Asking For It (33 page)

Griffith straightened abruptly. Yes, there was the pain. And so it was all the more important to get back to business, back to
money
. Money had never let him down.

He blinked and saw Deirdre was standing in the doorway, dithering.

She pressed her hands together and then separated them. "Are you sure you don't want me to take you home, after all?" Her gaze toward his casual dress was pointed. "Or perhaps I could run to your place and bring you something else to wear."

Griffith snorted. "At the moment I don't even have a key to my own place."

"Oh, my goodness." Deirdre's hands went to her mouth. "That's right. I didn't think." She whipped out her smartphone. "Shall I contact the building manager? Would they have a copy? Or do we need a locksmith?"

"Go straight for the locksmith. I'll want to change the locks, anyway." Indeed, for the first time it occurred to him Grolier's thugs might have stolen his car and cleaned out his condo.

"But all that can wait." Griffith indicated the seat across from his desk. "Close the door. There's one more matter we have to discuss." Yes, the only matter he'd assiduously avoided during all his phone calls in the car. But it was time now. Time to look it in the face, and put it in its proper place; a challenge to overcome.

Looking wary — nobody could say Deirdre Marshal was an idiot — she closed Griffith's office door. "What is it?" She lowered into the chair across from Griffith's desk.

Griffith forced himself to lower to a seat, as well. In as casual a voice as he could muster, he said, "Wildwood. I need you to tell me exactly what problem on Wildwood prompted you to call Kate Darby."

Deirdre's big hazel eyes widened. "How did you know about my call to Kate Darby?"

Griffith's smile felt as dry as the desert. "You could say it had...repercussions. So, what was the issue?"

Deirdre set her elbows on the chair arms. "Well, it had to do with GoldFed Financial." As she continued with the trials and tribulations of the loan agreement, Griffith found his attention starting to wander. The barren beauty of the countryside between Sagebrush Valley City and Taft rose before his eyes. He could hear the energy of the kids on the bus, and recall a spreading oak tree...

"Wait," he told Deirdre. This was ridiculous. He had to concentrate, strategize, plug up the holes and smooth out the snags. He had to make money, because money solved all problems. In particular, he needed to make money on Wildwood.

That, Griffith was certain, would solve the very worst of his problems.

"I need to take notes," Griffith explained. Yes, taking notes ought to keep him focused. Grabbing a pen and some paper, he looked back at her. "Now, go on."

As Deirdre went on, he took careful notes, assuring himself all the while that the profit he'd make on Wildwood would make the ache in his gut go away for good.

CHAPTER TWENTY

"What do you mean there's nothing we can do?" Kate's frustration caused her voice to rise above the hum of conversation around them in the Denny's restaurant. It was the Saturday after camp let out, and she and Arnie had driven down to meet Ricky in Gorman, a farm town halfway between Sagebrush Valley and Los Angeles. They were, of course, discussing Griffith's dastardly plan to take her water for his money-grubbing housing project.

Ricky, looking miserable, held up both hands. Although it was the weekend, and Kate was hardly a real client, he'd worn full professional regalia for their meeting: suit, tie, and everything. It made him look grim. Or perhaps he would have looked grim anyway.

"That's why I held off telling you about it," Ricky explained. "I wanted to see if there was some way I could finesse this. Some clever out." He lowered his hands. His face managed to get more miserable. "That was a complete bust."

"I don't believe this," Kate muttered. She'd been furious with Ricky for not telling her about the approaching catastrophe. She wasn't some fading lily who had to be protected. But his obvious guilt and concern had calmed her down on that point.

But not on this one. "There has to be some recourse," Kate told Ricky. "I have a lease. A twenty-year one!"

Ricky sighed. "That's part of the problem. Your lease. Nowhere in that lease does your landlord give you guaranteed access to the water. That's why Griffith knew buying the land would buy him the water." Ricky's mouth twisted. "He only had to make sure you didn't find out about it beforehand. You might have had a chance — a slim one — of working something out with the previous landowner before the sale."

"The sneaky, underhanded bastard." The more Kate found out about this deal, the more she saw Griffith's ruthless cunning. He was, in his own evil way, a genius.

Ricky shrugged. "It would have helped if you'd let me take a look at that lease before you signed it."

Kate shot him a glare. "You were fourteen years old at the time."

"Oh." Ricky huffed. "True."

Arnie, seated beside Kate, contributed nothing to the exchange. In fact, he'd said very little since Kate had first told him about the Griffith water situation that last day of camp. Now he merely sat at the table, bending a sugar packet, and eyeing whoever was doing the talking. His customary inscrutability was deeper than ever.

"Can't we sue anyway?" Kate asked Ricky. "At least slow him down?"

"Mm." Ricky spread his fingers on the table. "We could, but it would be expensive, and in the long run futile. I'd call it throwing good money after bad. He
will
win."

"I am so glad," Kate said, "you don't bother sugar-coating things."

Ricky gave her an apologetic half-smile.

Kate beat the table softly with her fist. She'd been hoping Ricky would have something constructive to offer. Not only did she want to save the camp — that was her top priority — but she wanted to shove Griffith's face into something very stinky. When she thought of those nights under the oak tree, the way he'd made her care... She wanted to explode.

"However..." Ricky rubbed his mouth with one hand. "Though there's nothing
legal
we can do, there are some extra-legal actions we could take."

Kate snorted. "That's already been tried." Even a kidnapping hadn't stopped Griffith. He was still alive and kicking.

"Excuse me?" Ricky asked.

"Never mind," Kate mumbled. "You probably weren't talking about anything criminal, were you?"

Ricky shot her a startled look and smoothed his tie. "No, I wasn't talking about anything criminal, but — What about a media campaign? Get the press interested in our plight. You know, big, bad developer steamrollers little camp for poor children."

