Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2 (25 page)

The motorcycle drew closer, the noise ricocheting off the concrete walls and floors.

Griffin halted at the driver's side and grasped the door handle. Something hot whistled past his ear and he instinctively ducked. Before he could turn around, he felt another slight burn close to his scalp. Adrenaline blasted through his system as a motorcycle roared by in a blur. Griffin's thoughts caught up with his reflexes. Someone was shooting at him!

FIVE

G
riffin dove for cover in front of his SUV, hitting the ground hard. His hand automatically went to the Sig Sauer tucked in his back waistband. He leaped up and raced down the side of his truck to the empty space next to his vehicle. He squeezed off two shots, running toward the bike. Suddenly the bike spun and nearly landed on its side. The driver corrected himself with a screeching stop. Tires squealing once more, the man sped straight for Griffin.

Thunder boomed and a loud crack of lightning echoed through the garage.

Griffin fired again, then threw himself to the ground, barely managing to escape the bullet that zipped past him. The bike rider swerved closer to the opposite wall, enabling him to better see under the vehicles scattered out on this parking level. He zeroed in on Griffin, only partially hidden under his truck.

He slowed and fired once more, the shell shaving way too close for Griffin's liking. He leveled his gun to hit the shooter dead center in the chest, but the guy ducked, sliding his cycle low to the ground as Griffin pulled the trigger.

The shot hit the cement wall and bounced off. With his gun, he followed the punk's progress, firing again. The rider zigzagged down the aisle. Griffin's next three shots hit high on a support pillar. Thank goodness there weren't many cars in the parking garage today.

The man spun his cycle around, gunned his engine and again headed right for Griffin. He bore down, firing twice. Griffin took cover behind his truck, trying to get a look at the driver. The man's face shield was black just like his motorcycle helmet. He couldn't make out the guy's features.

The shooter sped out of the garage. Getting to his feet, Griffin got only a partial license plate number. The bike roared away, the harsh engine sound echoing off the concrete walls. The storm's rumble rippled through the structure, the noise reverberating sharply.

Dragging in the smell of oil-soaked cement and car exhaust, Griffin stood and moved to the driver's-side door, searching the area for the motorcycle or any bystanders. The roar of the motorcycle faded. The shifting shadows revealed no one, including the pastor. Hughes had disappeared, which again raised Griffin's curiosity.

The deluge of rain continued, water pounding against the building. Frigid wind tunneled through the garage, stinging his skin as he turned to inspect his vehicle. Two long creases marked the driver's side, ruining his black custom paint job. He found one bullet lodged behind the driver's-side door. Already wearing gloves, he dug it out and put it in his pocket. There were likely no prints on the bullet, but he took it just in case.

A second bullet lay under the truck and Griffin scooped it up, too. Shooting accurately on the run or from a moving vehicle was extremely difficult. That was the only reason Griffin's truck hadn't been more damaged from the shoot-out. Same for the several automobiles scattered throughout the garage. A level above him, a car started, the noise almost masked by the storm. He again scanned the garage for people. Still no one.

Griffin had kept track of the bullets in his clip and the number of gunshots from the shooter. He'd taken eight shots and the bike rider had fired six. He checked the area for the rest of the bullets and added them to those already in his pocket. He wouldn't report the incident to hospital security or the police. The last thing he needed was a swarm of people asking questions.

Laura.

He spun and sprinted back to the hospital, drenched by the pelting rain. Racing into the lobby, he was relieved to see her standing where he'd left her with Boone and Sydney on either side. He slicked back his wet hair and wiped the wetness from his face.

Searching for the pastor, Griffin glanced around the lobby, pausing when he saw Cheryl Inhofe. The nurse was walking to the elevator with a fit trim man about six feet tall. Griffin couldn't see the stranger's face.

He turned his attention to Laura, who stared at him with big blue eyes. His gaze skimmed over her, taking in the dark curtain of hair that rippled like silk against the tan wool coat she wore. She looked fine, exactly as he'd left her. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

“Everyone else?” He looked over at his coworkers.

Boone and Sydney nodded, both of them reaching for the weapons beneath their coats.

Laura's gaze switched from them to Griffin. “What's going on?”

