Page 53 of Peril in Piney Woods

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.

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