Worried his friend might throw a punch, Drake moved in front of him. “Easy, Shane. I know it’s a shock and you’re pissed. That bruise on his jaw is from me, so I get where your anger is coming from. Just sit down and let him explain. Please.”
Gritting his teeth, Shane glared at Grant, but after a few moments, he finally took a step back and sat again. The others also took their seats once more, with Drake sitting next to Tad. Lane and Grant remained standing.
Crossing his arms, Grant let out a heavy breath. “Eight years ago, I wasn’t working for the Secret Service—I was with the CIA as an undercover agent.” He held up a hand when several men opened their mouths to speak. “Let me get through this, and then I’ll answer questions, if I can. While I can’t give you a lot of details, my death was faked, and I was thrown into a prison camp in a country that’s not an ally of the US. I spent the next six years performing hard labor, being tossed into a hole in the ground, used for solitary confinement, and being beaten and tortured on a regular basis. It was basically hell on Earth, and I’ve got the scars to prove it.” Most of them were hidden by his clothes, but he turned his left arm out and pushed up the short sleeve to show the burn marks just below his armpit—and those were the least of his scars.
In the shocked silence that ensued, he bit his bottom lip for a few moments before continuing. “Almost two years ago, word got out that I was alive, and a covert team was sent in to get me out. I spent a few weeks in a hospital in Germany before I was well enough to make it back to the States. When I found out that . . . that Drake and Blair were married with a few kids, even though Trevor is mine, I couldn’t come back. It was because of a combination of reasons, and I can’t expect anyone to agree with my decision to remain dead to everyone here, but it is what it is. I thought it’d be best for everyone involved if I just stayed away. I’ve been living in Florida. I’m no longer with the CIA—now I’m just your average Joe working in construction.”
“Then why are you here?” Although Shane’s tone had softened some, it was clear he still wasn’t happy about the situation.
Grant pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket and swiped the screen before tapping an icon. He handed the device to Shane who studied it for a moment before showing it to Tucker standing behind him. As it was passed around the room, Grant continued. “That photo was texted to me yesterday from an untraceable number. Around the same time, Blair received a photo of me that was taken last week at a job site I was working at.”
“Who else knows you’re alive?” Graham asked. His years in law enforcement had him pushing aside any emotions to deal with the problem at hand.
“My handlers at the CIA, and the team that rescued me. The hospital in Germany didn’t even know my name—I was admitted under an alias. The team? I trust them—they got me settled in Florida and are helping me with this situation in any way they can. Four retired special-ops guys have been watching this house and property since last night, and one of them tailed the kids this morning when they went to their babysitter’s house.” Drake was startled by that bit of information. It hadn’t even occurred to him at the time that Trevor, Regan, and Michael could’ve been in danger this morning. But then again, he hadn’t known about the photo of Blair and Trevor until after the kids had gone to Danielle’s house. “As for the Company—the CIA—too much time has passed. I don’t know who I can trust there, and there’s no way to know if the wrong person has found out I’m alive. I’d like to think no one there is fucking with us, but I can’t be certain.”
“This is where you all come in,” Lane said, taking over the meeting. “We have no idea who’s targeting Blair, Trevor, and Grant, nor what game they’re playing. While the special-ops guys are working in shifts, watching this place, we need eyes and ears in town and the surrounding area. Whoever the unsub is, it’s probably someone from Grant’s past with the agency. I mean, what are the odds of someone from Hazard seeing him in Florida, recognizing him, and deciding to fuck with him?”
“Very slim,” the chief responded. Like every town, they had their asshole residents, but if any of them had found out Grant was alive, they’d probably be blabbing about it to whomever would listen in order to get their fifteen minutes of local fame. The rumor mill could run rampant in Hazard Falls, and if you had information no one else had, that put you at the top of the hill until the next story broke and someone else took your place.
“Exactly. So, we’re looking for someone who doesn’t belong in Hazard.”
“That’s going to be hard to do with the rodeo next weekend. I’ve already seen a shitload of people I don’t recognize in town, and it’s only going to get worse,” Seth said. “It’d be easier to find a needle in a haystack.”
Hazard Falls hosted a huge, annual Rodeo Bonanza, and each one was bigger than the last. People from all over Kansas and beyond rolled into town to attend the four-day event—some got there several days ahead of time, while others stayed a few days after it was all over. A local campground was already filling up with RVs, fifth-wheels, and tents—Liberty Campgrounds usually made forty percent of its yearly profits from the rodeo week alone. The event also brought a huge upswing in visitors to the two bars, three restaurants, two B&Bs, and other businesses in Hazard Falls. The benefits the town reaped far outweighed the logistical nightmare the planners and police went through every year to ensure the rodeo was a fun and safe event for everyone. Between the participants, support staff, volunteers, vendors, and attendees, the Hazard Falls population would see a temporary increase of over 1000 people. To help with policing, the chief coordinated with the county sheriff’s department and also hired off-duty members of various law enforcement agencies throughout the state. In addition to the usual patrol units, there would be officers on foot, motorcycles, ATVs, and horseback. For someone trying to blend in without raising any suspicions in Hazard Falls, the upcoming week was the time to do it.
