Pieces For You (27 page)

Oh, for fuck’s sake—were they teaching creative writing classes at the prison?  This was getting ridiculous.  I was too concerned with the waste of taxpayer dollars to actually be scared of
his
whimsical death threats.  Perhaps that wasn’t entirely true…fear had seeped in at the same moment my bewilderment at the method of intimidation wore off.  I was painfully aware of what the monster was capable of.  Normally I would dismiss the warnings as a pathetic joke, but my first-hand knowledge of his vile proclivities, combined with the vandalism of my car, was proof that I could not ignore the danger.  Despite my desire to downplay what had just occurred, I knew I had to confess the truth to Griffin and Hunter.

I slid my phone from my pocket and called AAA.  As I was hanging up, I heard Griffin call my name and I tried to shake off my anger—he would have enough for the both of us. 

“Over here,” I called, preparing myself to break the news.

“There you are.  Meg said you came out here over fifteen minutes ago.”

I walked into Griffin’s chest and wrapped my arms around his waist, needing the shelter only he could provide.  After a few minutes, he broke our silence.

“I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Not one bit.  I found another note on my car a few minutes ago.”

“Son of a—”

“He slashed my tires and nearly knocked me on my ass when he ran.  Whoever it was didn’t even have the courtesy to apologize.  I know he’s a criminal, but is it really too much to ask that he offer a simple ‘excuse me’ while making his getaway?”

“You saw him?  He was close enough to touch you?” Griffin’s voice was deceptively even.  There was only a thread of restraint hidden in his calm and most would miss it, but I knew him well enough to pick it out.

“Yeah.”

“We need to call Hunter and get him to send someone to check for prints or evidence.  Okay?”

I nodded against his chest and felt him reach into his pocket.  He led me back inside Higher Yearning to wait for Hunter.  Neither of us said anything until Ev joined us.  I brought her up to speed, while watching Griffin clench and unclench his fists, the only sign of his bridled anger.

After Hunter and a Suffolk County Police Detective finished taking my statement and inspecting the crime scene, they released my car to be towed.  Det. Norse offered to bring in a sketch artist to capture an image of the culprit, but I assured him it would be a waste.  The only part I saw for more than a second was his back.  He was dressed in a generic black sweatshirt with the hood raised.  I was too shocked to retain any memory of his face.  The only description I could provide was that he was a male, about six feet tall.  I thought he had dark hair, but I wasn’t even certain about that detail.

Hunter sat next to Ev and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.  “We’ll see what the crime scene investigators turn up, but I’m not optimistic.  So far, there haven’t been any prints on the previous notes.  I’ve been beating my head against a wall trying to find a tie between any members of the Varbeck family and the threats you have been receiving.  It was a struggle to get a judge to grant a warrant for their financials, which are astronomical—I’m searching for a needle in a haystack.  His parents swear they’ve had no part in threatening you, and of course they claim they didn’t authorize payoffs to witnesses.  I can’t prove shit!  If Heath is arranging the threats from behind bars, I haven’t found any proof.  He’s had no outside visitors beyond prison staff and psych evaluators.  No outgoing mail, no emails, nothing,” Hunter finished with irritation.

“You’re doing everything you can, babe.  You’ll find the link,” Ev soothed.

“My best hope is to trace the bribe payouts through their attorney.  If I can link his parents to the bribes, then I can threaten charges and get them to talk.”

I nodded, understanding the challenges Hunter faced.  I knew better than anyone the influence money could wield.  Hunter had an uphill battle before him.  I was mildly reassured to hear that
he
appeared to be uninvolved.  Somehow the prospect of someone killing me, quickly and without torture, generated less fear than what
he
had done, and would do again, if given the opportunity.  As long as he was behind bars, I could pretend straightforward death was the worst that could happen.  It was a consolation, but I had learned there were things far worse than death.

I shook off my uneasiness—unwilling to let
him
ruin another night for me…for us.  We were going to dinner and then I would watch Hunter find a way to beat Ev at pool while I flirted shamelessly with my man.

“Enough.  We made plans and we are keeping them.  I don’t care if I’m dressed in work clothes and smell like Kona beans, we are going to dinner.  Let’s move, people,” I ordered as if my chest was decorated with stars.

All three exchanged a look, uncertain how to interpret my abrupt declaration.  Huntleigh seemed to defer to Griffin, who eventually shrugged.

“You heard the lady.  Let’s go.”

We all sat in the dining room at The Stop with menus in hand, and I began to meticulously scrutinize the options.  I knew the food was consistently fresh and tasty, but as I reviewed the dishes I realized how limited the choices were.  Other than traditional bar appetizers, there were only two types of salads, three sandwiches, burgers, and the grill basics.  The daily special (a soup, sandwich, and main course) were the only variations.  Griffin was right—The Stop would definitely benefit from a revamped menu with some new dishes.  Cell phone in hand, I tapped away as ideas flooded from my mind onto my notepad.  Holy cow, dessert!  They weren’t offering any desserts, what a missed opportunity.  I continued to plug away until I was confident I had a well-conceptualized menu to suggest—both lunch and dinner.  I looked up to find three sets of eyes locked on me with varying degrees of curiosity, confusion, and mirth.

“What?” I asked defensively.

“Nothing, Lo-baby.  You’re very cute when you get excited.  After the third or fourth random one-word exclamation, people stopped turning to look.”

“You didn’t even hear the waitress asking for your order.  I decided for you,” Ev added.

“Great.  I hope I’m having salad and a grilled chicken sandwich.”

Ev nodded; she knew me too well.  After the crazy start to our night, I needed lean protein and veggies to fortify.  I turned to Griffin and smiled.  In return, he took my hand in his own.