Kate could see Arnie look up with interest. She, too, focused on Ricky's suggestion. "You think that could actually make him stop?"

"I think it might scare off investors, even his biggest, GoldFed Financial. If they fled, it might be enough to kill the whole deal."

Arnie raised his eyebrows. "You seem to know an awful lot about Griffith's business."

Kate was surprised to see color dusk Ricky's face. "Yes, well...I have been doing a lot of research. I've been on this, you know." He ran a finger up the knife at his place setting. "Anyway, what do you think? Should we contact the media?"

"Let me think about that." Kate leaned back in the plastic upholstery and closed her eyes. She imagined Griffith in front of a bank of news cameras. She saw that million-dollar smile, that muscular charisma. "He'd eat us alive," she said, opening her eyes.

Ricky frowned. "What?"

"She's right." Arnie nodded sagely. "The man's got charm by the busload. He'd sweep us away."

Ricky's frown deepened. "You two sound like you've met him."

"We have." Leaning back in his seat, Arnie looked completely relaxed, no guilt whatsoever. "Griffith showed up at Camp Wild Hills the second week of August. Stayed for two weeks."

"Two weeks!" Ricky's eyes popped wide.

Kate cleared her throat. "Yes, uh... That was another legal matter I wanted to run by you."

"Excuse me?" Ricky's eyes were still wide.

Kate crossed her arms over her chest. "Um, is there a law that says you have to let somebody use your telephone?"

Ricky stared. "No... I can't say I know of one."

"Good." Kate tightened her fingers on her upper arms. "What about feeding somebody? Is there a law you have to give someone food if they're not paying you for it?"

Ricky's wide eyes began to narrow. "If they're starving, it's certainly not moral, but illegal? I don't think so."

"Good." Kate let out a breath. "Then I'm fine."

Arnie scoffed. "Not if the media got a hold of what you did."

"We already decided we aren't going to the press." Kate shrugged.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Ricky made a time-out gesture with his hands. "What was Griffith Blaine doing at Camp Wild Hills
for two weeks
, and what is this about not feeding him?"

Kate shot a glance toward Arnie, who returned it, looking arch. Jeez. Where did he get off looking arch? As if it hadn't been
his
idea to keep Griffith in the first place.

But Arnie turned to Ricky, still arch. "Like I said, Griffith just showed up. Said he'd been kidnapped."

Ricky's eyes were widening all over again.

"We don't know if that's actually true," Kate put in. "Only what he said."

"And we thought it was, like, providence," Arnie continued. "'Cause we needed another counselor real bad. So...Kate didn't let him use her phone, and since he didn't know the way down the hill, he couldn't leave."

"And I wouldn't feed him," Kate interjected, deciding she might as well brazen it out. "Unless he agreed to take my nine-year-olds."

Ricky looked from one of them to the other, so bursting with disbelief it appeared he was about to explode. Then he did explode, laughing. "That's where Blaine was? At your camp, being a
counselor
?" He slapped his hand on the Denny's tabletop.

Disconcerted, Kate lifted a shoulder. She supposed it was good Ricky thought it was funny rather than a felony, but she couldn't suppress a sense of unease. Griffith
had
taken the nine-year-olds. He'd tried his best not to be, but had ended up becoming, a first-rate counselor.

Ricky's laughter faded and he grinned at Kate. Arnie, too, was regarding her with a softer expression than he'd worn the past few days. "Well, at least you got your pound of flesh," Ricky observed.

Thinking of flesh made something dive in Kate's stomach.

Arnie scratched the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, that brings up the thing, see."

"What thing?" Kate challenged. Let him dare...

"Oh, the thing that I don't think either legal stuff or media pressure is the way to skin this cat." Arnie's dark eyes rested on Kate. "I think there's a better way."

"Oh, no there isn't," Kate said crisply.

Giving her a reproving look, Ricky turned to Arnie. "I'm listening."

"Well-l-l." Arnie rolled a shoulder. "While he was with us, Griffith got rather tight with Kate, here."

"Not true." Kate was ready to burst into flame. "He wasn't 'tight' with me. He — he played on my affections."

"He got pretty involved," Arnie went on, as if Kate hadn't said a word. "I wouldn't be surprised if all we need to do to make this go away is for Kate to go ask him pretty please."

"You. Must. Be. Kidding." Kate spoke from between clenched teeth.

Ricky stared at Arnie. "That's...pretty damn involved."

"But untrue," Kate repeated. Ruthlessly, she shoved out of her mind an image of Griffith standing at the foot of the stairs leading up to her cabin, his face intent and tender.

A lie. It had all been lies and deceit.

"Griffith has no deep feelings for me at all," she said out loud, glad her voice sounded normal. "And there is no way in hell he would restrain himself from making an incredible profit on this deal."

Ricky and Arnie exchanged a strange look. "No shit?" asked Ricky softly.

"The real deal," Arnie said in reply.

"Not true," Kate insisted.

Slowly, obviously schooling his expression, Ricky turned to Kate. "Look, I'd be the first guy to pooh-pooh the notion of love influencing any man that much, particularly a fellow like Griffith Blaine, but if there's any chance at all... I mean, we're fresh out of other options, Kate. Maybe it would be, you know, worth a try."

Kate's teeth were clenched so tightly she thought she must be losing enamel. It wasn't so much that they were asking her to do something humiliating. It was the sneaky hope they were calling up, the hope that maybe, in some fantastic way, they were right.

Maybe it hadn't been a lie. Maybe everything she'd thought had been happening between herself and Griffith really had happened. Maybe he had fallen in love with her. Maybe he didn't even plan to take the water from the camp.

He had said so, she remembered. If she could be so reckless as to believe a word Griffith said, he'd uttered the statement.