Debra Cowan – Witness Undercover (страница 6)

“What happened to your leg?”

“Broken femur, gunshot, shrapnel.” In the firefight that had killed his teammates. “Joy, uh, urged me to come work for Enigma.”

Laura gave him a half smile. “I guess you learned pretty quickly that she won’t take no for an answer.”

“I did.” Joy’s job offer had probably saved his life.

Griffin walked between the two walls that exhibited a number of guns, everything from an Uzi to a sniper rifle.

He gestured toward the waist-high center cabinet with its drawers of ammunition. “The ammo is in the third drawer down.”

When she didn’t respond, he looked over his shoulder. She stood in the doorway, mouth agape, blue eyes wide.

“How many guns do you have?”

“Seventy-five.” In here. “This underground range is also an alternate way to get out, if you ever need one. I’ll show you after we get to the practice area.”

She joined him at the cabinet, picking up the box of cartridges he pushed toward her. “Your place is something else.”

“I never could’ve built it if I weren’t working at Enigma.”

“What do you mean?”

“One of my first assignments was to rescue a man’s daughter and he insisted on rewarding me.”

“He must be the richest man in the world.”

She wasn’t far off, Griffin admitted. The man was a sultan. “He was grateful.”

“I’ll say.” Her eyes sparkled. “Did he give you an island, too?”

“No.” But he had tried to give his daughter to Griffin. He had barely gotten out of that without insulting the man. The woman had been stunningly beautiful, but she’d never had an effect on him. No woman had after Emily and that was the way he wanted it.

“Ready?”

Laura nodded, following him through the opening at the back of the vault. The long hallway veed into an area composed of three shooting stations.

She chuckled. “I feel like Jamie Bond.”

He grinned. Despite the gravity of her situation and that of her father, she still had a sense of humor. He liked that.

She might look as though a strong wind would blow her over, but there was steel beneath that dainty shell. She’d testified against a vicious criminal. That took guts.

Before meeting her, Griffin had been curious. Now he was impressed.

In short order, he outfitted them both with safety goggles and ear protectors. The paper targets were already set up, so Griffin handed Laura a Walther PPK. The small gun would fit her hand better than some of his others.

After explaining how to engage the safety, he instructed her on loading the clip. As she slid the bullets in one by one, she glanced up. “How did you find me?”

“After Joy told me what happened, I touched base with an old friend.”

“Floyd’s boss?”

“Yes.” He hadn’t gone through the proper channels. He’d needed info and fast, needed to make sure he wasn’t putting her in danger when he showed up. Bohannon, the US marshal he’d rescued two years ago in Eastern Europe, had been more than happy to supply Griffin with whatever information he needed.

It had taken less than an hour to get the name of the US marshal assigned to her case. Then Griffin had gone to the field office in Colorado Springs to speak with Floyd Yates and read Laura’s trial transcripts and a copy of her file built by the marshals.

He demonstrated how she should stand and hold the weapon, then turned it over to her. She missed the target three times before finally hitting it. Using the markings on the paper, Laura hit center mass several times, although none in the same spot.

He urged her to try two shots to the chest area and one to the head. That gave her a little trouble, but she kept shooting, a fierce look of concentration on her face.

Joy had given him a picture, so Griffin had known that her niece was pretty, but up close she was...more.

She was the kind of pretty that grew the longer you were with her. Direct blue eyes, thick straight black hair pulled back to show the fine line of her neck and jaw. A mouth that hinted at a ready smile despite the fact that her life had been ripped away from her.

He noticed a scar on her chin. Had she gotten that from Arrico?

She emptied her last clip into the chest area of the paper silhouette of a man’s upper body. The sharp odor of gunpowder filled the air around them.

Griffin hit the button to mechanically bring the targets to them. After examining her shots, he smiled. “Not bad for your first try. Come down here and practice whenever you like.”

“Do you mind giving me more instruction?”

“Not at all.”

“Thanks.” She studied her handiwork with pursed lips. “Hopefully, I won’t need to defend myself.”

Her words reminded Griffin that as long as she was out of WitSec, she was vulnerable. And his responsibility.

A beep on his cell phone alerted him to a text message from Sydney. “Your aunt should be here soon.”

They walked up the hallway, their shoulders brushing. They reached the vault door and Griffin moved out into the computer room. When she didn’t immediately follow, he glanced over his shoulder. And froze.

She had stopped in front of the picture.

Taped to the wall was a photograph of him with his team. The four of them were on the beach at Coronado in board shorts, the sun setting behind them. They’d just returned from jump school and had gone to the beach to relax. He’d been so distracted by his protectee that he’d hadn’t thought about the picture being there.

Her blue gaze met his. “These must be your teammates.”

“Yes.” He didn’t try to temper the coldness in his voice.

“You all look like such close friends.”

“Yes.” He wanted to shut her down.

“I guess you can’t talk about them. For security reasons?”

“Right.” He couldn’t talk about them, but that wasn’t why.

She frowned, probably wondering why he couldn’t seem to manage more than one-word answers. Now she would ask questions. Questions he didn’t want asked and wouldn’t answer. He hated the whole idea of it. It would remind him that they were all gone. Dead. Because of him.

The security buzzer sounded, signaling that someone was on the property. A quick glance at the closest monitor showed Sydney’s gray SUV coming up the winding gravel drive toward the house. “Looks like Joy is here.”

“Oh, good.” Laura moved to stand in front of him, close enough that a strand of her hair caught on his gray T-shirt.

He saw curiosity and a brief flash of pity in her eyes, just long enough to make him stiffen. Then it was gone.

“I’m sorry.” She gestured toward the picture. “For whatever happened.”

She squeezed his forearm, then walked out. His chest hurt from her words. It was clear that she knew his friends were dead, but he saw no reason to confirm it. How could she know that? Maybe it wasn’t hard to figure out, but it made him feel as if she were in his head.

The realization made him want to bolt. He didn’t do personal, not after what had happened in Afghanistan. And not after what had happened once he’d returned home to Emily.

If Laura had been any other client, he would have passed her off to Boone or Sydney, but because of his friendship with Joy, he couldn’t.

He glanced back at the photo of him, Ace, Davy and J.J. His jaw tensed.

Griffin didn’t want to be responsible for Laura Prentiss aka Parker, but he was. He wouldn’t fail her the way he’d failed his teammates.

* * *

Last night at Griffin’s had gone better than Laura had expected. She’d been comfortable and somewhat relaxed, but after what had happened at the hospital, she couldn’t shake the fear that Vin had found her.

Though Griffin had stayed nearby, he hadn’t crowded her. And for the first time since Laura and her father had their falling-out three years ago, she hadn’t felt alone. Even with Vin, it had often seemed as if she were all by herself.

This morning she was still thinking about Griffin’s reaction to her seeing the photo of him with his friends. The tortured look in his eyes had troubled her. It had been obvious something awful had happened. She didn’t really blame him for not wanting to talk about it.

It wasn’t her business. In another week, she would be gone and she would likely never see him again. Still, she’d wanted to know about the photo. And him.