“I just emailed you my suggested changes for The Stop’s menu.  Feel free to disregard it completely if you aren’t feeling the foodie vibe.  I will work on a more detailed description with general recipes this week if you want to give it a try after talking with your chef.”

He raised my hand to his lips, kissing the back of it and sucking lightly.  The gesture was innocent—mostly
—
but the sensation, combined with the insinuation of what else he might do with his mouth, had me squirming in my chair with anticipation.  I caught his quiet chuckle as he returned our hands to the table.

“Evil,” I muttered.  It wasn’t nice to rev the engines if you weren’t going to take her out for a spin.

“I feel that way every time you’re in the room, and sometimes when you’re not—call it payback.”

I huffed as if piqued, but secretly delighted in his candid disclosure.  I could scarcely believe the tasty treat beside me was mine.  Griffin was like the sun, bright and warm, giving strength and nourishing everything his light touched—and like the sun, he was becoming the center of my universe, a thought that scared and elated me in equal measure.

Finished eating, we proceeded to the game room and claimed the only available pool table.  I analyzed team options to maximize my chance at victory.  I was not as obsessed as Huntleigh with topping their other half, but I was competitive, and really…who didn’t prefer winning?  Surveying my potential partners, I identified their qualifications.  Ev was a brilliant pool player and a sure bet.  But if one thing had been proven law, it was that whatever Ev could do, Hunter could do better—much to her chagrin.  He was a gamble since I had never seen him play, but the odds were good.  Griffin was a proverbial dark horse.  Having worked most of his life in a bar, he likely had ample practice and was the most familiar with any quirks of this particular table.  Unfortunately, if Griffin was on my team, I couldn’t tease him to distraction.  Hmm…decisions, decisions.

“I love this table, it’s always been lucky for me,” Hunter said with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“Me, too,” Ev chirped.  “Really good memories… spectacular, in fact.”

Okay, they were clearly talking about more than billiards.  I could only speculate, but I suspected this table had played a pivotal role in “the make-up” Hunter sprung on Ev at The Stop.  Those dirty birds.

“Don’t worry, I had the table re-covered shortly after their slate-top reconciliation.  I even replaced the drop light over the table that was cracked—I don’t even want to know.”

“Couples?” Ev asked, apparently feeling nostalgic when suggesting teams.

We all agreed and Hunter began to rack.  Ev broke, commencing our game with finesse.  I leaned back against Griffin’s hard body and tilted my head up, waiting until he lowered his ear to my mouth.

“Please tell me we are going to destroy them, and by ‘we’ I mean you.”

His only response was a devious smile.  Uh-oh, someone was going to dish out a SmackDown tonight.  Ev was going to be crushed if her skills failed to garner a victory. 

She cleared a third of the balls in her first turn and was rewarded with a pat on the butt and a kiss on the lips from Hunter.  Griffin gestured for me to proceed so I positioned myself to take the easiest shot, straight-line into the left corner pocket.  I was sliding the cue between my fingers about to strike when my movement was halted.  Griff came from behind and wrapped his body around mine, engulfing me.  He slid his hands from my shoulders down my arms slowly until he reached my hands, where he gloved mine.  The length of my body was pressed against him and I shivered, my body remembering the pleasure of his.

“You’d have more control if you slid your hand a little further up the shaft,” he said as he glided our hands an inch toward the tip, “and you need to tighten your grip a little in the back.  Take command of it,” he finished his instruction with a kiss on my neck behind my ear, allowing his lips to drag across my skin as he moved away.

Damn, I knew pool could be a fun opportunity to flirt and lean over to flash the goods, but I didn’t know it was a full-contact sport that could lead to internal combustion.  Pool had just become my new favorite game outside the bedroom.  I heard someone clear their throat and looked up to find Ev smirking at me.

“It’s been a couple of minutes…do you intend to pull yourself out of the lust-induced fog anytime tonight?” she teased.

“Just give me another minute.  My fine motor skills are still stuck on Griffin whispering ‘shaft’ in my ear.  That is some potent imagery and I’m in no hurry to wipe it away.”

They all burst into laughter.  I finally took my shot and sunk the ball, but unfortunately missed the next one.  Hunter stepped up and cleared several more balls for their team before finally missing.  Griff positioned himself for the next shot and I couldn’t resist—I caressed his ass, so perfectly presented when he bent over, nearly causing him to miss the shot.  He spun to me before the ball even settled in the pocket and kissed me, hard and brief, but I tasted the promise.

The game ended with our victory on Griff’s final turn.  We debated another game but elected to forgo the competition, since there really was none.  I was still tingling with anticipation thanks to his impromptu lesson and all I could think about was getting home, but when Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” played, it beckoned me to the dance floor.  Griffin followed me, happy to be the recipient of my moves.  I circled him like a tiger, dragging my fingers along his body as I went.  I considered making him sit so I could dance for him, a newly discovered fantasy, but the promise of feeling his granite body against mine was a temptation I couldn’t resist.  He reached out and snagged my waist, winding me into him, my back against his front.  His legs were shoulder-width apart and he flexed his knees enough so that my butt pressed against his groin.  I reached my arms behind me and wrapped them around his neck, pulling his mouth to mine as I swayed my hips to the beat of the song.  His tongue explored my mouth aggressively, hot and insistent.  The pulsing of drums guided my body as he pressed against me, shadowing my movement.  He danced like I imagined he’d make love, purposeful and commanding with no hesitancy or self-consciousness—it was enthralling.  Unable to resist, I spun in his arms without breaking our kiss, allowing his leg to press between mine, stimulating me.  I was practically riding his leg as we danced, both of us clinging to the other as if we were alone.  It was indecent, I knew, but I couldn’t get enough of him—his taste, his scent, the texture and planes of his body.  This was my man and I was enjoying my rights.  And when the song ended, the intensity of our connection and craving did not.