“Looks like you two have gotten yourselves into a sticky wicket.” Her voice held just the hint of an English accent. “I’ve got the limo outside. Daniel insists you both stay at his home for as long as necessary. The dog, too, of course.”
Griffin and Raleigh exchanged a look. “Did you call him?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Daniel has ways of finding out everything. He might have been listening to the police scanner.”
“Or,” Jillian said with a smile, “the building manager might have called him.”
“Oh, right.” Raleigh turned to Griffin. “Daniel owns this building.”
Ha. He’d known there was more to the story of why Raleigh chose to live here. Daniel apparently offered secure and convenient living spaces for his employees. Nice perk.
Griffin found the invitation to stay at Daniel’s home undeniably tempting. For one night, at least, he wouldn’t have to worry about Raleigh’s safety and he could get some sleep. He’d heard Daniel Logan’s River Oaks mansion was a veritable fortress with more security than the Pentagon.
“Maybe just for one night,” Raleigh said, echoing his thoughts. “We can regroup in the morning. If we’re lucky, the police will have caught the shooter.”
Griffin didn’t share her optimism. He was willing to bet their shooter hadn’t left behind a single fingerprint or shell casing. He’d covered his tracks pretty well so far—his phone call untraceable, his voice disguised. His initial communications to Griffin had been through throwaway email addresses that led to dead ends.
“All right. One night.” He wasn’t in any shape to get work done tonight anyway. His brain was sluggish from whatever drugs he’d been crazy enough to consent to.
“Marvelous.” Jillian produced a clipboard from her voluminous purse, reminiscent of Mary Poppins. “Griffin, given that you are a reporter, Daniel asks that you sign this before coming to his home. It’s just to protect his privacy.”
With a sigh, Griffin read the short document. It was a blanket off-the-record agreement, meaning he couldn’t write about anything he saw or heard in Daniel’s home. Normally Griffin wouldn’t agree to such terms. But he had no choice, not if he wanted to stay with Raleigh.
And he did. It wasn’t a matter of her safety anymore. They had both come close to dying tonight, and that meant they shared a bond no one else would understand. He simply did not want to be far from her right now.
He signed the form and handed the clipboard back to Jillian. “Your boss doesn’t miss a beat, does he?”
“He’s very thorough,” Jillian said cheerfully. “The limo is waiting in the garage.”
Griffin said nothing as he, Raleigh and Copper were safe in the back of the limo and Randall had pulled out of the garage. But he felt guilty as hell. He’d assumed he could keep Raleigh safe on a short trip from her office to her home. He’d picked up on a few useful skills when he’d written for
Soldier of Fortune,
hanging out with mercenaries who were constantly on the watch for snipers and booby traps.
But had he missed something, some clue that would have told a formally trained bodyguard like Randall that something was amiss, and they shouldn’t enter her apartment?
Griffin sat across from Raleigh, next to the fridge, which he opened. Bottled orange juice, that should help. They always gave him orange juice when he donated blood. “Want anything?” he asked as he uncapped his bottle.
“Not right now.”
He checked to make sure the glass partition between front and back seats was up. “So, what did you tell the cops? I saw our buddy Abe Comstock hanging around.” Griffin was dying to know what Raleigh had revealed. He had fudged a lot, hoping to protect his story, but it would look bad if he and Raleigh had contradicted each other.
“Comstock questioned me, but he was actually pretty civil. I think tonight might have convinced him I’m onto something.”
“That’s good, at least.”
“I told him everything, Griffin. I’m sorry if that compromises your story.”
“It might.” He shrugged, as if he really didn’t care very much.
“No other reporter was there,” she reminded him. “No matter what some other reporter writes, your story will be better.”
He held his juice bottle up in a mock toast. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Griffin observed her for a while as she stared out the window. She still looked troubled. He wished there was some way he could reassure her, but bland, soothing words wouldn’t do the trick. Raleigh needed facts to convince her of anything, and facts about this situation were few and far between. He simply couldn’t connect the dots.
“Griffin, I’m really sorry about how I acted.”
Griffin struggled to figure out what she was referring to. And failed. Hadn’t she already apologized earlier? “What?”
“When you were injured. I…I was so busy worrying about the cracked glass on a photograph that I didn’t even notice you were dripping blood.”
Really? He honestly hadn’t been paying attention to her actions. He’d been pretty wrapped up with his own injury. “It was a confusing time. Everything happened fast.”
“Then, once I saw you were injured, I was still completely useless. I… I…” She swallowed, unable to continue.
“What are you talking about? You got me to the sofa. You brought me towels.”
“Before that. It was the b-blood.”
Griffin wanted to smack himself in the forehead as he recalled her tears. No wonder she’d been so upset. This wasn’t the first time she’d been in an incident that involved a lot of blood. He sifted through what he’d read about the accident that had killed her husband.
