Page 27 of Bringing Chelsea Home

“Again, thanks to Grant Miller,” Patrick said. “Since we weren’t sure if Big Daddy sent the attackers or they did it on their own, Miller arranged for me to be transported here by the local EMS. He told the drivers I was an undercover cop with a price on my head, and the bad guys might be coming to the ER looking for me. They loved helping me get away. Bless their little hearts, they both looked like they might be all of twenty-one, but at that point, I just wanted to get out of there so I could have a decent cup of coffee.”

“If Big Daddy has figured out who you–or we–are, Grant letting you use the ambulance might keep him from learningwherewe are,” Elaine offered.

Grant again.Griff kicked himself mentally at his irritation for her obvious friendship with Miller “Is his man alright?” he asked Patrick.

“Flesh wound, so they were going to send him home, and the mission was successful.” Patrick drained his cup, refilled it and stood. “Now if you two will excuse me, I’m going to take a very warm bath and go to bed. Call me if you do anything fun.”

He limped toward the hall. A minute later they heard the door to his room close. After a moment, Elaine looked at him. “Do you think Deidre set him up?” she asked. “Or that her boyfriend really beat her, and she got scared when he and his buddy showed up?”

Griff rubbed his temples. “Hard to say,” he said at last. “Patrick, if anything, is hyper-cautious and never does anything without thinking it through. But he’s got this thing about someone hurting women. Really pisses him off. And her boyfriend? Some men are like that, you know. Don’t want anyone talking, much less flirting with their woman.”

“I’ve met men like that.” Elaine’s brows drew together. “Like Big Daddy, they see women as their property. Things, not people and they think they can do anything they please to them, emotionally and physically, even kill them and it’s nobody’s damn business.”

Her quiet, clipped tone suggested an old, unresolved anger, and Griff realized just how loving, how dedicated this woman was to helping those who had no one else. Recalling her description of her first days of working with Operation Phoenix, he said, “You’re thinking of your client who was murdered by her husband while waiting for Operation Phoenix to arrive. The one whose husband then killed himself.”

Her eyes met his concerned scrutiny and held it. Then a calm light glittered in their depths, and he relaxed. She smiled and covered his hand with hers.

“Yes,” she said. “Most men I’ve known-personally and professionally–would never think or act like that and would probably do what Patrick did. But it still infuriates me when I run across the ones who do think they can treat women anyway they want. They’re as bad as the traffickers who exploit and hurt children.”

“Amen to that,” Griff agreed. And then, needing to know, he asked, “How long have you worked with Grant Miller?”

“Years,” she said. “He’s helped transport women for Operation Phoenix and gone with me to see clients in some pretty rough neighborhoods. The transported women always felt safe, knowing a police officer is helping get them to safety. And his fiancée is super supportive.”

“He’s engaged?” A wave of relief hit Griff, followed by one of accusing guilt. Miller was a good cop, had the respect of his fellows and had helped solve BP’s last case in Knoxville. Griff wasn’t in a relationship with Elaine Prescott and he sure as hell didn’t have the right to be jealous of hers with Grant Miller.

“Yeah, she’s in medical school at Meharry Medical College in Nashville,” Elaine said. “She graduates next spring. Sister Bernie is-was-hoping she might work at the Wellness Clinic.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Griff agreed, keeping his expression neutral. “Now, what do you say to working out before breakfast? I’ve missed some PT sessions, but I’ve memorized the exercises the therapist and I do. I don’t want to get behind in them, because they help.”

“I like that idea” Elaine agreed. “I noticed all kinds of free weights when we were down there and an hour of lifting always puts me in a good mood.”

“And after that, we can heat up last night’s dinner,” Griff suggested. “Will that suit?”

“I love leftover stir-fry for breakfast,” Elaine declared. “Don’t you?”

“Almost as much as left-over pizza,” Griff laughed. “Even more if eaten in good company.”

Her blush set the off alarm bells he’d been fighting since yesterday. Mac, he knew, had fallen in love with Anne almost from the moment they met. Parker too, with his Bronwen. Neither of his BP brothers had expected it. But there it was.

And Griff was raised in a family of die-hard romantics, watching the love between his parents, who after years of marriage, still acted like a courting couple. Respect, humor, and devotion to each other and their children ruled their lives.

And somehow, he could see Elaine beside him in his future.

But now was not the time to think past the mission. “Okay, then,” he said. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

Elaine’s phone trilled, and glancing at the screen, she said, “It’s Grant Miller. Can up believe the man is still up? She accepted and hit the speaker. “Hey, why aren’t you in bed? You’ve been up all night. Are you alright?”

Yeah, but you need to come downtown. Like right away.”

“Lord help, not another body to identify?” Griff groaned.

“Not quite,” Miler answered. “We’ve arrested Chelsea’s old boyfriend, Martin Driscoll.”

“On what charges” Elaine gasped.

Miller’s answer was grim. “Solicitation. He’s hooking.”

CHAPTER14

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