“Which means it’ll probably come down to Grant recognizing someone from his past,” Lane replied. “But we’ll still need all your eyes and ears.”
“How’re you going to explain your reincarnation to the rest of the town?” Shane asked, eying Grant. “People who knew you growing up are going to recognize you, and you can’t exactly figure out who’s behind this by holing up here.”
“Amnesia?” Grant shrugged. “Honestly, I haven’t really thought about it, but the CIA connection has to stay in this room. We can say the alleged accident at sea happened, but unbeknownst to anyone, I’d survived and made it to land with amnesia, which only recently reversed itself.” It sounded farfetched, even to him, but stranger things had happened, and there was no one in Hazard who could refute it—except maybe the person who’d sent the photos.
Hank confirmed what they were probably all thinking. “Not everyone is going to believe that.”
Grant held out his hands, palms up. “If you can come up with something better, I’m all ears, as long as it’s not that I spent six years in a prison camp for espionage.”
“Why not just say it’s classified?” Tucker asked. “People assumed you worked for the Secret Service, and I’m sure there’s a lot those agents can’t talk about. If they ask why you didn’t come back before now, tell them it’s none of their damn business. It usually works for me when people get too nosy for their own good.”
Shaking his head, Shane smiled for the first time since before Grant walked into the room. “That’s not all you say to them, Tuck.”
“True, but ‘fuck off’ is reserved for those who don’t take the hint the first time.”
Everyone chuckled, and it felt as if some of the tension had left the room. Grant eyed Lane. “I assume the police department has more than just you, the chief, and . . . Tad, is it?” He glanced at the only man in the room he hadn’t met before now.
“Tad Winslow,” the younger deputy said, he reached up and shook Grant’s hand. “Nice to meet you, but sorry it’s under these circumstances.”
Lane straightened and
crossed his arms. “Sorry, I forgot you two didn’t know each other. Tad served on the Navy base where my Marine unit was stationed in Afghanistan. We worked with a few ghosts from the agency over there, so I knew it was safe to have him in on this. The chief and I agreed the four other officers in the department don’t need to know the finer details at this point. We’ll just tell them to keep their eyes out for anyone who doesn’t look like they belong. We’ll update them on a need-to-know basis. They’re good cops, but a few have loose lips when it comes to family and friends.”
Drake had heard Lane complain about that before. In a smaller town, where the action-packed calls for cops were few and far between, it could get boring. Boredom made some people complacent. To make up for the lack of excitement, some of the cops talked about things they shouldn’t with the public.
Grant cleared his throat, then eyed Shane, Tucker, Hank, and Seth in succession. “Like Drake said earlier, we’re trusting you with Blair’s and the children’s lives. But I don’t want you putting your own lives and those of your families’ in jeopardy. If something or someone raises your suspicions, let me or the law take care of it.”
“Fuck,” Shane muttered before holding out his hand. “Give me your goddamn phone.”
Grant’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he took his phone back from Drake who’d ended up with it after the photo had been passed around. After swiping to unlock the screen, he handed the device to Shane who quickly tapped the screen. “I’m entering all our phone numbers and sending a group text to everyone, so we’re all connected. As pissed as I still am at you, I think I can speak for everyone else when I say we’ll do what we can to make certain Blair and the kids stay safe.”
Drake would’ve laughed at his friend if the situation weren’t so serious. While Grant didn’t know it yet, Shane was Trevor’s godfather. There’d never been any doubt in Drake’s mind the man would step up to help in any way he could. The people of Hazard Falls protected their own, whether they hated or were mad at each other or not.
“Thank you,” Grant replied. “I’m sorry I brought my past to Hazard. When it’s all over, I’ll head back to Florida and let you get on with your lives.”
Frowning, Shane stood and slapped the phone against Grant’s chest. “Stop being an ass. You don’t get to just waltz back into town, then expect us to toss you into the wind again and forget all about you. Let’s just catch this bastard who’s pulling the strings, then you can decide whether to suck it up or throw it all away again.”
That was Shane—more than once during their friendship, he’d called Drake out for being a schmuck about one thing or another. The man didn’t pull any punches, although, he threw a few when the situation warranted.
Ten minutes later, Lane was the last man out the door, and Blair joined Drake and Grant in the kitchen where she busied herself cleaning the already spotless countertop. For the first time since they’d fallen in love, Drake felt uncomfortable touching or holding his wife in anyone else’s presence. But he wasn’t the only one feeling ill at ease.
Grant gestured toward the back door. “I meant to ask—do you have Wi-Fi in the apartment? I want to do some research and contact a few people who might be able to help narrow down who sent those photos.”
“Um, yeah.” Drake grabbed a Post-it note pad and pen from a junk drawer and wrote down the ID number and password for their service which covered both the house and the converted barn. “There’s a wireless range extender for my workshop; you should be able to access it from upstairs.”
“Thanks.” Grant hesitated a moment. “Uh, good night.”
“Good night,” Blair and Drake said, quietly, in unison.
Striding out the door, Grant left them alone, and Drake studied his wife’s back and hunched shoulders, wondering how to address the elephant his brother had left in his wake.
