Taming McGruff (Book 3, Once Upon A Romance Series) (8 page)

This time he chuckled. He and Peg came to a halt near the boutique.

He caught Priscilla’s questioning look.

“Girls,” Peg said, “you’ve met Griffin already. But, Rico, I don’t think you have yet.”

“No, ’cause I’d have remembered him,” the man said, holding out his hand.

Griffin shook it. “Rico, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Well,” he said, putting his hand on his hip, “I haven’t heard nothing ’bout you.” He glared at Priscilla. “You’d think a friend would tell, wouldn’t you?”

She turned to Griffin, saying, “There’s nothing to tell, is there?”

If only he could kiss her again. But this time, he’d hold her close, feeling the length of her body against his. “Not a thing,” he said, bringing himself back to the moment with a crash. No, it was their secret to keep.

“Rico, come on, we’ve got a wedding to finish up,” Francine said, tugging on his arm. “You’ve got less than an hour to pull it together, my friend.” She smiled at Griff, asking, “Who gets married on a Monday night?”

Peg chimed in, “We aim to please.”

“Is that a King motto?” Griff wondered.

“No, but it could be,” she said, scribbling the phrase down on the paper on her clipboard. “Dagnabbit, my pencil broke. Be right back.” She rushed into the boutique, following Francie and Rico.

“Do you attest to that saying?” he asked Priscilla. His body hummed, standing so close to her again.

She swallowed hard, searching his gaze for a hidden meaning, he was certain. “I guess that depends on who I’m pleasing,” she said in a low, sultry voice.

Griffin blew out a long, hot breath. His blood pulsed. A wave of anticipation swept through him. He wanted to be the one she pleased.

***

Nearly ten at night, Griffin finally reached the door of the store. The night guard stood there.

“Mighty late for your first night, isn’t it?”

“Bruno, right?” Griffin shook his hand. “Call me Griff. No rest for the wicked,” he joked, but a knife-like pain shot through his gut. From all accounts of the employee records, King’s had served its people well and they the store. And this man had a long, distinguished tenure.

“You can say that again. I was gonna retire, been saying that for years. But, now Miss Charlie having them babies, I gotta stay, make sure they know who their grandpapa was.”

“Stories to tell?” How much did he know about Mrs. King?

“Plenty.”

“Interesting. Maybe we can catch up sometime.”

He eyed him slowly. “Maybe.” But what he didn’t say reverberated between them.
You have to prove to me first that you should know.

Griff nodded. He appreciated a cautious man. Bruno had every right to be wary of him, too. “Have a good night.”

“Same.”

The cool night air whisked away the stuffy cobwebs lingering in his head. Thankfully, he didn’t have far to walk. Charlie had given him her parking spot since her husband’s driver delivered and picked her up every day.

The sleek black limo, a short way down and across the street, caught his attention immediately. The familiar front license plate shot a wave of recognition through him. He halted. His heart seemed to stop, and then beat nearly out of his chest.

With each step he took crossing the street, he drew a little closer to his past. The chauffeur behind the wheel of the running car didn’t bother to exit. The back window was half-way down when Griff got to it. The flash of blonde hair in the far- reaching streetlight held his rapt attention.

“Agnes King, I presume,” he said.

For the rest of his life, Griff would never forget the sound of the doors unlocking. He opened the door, and then slid in beside his worst enemy. This woman consumed his waking hours and, sometimes, his nightmares.

She didn’t even acknowledge him; she leaned forward to speak to the driver. “Go,” she commanded.

Her small white dog, sitting between them, stuck his cold nose under Griffin’s hand. Instinctively, he reached out and petted the animal, feeling sorry for it.

The purr of the car picked up as they swung away from the curb.

He turned to look at her in the shadowy interior, examine every inch of the woman who destroyed his father. Would she even remember? Or had he been one in dozens? “To what do I owe this pleasure?” he baited, noting the perfectly styled updo and ramrod straight profile. Dressed in all black, she blended into the leather seats. In her hand, she held a half-empty glass.

He didn’t have to ask what she drank. The stench of it would forever be seared in his senses. How ironic his father’s drink of choice was hers.

Having her show up didn’t come as a complete surprise. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew she couldn’t stay away.

