Written in Ink (Montgomery Ink #4)(58)

Did he love her? God, he didn’t know. He thought he could. He remembered that click in the kitchen. He was just too chickenshit to look past his fears and whatever blocked him to know.

But in the heat of the moment, in that damned kitchen again, he’d connected her work to their relationship. He might have hated her interference with his book and the way he’d worked before, but he knew she’d helped him almost finish the damn thing. Then he’d added in the fact that she worked for him and f*cked him. He might as well slam his head into the wall. He was an *. He was a douche, and his mood wasn’t an excuse for what he’d done.

Now she could be in danger because he couldn’t keep his damn thoughts straight.

He’d hurt her. Made her f*cking cry because he’d been a f*cking *.

He didn’t deserve her.

He never had.

But he still needed to go after her.

He pulled behind her car and shut off his engine. Griffin gripped the steering wheel, trying to keep his anger under control. He wasn’t angry with Autumn. Far from it. He needed to get a rein on his emotions and figure out what he was going to say. First, he’d apologize—grovel if he had to. Then he’d ask her, not tell her, to come back home with him. He’d learned from his brothers and brothers-in-law, and knew enough not to f*ck up by making demands.

He was already f*cking up on his own. He didn’t need those mistakes, too.

After he groveled and made sure she was safe…well, maybe he’d tell her his thoughts. Or maybe he’d try to take more time. He didn’t know, but sitting out in his car like an idiot wasn’t helping things.

Griffin let out a breath then made his way to her small front porch. His blood froze in his veins at the sight of her front door barely cracked open.

Fuck.

His first instinct was to run inside, but he knew it might get her hurt more than she already could be. He quickly tiptoed back to the side of the house and dialed 911.

When he explained the situation, the woman on the other end of the line ordered him to stay put and said the patrol cars would be there shortly. Only he couldn’t wait that long, not when he was the one to put her in this situation in the first place. He wouldn’t rush in unless he could see her, he thought. And then he knew that would be a lie too.

Autumn was in danger, and there was a chance she wasn’t even there to begin with. Though to most people, the sight of an open door could mean she’d forgotten to close it, he knew her better than that. Even angry and on a tear, she wouldn’t make that kind of mistake.

He went to the door and peeked through the crack, not seeing anything. Letting out a slow breath, he gently pressed the door, praying no one would see or hear.

Fuck.

She lay against the wall under the word MINE scrawled in blood-red. The bastard had tied her hands together behind her back and had also tied her ankles together. Flour still covered her, but she didn’t look too hurt beyond the bruise on her temple.

Jeff Sanders would die for that bruise alone.

Knowing he was a f*cking idiot for going in without a weapon, he opened the door a little more and saw an older man standing over Autumn. He had his back to Griffin and was tilting his head as if studying her.

Autumn’s eyes were closed, but he could still see her chest move up and down. She was breathing. Thank God.

The man bent over, his hand out as if to brush the hair off Autumn’s face, and Griffin lost it. He stormed into the house, fists drawn. Sanders didn’t turn right away. Instead, he moved slowly, as if he wasn’t sure what was going on.

Good.

Griffin would use that to his advantage.

He slammed his fist into the man’s face. Of course, since Griffin was right-handed, he used the fist with the cast on it. Pain shot up his arm, the burn so great, even the fillings in the back of his teeth rattled.

He didn’t think he’d broken the damn thing again, but he had a feeling he’d done something. Whatever. It didn’t matter.

The man looked up at him from the floor, dazed, and tried to get up. He tried to kick Griffin, but Griffin just straddled the bastard.

“You ever touch her again, I’ll kill you.” He slammed his left fist into Sanders’ jaw.

Sanders smacked at him, but Griffin didn’t care. This man had dared to hurt Autumn. He’d put that bruise on her temple.

Hell.

Griffin hit him again even as Sanders got in a good kidney shot. Griffin winced but tried to brush it off.

“Griffin,” Autumn whispered behind him. “Stop.”

He hit Sanders one more time and the bastard passed out. Or ended up knocked out. He didn’t know, nor did he care. Griffin scrambled off Sanders and crawled toward Autumn.

“Baby,” he whispered. He cupped her face as he pulled the gag from her mouth. “Fall.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she leaned her cheek into his palm. “You came.”

“I’ll always come for you.”

She snorted, and he had to chuckle a laugh. “Sorry.”

“I was trying to be sweet and heroic and you end up making it into a dirty joke.”

“It’s what we’re good at,” she said as he helped her out of her bindings. “Is he out?”

He looked over his shoulder and nodded. Sirens pierced the silence, but he didn’t allow himself to relax, not until Autumn was fully in his arms and the bastard was behind bars.