Chapter Nine
Blair turned off the lamp on her nightstand, climbed into bed, and waited for Drake. Even though there were armed men watching the house, he was double checking all the locks on the doors and windows. She’d tried to tell him she’d already done it, but, apparently, he had to see for himself that everything was locked up tight. Honestly, she didn’t blame him. If she had to blame anyone, it would be Grant, and she hated that fact. She was happy and relieved he was alive, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that a part of Drake resented his brother’s return. If he did, she understood why. He had to be afraid Blair would want to go back to her first love. She’d only loved two men in her life—both Hadley brothers. So how did she convince Drake that, no matter who’d come into, or back into, their lives, she was in love with him and wouldn’t give him up for anything? In an ideal world, she wouldn’t have to choose between them, but the world was far from perfect. Here and now, her choice was her husband. Hell, she didn’t even know Grant anymore. Maybe he had a girlfriend or even a wife in Florida. And why did that thought hurt?
Her mind flittered toward what she’d overheard Grant tell the men in the meeting earlier. She cringed at the thought of him being tortured and beaten. What had he thought about while he’d been alone in a hole in the ground? That man, Carter, had said earlier that Grant’s love for her had gotten him through the years of captivity and abuse. Part of her felt like she’d failed Grant—in a different way than Carter felt he had. Shouldn’t she have known the man she loved was still alive?
Blair thought back to the day, almost eight years ago, when there’d been a knock on her and Grant’s townhouse door just outside D.C. She’d been in the middle of making a list of all the things they would need to do to get ready for the baby they were expecting. She remembered how she couldn’t wait to tell Grant, but she’d been holding off so she could see his expression when he found out they were going to be parents. It’d been a surprise, since they hadn’t gotten around to getting married yet, but they’d both wanted a family. When she’d answered the door, two men had identified themselves as Grant’s supervisors at the Secret Service. Now, Blair wondered who they’d really been—CIA agents? Probably. She remembered collapsing onto the floor when they told her he was missing and presumed dead. Why had she believed them? They’d never been able to produce his body, but she’d taken what they’d told her at face value. Shouldn’t she have questioned them more? But she hadn’t. She’d called Drake, telling him his only brother was dead and she needed him. And, God bless him, Drake had been on the next flight to D.C. that he’d been able to get. He’d stood by her side as they’d held a private memorial for Grant in D.C. and another with friends a few days later in Hazard. He’d helped her pack up the entire townhouse and move it all back to Kansas. And, finally, he’d cooked up the scheme to marry her so she and her unborn child would be covered under the insurance he had through his work.
When she’d fallen for Drake, it hadn’t been because he’d reminded her of Grant. Though it was obvious they were related, feature-wise, their personalities were completely different. Artistic Drake had always been the quieter of the two, while the brainiac, Grant, had been more outgoing. Both had participated in a few non-contact sports in school, but Grant had also been on the debate team, while Drake had helped the theater club with all the backdrops and props for their plays. No, she’d fallen for Drake simply because he was him. Over the past seven years, he’d been a loving father, her best friend, and the man who’d brought her libido screaming back to life. She had to show him he was and always would be the husband she wanted.
The door to the bathroom opened, and Drake shut off the light before coming to join her in their king-sized bed. A thin sliver of moonlight peeking past the window shade let her see him. She flipped the comforter and sheet back for him.
“Thanks.” He climbed in next to her, with a heavy sigh.
Once he was settled, she scooted closer, set her hand on his chest, and rested her head on his shoulder. When he didn’t say anything, she knew she had to take the initiative. “It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”
Seconds ticked by,
and she wasn’t sure if he was going to answer her. Finally, he put his hand on top of hers, holding it to his chest. “Yeah, it is. How’re you doing?”
She shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I’m worried about the kids, especially Trevor. Why would anyone do this?”
“I don’t know, but whomever it is, they’re doing it because of Grant. It’s his fault.”
“We can’t blame him, Drake. He couldn’t have known all those years ago this would happen.”
He glared down at her. “He was working for the goddamn CIA, Blair. Nothing good could’ve ever come out of that where you and Trevor were concerned. He fucking lied to you . . . and to me. To everyone.”
Blair bit her bottom lip. She hadn’t meant to make him angry again. He was right, though. If Grant had told her he’d been recruited by the CIA, she would’ve tried to talk him out of it. Being a Secret Service agent was one thing, but being a US spy, when your superiors might deny you worked for them if you were caught somewhere you shouldn’t have been, was a completely different story.
She sat up quickly and stared at Drake. “Do you think they lied to me back then? The two men who came to tell me Grant was dead? I mean, not that they were from the Secret Service, but did they know he was still alive and left him to suffer in that prison camp, denying that the US knew anything about him?” The horrible thought spun through her mind, making her nauseous.
Putting his hand on her back, he pulled her back down, so she was cuddled against him again. His voice became soothing. “I don’t know, baby. But I believe that guy, Carter. He definitely feels guilty about assuming Grant was dead, and he’s lived with that for a long time. I think if he knew Grant was being held somewhere, he would’ve done everything he could to find him years ago.”
Don't Shoot the Messenger: Hazard Falls Book 2 Page 6
