“Let me show you.” Stepping up to a recessed dark glass panel in the wall beside the vault, he bent so his retina could be scanned. After the approving beep, he placed his hand on the panel. It beeped again; then the vault lock clicked open.
“Unbelievable,” Laura breathed. “This is just like in the movies.”
“When we finish shooting practice, I’ll put you in the system. I can delete your prints after you’re gone.”
“All right.”
He opened the door wide and waited for her to precede him into the custom-made room.
She walked through the door, trailing a scent of spring freshness. “How long have you worked at Enigma?”
“Three and a half years.”
“What did you do before that?”
“I was in the Teams.”
“The Teams?” Her forehead wrinkled. “Like...sports?”
He almost smiled. “No, ma’am. The navy.”
After a second, her eyes widened. “You mean you were a SEAL?”
He tensed, wondering how she would react. Some women treated them like superheroes, some like killing machines in a video game. They were just men. Men who’d learned the hard way to do hard things. “Yes, I was.”
She didn’t ask if he’d killed anyone. Instead, her question was “Are your teammates still SEALs?”
“No.” He didn’t talk about them. Ever.
She must have realized he didn’t intend to say more. After a moment, she said, “Thank you.”
His gaze shot to her. “For what?”
“Your service to our country.”
There was no mistaking the sincerity or admiration in her eyes. Those were the last things she needed to feel for him. He didn’t deserve it. Not after what he’d done. Not after his decision had resulted in the deaths of his friends.
“How did you meet my aunt?”
“She was a volunteer at the hospital where I had additional surgery on my leg.”
“What happened to your leg?”
“Broken femur, gunshot, shrapnel.” In the firefight that had killed his teammates. “Joy, uh, urged me to come work for Enigma.”
Laura gave him a half smile. “I guess you learned pretty quickly that she won’t take no for an answer.”
“I did.” Joy’s job offer had probably saved his life.
Griffin walked between the two walls that exhibited a number of guns, everything from an Uzi to a sniper rifle.
He gestured toward the waist-high center cabinet with its drawers of ammunition. “The ammo is in the third drawer down.”
When she didn’t respond, he looked over his shoulder. She stood in the doorway, mouth agape, blue eyes wide.
“How many guns do you have?”
“Seventy-five.” In here. “This underground range is also an alternate way to get out, if you ever need one. I’ll show you after we get to the practice area.”
She joined him at the cabinet, picking up the box of cartridges he pushed toward her. “Your place is something else.”
“I never could’ve built it if I weren’t working at Enigma.”
“What do you mean?”
“One of my first assignments was to rescue a man’s daughter and he insisted on rewarding me.”
“He must be the richest man in the world.”
She wasn’t far off, Griffin admitted. The man was a sultan. “He was grateful.”
“I’ll say.” Her eyes sparkled. “Did he give you an island, too?”
“No.” But he had tried to give his daughter to Griffin. He had barely gotten out of that without insulting the man. The woman had been stunningly beautiful, but she’d never had an effect on him. No woman had after Emily and that was the way he wanted it.
“Ready?”
Laura nodded, following him through the opening at the back of the vault. The long hallway veed into an area composed of three shooting stations.
She chuckled. “I feel like Jamie Bond.”
He grinned. Despite the gravity of her situation and that of her father, she still had a sense of humor. He liked that.
She might look as though a strong wind would blow her over, but there was steel beneath that dainty shell. She’d testified against a vicious criminal. That took guts.
Before meeting her, Griffin had been curious. Now he was impressed.
In short order, he outfitted them both with safety goggles and ear protectors. The paper targets were already set up, so Griffin handed Laura a Walther PPK. The small gun would fit her hand better than some of his others.
After explaining how to engage the safety, he instructed her on loading the clip. As she slid the bullets in one by one, she glanced up. “How did you find me?”
“After Joy told me what happened, I touched base with an old friend.”
“Floyd’s boss?”
“Yes.” He hadn’t gone through the proper channels. He’d needed info and fast, needed to make sure he wasn’t putting her in danger when he showed up. Bohannon, the US marshal he’d rescued two years ago in Eastern Europe, had been more than happy to supply Griffin with whatever information he needed.
It had taken less than an hour to get the name of the US marshal assigned to her case. Then Griffin had gone to the field office in Colorado Springs to speak with Floyd Yates and read Laura’s trial transcripts and a copy of her file built by the marshals.
He demonstrated how she should stand and hold the weapon, then turned it over to her. She missed the target three times before finally hitting it. Using the markings on the paper, Laura hit center mass several times, although none in the same spot.
He urged her to try two shots to the chest area and one to the head. That gave her a little trouble, but she kept shooting, a fierce look of concentration on her face.
Joy had given him a picture, so Griffin had known that her niece was pretty, but up close she was...more.
She was the kind of pretty that grew the longer you were with her. Direct blue eyes, thick straight black hair pulled back to show the fine line of her neck and jaw. A mouth that hinted at a ready smile despite the fact that her life had been ripped away from her.
He
