The Maverick (13 page)

Griff had to chuckle. Cass had insisted on taking the bath he’d prepared for her, and they’d finally herded enough of the foam into the shower stall for her to do so. Towels lined the floor, capturing the rest of the mess, and Cass lay, her head on a plastic pillow, surrounded by slowly diminishing bubbles, sound asleep. He knew she must be exhausted.

He knelt by the tub and kissed her. “Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“You have to wake up. You’re getting wrinkly.”

She opened her eyes. “Was I asleep?”

“You were. Come on. I’ll help you dry off.”

Between the two of them, they managed to get her dry, and he wrapped his robe around her and carried her to bed. Before he could undress and join her, she’d curled up and was sound asleep again.

He eased in under the sheets, feelings of protective tenderness filling his heart to near bursting.

He’d heard sappy love songs forever, but for the first time in his life he understood the meaning behind all of them. Heart and soul, she was the one. Whatever it cost him, Cass was worth it. He wanted to slay dragons and lay the world at
her feet, and God help anyone who ever hurt her. Moreover, he wanted to rip out his tongue and stomp on it for ever agreeing to romance her out of Chili Witches. Griff had gotten caught in his own trap, and ZASM had been the biggest dragon of all.

C
ASS PURRED AND STRETCHED
in bed like a satisfied cat. Nothing was quite as nice as making love in the morning. She rolled over onto her side and glanced at the clock. It was after nine, and she didn’t care. She and Griff had all day to do nothing but eat, sleep and make love. How glorious. She stretched again, wondering if she should go join him in the shower.

On the nightstand a cell phone rang, and she automatically leaned over to look at the caller ID.
ZASM.
Walter Zeagler again. How did that jerk get her phone number?

Then it dawned on her. The phone wasn’t hers. It was Griff’s. What the—

Cass yanked up the phone. “Hello.”

“Honey, let me talk to Griff.”

A rock landed in her stomach, and horror spread over her like an alien blob. Bile rose up in her throat as things began to click into place.
Oh, no. Please, God, no.
She closed her eyes, hoping against hope…

“And who may I say is calling?” she asked as sweetly as she could manage.

“Tell him it’s Walt, Walt Zeagler.”

“And what is this in reference to, Mr. Zeagler?”

“Look, I’m his partner. He’ll know what it’s about. Now shake your tail, sweet-cheeks.”

Click.
The guillotine dropped. Fury rolled over her in tsunami waves. “Kiss my ass!” She hung up and turned off his phone. Not again! Dammit, not again!

She strode to the kitchen, poured three bottles of beer into the ice bucket and stomped back to the bathroom. Griff was just turning off the shower when she got there.

She jerked open the door. As he turned to her and smiled, she screamed, “You son of a bitch! You egg-sucking, lily-livered, low-down, slithering son of a bitch!” and heaved the beer and ice in his face. “If I had a knife, I’d gut you like a fish!”

Dropping the bucket, she ran from the room and slammed the door behind her. If she hadn’t been naked as a jaybird, she’d have kept going, but she stopped to grab a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

“Cass! Wait!” Griff charged from the bathroom, dripping water and swiping a towel over his face. “What’s wrong?” He grabbed her arm.

She snatched it away. “Don’t you touch me, you conniving scumbag.” Not bothering with underwear, she yanked on the shorts and tee. “Don’t you ever touch me again. Not ever!”

“Honey, whatever’s wrong, I’ll fix it. Just tell me why you’re so upset.”

“Walt Zeagler called while you were in the shower. We chatted.”

Griff paled.

“Uh-huh.” She snatched up her shoes and strode from the room.

“Wait! Cass! I can explain.”

Spinning to face him, she said, “Explain this. Did you come to Austin to talk us into selling Chili Witches?”

He opened and closed his mouth.

“Cat got your tongue?” she asked in a syrupy voice. “You’re lower than worm dirt.” She wheeled and headed for the front door, grabbing her purse on the way.

“Cass, please listen to me. It may have started out that way, but I swear to God, things changed. I love—”

She slammed the front door in his face and ran for the elevator.

He yanked open the door and came after her. “Dammit, Cass, you’ve got to listen.”

Poking the elevator button repeatedly, she said, “Go away. My mother was right. She said you were a charlatan! To think that I—we— Oh, gawd! I’m such a gullible fool.” She poked the button again, and the door opened.

She rushed inside. Griff followed.

“You can’t come in here,” she said. “You’re naked!”

“I don’t care.” He wrapped the towel he held around his waist. “Sweetheart, please listen to me. I told Walt the deal was off, and—”

“I’m not listening to you, dirtbag!” She crammed her feet into her shoes. “I should have listened to my first instincts. I knew I couldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you. When will I
ever
learn?” She looped her bag over her head and shoulder.