Moving closer to her, he kept his voice low. “Someone just shot at me.”

“What!”

“In the parking garage as I was getting into my truck.”

Boone and Sydney closed the circle around Laura. “Did you see the shooter?” Boone asked.

Sydney stayed near Laura's side, her gaze panning the lobby.

“It was someone on a motorcycle, black face shield on his helmet and dressed all in black.”

Dismay crossed Laura's face. “Like the pastor.”

“Yeah.” Griffin dragged a hand down his face. Could Hughes have been the shooter? If not, had he
seen
the shooter?

Laura shook her head, shock and confusion on her face. “Why would someone shoot at you?”

“So it would be easier to get to you,” Griffin said grimly.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Griffin's words still chilled her. It had never occurred to Laura that he might become a target himself. Yes, she understood there was danger simply in the former SEAL being her bodyguard, but for Vin to come after him directly? It only emphasized her ex's determination to get to her. Her head spun.

Griffin carefully steered the SUV onto the wet streets that would begin icing before too long if the temperature dropped. In another vehicle, Boone and Sydney followed at a distance, keeping an eye out for someone dressed in all black on a motorcycle or anyone who might be tailing them.

They were headed to the insurance-approved clinic on the northwest side of town. Griffin was getting Laura away from the hospital and any further risk there. She was fine with that.

Between the attempt on her bodyguard's life and this being probably the last time she would see her dad, Laura could barely process everything. What would happen to her or her father if Griffin was injured? Or worse?

Just then he glanced over at her. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“Are
you
?” She searched his sun-burnished features, comforted by his clean masculine scent. “You seem so calm. Vin just tried to have you killed. You didn't sign up for that.”

“It's part of the job sometimes.”

She shook her head, her admiration for him growing even more. “I must be naive. I never thought Vin would come after you. I mean, I understand you're putting yourself between me and him, but—” Her voice cracked. “A drive-by. He tried to kill you the same way he tried to kill me.”

“Hey, we're both still here.”

He gave her a reassuring smile and she struggled to move past the shock of the ordeal, the way he had.

His gaze switching between the rear-and side-view mirrors, he changed lanes. “When I went to the parking garage, I saw Hughes there, too.”

Laura frowned. Why did Griffin think that was suspicious?

“He vanished right before that rider started shooting.”

“And you think the shooter was the pastor?” she asked.

“Can't rule him out.” Griffin hit a button on the navigation screen and a message flashed that his phone was now connected via Bluetooth. “I'm calling Ghost to see if he has any information yet on Hughes or the nurse.”

Laura nodded, knowing she needed to stay silent so Griffin's friend wouldn't be aware of her.

The call went through and a deep masculine voice came through the stereo system.

The other man chuckled. “Miss me already, Devaney?”

“You know it.”

Laura couldn't get over how calm Griffin sounded. Someone had just shot at him!

He turned the heater up another notch. “I wondered if you had anything yet on the names I gave you earlier.”

“Some. We can start with what I've found so far and I'll keep looking as we talk.”

“Sounds good.” Griffin turned north onto the highway.

The sky grew darker. The windshield wipers made a steady swooshing sound as they cleared the water from the glass.

“Here we go,” Ghost said. “Cheryl Inhofe, thirty years old, registered nurse. She used to work at the penitentiary in McAlester.”

Laura's attention zeroed in on the speaker.

“She worked there three years,” Griffin's friend said.

Which was plenty of time for the woman to have met Vin, Laura thought.

“She took the job at OU Medical Center about eight months ago.”

Managing to hold back a sound of surprise, Laura's head jerked toward Griffin. The speculation in his eyes hinted that he thought the same thing she did. That was about a month after her father had been diagnosed and begun treatment the first time. Surely the timing wasn't a coincidence.

Excited that Griffin's friend had so quickly tied the nurse to Vin, Laura's heart sank when Ghost continued, “Got some stuff on the preacher, too.”

She hoped it wasn't as incriminating as what they'd learned about the nurse.

“Richard Hughes, thirty-three, single, degree from a seminary in Nogales, Mexico. He's now an assistant minister at a community church in Oklahoma City. He also spent time at McAlester, but on the right side of the glass.”

