Page 88 of Playboy Billionaire

“The longer you argue the longer he bleeds.”

“Okay, what do you want me to do?”

“Grab some twine, rope, cord, anything we can use to tie him up.”

She ran to the kitchen drawers and ransacked them looking for anything that could work. Suddenly police stormed the house their weapons trained on Josh.

“Put your gun down now.”

Josh tightened his grip around Griffin’s neck. “You want to see the billionaire’s head blown off?”

“We’ve got the house surrounded. You aren’t going anywhere.”

“Is that so? Because right now, seems like I’ve got the ace in the hole, or should I say ass.” He chuckled at his dark humor.

Griffin was waiting for any opportunity to knock the fucker to hell and back. He never dreamed he had such a murderous rage inside of himself…but he did. If he got the chance to kill this man, he’d take it, with no remorse. Griffin knew he had one shot and now was the time. He slammed the back of his head into Josh’s face as hard as he could and connected with his nose, satisfied when he felt the bone shatter.

It was the momentum that allowed him to break away. As Griffin pivoted around to disarm him, a shot was fired from a distance and the intruder fell, dead before he hit the ground. Penelope screamed then ran over to kneel by Noah’s side. He was deathly pale. It looked like he took it in the leg, probably an artery, judging by the amount of blood.

A police officer sent instructions through her radio as she walked to the front to unlock and open it. Returning, she said, “An ambulance is waiting outside. The first one already left with the injured security guard.”

“Luke!” Penelope said.

“He appeared stable. They’re taking him in for observation.”

The paramedics entered quickly and loaded Noah onto the gurney. Penelope looked over at Griffin, her face devoid of color and her eyes glistening with tears. “Thank you. I’m sorry…for everything. I have to go with Noah.” She held Noah’s hand as she walked along-side the gurney to the waiting ambulance. And then she was gone.

41

Griffin hung up the phone after talking with his sister-in-law Ella, who had used her connections with the hospital to get an update on Noah’s condition. He had been upgraded to stable. The surgery to repair the nicked artery had been successful and he would make a full recovery.

Griffin could hardly wait to get away from here. Tomorrow morning he’d be on a jet, flying to the south of France. The paparazzi were driving him crazy; he never knew when they were going to be waiting outside his house. The crazed fan storyline they’d sold to the public was being played out on all the entertainment shows and tabloids. Good for the film, bad for him.

Was it the same for Penelope? He’d heard from Stew that she’d been staying with him since the shooting, hanging around an extra week until she was sure Noah was stable. He had no idea how she felt since she was still ignoring him. He’d given up trying.

He heard a knock at the door and checked the security camera. A limo sat in his drive and a man in uniform stood next to Penelope on his front porch. His throat tightened, the momentary flicker of hope dashed when he opened the door and saw her face.

“Hey, come on in,” Griffin said.

She tentatively stepped over the threshold and stood nervously wringing her hands. The driver stepped away. “I’ll be waiting in the car, Ms. Winters.”

His gut clenched as his eyes raked over her face. He took in every detail wanting to memorize it, sensing there would be no happy ending for them. Griffin shut the door and motioned for her to have a seat.

“No thanks, I’m not staying. I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

Griffin gently removed her sunglasses and revealed two pools of green, glossy with unshed tears. He framed her face between his hands. “Pen, talk to me.” A tear escaped and he brushed it away with the pad of his thumb.

“I’m not here to talk Griff, I’m here to say goodbye.”

Griffin winced. “That was to the point.”

“I’m not trying to be a bitch, I’m still in shock over the events of the last week. I’m not in the right emotional state to be opening up. I’m way to vulnerable.”

“You think I’m not?”

“Right now, I can’t make it about you or anyone else. For once I have to put myself first.”

“I can hardly argue with that, now can I? Not unless I want to sound like a selfish asshole.”

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