Page 41 of Peril in Piney Woods

Maybe she’d been a witness to a crime. It was possible that was why she was on the run. But that scenario wouldn’t explain her special skill set. Or why she wasn’t in some sort of witness protection program.

Griff ran a hand through his hair, turned and stared at the cabin. If she had been a cop, why wasn’t she willing to tell him?

He walked slowly back to the cabin. Maybe if he gave her a little more time, she would decide it was safe to tell him more. He recognized that on some level, she didn’t trust him enough to tell him the truth. Or maybe it was like she said—too dangerous to tell him.

He’d thought they were friends. Had hoped they would become more than friends. That kiss they had shared sure seemed to suggest there was more.

Moving with more determination now, he approached the cabin. She had come out onto the porch and settled into one of the rocking chairs. Same ones that had been here for more than three decades.

“I’ve been thinking.” He climbed onto the porch and settled into the other rocking chair. “Where did you learn to shoot the way you do? I mean, there’s good and then there’s really good. You are really good. Most folks on farms learn to shoot rifles. You took Ted out from a hell of a distance with a handgun.”

“Lots of training.” She sighed. “I was the best in my class.”

He’d like to believe he was so charming she hadn’t even realized he’d been questioning her, but he knew better.

“Same class as the self-defense one?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

She wasn’t going to make this easy.

Time to ad-lib. “Ernie says the training for a cop is intense like that. Focus on marksmanship skills and self-defense.”

She said nothing.

“So, this guy—the devil, you called him—he was a bad guy. You were working on an investigation involving him. You took something from him in an effort to bring him down, but something went wrong and you ended up burned.”

She smiled. “That’s a hell of a story, Griff. You might want to pitch it to a movie producer.”

Frustration lit across his senses. “You could at least tell me if I’m getting warm.”

She watched him for a long time before she responded. He had decided she wasn’t going to when she finally spoke. “You’re a good guy, Griff. I truly regret being the reason you’ve been dragged into this. I had a plan. Sadly, it just didn’t work out.”

“Because Ernie ran your prints.” He got it now. “His doing so tipped off someone who informed this super bad guy, and he sent his people after you.”

“Something like that.”

He was getting closer. “If this Darlene character gets a chance to call him, he’ll know he needs to send someone else.”

“Unfortunately. Even without a call, he will be suspicious by tomorrow. He has no patience for lingering. He expects results on the immediate side.”

“Does he want you brought to him, or does he just want you dead?”

“Based on Lizbeth’s appearance, I’m guessing the latter. She isn’t known for her finesse with targets. She’s much better at terminating than transporting.”

Griff had come to that same conclusion as well. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

She leaned forward, pressed her forearms to her knees and clasped her hands. She stared at her hands for a moment before meeting his gaze. “I’m afraid there isn’t anything anyone can do. I’ll either outmaneuver him or I won’t.”

The barrage of emotions that churned inside Griff were impossible to isolate. The anger and frustration and worry and regret coalesced into something resembling dread and fear, but far more potent.

“I want you to know that whatever you’ve done, my opinion of you has not changed.” He fixed his gaze on hers. “I believe in you, Meg—Elle. I will do whatever I can to help you through this.”

She smiled. “You’re a really nice guy, Griff. You deserve a good life and a romantic partner who can give you as much as you give everyone in your path. But there is nothing you can do to help me. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

She’d said those same words before, but he had decided that was one part of her story he wasn’t going to believe.

She wasn’t the only one who could develop a plan.

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