Free To Love & Protect Her by Margaret Watson Page A

After a long time, he said, “Don’t wear those rose-colored glasses when you look at me, Willa. I’m not one of the good guys.”
    â€œIf you weren’t one of the good guys, you wouldn’t be here with me.”
    â€œI’m here with you precisely because I’m not a good guy. Why do you think Ryan asked me to check on you and look at your security system? It was because I know far more than any good guy ever will about the bad things that can happen to people.”
    â€œI’ve heard the rumors about what you do for a living. Are they true?”
    He turned to give her a smile, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in the grim curve of his lips. “I’m sure none of them are true. People like you and the Fortunes can’t imagine the kind of things I do. You’re all far too nice to visualize my world.”
    â€œIf that’s true, it just makes you more willing than most of us to do what needs to be done. And makes you more of a good guy than I thought.”
    He shook his head, weariness in his eyes. “Don’t be naive, Willa. No one does what I do, day after day, year after year, without having it stain his soul. Believe me, there’s nothing noble about what I do. And not even your American optimism can make it so.”
    â€œDon’t sell yourself short, Griff,” she answered quietly. “And don’t even bother trying to convince me that you’re the devil incarnate. It won’t work.”
    â€œSuit yourself,” he said with a shrug, turning awayfrom her and walking more quickly up the trail. “But don’t be surprised when your pet dog turns and bites you.”
    â€œYou’re not going to hurt me,” she said, hurrying to keep up with him. “And nothing you can say will make me believe that you would.”
    He didn’t answer, and they hiked in silence for a while, walking steadily uphill. Willa realized she was beginning to gasp for breath. They weren’t that high—the mountains around El Paso ranged from 4,000 to about 7,000 feet. But for someone used to living at close to sea level, that was a big difference.
    She was just about to ask Griff to slow down, when they reached the top of the hill. Griff stood in front of her for a moment, turning slowly to take in the view, then he looked at her.
    â€œPretty spectacular,” he said, his voice impersonal. It was as if their conversation of a few minutes ago had never taken place.
    â€œIt’s magnificent.” She turned slowly, ignoring Griff, just drinking in the sight. Miles and miles of Texas and Mexico unfolded in front of them, mountain peaks rising, purple and red, from the barren-looking, dun-colored desert, which was only interrupted by scattered patches of dark green. “It’s certainly worth the hike.”
    She turned and peered down in the direction of the cabin. “Look, you can barely see the cabin. It almost looks swallowed by the trees around it.”
    â€œAre you feeling all right?” he asked gruffly.
    She looked over at him with surprise. “I’m fine. Why?”
    â€œI should have gone more slowly up this last part of the trail. You can’t be used to hiking at this altitude.”
    â€œI’m fine,” she said again, vowing she wouldn’t say anything that would give away the fact that a headache was beginning to throb beneath her temples. She was tired of feeling like an invalid. She’d only gotten a small bump on the head, for crying out loud. Griff was acting as if she’d practically been bludgeoned senseless.
    â€œLet’s sit down and eat something.”
    Her stomach rolled once at the thought of food, but she sat down. “I didn’t realize you’d put anything into that pack of yours.”
    â€œI didn’t. I always carry some nuts or candy and water in my pack.” He stared at her with a challenge in his eyes. “I never know when I’ll get