For a Monday night, the restaurant was pretty busy—mostly locals, though. A majority of the rodeo people and tourists had pulled out of town throughout the day, but a few remained. Blair hadn’t missed how Grant, Manny, and Vic had situated themselves at the round, eight-seat table, so they were in position to see the entire room and everyone coming and going through both the front and back exits. If anyone suspicious approached their table, the two guards would be able to quickly get up and put themselves between the others and any danger. Blair doubted anyone would be stupid enough to attack them in a crowded restaurant, but, then again, what did she know about stalkers? About as much as she knew about spies.
Music from the jukebox was playing a mix of new and old country and classic rock, just as it usually did on most nights. On the dance floor, a few couples were two-stepping to Tim McGraw’s latest song. Several people had waved to the Hadleys when they’d first walked in, but aside from their waitress, no one had approached their table . . . until now.
Blair sighed. She really wasn’t in the mood to deal with Bridget, but the bitch definitely had something on her mind. Dressed in a red, knee-length skirt, white blouse, and white heels, she looked like she’d just come from her new gallery. From the glare she gave Grant, she was still pissed about his brush-off the other day. When she stopped between Drake and Trevor, Bridget’s attention diverted to Blair. “So, word is you’ve decided to follow your perverted friends and screw two men—”
She never had a chance to finish. Drake and Grant got to their feet to interrupt her, but it was Manny, the good-looking Hispanic bodyguard, who stepped over to Bridget and spoke first. “Excuse me.” He smiled brilliantly and held out his hand. “I’m Manny Cortez, and you are?”
Bridget’s jaw dropped for a moment, as she took in his handsome features and well-toned body, but then she gave him a seductive grin and shook his hand. “I’m Bridget Kline. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I don’t know if you remember, but I was there the other day when you threw your arms around Grant to welcome him home.” Bridget’s smile faltered as she tried to figure out where he was going with this. Blair was just as intrigued, especially after his comment about small-town drama that’d made her and Paige laugh. “I remember thinking I should hit on you. I mean, you’re not bad looking—a little skinny for my taste, but I could look past that for a few hours, if you know what I mean.” The woman’s eyes widened at the insinuation. “But then you walked over here and opened your mouth, and I realized just how unpretty you really are. Number one—you weren’t invited to join us. Number two—no one asked for or wants your opinion. Number three—what these people and everyone else does in the privacy of their own homes is none of your business. Number four—there are young children present, who don’t need to hear about your distaste for their parents. Number five—if you don’t turn yourself around and take a hike, you’re going to regret it. And, no, I’d never hit a woman, but there are other ways to get my point across.” For the first time in his speech, Manny’s mouth turned into a frown—he’d been grinning the entire time, as if putting the woman in her place was an everyday, entertaining occurrence. When he crossed his arms over his massive chest, Blair realized the entire restaurant had gone quiet, except for the jukebox, and everyone was watching Bridget get her ass handed to her. “Now, I suggest you leave before the owner of this fine establishment throws you out herself.”
Bridget had rage in her eyes when she looked over her shoulder to see Lou trying her best not to laugh out loud and cheer Manny on. When she saw the bitch glaring at her, Lou’s expression became stern. “The man’s right, Bridget. Get out before I throw you out. I’ve warned you before about harassing my customers.”
Spinning around to Manny again, red-faced and looking for a way to salvage her pride, Bridget opened her mouth, but the man cut her off again. “I suggest you think really hard before saying whatever’s on the tip of your tongue, because, truthfully, you haven’t seen me pissed off yet. Now, if you’ll excuse me, our waitress is bringing our dinner.”
Without another word or a backward glance, Manny took his seat again and made a display of shaking out his napkin and putting it on his lap. Behind Drake, Bridget’s mouth opened and closed several times as she glanced around, looking for support. She had none. Pivoting on her ridiculously high heels, she stormed across the dance floor toward the front door. Someone from another table started clapping, then another person joined in, followed by a third, until almost the entire restaurant was applauding and laughing at the woman’s expense.