“Who do you think you are taking over King’s? I built that store—”

“On the backs of others,” he bit out, unable to hold it in.

“What have they been telling you? It’s lies, all lies.” Her slurred words cued him into her sorry condition.

The dog didn’t mind the bickering; it snuggled closer to Griff. Mrs. King scooped him up, holding him close. The animal stuck his tongue out, licking her chin. Poor thing, he didn’t even know who the enemy was.

“What do you want from me?” Griff asked, getting his temper under control. It wouldn’t help his cause if he showed his hand now. He had to wait, bide his time just a little while longer.

“Fail.”

“Excuse me?” Had he heard right?

“Let it sink and drown like it should have years ago.” She took a long sip.

“King’s? You want it to fail?” Shock raced through him. This was the last thing he expected her to say. It was his plan all along, but to have her agree shook him. He never thought he’d be in the same camp as Agnes King. “Why?”

She remained silent for so long, he wondered if she’d even answer. “My stepdaughter and my daughters don’t know what’s best for them.”

At the thought of Priscilla and the few things she said about this woman, his heart tugged for his pixie. “And you do?”

“They need to let go of him. Once and for all.”

“By him, do you mean Charles King?”

“Of course, you nitwit!” she cried, upsetting the dog. She held him tighter, cooing to him. “It’s all right. I’m here.”

Was she jealous? “Tell me why.” He refused to jump to any conclusions just yet. He was still trying to digest her request.

“I’ll pay you. How much?”

“Money? Is that what this is all about?” Somehow, it didn’t make sense. He’d seen the will she filed years ago for Charles King, seen the absurd amount she controlled.

She sighed. “I am surrounded by stupid people,” she muttered to the dog.

Griffin gritted his teeth. “Explain, please.”

“They hoard their love on a dead man. When, I, their mother, am right here. Charlie pulled them in and filled their silly little heads with ideas, dreams,” she scoffed.

At the mention of dreams, Griff’s middle tightened. “You don’t believe in them, I take it.” Something sharp and hard gnawed at him. God, was he just like her?

“As long as that store remains up and running, they’ll never get over him.”

“And won’t come back to you?” he guessed.

She hissed. “Of course. I don’t want Charlie. She never wanted me, and I never wanted her. But my girls, they need me; they just can’t see it. I had a groom all lined up for Francine. And what does she do? She marries a cook, of all things.”

“A very wealthy cook,” he amended. To himself, he wouldn’t have classified Marcus Goode as just that. The man had built an empire on restaurants and resorts.

“I had a doctor.” She humphed. “He’s profoundly hurt by the slight. Thank goodness, I convinced him I’d bring Priscilla around to meet him. Perhaps he’ll be interested. Although, he doesn’t like red-heads. Blondes are more his taste.”

At the mention of Priscilla and Mrs. King’s plans for her, his temper flared. How could she switch out daughters to prospective grooms? How could she treat Priscilla like that? “She doesn’t know.” It wasn’t a question.

“She won’t even return my calls. But, that’s where you come in.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you destroy King’s. End it quickly. Then Priscilla will have nowhere to go, but to me. That’s when I’ll marry her off.”

Could she be so callous with her own child? “Destroy King’s?” At the moment, it made him sick to think he wanted the same thing she did. He’d wasted so much time focusing on the store as her downfall. He’d made a grave error.

“There’s ways.”

“Do tell.”

“Fire the employees—the longtime, die-hards first. Really, the salary some of them make is outrageous. Strike fear in the others. Uproot them, cut hours, and then bring in new hires. Less money, less skill. And, better yet, no loyalty to the store.”

He swallowed hard, knowing from his extensive research she’d tried this angle before. Griff, on the other hand, had always used the reverse in his esteemed career in the industry: build up the business by creating opportunities for employees, keep them educated and interested, pay them what they’re worth, establish them, respect them and earn their respect. Loyalty naturally followed. It had made him a very rich man and, in turn, he’d made others wealthy.

“Start there. Show me you’ll do it, and then we meet again for the next lesson.”

Griffin had seen battle, gunfire, bullets, and even bombs. He shifted his left shoulder at the haunting memory and the wound he walked away with on the day that nearly took his life. But he’d never faced such a cold-blooded, cold-hearted enemy like this before. “What are you willing to pay?” He had to know.