“You did fine.”
“I fell apart,” she corrected him. “I had some kind of flashback or something. To the day Jason died. Up until tonight, I never remembered what happened. But seeing all that blood must have triggered something.”
“Maybe you weren’t strong enough to handle those memories before,” Griffin said, wanting to offer some comfort.
“That’s not the point. What if you’d died? And there I was, a puddle on the floor, not even noticing. I was somewhere in the past, worrying about events that can’t be changed, instead of living in the present.”
Hallelujah. He’d known that for a long time. Now wasn’t the time to gloat, however. He capped his juice and stuck it in a cup holder, then swiveled from his seat to settle in next to her, sliding his good arm around her shoulders. “You are way too hard on yourself.”
“Someone needs to be,” she muttered.
“I don’t think so. I think someone needs to pamper you and take care of you—”
“I can take care of—”
“For one evening, okay? I’m not saying you can’t be independent and take care of yourself. But every once in a while, you need to let go. I admire that you are so passionate and dedicated to your work, and I even admire your loyalty to Jason. But there’s more to life.”
“Very profound. Since when did you become my therapist?” But she didn’t put a lot of bite into the reprimand, possibly because she knew he was right. She had to know.
“You’re wound up tighter than a coiled rattler.”
“Because someone tried to kill me. I’m en titled.”
“Just relax, would you? Lean back against me. Close your eyes.”
Surprisingly, she followed his directions. “I don’t like the pictures I see when I close my eyes,” she confessed.
“Don’t think about that. Listen to my voice. Drop your shoulders.” She had them hunched almost to her ears.
Gradually, her shoulders relaxed. Even Copper, who had been standing on his hind legs looking excitedly out the window, settled into her lap.
“Drop your chin to your chest—slowly. No jerking. Now, rock your head slowly and gently from shoulder to shoulder.”
She did as he said. “Hmm. This actually feels kind of good.”
If he’d had two good arms, he would have rubbed her shoulders.
“When we get to Daniel’s house, take a long, hot bath. Drink some wine.” Just thinking about Raleigh, reclined in a steaming bubble bath, made Griffin go hard. As close as she was now, he could smell her shampoo, something lemony. Her hair was no longer slicked back in its usual sleek style. At some point during the evening her clip had come loose. Now the auburn strands had fallen into tousled disarray, a bit of natural curl asserting itself.
He’d bet she hadn’t thought to look in a mirror lately. She would probably be horrified. But he liked the look.
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “This is nice.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I wish the limo ride was longer. It’s so quiet in here. Can’t even hear the traffic noises.”
“We could ask Randall to go around the block a few times.”
“Tempting. But Daniel will be impatient to see us and find out what happened firsthand.”
Duty again.
What would it take to get Raleigh to relax and put herself first?
“No houses in Houston are very old,” he said. “Why does this place look…aged?”
“Daniel’s father had the bricks imported from Scotland. They were from a cathedral that was torn down.”
With the ivy-covered walls, mullioned windows and mature live oak trees, the house made quite an impression.
When the driver opened their door, Jillian was already standing outside the limo, waiting for them. “Sorry to bring you in the back way your first visit.”
“I’ve been here before,” Raleigh said as the driver offered his hand to help her out of the car. “For my job interview.”
“Oh, of course, I remember.”
Randall offered a hand to Griffin, too. He wasn’t in that bad a shape, was he? He climbed out under his own power with a nod of thanks to Randall for the offer of help.
“The front entrance is quite impressive, though,” Raleigh said. “We’ll have to show Griffin later.”
Why? I can’t write a word about it.
Nor could he write anything about tonight’s incident. The story was too incomplete for
Currents.
And if he fed the information piecemeal to the newspaper—
Hell, he should resign from the
Telegram.
It wasn’t fair to accept a salary when he was holding out. He should bank on getting the TV job. It was a risk, but he wasn’t averse to risk, as his life up to this point proved.
“We’ll go in through the kitchen,” Jillian said. “If I’m not mistaken, Daniel will have dinner ready.”
She wasn’t mistaken. The smell hit him the moment he walked inside the house—roasting meat, garlic and onions and spices that immediately made his mouth water and his stomach rumble. Now that the adrenaline rush had leaked away, he realized he was starving.
The limo driver disappeared, and Jillian led them down a long, tiled hallway into a kitchen the size of a gymnasium, where a chef in a uniform and a puffy hat worked over an indoor grill.
A chef. Daniel had a real chef, employed in his kitchen for every day. This kind of wealth was mind-boggling, and Griffin was once again irritated that he couldn’t write about it. The whole world would be interested in how Daniel Logan lived. He was a minor celebrity, this son of an oil billionaire who had spent six years in the penitentiary for a murder he hadn’t committed. His reclusive nature made him that much more intriguing.