Once the bitch was gone, Lou came over, slapped Manny on his shoulder, and laughed. “Your drinks and dinner are on the house tonight, Manny. That’s the best entertainment we’ve had in here for a while now.”
The man looked up and winked at her. “I’m available whenever you need me, Lou, but I get paid double for Friday and Saturday nights.”
Everyone at the table chuckled while the rest of the place went back to their own meals and conversation. After the waitress had distributed their dinners and took another drink order, Manny focused his attention on Blair. “Don’t ever let anyone make you feel ashamed for loving two men—and yes, Vic and I figured that out long before whatever-her-name-is said anything. In my eyes, putting up with these two makes you stronger than most women. Hell, I can’t even get one woman to put up with me, and it would be even harder if I added my brother to the mix. Although, that would never happen, since we don’t get along, but I digress. While I’ve never been in a ménage relationship, I do know a few people who are, and I don’t see anything wrong with it. Do what you think and feel is right, and to hell with everyone else.”
“That’s a bad word,” Trevor piped up for the first time since Bridget had walked over. “The ‘h’ word.”
Manny grinned at the boy and ruffled his hair. “You’re right, partner. It is a bad word, and I apologize for using it in front of you and your mom. I’ll tell you what—to make up for it, I’ll treat you to a game of pinball when you’ve finished your dinner, if it’s okay with your parents.”
Trevor’s eyes lit up. “Can I, Mom?”
Blair couldn’t say no. “If you eat everything on your plate, you can play one game with Manny.” Her gaze shifted back to the man, and she smiled. “Thank you. For everything.”
Drake held out his hand to the bodyguard. “Same here. You’re welcome in our home any day, my friend.”
Taking his soda glass, Grant clinked Manny’s and silently toasted him. Blair glanced around the room. No one was pointing at them or seemed to be even talking about them, although a few were still laughing and gesturing toward Manny and then at the door Bridget had walked out of. She didn’t know how the bitch had figured out about the ménage relationship—probably just small-town speculation and rumors—but it didn’t really matter. Maybe this three-way relationship wouldn’t be a major issue for most of the townspeople. Either way, Blair found she didn’t care. All that mattered was that she, Drake, Grant, and the children were happy and safe. The first thing was taken care of, so all she had to worry about, now, was the second one.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next day, Grant returned to the house after two hours of driving around, searching for someone out of place, now that the last of the rodeo crowd had finally cleared out. Unfortunately, he’d had no better luck finding the bastard who’d been fucking with him and his family.
Parking the SUV in the driveway, he got out as Vic approached the vehicle. “I take it from your expression nothing has changed.”
“Nope,” he responded, slamming the door harder than necessary. “This fucker is on my last nerve.” Glancing to the side of the house, he noticed the trailer Drake used to transport finished pieces of furniture to his clients was missing. “Where’s Drake?”
“One of his clients called and asked if he could deliver her desk today instead of tomorrow. He couldn’t get a hold of one of his movers, so I sent Bruce with him—killed two birds with one s
tone. They were going to some address over in Willsboro, so it’ll be awhile before they get back.” He glanced at his watch. “They only left about fifteen minutes ago.”
Willsboro was way on the other side of the county, about a forty-minute drive if you were doing the speed limit, which Drake would be with the heavy trailer attached to his Chevy Silverado. Drake had several men he used on an as-needed basis to help him move the bigger pieces of furniture, but he usually had them scheduled in advance. Even though Bruce was more than capable of helping Drake carry the desk into the woman’s house, Grant wished he’d gone with Drake instead of the bodyguard, leaving him here to help watch over Blair and the kids.
As if he knew what Grant was thinking, Vic snorted. “We’ve got the house well-guarded, and Bruce is carrying, so your brother is safe too. He didn’t want to call you away from your search and was going to tell the woman he couldn’t get it there until tomorrow, but when I suggested Bruce go with him, Drake agreed.”
