except the only way that worked was if she turned herself over to Lorenzo. They had connected Griff to her, and they would use him against her. If hers and Ridley’s positions were reversed, she would do the same. To win, being heartless was by far the better position of strength.

  She stood, rounded up her backpack. She had already dressed in the one change of clothes she’d had. Creeping through the house, headed for the front door, she forced herself to keep staring forward.

  Don’t look back.

  “Are you leaving?”

  Without me, he didn’t bother to add. The answer was obvious.

  She stalled at the front door, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Deep breath. She braced herself and turned to face him. That he stood there dragging on his jeans did nothing to make this any easier. From his sleep-tousled hair to his bare feet, he was as sexy as hell. The way he looked at her, disappointed and at once hopeful made her feel a level of regret she couldn’t pretend away.

  “Leaving is the one step I can take that will protect you and everyone else here who I mistakenly allowed to get close to me. I just can’t risk what might happen to one or all of you by staying.”

  Griff braced his hands on his lean hips. That he had left his jeans unfastened made her want to sigh. Made her hungry for more of what they’d shared in the wee hours of the morning.

  “What you’re saying,” he suggested, “is that if you leave—run away—we’ll all be safe because you’re gone. These thugs will just leave, probably in an effort to pick up your trail.”

  He knew she wasn’t saying that. “They will leave when I leave because I will give them my location.”

  His lips tightened. She watched, vividly remembering the feel of those lips on her skin, on every part of her.

  “You’re going to sacrifice yourself to protect me and the others.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t sound all that smart to me. Based on your actions so far, I was expecting a far more ingenious plan. This one sounds a little like the easy way out.”

  “Less complicated,” she agreed. “Not so much easier.”

  She would not sacrifice him or anyone else who’d had the misfortune of landing in her path to save herself. No way.