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Laura frowned. It sounded as if Griffin was interrogating the man, although the pastor didn’t seem to mind. Was her protector bothered by something or was he just getting information?
Rick’s hazel eyes shone warmly at Laura. “How long have you known Nolan?”
Was the pastor making friendly conversation or fishing for information? Griffin must have wondered the same, because he shifted, putting his body slightly, protectively in front of her. “Several years,” she answered.
“Yes,” her father said weakly, still grasping her hand. “We’ve known each other a long time.”
Hughes nodded. “I met Nolan during his initial hospital stay after he was first diagnosed.”
“That was about nine months ago, wasn’t it?” Griffin asked.
“Yes.” Rick glanced at the patient, concern crossing his round features.
Laura checked her father. His eyes fluttered as he fought the effects of the painkiller.
She squeezed his hand. “We’ll let you rest now.”
She wasn’t sure he heard her, but he gave her fingers a light squeeze. When his hold went limp, she gently laid his hand on his chest and studied him for a moment.
Griffin cleared his throat and she realized he held the door open, waiting for her. She quietly walked outside followed by the chaplain and Griffin, who closed the door.
Rick Hughes walked a few yards with them, then stopped in front of another patient room. “I need to drop in on someone else. It was nice to meet you both. I’ll probably see you again if you visit Nolan.”
Griffin said nothing while Laura gave a noncommittal response.
“Please let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Rick offered.
He seemed sincere. “Thank you,” Laura said.
As she continued down the long hallway with Griffin, she noticed that he frequently glanced over his shoulder. They stopped to pick up her things, then made their way to the empty waiting area.
“Are you suspicious of the pastor?” she asked.
“Right now I’m suspicious of everyone.”
That was probably good, though the act of always being wary made her tired. She didn’t want to leave her father, but she didn’t want to take any chances, either. “Thanks again for letting me see him.”
He took her elbow to steer her toward the elevator and inside. Despite his relaxed appearance, energy pulsed from him. She had no doubt he could move in one flat second if necessary. Before the doors closed, his sharp gaze scanned the hall like a laser.
Seemingly satisfied that she was as secure as possible, Griffin turned to her. “How was Nolan before I came in with the chaplain?”
“Frail, but he was alert. We spoke for a few minutes.”
Hit all over again with just how fragile her father’s health was, her throat tightened.
Griffin frowned. “Your conversation didn’t go well?”
“It did.” She sniffed, looking into his steady sea-green eyes. “He said he was glad I came. He forgave me.”
“And you forgave him?” the former SEAL asked gruffly.
“Yes.” They really had made progress. Relief and astonishment and gratitude flooded her. She dabbed at the sudden tears in her eyes.
Griffin looked confused. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
“It’s very good.” She opened her purse, looking for a tissue. “Sorry.”
“Here.” A handkerchief with her aunt’s trademark embroidery appeared under her nose, small and delicate in his large sun-darkened hand.
She glanced up.
He smiled. “Your aunt has given one to all of us at Enigma.”
With a small laugh, she wiped her eyes. He flashed a half smile and her nerves shimmered in reaction.
Their gazes locked and something flickered in his eyes before they shuttered against her.
He glanced away. “Were you able to tell Nolan everything you wanted?”
“Yes,” she answered slowly. “I wish we’d had more time to talk, but the morphine makes him so groggy.”
“Did he apologize?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Crumpling the handkerchief in her hand, she tilted her head. “Why is that?”
He shrugged. “Maybe I don’t know the whole story, but from what I do know, it sounded as though he should.”
For some reason, his words warmed her. “Thanks.”
He nodded, searching her face.
She couldn’t seem to look away from him. His rugged appearance was in stark contrast to the kindness in his eyes. She couldn’t deny that she found him appealing. Very appealing.
She frowned at the unexpected, unwelcome realization.
“I’m not sure you’ll be able to see him again.”
Why had he said that? Because her father wouldn’t make it?
Or you might not, she reminded herself, gingerly touching the raw mark circling her throat.
“Coming here is too risky. This may have to be our last visit to the hospital.”
Her heart sank. At least she and Dad had started to put things right.
“Sorry. I just don’t know if it will be a good idea to stop and visit him when you go to the clinic for your injections. Enigma has a doctor on call. I’ll talk to her and see if she can come to my house to give you the injections.”
Enigma had its own doctor. Wow. From the information packet she had been given to read, Laura knew the middle three shots of filgrastim could be given anywhere, but she hadn’t considered Griffin might want to do it at his house. Having the doctor come there would restrict Laura’s movements even more.
Which meant she’d be spending a lot more time with the former SEAL.
“Looks like I’ll be taking further advantage of your hospitality.”
As manufactured as her life had been in WitSec, things had still seemed more simple before she met Griffin Devaney.
She liked him, but she wouldn’t be here long enough for that to matter. Even if she were out of WitSec and able to stay, these days she listened only to her head. She was all about smart, rational decisions.