Taking a deep breath, Grant let it out. “Sorry, I know you guys can handle anything that comes your way, but I wish I could take my family away from here and go somewhere safe, but that’s impractical at the very least.”
“Yup. You could be in hiding for months, and that’s not living.”
“I know . . . still doesn’t make me feel any better about not packing the family up and disappearing.”
Liam exited the house through the front door, with Roscoe on his heels. The dog ran to the closest tree to do his business as the bodyguard strode toward Grant and Vic. “Apparently, it’s nap time, and Michael’s not happy about it. He’s screaming his head off, so Roscoe and I came out here before our ears started bleeding.”
The other two men chuckled. That was one of the things Grant was trying to get used to. The kids weren’t always happy and sweet, and he was still trying to figure out where he stood when it came to disciplining them or being the one to comfort them when they were hurting. It was the only time he really felt like a third wheel since he’d started sharing Blair with Drake. They’d tried to reassure him it would take time for the children to realize and accept his new role in their lives. They still called him “Uncle Grant,” for now, and the adults had agreed to keep it that way until after the threat to the family was gone and Grant’s “friends” were no longer needed. Now that their ménage relationship was publicly known, thanks to Bridget and the rumor mill, they needed to sit down and explain things the best they could to the kids and hope they understood.
Deciding to try and give Blair a hand with the four-year-old, Grant started toward the front door of the house, but his cell phone ringing had him stopping short and pulling it out of his back pocket. Glancing at the screen, he saw it was Lane Myers and answered the call. “Hey, Lane, what’s—”
“Drake’s missing and his bodyguard’s been shot.”
Shock then panic surged through him. “What! Where—”
“Saw Mill Road, just west of the old Coleman farm. The truck and trailer are in a ditch. Got an ambulance en route for the guard—he’s alive but unconscious.”
“I’m on my way.” Without disconnecting the call—Lane did it for him—Grant gave Vic a quick recap while hurrying to his SUV.
The former SEAL skirted the front of the vehicle and jumped into the passenger side after ordering Liam to call the other guards in from their hiding spots and to lock Blair and the kids in the house. “I’ll call as soon as I have an update. If anyone tries to gain entry to the house, shoot first and ask questions later,” he instructed through the open window as Grant threw the vehicle into gear and spun out on the driveway.
Through the rearview mirror, Grant watched Liam run into the house. He was torn between staying there to watch over Blair and the kids and going after his brother, but Drake was the one in immediate danger at the moment. With six well-trained bodyguards protecting the rest of his family, Grant knew what he needed to do, and that was to find Drake. With his phone now reconnected to the vehicle’s Bluetooth feature, Grant called Lane back. “Can you send any marked cars to the house? Even though there’re six guards with Blair and the kids now, I want whomever this bastard is to know he’s not getting anywhere near them if this is some kind of distraction.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks. We’ll be there in a minute.” The Coleman farm, which had stood empty ever since its owner had died without any heirs when Grant had been a teenager, was about three miles from the Hadleys’ home. During his drive-arounds, he’d noticed there was construction equipment there. Apparently, some developer had recently bought the property and was getting the land ready to put up several new houses. For now, though, that stretch of road was basically empty and a good place for an ambush. Drake had obviously been taking Saw Mill Road out to County Road 26, which would’ve taken him straight to Willsboro.
After ending the call with Lane, Grant dialed Blair. She probably already knew something was wrong and would be freaking out more if he didn’t let her know what was going on—not that he had much information himself.
“Grant! What happened? Liam—”
“I don’t have all the details, sweetheart, but Drake’s truck was found on the side of the road and he’s missing.”
“What? Oh my God! What happened?”
He refused to tell her that Bruce had been shot; it would just terrify her even more. “I don’t know yet, but we’ll find him, I swear. This bastard wants me, and he’s using Drake to get me to come to him. Trust me, Drake’s going to be okay, and he’ll be home with you soon.” He prayed like hell he was telling her the truth because the alternative was too unbearable to voice.
