Page 32 of Mess With Me

She looks at it but doesn’t seem to see. “Can you just…get me a coffee for now? We’re going to be up for a while, right?”

“A couple hours more, yes.”

“Okay. I need to use the bathroom.”

“I need to check it.”

“Not if what you just said to me is true.”

My jaw ticks. She’s too clever for her own good. I relent, letting her get up without argument. She’s right. Besides, I’ve looked after people in her situation for years, and there’s a thin line between being overly cautious and freaking them out.

The only thing new here is my level of nerves. They’re through the fucking roof.

Take a fuckin’ breath, Griffin.

I do, and immediately feel like myself again. Or maybe that’s not having Sasha Macklin right next to me. Either way, the server comes over and I take two coffees, then hammer out a quick text to Ford, explaining in as few words as possible what happened.

Ford: She okay?

Griff: I’ll make sure she is. Going to take her home for the weekend to regroup.

Ford: I’ve got everything covered here. I’ll keep eyes on Creelman, too. I’m sorry we don’t have the resources for ground surveillance anymore.

Griff: There’s no way we could have seen this one coming.

They had to have talked about it offline. Did that mean Creelman knew he was being watched? Probably. He’s not an idiot. I made sure to hide my face in the restaurant, but even he had to know a fire alarm at just that moment was more than coincidence.

But fuck Lionel for putting Sasha in serious danger again, even inadvertently.

Ford: Hey Griff?

Griff: ?

Ford: Be careful

The words feel heavy. I know he doesn’t mean in the practical sense. I’m always careful. He means he knows I’m operating half on feelings now, which is never a good idea.

In fact, it’s a very bad idea. I know it from personal experience. I think back to Lionel’s face in that boardroom, how much it’s changed in the decade since I met him.

How much I can still see her eyes in his.

Sasha comes out of the bathroom.

I pocket my phone, letting out the tense breath I’ve been holding having her out of my sight.

Her hair is pulled back, face washed off. She looks like she could use at least twelve hours of sleep. But she could be covered in mud and she’d still be so fucking beautiful I’d have a hard time looking directly at her.

I want very much not to care how bad an idea this whole thing is. I want to whisk her away to fucking Thailand or something, where maybe I could fucking relax knowing there’s an ocean or two between us and Creelman.

But it is a bad idea. All of it. I need to put a damper on whatever personal feelings I’ve got going on and see this for what it is—an off the clock protection job, that’s all. I’ve done them before. She needs protecting, and it’s what I do.

Nothing more.

She slips back into the booth.

“So, you fight any bad guys while I was gone?”

“Only a couple.”

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