“What is that animal doing in my kitchen?” the obviously French chef wanted to know. He stared down his nose at Raleigh and Copper.
“Just passing through,” Jillian said breezily. “Come this way, please.”
They ventured from the kitchen and into a great room with a vaulted ceiling, stone fireplace and several seating areas. At one end of the room was a carved mahogany bar, behind which Daniel himself stood, uncorking a bottle of red wine.
Copper leaped from Raleigh’s arms and ran toward the fireplace as fiercely as a five-pound dog could at a golden retriever, stretched out near the hearth as if there were a fire burning.
“Copper,” Raleigh said, “mind your manners.”
The big dog raised his head, then seemed to smile and wagged his tail enthusiastically as he lumbered to his feet. Copper went still as the retriever sniffed him.
“Tucker,” Daniel said to the dog, “be a good host and show your guest where the doggy door is. And share your dinner.”
The dog looked questioningly at his master.
“Go on, outside.”
Tucker was quick to obey, and Copper trotted at the bigger dog’s heels with a happy yip, having suddenly found a new friend.
“Are you sure…?” Raleigh looked worriedly after the dogs.
“They’ll be fine. Tucker is big, but he wouldn’t hurt a flea.” Daniel abandoned his task and came around to embrace Raleigh. “I am so glad you’re okay, Raleigh. When I heard what happened, I felt terrible. I’ve always prided myself on how safe that building is. Now I find out it’s not. I’m thinking of replacing all the windows with bulletproof glass.”
Griffin couldn’t imagine how much that would cost, but it was probably pocket change for Daniel.
“That’s thoughtful of you, Daniel,” Raleigh said. “But it’s certainly not your fault. Someone had to work pretty hard to get to me. The police said the bullets came from the building across the street, one of the upper stories—not from the street.”
“Yes, I’ve already talked to Lieutenant Comstock.”
Of course he had. This guy appeared to have access to everybody.
“Griffin. It’s wonderful to meet you in person.” He shook Griffin’s hand with a firm grip, looking him straight in the eye in a way that made Griffin feel oddly special. Daniel had charisma oozing from his pores. “I want to personally thank you for seeing to Raleigh’s safety. You saved her life.”
“It was a wild bullet,” Griffin said, knowing that it was pure chance that he got hit instead of Raleigh. “This…this stalker is pretty desperate.”
“We’ll find out who it is. The police are taking the case very seriously. Have you told them about the other matters? The rogue deposit and the falsified phone bill? The threatening phone call?”
“I told them everything,” Raleigh said. “As much as I could remember. I was pretty rattled.”
“Understandably. We’ll see what they do with the information. Part of me is relieved they’re on the case. Another part of me wishes the police would just stay out of it.” He cast a worried glance at Griffin. “I understand this cramps your, um, journalistic endeavors.”
The man understood more than Griffin would have guessed. “We have to put Raleigh’s safety first,” Griffin said. He was in a quandary about what to write, and when. He felt his loyalties had gone into a blender.
“Where are my manners? Please, sit down and let me pour you a glass of wine. Or maybe you’d prefer beer? I have some excellent examples from various Texas microbreweries.”
Griffin would have been happy with a plain ol’ Bud right about now. “I would love a beer. You can pick something for me.”
“That merlot you were uncorking looks fabulous,” Raleigh said as she sank onto a buff-colored leather sofa.
“Jillian? Will you stay and have dinner with us?”
“Thank you, Daniel. But if you don’t need me, I believe I’ll retire early.”
“I’ll have a plate sent to your quarters, then.”
Jillian smiled. “That’s thoughtful, thank you. Good night.” She addressed Griffin and Raleigh. “If you need anything, there’s a phone in every room with a Jillian button.”
Griffin was sure he recognized a spark of yearning in her gray eyes whenever Jillian looked at her boss. It would take a strong woman not to fall for a good-looking, rich and seemingly generous and concerned guy like Daniel, especially if she lived and worked with him on a constant basis.
“She’s good,” Raleigh said. “You need to give that girl a raise.”
Daniel smiled. “She’s a gem, all right. Well paid, trust me.”
Griffin saw no answering spark in Daniel. He spoke of Jillian with fondness, nothing more. Poor Jillian.
And why did Griffin even care? He fumed again over the fact that he couldn’t write about any of it. He’d never felt so frustrated in his life.
A server brought in a tray of appetizers—Brie cheese, crackers and tart apple slices. How many employees did this guy support single-handedly? Griffin saw only the tip of the iceberg, he was sure.
A few minutes later, the server, Manuel, announced that dinner was ready. They all filed into a formal dining room and sat at a round table graced with fine linens, crystal and sterling silver flatware.
Is this how Daniel ate dinner every night? As if in a four-star restaurant?
The dinner was certainly one of the best Griffin had ever eaten, including a selection of grilled meats, a baked artichoke-heart casserole, tender asparagus, some kind of whole-grain rolls that melted in his mouth.