“Now, you listen to me, Grant Hadley.” There was a hint of anger below her distress. “You both better be home soon. I love you both, and you’re not putting me through that again. Do you hear me? Not after I just got you back. I trust you to find Drake and bring him home with you.”
God, he loved this woman. “I’ll do everything I can, sweetheart.” Up ahead, two SUVs came into view with their overhead lights flashing. “I gotta go. Do everything Manny, Liam, and the others tell you to do. Lane’s sending a patrol car or two there as backup.”
“Okay. I love you, Grant.”
He could tell she was holding back tears. “I love you too, baby. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
Pulling in behind the second of two police SUVs, Grant was now able to see Drake’s trailer was mostly on the shoulder of the road, with the Silverado grill-first into a large ditch. An ambulance and paramedic fly-car were parked past the disabled vehicle and the first responders were loading a stretcher with Bruce on it into the back of the rig. From the distance between them, and the fact there was an oxygen mask over the man’s face, Grant couldn’t tell if Bruce had regained consciousness or not.
Before Grant was able to throw the vehicle into park, Vic had the passenger door open, jumping out and running toward the ambulance and his wounded man. Grant was about to climb out from the driver’s seat when his phone rang again. The screen said the number was blocked, and he knew this was the bastard calling to let him know he had his brother.
Grant turned off the engine, so the Bluetooth feature would disconnect before he answered the call and put the phone to his ear. He didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Who is this?”
He was surprised when a male voice responded in Korean. “I am the man who will kill your brother if you don’t come to me—alone.”
“Where?” he responded in the same foreign language. He’d save the questions who? and why? for later, when he had his gun against the son of a bitch’s skull.
When the man rattled off some numbers, it took a moment for Grant to realize they were coordinates for longitude and latitude. After grabbing a pen from the center console, and still speaking in Korean, Grant told the kidnapper to repeat the location as he wrote it down on a scrap of paper. After getting the coordinates one more time, Grant demanded to talk to his brother—he wanted proof of life
.
He was starting to think the man wouldn’t comply, but then Drake’s voice came through the phone. “Grant! Don’t do what he says! I—”
When Drake was abruptly cut off, Grant looked at the phone’s screen to see the call had been disconnected. He sent up a prayer, hoping that meant Drake hadn’t been permanently silenced. He’d never forgive himself if his brother was killed because of his past.
Bringing up a map app on his phone, he plugged in the numbers. The map quickly zoomed in on an unincorporated area about twenty minutes away from Hazard Falls. The place was surrounded by woods, and, as far as Grant knew, the few buildings still there had been abandoned long ago after several consecutive years of severe flooding of a nearby river had run the residents off. There had been no businesses there, just a few family homes.
Lane knocked on the driver’s window, and Grant rolled it down, not knowing how long the man had been standing there. “The bastard just called to say he’s got Drake. The coordinates he gave me are for Chesterfield. I take it that’s still a dead zone.” He winced, realizing what he’d just alluded to.
“Yup, it is. Did he give you any clue to who he is and what he wants?”
“No, but he’s definitely not from around here. He spoke in Korean.”
“Korean? So, it does have to do with your CIA days.”
“I guess, but I couldn’t care less about that right now. I’m supposed to go alone, but I’m not stupid enough to do that.” He saw Vic running back to the truck before asking Lane, “You coming? I don’t want a whole brigade rushing in there, but between you and Vic, my back will be covered, and we’ll take this jackass down.”
“You got it. I don’t even have backup at the moment. There’s a domestic on the other side of town with shots fired. The chief, Tad, and everyone else is headed that way. I called the sheriff’s department and had them send someone to your house. I’ll call them back and have them dispatch a car to cover this scene too. Give me two minutes, and I’ll follow you.”
Don't Shoot the Messenger: Hazard Falls Book 2 Page 16