Disappointment hit her hard. It was hard to accept that a supposed man of God might be involved with her murdering ex.

Ghost's deep voice continued. “Hughes worked with the penitentiary's Religious and Volunteer Services for a couple of years, started a prison ministry there.”

“Was he the prison's chaplain?” Griffin checked his side mirror before changing lanes.

“No, just a volunteer. He answered to the volunteer agency chaplain. About six months ago, he moved to Oklahoma City.”

And now worked at the same hospital where Laura's father was a patient. At the same hospital where a former coworker, known to him or not, now worked. Another coincidence? Even Laura didn't believe that. Had Hughes and Cheryl Inhofe known each other in McAlester?

Griffin startled her when he asked that very question.

“There's no evidence of that yet,” Ghost said. “But there is something else you should know. Both of Hughes's parents spent most of their lives in prison.”

Stunned, Laura's gaze met Griffin's.

Morales continued. “He was raised by his grandmother. His mother was in and out of the joint for check and prescription fraud. His dad was a drug runner and killed someone during a deal gone bad.”

That didn't mean the chaplain was like them in any way, Laura told herself. But she knew it could be difficult to get out of such a life.

“Thanks, man,” Griffin said. “Let me know what else you find.”

“You got it.”

“Oh, one more thing. Can you find out if Hughes or the nurse has a motorcycle?”

“Will do.”

Griffin disconnected the call, easing the vehicle over into the right lane.

“What do you think about the pastor?” she asked.

“There's a reason they say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.”

“Still, Rick Hughes could've chosen a completely different life than his parents.”

The skepticism on her protector's face said that he didn't buy it. “The time Hughes spent at McAlester would've been plenty of time for him to meet Arrico or even form a relationship with him.”

Laura's stomach knotted. “All Vin had to do was say he was interested in the Bible study provided by the prison ministry and he would've been able to participate.”

“Right,” Griffin said grimly.

She didn't want to believe the worst of Rick Hughes or Cheryl Inhofe, but until she and Griffin knew more, Laura had to assume that neither of them were who they appeared to be.

* * *

With all that had happened since her arrival, Laura felt as if she had been in Oklahoma City for three months, not three days. Now both she and Griffin had been targeted. She wanted to know more about this man who had nearly taken a bullet today. He seemed much more at ease about him being in the crosshairs rather than her.

Just as she and Griffin had finished supper, his friend Alex Morales had called with some information. Records showed that neither the pastor nor the nurse had a motorcycle registered in their names, but that didn't mean they couldn't get access to one.

Griffin wanted to ask both the pastor and the nurse some questions, but he couldn't risk confirming that Laura was alive in case one or both of them were involved with Arrico. Laura's ex might be getting information on her, but Griffin wasn't going to tip his hand about who he suspected of being in cahoots with the felon. The closer Griffin played things to his vest, the better the chance of drawing out those who were aiding the criminal.

He wanted to see who visited the reverend, see how the man spent his off time. He planned to surveil Hughes tonight. Boone would stake out the nurse while Sydney accompanied Joy to a church function.

Griffin had told Laura she didn't have to come along, but he would feel more comfortable if she joined him. She felt the same despite the side effects she'd suffered from her first filgrastim injection. Thank goodness the nausea and muscle soreness weren't severe.

She had to take comfort in the fact that she was helping Nolan. If things went as planned, her stem cells would save his life. Still, her heart was heavy. She'd thought someday, somehow, she might be able to leave WitSec and come home. Right now that didn't seem possible.

An hour after supper, Laura sat in the SUV with Griffin as they watched Pastor Hughes's house. Luckily, the rain had let up to an intermittent drizzle, so they could see clearly enough. The modest colonial with red brick and black shutters was located in a cul-de-sac of a well-established neighborhood.

Because they didn't want to be noticed, he couldn't leave the truck running. In an effort to keep her warm and prevent her from getting sick, Griffin had supplied blankets, as well as heat packs for her feet and coat pockets. He'd shown up with coffee for himself and hot cocoa for her. The thick blanket she'd wrapped around herself kept her warm and cozy. He, on the other hand, had tossed his coat and gloves into the backseat of the SUV, saying his jeans and flannel shirt kept him plenty warm.