The elevator door opened, and she ran for the sidewalk to elude him, and jogged toward home.

Undeterred, he jogged alongside her, barefoot and bare-assed in downtown Austin, trying to get her to listen to his lousy excuses. She ran faster. “Dammit, Griff, you’re naked!”

“I don’t care. I love you, Cass. I want to marry you and live in Austin and have babies!”

Oh, gawd. What if she was pregnant?

She ran faster.

At an intersection, a police car pulled alongside them and blocked the way. The cop got out. “Sir. Stop right there.”

The light turned and Cass shot across the street. She glanced over her shoulder to see Griff being put into the backseat of the patrol car. Her heart did a little flip, but she steeled herself. “Good enough, you slick weasel,” she muttered.

In a few minutes she was home, and as she was about to
go upstairs, Sunny drove up. Cass waited for her to get out of her car.

“Cass, what’s wrong?”

“Griffin Mitchell is what’s wrong. Mom was right. You were right. Everybody was right. He’s a conniving son of a bitch! Did you know he’s a partner in ZASM?”

“What’s ZASM?”

“Walter Zeagler’s ZASM, the company trying to buy us out. Zeagler’s the Z, and Griff is probably the M. Griff came here to get in our good graces and cajole us into selling this property.”

“How did you find out?”

Cass told Sunny about the phone call and confrontation.

“Oh, dear Lord, Cass. How terrible. I’m so sorry.” She hugged her. “What can I do?”

“Nothing, sis. No, you can keep him away from me. I’m going to lock myself upstairs in my apartment. If I know him, he’ll be banging on the door any minute trying to ‘explain’—as if he could. I’m not answering the phone or my door, and if he tries to wheedle you into anything, don’t fall for it. Send him packing.”

“You got it. I’ll come up later and use our code to knock.”

They hugged again, and Cass ran upstairs, noticing only then that her shirt was on backward.

L
UCKILY
, A
USTIN COPS WERE
understanding. The one who’d picked up Griff listened with a fairly straight face to his explanation of his attire. Then took him home.

Luckily as well, the valet in the garage vouched for him. Unfortunately, when Griff got upstairs he discovered he was locked out of his apartment. After a few choice words, he kicked the door, which didn’t bother the door but mangled his toe and hurt like hell.

Another trip down the elevator and he located someone with a pass key to let him in. Nobody he met on either trip commented on his dress. Maybe they thought he was wearing a bathing suit under the towel.

First thing he did was call Walt and ask him what the hell he wanted. No, he wouldn’t meet with him in Austin next week, and no, he wouldn’t change his mind about anything. He quizzed Walt about what he’d said to Cass, yelled a few colorful things about his parentage and brain size, and hung up. He’d begun to think months ago that Walt was losing it. No telling what the crazy bastard would do next. Griff had tried to tell the other partners, but as long as they were making huge profits, they didn’t much care.

He’d tried to reason with Walt, showed him research on a dozen other properties, but it was like trying to reason with a gorilla, so Griff had tied up a few loose ends, packed up his office and told them where to stick it.

Somehow, some way, he had to get Cass to listen to him. He wanted to beat his head against a wall. He got dressed and headed for her apartment.

Her car was in its usual place, so he figured she hadn’t gone far. He went upstairs and banged on her door for ten minutes, but she didn’t answer. He put his ear to the door and could hear the faint noise of her television, so he assumed she was there. Next he tried dialing her cell and was able to make out a ring inside. But she didn’t answer. It kicked into voice mail.

He sat down on the steps and tried his best to explain things. He told her he’d resigned from the firm, and poured his heart out to her. Over and over he begged her to forgive him and talk to him.

After knocking one more time, he stuck his phone in his
pocket and went downstairs to Chili Witches. Maybe Sunny could help.

Wrong.

With her hands on her hips, Cass’s twin glared at him. “You are reprehensible, Griff Mitchell. You’ve broken her heart, and what you’ve done to my sister, you’ve done to me. You’re not welcome in Chili Witches ever again, and I have friends to enforce that request.” She nodded toward a table of cops.
“Leave.”

Griff walked out of Chili Witches, but he couldn’t go yet. He went back upstairs and knocked softly on Cass’s door. “Cass, please talk to me. Just give me five minutes. Please.”

Nothing.

He sat down on the steps and tried to think of a way to get to her, short of battering the door down—which would only set off the alarm and cause havoc.

Griff called a florist and offer them a bonus if they would deliver a huge arrangement ASAP.

In twenty minutes, a florist van stopped and a kid got out carrying a big vase of mixed flowers, pretty ones. The kid nodded to Griff as he passed him sitting on the stairs. The delivery boy knocked and waited. Knocked and waited. Nothing.