And smart was not a six-foot-plus ex-SEAL with blue-green eyes and a slow grin.
FOUR (#ulink_7381d8cb-88eb-56fe-b392-8300166e3643)
Things had gone okay for the rest of their stay at the hospital. Still, Griffin didn’t breathe easy until he and Laura were back at his house late that afternoon. The assailant had gotten past him. He was rattled and that angry red mark circling her neck didn’t help.
He still wasn’t sure if remaining as her bodyguard was the right call, but he’d agreed. He wouldn’t go back on his word. And she wouldn’t be attacked again, no matter what he had to do.
On the ride home, he had asked several random questions in an attempt to determine if she had suffered a concussion. She didn’t appear to have one. Now she sat at his kitchen table, her features drawn and tired. The knot at her hairline was now swollen to the size of a quarter and starting to turn blue.
Joy was on her way here with Boone Winslow, who was standing in for Sydney this evening. Opening his first-aid kit, Griffin took out a tube of antibiotic ointment and uncapped it. He started to give the medicine to Laura, but she looked completely done in.
He squeezed some ointment onto a cotton swab and leaned down, gently tipping her head to the side. “I’ll try not to hurt you.”
“I’m not worried.” She gave him a faint smile.
As lightly as possible, he dabbed the ointment on the vicious-looking abrasion around her neck.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Just fine. Thanks.”
Her silky hair hung across one shoulder, sliding across the back of his hand as he worked. Satisfied that he’d done what he could for her injuries, he capped the ointment and tossed it into the first-aid kit. Then he gingerly checked the knot at her hairline.
When she winced, white-hot anger rushed through him. Griffin wanted to pound the guy who’d tried to kill her.
“Good thinking to kick over that trash can,” he said, easing down into the chair adjacent to hers. “Have you remembered anything else about the guy who did this? Besides the possible tattoo on his wrist?”
“No. I’ll let you know if I do.”
The light in her eyes was gone and Griffin found himself wishing he knew how to put it back. “How are you feeling? Hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Do you need some ibuprofen for your head or neck?”
“No, thanks.” She didn’t seem to need or want anything. Maybe her time in WitSec had taught her that. If Griffin hadn’t thought she was strong before, he sure did now. Not only because she was still standing after being attacked twice in the past forty-eight hours, but also because she was still determined to do whatever was necessary to help her father.
Griffin couldn’t comprehend how she seemed able to just forgive her father or how her father could’ve forgiven her so easily. He knew it couldn’t be that easy. Could it? He’d never heard of anyone who’d done anything like that. He sure hadn’t forgiven Emily and they had broken up almost four years ago.
He searched his mind for a way to keep Laura engaged. “How long has it been since you’ve spoken to your dad?”
He expected her to say ten months, the length of time she’d been in WitSec.
“My graduation from vet school, three years ago. We didn’t part on good terms.”
He shifted toward her. “What happened?”
“I rebelled. Against my dad and God. It started after my mom died from cancer. It was a pattern of bad behavior that went on too long.”
“Until you turned evidence on Arrico?”
“Yes, although that didn’t fix things with my dad.”
“Were things always rocky between you two?”
“Not until my mom passed. I was seventeen, a junior in high school, and spent as little time as possible with him. The guys I dated were his complete opposite. Forbidden. I grew apart from him and apart from God, too.”
“Maybe God grew apart from you,” Griffin suggested quietly. That was what had happened to him on an Afghan mountain four years ago.
“I told myself that for a long time, but the truth is God was always there. I’m the one who turned away from Him.”
Griffin wasn’t sure he agreed. He’d lost God during a disastrous mission in the Hindu Kush that had also cost his career and the lives of his three teammates. God’s absence had been confirmed when he’d returned home and Emily had dumped him for someone else. “You met Arrico when he brought his injured dog into the school’s teaching vet clinic?”
“How do you know that?” she asked sharply.
“Marshal Yates and the trial transcripts.”
After a moment, she continued, “Back then I was looking for trouble. Vin asked me out. I accepted. Two months later, I moved in with him. Bad decision in more ways than one.”
Regret was written all over her pretty face. “Which you realized the night he hit you?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Before that, actually, but that’s when I finally left.”
“So, you found evidence of his drug dealing and human trafficking, and took it to the FBI?” he prompted.
She nodded. “The case didn’t go to trial for a year and I was under FBI protection until it wrapped up.”
“Then Arrico tried to kill you in a drive-by shooting. Which explains why you’re in WitSec.”
“Did Floyd also tell you that?” she asked accusingly, her voice taut.
He realized she must feel that her life wasn’t her own, which it wasn’t. “The Marshals moved you to Pueblo and you’ve been there ten months, safe and sound.”
“Until now,” she muttered.
He tried to imagine how he would feel if his control were taken away like that. “You seem okay with giving up your life.”