“A million dollars.”

He laughed. “That’s chump change.”

She cut him a look. “All right, to start.”

“Take me back to the store,” he said.

“Is that a yes? Do we have a deal?” Glee made her voice rise.

“I’ll get back to you.”

Less than ten minutes later, he got out of the car, and then shut the door.

“I’ll be back,” she called as he walked toward his Vette.

The limo pulled away, passing behind him.

Griffin couldn’t gulp in the fresh air fast enough. All he wanted to do was get behind the wheel, roll down the windows, and drive as fast as he could.

Looking toward the store, he noticed Bruno there with his arms folded over his chest. The Protector. Something went through Griff. He changed directions, strolling toward the night guard.

Bruno sniffed. “Something smells bad out here.” He eyed Griff.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he agreed. “Hungry? I haven’t eaten yet.”

“You buying? I’ve got a craving for ribs.”

“Sounds good to me. You got time for some of those stories?”

“Yep.”

Griff let out a long, slow breath. His new plan began to form the minute Mrs. King asked him to ruin King’s. Now, if he could just get Priscilla to agree.

***

“Housewares, all clear,” a male voice crackled over the radio.

“Roger, that,” Bruno said into his radio, and then set it back down on the desk. “We got forty minutes before he gets back from his rounds.” He bit into the spicy rib and murmured his approval.

Griffin couldn’t eat, not after his encounter. He shoved his food toward Bruno.

“You ain’t talking. What she want?” He nodded toward the door.

Could he chance it? “She hates King’s.”

He snorted. “That one, what a piece of work.” Shaking his head, he said, “Mr. K. didn’t stand a chance once his first wife died. Devastated. The Barracuda moved in for the kill.”

The nickname, given by Charlie, fit the older woman to a tee.

“She took over, ordering everyone around like
she
owned the place. He could barely function, so she got away with a whole heck of a lot.” He pointed the cleaned-off rib at Griff. “But you know he had people, close to him, who stood up to her.” His grin went from ear to ear now. “Fireworks! Whoa, it was like all heck broke loose around here.”

“She won.”

“Ah, no way. Mr. K.’s friend and lawyer man stepped in, shook the you-know-what out of Mr. K. and woke him up to what was going on. Oh, happy day, that was.”

“Lawyer man?” Griffin’s middle clenched.

“Yep, Big Jim Weatherford. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

How could he not? His father was a legend in this town, before and after his downfall.

Bruno looked him square in the eye. “You look like him, your daddy.”

The air sailed out of Griff’s lungs. “When did you realize it?”

“First night you walked in those doors.” He jerked his head to the outer door again. “You can’t hide it, around the eyes mostly. I figured you had your reasons to keep it tucked away and drop your last name.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to the King daughters?” He knew none of them knew his true identity, especially Priscilla; she would have called him out.

“’Cause I knew you’d never hurt them. They not who you’re gunning for.”

Griff reared back. “You’re so sure?” What was there to lose now? This man could blow his cover, could have done it days ago. He chose not to.

The night guard wiped his mouth and hands on a napkin, and then tossed it down. “I’m a betting man, Mr. Griff.” He squeezed his eyes half-way shut. “I got a fifty-fifty chance you wouldn’t harm my girls. When I saw you get in the Barracuda’s car, I gotta admit I wasn’t so sure. But once you stepped out…and I saw the disgust on your face, my chances went way up.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his lip. “Couldn’t disguise it, could I?”

“Not many people could. Mr. K. realized too late. This is between you and me, hear? He told me he wanted to divorce her, but he was afraid for Miss Francie and Miss Prissy. Didn’t know what would become of them.”

Griffin’s admiration for the late Mr. King rose another notch.

“Family first, he’d say. And those were his kids; he adopted them. Once he took back control of the second Mrs. King and this place, it was a real treat to come into work every day.”

Frowning, Griff said, “But it all changed.”

“He got sick. Real quick. Before you knew it, he was gone.” Bruno stopped, choking up. “One of the worst days of my life.” He cleared his throat. “She swooped down like a buzzard. I can’t tell you how many fights I heard, how many people up and quit, and how many she ended up firing.”