“Mister,” the kid said. “Do you know the lady who lives here?

Griff nodded.

“Would you give these to her, please?”

“Just leave them by the door,” Griff said.

“I don’t know…” the kid looked at the sky. “It might rain.”

“Leave them.”

He shrugged, set them by the door and hurried down the stairs to his van. Griff watched and waited. The door didn’t open, and the flowers seemed to mock him.

For the next five hours, two of them in the rain, he sat on
the stairs, alternately phoning and knocking until his battery ran out of juice and his shoes were full of water. Temporarily conceding defeat, he sloshed to his car and went home.

He gave the Marcia Ball tickets to the valet, went upstairs and took a hot shower, and tried to think of a better strategy.

T
HE ENTIRE TIME
G
RIFF
pounded on her door, Cass had been sitting on her couch eating Cheerios from a box and watching old movies. And crying. Initially, her anger had fueled her, but in the end, grief overtook her and drained her dry.

She’d heard him go, listened as he plodded down the stairs in the rain, watched out the window as his car left the lot. Only when she was sure he’d gone did she open the door and peek out. The poor flowers were getting pounded by the rain. She took them in and set them in the kitchen sink to perk back up.

The bouquet might recover, but she wondered if she ever would.

Cass didn’t sleep much, and she dreamed awful things she couldn’t remember, but kept waking her up when she dozed off. She finally got up, took a couple of aspirin and put cold compresses on her swollen eyes. Nothing had ever hurt her so deeply as this. Daniel’s betrayal was nothing compared to Griff’s.

Mostly, she realized, because she hadn’t loved Daniel so much.

Well, she refused to waste any more tears over Griff and his devious ways. She was determined to gut up and go on. Today was a workday for her.

Her phone rang. He was starting early. She removed the compress to look at the caller ID. Sunny.

“Good morning, sis,” Cass said in her cheeriest voice. “How are you today?”

“The question is, Cass, how are you?”

“I’m fine. Just fine.”

“You don’t sound fine. You’re croaking like a frog.”

“Must have been all the yelling I did yesterday.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sunny said. “I know you must feel like crap. How about I work for you today?”

“No. Absolutely not. You’re not going to cancel your plans.
Mom and Aunt Min have been excited out of their minds about meeting with your wedding planner and getting started on the details today.”

“They’re excited. I’m not. This is my second marriage. Ben and I want a simple ceremony in the backyard and a lemon cake from the bakery down the street.”

“I know. Keep reminding them.”

“Have you heard any more from Griff?”

“Not a peep. I think he finally got the message.”

“I hope so. If he gives you any trouble, call me and I’ll send somebody to toss him out.”

Cass laughed for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours. “You forget I have a baseball bat under my bed.”

“Seriously, Cass, call me if you need me. Should I tell Mom and Aunt Min about this?”

“No. I feel like enough of a fool without everybody knowing about it. Just play dumb, and later I’ll tell them things didn’t work out for us. Mom will be thrilled.”

After she hung up, Cass wandered into the bathroom and stared at her reflection. Talk about being “rode hard and put away wet.” She looked worse than terrible, but her eyes didn’t seem quite so puffy after the compress, and her headache had eased some. After showering and dressing, she took half an hour to skillfully apply a ton of makeup without it looking troweled on. Not bad.

She pasted a grin on her face. “It’s showtime.”

Downstairs, she unlocked the back door for arriving employees and began her usual routine. Her phone rang and she jumped three feet. Pulling her cell from her pocket, she saw the POAC secretary’s name and answered. After they ended the call, Cass checked her voice mail and noted twenty-seven messages from Griff. She should have deleted them immedi
ately, but some masochistic perversion had kept her from it. She might even listen to them someday when she needed reminding what an idiot she’d been.

Lunchtime came and went without incident. They had a moderate crowd. With the nearby government offices closed, Saturdays usually weren’t extremely busy.

About three-thirty, Griff walked in the front door. He hadn’t shaved, his blue eyes were bloodshot and he generally looked like hell.

She met him before he got too far inside. “Griff, please leave. We have nothing more to say.”

“Will you give me at least five minutes, Cass? I need to talk to you.”

“Not today.”

“When? If I call you tomorrow or come by, will you talk to me?” His eyes seemed to plead, and she almost caved.

“I don’t know. There is one question I’d like to ask you, and I’d like a truthful answer.”

“Anything,” he said. “Ask it.”

“Was ZASM responsible for the break-in and flooding here?”

“I swear to God, Cass, I knew nothing about it and was in no way responsible.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. He had the most woebegone expression she’d ever seen as he looked her straight in the eye and sucked in a deep breath. “However, I’ve had my suspicions about Walt. I can’t be sure, but he might have done it. The man is crazy.”

