The holidays marked the next opportunity for Griff to pay a visit to his friends, so he bought a prepaid phone along with his morning coffee and lounged in the chair at his desk to call Sam's number. As usual, Griff asked for Rosa in espanol. Sam's responding voice was hoarse and instead of using either of the code phrases (numero incorrecto or Wo la conozco) he said, "Griffin, I need you here now. They've got Consuelo."
Immediately Griff shot up from the chair, spilling his coffee everywhere in the process. "Who?" The word came out in a forced breath just before another voice came on the line.
"Come on, Griffin. Don't make me hurt 'em." That thick Bristol accent was unmistakable. Griff didn’t know how on earth the man had managed to keep it all his life. Maybe Kemp didn’t ever watch BBC as a kid.
"Let them go," Griff demanded, voice cold and pissed…and utterly terrified if he was being honest with himself. "Leave them alone!"
"Don't waste their time, boy." The line went dead with a click that Griff was fairly certain spelled death for others as well.
He smashed the prepaid cell on the table and kicked a stack of books over violently; his foot went down in the middle of the beach as he jumped in frustrated anger, sand and paperbacks swirling around him. Feeling like he might throw up, Griff knew there was no time to get sick and immediately jumped away to the causeway, needing to get off the island and out to the ranch fast.
[NFI. Griff will be back in a couple days!]