Taming McGruff(41)
Family. Love. Those two words hadn’t been in his vocabulary for a very long time, if ever. When he interviewed for the job, Charlie had said she thought he needed a family. How ironic that it turned out to be the King family welcoming him with open arms. Priscilla had opened her heart to him, too.
When Charlie had said her father’s dream was to give his children and his employees a home, a place to belong, a family to belong to, it had tugged at him. It echoed in his mind.
Something hard and cold dropped in his gut. And the King family wouldn’t be his for long, not after what he was about to do. The chain reaction would reverberate. Priscilla, his pixie, would ultimately suffer at his hands. Now, his middle clenched and his heart ached.
***
Griff stopped by the store, checking on each department. There were a few fires to put out, but nothing serious. It was Saturday and he was surprised to see that many shoppers for a non-holiday, sunny weekend day. After the recent bad weather, most people would take advantage of the rare opportunity to be outdoors. The beauty bar had been a hit and now, walking by the glass doors, he saw the many ladies being helped. The ad for more stylists would run in tomorrow’s paper.
His tour, brief and effective, provided two things. One, he’d made his presence known to the employees; he wasn’t above coming in on his day off. And two, more importantly, he hadn’t lied to Priscilla about going to King’s.
The fewer lies he told her the better.
***
Griffin cut the engine a few blocks away. He pulled out his cell phone and found the number he added there from Priscilla’s phone. He punched the button. It rang twice.
“Hello.” Her voice seemed slurred.
“Agnes King,” he said, highly aware of the granite-like stone sitting in his chest.
“Who is this? How did you get my number?”
“We spoke a few nights ago. You want something from me.”
She gasped. “Mr. James.”
“Are you alone?”
“My butler is here.”
“Get rid of him.” He clicked the phone off.
With trepidation, Griffin exited the car, locked it, and then hiked the two blocks to her home. The pristine streets and sidewalks, perfectly groomed lawns, and large mansion-like houses brought back memories of the prominent neighborhood he’d grown up in. Buying and living in his childhood home hadn’t brought the relief he sought. It wasn’t the building he’d missed. It was his father.
Now, more than ever, his vow drummed in his heart. He’d enact his revenge and be through with it. He had no idea what would be left standing after it was all said and done.
A door slammed in the distance. He watched as a car backed out of a driveway up ahead. He slowed near a tree as the vehicle went by. The butler, he assumed, and then continued his walk to the King residence.
She opened the door before he even had a chance to ring the bell. Fluffing her blonde updo, Mrs. King smiled tightly at him. “What a pleasure.”
Staring into the cold, dark eyes of the woman who’d assassinated his father’s reputation, Griff shoved the hollow feeling aside. “I can’t say the same.” He told the truth.
Her hand fluttered in mid-air, and then she dropped it to her side. “Come in, please.”
Griffin crossed the enemy’s threshold, drawn out of a mixture of duty and curiosity to the world he’d been barred from so long ago. Faux gold trim and marble floors echoed wealth from days gone by and little else.
“We’ll talk in the parlor,” she said, leading the way. Her long, black satin dressing gown swept the floor. “Can I get you a drink?” she asked, heading toward the row of bottles on a nearby table.
“I don’t drink.”
“More’s the pity,” she murmured, pouring herself one. “Please sit.” She waved a hand to the sofa.
He took the chair, forcing her to perch on the old- fashioned settee.
“So you’ve come to your senses,” she began. “I’m delighted we can do business. You have kept me waiting though.” She tsked. “Not very nice of you.”
“I’m not a nice person.”
That made her rear back. “The least you can do is be civil,” she scolded.
“I’m not civil, either.” Not when it comes to you.
She made a noise in the back of her throat. “Very well, then. Have you done as I’ve asked?”
“No.” He took great delight in her stunned expression.
Mrs. King took a large sip of the amber-colored liquor. “And why not, may I ask?”
Should he toy with her some more? “I have my own plan.”
A tremor shot through her hand. She lowered her glass quickly, clasping it in both her hands to apparently keep it steady. Her neutral features hid what her eyes revealed. Fear.