Slow Agony (Assassins, #2)(70)

He crawled over to the grate in the middle of the floor. I heard him begin to retch.

I went to him. I touched his back. I was tentative about it. He might not want to be touched.

But he let me. He didn’t protest at all. He didn’t throw up, though. We hadn’t eaten anything in days. There was nothing in his stomach.

He settled on the floor, running his hand over his mouth. He shut his eyes.

I rubbed his shoulder. “Griffin, you have to try to get it together. I need you to help me. I can’t do this without you.”

He dove into my arms, laying his head on my lap. “You’re so soft.”

I stroked his head. Oh, what were we going to do? He was broken somewhere. He wasn’t himself. I wasn’t sure if he really knew what was going on.

“I wish I could stay with you,” he said. “I wish I never had to leave you.”

“You don’t,” I said. “But you have to pull yourself together so that we can sneak out of here.”

He raised his head to look into my eyes. “Sneak out? Me too?”

“Yes, Griffin. Both of us.”

He shook his head. “He’ll hear us. He’ll know. And he’ll hurt you. I can’t let him hurt you.” He touched my cheek. “Not you, doll.”

“He won’t,” I said. “Not if we’re careful and quiet, and we do it right. Griffin, please, you are a trained assassin. You have survived worse things than this before. You said Jolene French taught you to turn off your emotions. I need you to do that now.”

I was taking a bit of a risk. I’d seen Griffin when he was turned off before. He was lethal and unfeeling. He was careless with me, but he’d never let me get hurt before. And right now, he was so hurt and sad that he wasn’t any good to either of us.

“Turn off?” he said. He smiled. “I forgot, doll. I forgot.” He turned away from me, taking a relieved breath. “Thanks for reminding me of that.”

He closed his eyes again.





Chapter Fourteen


Griffin was tying ripped pieces of blanket around me, securing them almost like a bikini. We needed to be able to move quickly, and we didn’t want to try the escape buck naked so he’d decided the best thing to do was to rip up the blanket. He was wearing a piece of it too. He looked like Tarzan.

He was about as stoic too. Since “turning off,” Griffin was all business. He wasn’t much on talking. He had a hard glint in his eyes. I recognized it, and it made me a little afraid, but I needed him this way or we’d never get out of here.

I’d bring him back. I would.

Assuming that my Griffin was still buried inside there somewhere and that he hadn’t been stolen by Marcel.

Marcel had already stolen my baby. He couldn’t have Griffin too.

We waited to make our move until it was pitch dark outside and until the noises overhead quieted.

When it had been dead silent for over ten minutes, Griffin and I crept up the steps, going as quietly as we could.

At the top, I fitted the key to the lock. Slowly, carefully, I turned it.

The door opened, squeaking on its hinges.

I bit my lip. Had someone heard?

But nothing happened.

Griffin and I emerged outside into the darkened hallway of Naomi’s house. To the left, the hallway continued, leading to a bathroom and two bedrooms. To the right, the hallway ended in the living room. Naomi had lived in this house with her boyfriend Derrick. When he got another girlfriend, she got to keep the house. She said it was too big for her. She’d always been trying to convince me to move in with her. But I’d liked my privacy. And I’d hoped against hope that Griffin would come back.

Now Naomi was dead. And I hadn’t been able to do anything for her.

I must have made a noise, because Griffin poked me, and I could see his eyes flash in the near dark.

He tugged me down the hallway, in the direction of the living room. That was the way out, after all.

“I’m going to get another beer.” A door was opening down the hallway.

Gah! There was a sliver of light that was getting bigger and bigger, brightness spilling out. It would illuminate us at any second.

I hauled Griffin inside the other bedroom, quietly closing the door after us.

“You want anything?” the voice asked, right outside.

Another voice, distant, a little muffled. “Yeah, sure, I’ll have one.”

“Be right back.” The first voice was already getting further away.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Behind me, a snore.

I jumped. Griffin and I turned. There was someone sleeping in the bed behind us. I put a hand to my lips. I’d thought we were alone.

“Shh,” Griffin hissed at me.

Was I making noise? I hadn’t realized.

The man stirred, moaning in his sleep.

My heart skipped a beat.

But he didn’t move again. He didn’t wake up.

“Here you go, Marcel,” said the first voice. We heard the sound of a door closing.

Griffin ripped open the door. He ran into the hallway and ran for the room where we’d seen the man come out of.

I wedged myself between him and the door. “What are you doing?” I breathed.

“He’s in there. I have to kill him.”