Slow Burn(106)

    Griffin laughed. “That’s what you’re worried about? You don’t know your daughter very well.”

    “I know it makes me sick to think you’ve contaminated her.”

    Griffin shook his head. “What happened to you, Frank? I thought you wanted to do the right thing? How can you be working with them again?”

    “They’ll keep Leigh safe,” said my dad.

    “And they’ll let you keep your money?”

    “Shut up.”

    “If you cared so much about Leigh—”

     “Don’t say her name.” He turned away from Griffin, facing the other man. “Don’t listen to another word he says. I want him dead. I want him to pay for violating my daughter.”

    “Violating?” Griffin laughed.

    My father turned back around. He grabbed Griffin by the neck. “You slime.”

    Griffin was grinning. “She loved it Frank. It was all her idea.”

    My father slapped Griffin. “Kill him. Kill him now.” He stalked to the door. He paused. “And if you see my daughter anywhere, contact me immediately. She’s missing.”

    Griffin sat up straight in his chair, straining against his bonds.

    I made a small wave from the grate.

    He saw me. His eyes widened.

    The door slammed closed after my father.

    Griffin smiled at the man. “Well, I guess you’re going to kill me now.”

    “You’re a dead man.”

    “Come here and do it then.”

    What was Griffin doing? Why was he saying that? Did he want me to do something? How was I supposed to know what that was?

    The man brandished a sharp knife and advanced on Griffin.

    And jerked back, howling. Blood was trailing from his face, gushing.

    Griffin spit. There was blood trickling out of his mouth. He’d bitten the man! Gross.

    “Leigh,” he said. “Jump on him.”

    Oh. Okay. I was part of his plan. I pushed the grate aside and leapt out onto the man.

    I landed on him and the two of us rolled together on the floor. The man was struggling against me, kicking out hands and feet.

    “Knife,” said Griffin. “In front of you.”

    I spied it, gleaming and bright, just in front of my face. I reached out. I grasped it.

    The man had blood all over his face. He couldn’t see. Still, he managed to land a punch on my jaw.

    I flinched, absorbing the impact. It had hurt.

    “Back of the neck, Leigh. Back of the neck.”

    Right. If he had the serum, then the only way to stop him was to cut his spinal cord and keep it from healing.

    I slashed.

    Blood flowed.

    “Deeper,” said Griffin.

    The man elbowed me. I stumbled backwards. I was going to have to cut him again?

    I lurched forward, pushing him face down onto the floor. I put pressure on the back of his head. I held up the knife.

    I cut him.

    There was so much blood. It was everywhere, deep purply red, glistening in the fluorescent lights. I backed away, the knife falling out of my hand.

    I killed him.

    There was blood all over me.

    I killed him.

    I never killed anyone before.

    “Doll.” Griffin’s voice was soothing, like a dark, winding river. But I couldn’t look at him. “You’re okay.”

    I stared at the dead man. “I killed him.”

    “Yes, you did,” he said. “You did a very good job. And now you have to get me out of this chair.”

    I shook my head. There was so much blood.

    “You can’t think about it anymore, doll,” he said. “You have to turn it off.”

    I looked at him. “Griffin.”

    “Come here,” he said. “You have to get me out of the chair.”

    He was right. I had to do that. I had to get Griffin out of here.

    I went to him.

    The metal bonds on the chair dug into Griffin’s skin. It looked painful. My fingers fumbled over the releases. My hands were covered in blood, and they were slippery. I was getting blood all over Griffin. I wiped them on my pants. Now my pants were bloody.