A Risk Worth Taking Read Free

shock.”
    Griff wanted to laugh. He knew better than anyone the horrible shock of Freddie’s death. Freddie had died in hisarms. Freddie had died in his place. All because he hadn’t made sure the last sniper couldn’t harm anyone else. He sucked in a shuddering breath, anxious to pay his respects and get out of here. “Where are they?”
    Adam hesitated a second more, then breathed a sigh of resignation. “The younger sister, Lady Rebecca, is sitting on the sofa.” He nodded toward the other side of the room. “Please leave her be. She’s barely fifteen.”
    Griff ignored Adam’s warning and focused his gaze on Freddie’s youngest sister.
    She wasn’t alone. Several guests were gathered around her to comfort her. A plump lady held her hand. Another older woman sat at her other side, and a kindly looking gentleman, perhaps one of the women’s husbands, stood to the side, resting his hand on the back of the sofa.
    The minute Griff saw her he knew he couldn’t face her. He swiped his hand across his damp face. “Where’s the oldest?”
    “Don’t cause a scene, Griff. She’s been through quite enough—”
    Griff ignored the sharp tone of Adam’s voice and looked around the room. “Which one is she?”
    With a second harsh look of warning, Adam turned his gaze to the far corner of the room, to a spot where the light from the windows and from the glowing candles placed throughout the room did not seem to reach—a place of isolation no one in the vast crowd seemed able to breach.
    She stood alone with her back to him, with her deep mahogany hair pulled back in a loose chignon, her narrowshoulders braced in stoic bravery. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her.
    Take care of Annie. Promise me you’ll take care of Annie.
    Griff ordered his feet to move. Ordered his body to go to where she stood and tell her how sorry he was that Freddie was dead. But his feet seemed rooted to the floor. He couldn’t face her. Not when she’d look at him, a stranger she hadn’t seen since she was a young girl, and wonder why he’d allowed Freddie to die.
    He tried to step forward again but failed. Guilt ate away at him until he found it hard to breathe. He shouldn’t have come.
    He shouldn’t even be alive. Freddie should be the one visiting Griff’s family, sharing in their grief. Griff should be the one buried in the ground.
    He kept his gaze focused on the slight figure standing in the shadows and knew his paltry words of regret were inadequate.
    He had to leave. Leave before she turned around and saw him. Leave before she looked into his eyes and saw the guilt.
    As if she realized he was there, her hands dropped to her sides and she slowly turned.
    Her eyes were as black as midnight—big, beautiful, sad. Her gaze went directly to him, focusing on him. A jolt belted him in the gut with the force of a heavy fist.
    She knew.
    She knew the bullet that had killed Freddie had been intended for him. She knew Freddie had given his life to save him.
    She knew he wasn’t worth the sacrifice.
    Griff felt sick. His stomach churned; his shallow breaths came in harsh, ragged gasps. He needed to leave. He needed a drink. He needed to forget.
    Take care of Annie, Griff.
    He couldn’t. He wanted to scream that no one was safe unless they stayed far, far away from him.
    He held her burning gaze as long as he could, then spun on his heels and stormed from the room.
    By the time he reached the nearest inn, he was desperate for a drink. Then another. And another. As many as it took until he could forget. Forget the lives he’d destroyed.
    There’d been so many.
    How the hell did Freddie think he could take care of his sister? Why the bloody hell had he asked? Griff could no more protect her than he’d protected his wife, or his son, or Gerald Fespoint, or Freddie himself.
    A painful stabbing carved a ridge deep in his chest. He would drink until he succeeded in drowning the painful memories he couldn’t live with.
    Just like he’d