Fresh fruit and rich vanilla ice cream for dessert.
All of it was accompanied by free-flowing wine, beer and port with dark chocolate to top everything off. Egads.
Daniel was a skilled conversationalist, steering the discussion away from the evening’s disturbing events, drawing each of them out in turn, adding an amusing anecdote of his own when appropriate.
He apparently hadn’t always been a recluse. Before his incarceration, it sounded as though he’d led a normal, if privileged, life. He’d gone to Princeton, pledged a fraternity, played sports.
“I’m sure you both must be tired,” Daniel finally said as Manuel began clearing the table. “Since I let Jillian go for the night, I’ll show you to your rooms. There’s a media room in your wing with all kinds of amusements if you’d like to stay up awhile. There’s a kitchenette with snacks, too. I hope you’ll make yourselves at home. Both of you can stay here as long as necessary.”
“I have work to do,” Raleigh objected. “I have to be at the office early tomorrow.”
“Nonsense. You’re taking a vacation, Raleigh, starting now. You haven’t had any time off in years. Garrett can make court appearances and file papers for you.”
“Garrett? He’s barely out of law school.”
“Smart and extremely capable, or I wouldn’t have hired him. I’ll set up a meeting with him tomorrow morning.”
“I…okay,” she said meekly. It was hard to argue with such a forceful personality.
Good. If Daniel ordered Raleigh to stay here, Griffin could go about his business without worrying about her safety. And maybe he could finally get to the bottom of this mess.
They took an elevator—an elevator!—to the third floor, which housed a guest wing. Raleigh was assigned to a room with blue silk-covered walls and elaborately carved walnut furnishings. Real Persian rugs. Fancier than the fanciest hotel Griffin had ever seen, that was for sure.
“Thank you, Daniel. I’ll see you both in the morning.” She closed her door firmly, but she couldn’t close the door on Griffin’s fantasies. Already he was picturing her in that bed, surrounded by silk bed linens and pillows, naked and willing in his arms.
He stifled a groan. This was no good.
“You have a thing for Raleigh,” Daniel said as they continued down the hall. A statement, not a question.
No use denying it. Daniel was no idiot. “She’s an incredible woman. Smart, beautiful, and completely unattainable.”
“She’s had a hard go of it. But it’s time for her to move on.”
“I couldn’t agree more. But it probably won’t be with me.”
“Why do you say that? You’re single, unattached.”
“And firmly committed to staying that way. I’m never at home. The closest I came to a lasting relationship was when I bought a cactus. Died after three months.”
“That’s too bad. I think the two of you might make a nice match.”
“Temporarily, maybe. Which is exactly why I’m not pushing it.”
“I appreciate your integrity. Because if you hurt her, I’d have to string you up by your, um, big toes.”
He could, too. With enough money, you could ruin anyone’s life. Look how easily someone had derailed Raleigh’s.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Griffin’s room was more masculine but no less luxurious than Raleigh’s. The private bathroom was an exercise in self-indulgence with granite walls that shone like mirrors. The walk-in shower alone was bigger than his bedroom at home.
Nothing had been left to chance. Griffin found two changes of clothes—his size and even his taste—and all the toiletries he could possibly need. Daniel, or maybe Jillian, was a freaking mind reader.
He indulged in the shower, trying not to get his bandage too wet, then wrapped himself in a feather-soft terry robe he found hanging on the back of the door.
It was only ten o’clock, and though he was short on sleep, he knew he was too restless to lie down. He wandered down to the end of the hall, where the media room was located, hoping to find a diversion there.
What he found was Raleigh, sitting in a huge, cushy chair with a book and a glass of wine. She didn’t hear him come in, so for a few seconds he had the pleasure of studying her.
She was wrapped in a robe, but nothing like his bulky terry garment. Hers was blue silk that exactly matched the walls in her room, and it draped over her slender body, showing a surprising amount of curves and displaying the subtle valley between her breasts at the neckline.
She had one leg tucked under her, but the other was bare from mid-thigh down, peeking out from the opening of the robe. She had beautiful, slender ankles and her toenails were painted a delicate pink. That little hint of femininity pleased him. It told him she hadn’t forgotten she was a woman, even if she chose to hide that side of herself most of the time.
She’d washed her hair and it was still damp, drying in a muss of waves. He remembered the lush curls he’d seen in the old photos of her and Jason.
Though he hadn’t made any noise, Raleigh looked up suddenly. “Oh. I didn’t expect anyone else to be up.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” he said as he walked all the way into the room and sat down on a love seat near Raleigh’s chair. “Too many thoughts chasing their tails through my head.”
“Me, too. I found this book on the shelf about quantum physics. I thought it would bore me into a coma, but no such luck. It’s fascinating.”