Cass thought she might faint, and her voice quavered as she said, “And this man is your partner? What the hell kind of business are you involved in? Where are your ethics? I’ve heard enough. Please leave. Now.”

“Cass—”

“I don’t want to hear another word. If you don’t leave
quietly, I’ll have you thrown out, and if you persist in bothering me, I’ll get a restraining order.” She turned and walked away before she had a total meltdown.

Hiding out in the office, she sat behind the desk and buried her face in her hands. What was wrong with her? As she’d stood talking to Griff, a terrible longing had come over her, and she’d wanted to throw herself into his arms and have him hold her and comfort her. Was she stark raving mad? He was the cause of her pain.

She clenched her teeth and laced her fingers tightly together until her shaking stopped. She would get through this, she told herself over and over like a mantra. She was a survivor.

B
USINESS PICKED UP FOR
dinner, and she was pleased to see several old friends. Ben McKee’s sister and brother-in-law, Tracy and Rick, stopped in with their two little girls.

“We’ve come for the bestest chili in the world,” the younger one said.

“And some larrupin’ peach cobbler,” the other one added. “Uncle Ben says larrupin’ means delicious.”

Cass smiled, really smiled, showed them to a table and chatted for a short while. A few minutes later, she was surprised to see Greg Gonzales come in with two women, one older, one younger.

She hurried to the door to meet them. “Hi, Greg. Good to see you.”

He introduced his mother and younger sister, Donna, who appeared to have Down syndrome. Cass greeted them warmly and seated them near the window. “Greg, life has been pretty hectic for me, but I plan to spend tomorrow afternoon making the rest of my selections, and I’ll have my choices ready for you by Monday.”

“Sounds good. I’ve been telling Donna and my mother about the chili here, and Mama’s been itching to come and steal your recipe.”

“Oh, Greg!” his mother said, chuckling.

“I don’t like chili,” Donna said, screwing up her face. “But I like hamburgers.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Donna,” Cass said. “Our hamburgers are really, really good. Some say the best in Texas.”

Donna beamed.

“Let me take your drink orders, and I’ll send over a waiter right away.”

Martin Sevier from the POAC board brought his family for dinner, as did Sunny’s former partner in Homicide. It seemed to be old home night with the number of friends and regulars who showed up.

Cass stood with her hand on the bar and smiled as she looked out over the diners, listened to the buzz of conversation punctuated by laughter. The smells of chili and onions and sizzling meat were as familiar to her as her own reflection, as were the kitschy decorations on the walls. These sights and sounds and smells were woven into the fabric of her life, and they comforted her. She rubbed her fingers over the bar’s smooth wood, where so many fingers had touched before.

Dear God, she loved this place.

C
ASS FELT CONSIDERABLY BETTER
when she said goodbye to the last of the staff and made her final walk through Chili Witches. She glanced toward a corner, catching a movement there, and froze when she saw the Senator sitting at the table, a coffee cup in front of him. No matter how many times she encountered him, she would never get used to seeing a ghost.

“Good evening, Senator. What brings you here?”

“Do I need a reason to drop in?” He looked a bit sad.

“Things are off between Griff and me.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that. I like him.”

“Mom doesn’t. She’ll be delighted.”

“He truly loves you, you know. If I had to guess, I’d say Griffin is your soul mate, your destiny. You’ve been very good for each other. Listen to your heart, Cass.”

“But he lied and came here to use me for his own ends.”

“Did he? Are you sure?”

The Senator was gone.

And she was confused.

Suddenly weary to the bone, she set the security alarm, locked up and went upstairs. She gathered all her house samples together and put them in her tote bag by her laptop. After she undressed and pulled on her boxers and a tank top, Cass fixed herself a bowl of strawberry ice cream with chocolate sauce and pecans, and curled up in bed to eat it.

What exactly was the Senator trying to say to her?
Soul mates? Destiny?
Sounded like so much hokum. Griff was a warty toad. Sure, he had her going for a while, and he was hell on wheels in bed, but great sex wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. It couldn’t replace respect.

She yawned. Setting her bowl aside, she turned out the light and pulled the covers over her head.

S
OMETIME DURING THE
night Cass was jolted awake by a pounding on her door. “Dammit, Griff!” she yelled. “Go away!” She covered her head with a pillow to drown out the noise, and slapped at her alarm clock, which was going like crazy.

Her phone began to ring, joining the other raucous ringing and clanging and beeping going on.

What was that smell?

She jolted upright and grabbed her phone. Hank Wisda.

When she answered, he yelled, “Get out, Cass! Get out! Hurry! The place is on fire!”

She began to cough as smoke seeped into the room.