Imminent Danger (A Counterstrike Novel Book 3)

by Jannine Gallant

  “I can sympathize with them.” A petty part of her was glad he didn’t have a special woman in his life. She might not want to be married to him anymore, but . . .

  She shied away from the direction her thoughts were headed. No good could come from brooding over the past. Just more heartache.

  They ate in silence for several minutes, enjoying the chowder and the calamari. After finishing her last spoonful, Arden pushed her bowl away and stared out the window. “I miss the ocean, walking along the shore with the salty sea breeze blowing in my face.”

  “You can stay at the house any time you want.” He ate the last piece of calamari and licked sauce off his finger. “I’d make sure you had the place all to yourself.”

  “I appreciate that, but I don’t take much time off for vacations.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  She pressed a hand to the ache in her chest. “Too many memories. I prefer not to torture myself needlessly . . . except for today.”

  His lips firmed. “Then go to California or Hawaii.” When their server came to clear their dishes and leave the bill, he pulled out his wallet and slapped down a credit card.

  “I’ll be right back with this, Mr. Grant.” Taking his card, she hurried off to greet customers who’d just arrived.

  “Thank you for lunch. It did help.” At his questioning look, she continued, “Having a conversation and a meal after visiting River’s grave. I’ll spend enough time alone with my thoughts on the drive home, so taking a break to get a grip on my emotions was a good idea.”

  “I’m glad.” When the woman returned with his receipt, he added a tip and signed his name. After sliding his card back into his wallet, he held Arden’s gaze. “It was nice to catch up, to know you’re okay.”

  “I’ve carved out a new life for myself, much the way you did, even if our worlds are polar opposites. Which reminds me. Are those glass jars your grandma collected still stored at the house?”

  “I can’t imagine anyone bothered to throw them away. Why?”

  “I package my honey in old, unique containers. The pretty jars are part of the reason I can ask a premium price, but my stock is getting low since there aren’t many garage sales and flea markets to attend in the winter.”

  “Take them. You’d be doing me a favor. God knows, I don’t want them.”

  “I can pay—” She broke off when he gave her a disbelieving look. “Fine. Thank you.”

  Brody rose to his feet and held her jacket while she pushed her arms through the sleeves, then retrieved her purse. With a hand on her back, he followed her from the restaurant. Once they reached the parking lot, he stopped beside her Jeep. “I hope that piece of crap is reliable.”

  “The engine runs like the Energizer bunny, and it handles ice and snow on the road to my cabin a heck of a lot better than your fancy car would.”

  “True.” He smiled down at her. “Do you want to follow me over to the house to get those jars?”

  “Sure.”

  Before he could respond, his phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “Damn. I have to go.”

  Her stomach clenched. “Someone needs saving?”

  He nodded. “Bernice will be there to let you in. She’ll know where the jars are stored.”

  “Okay.” Arden studied the lines carved into his face. Far more than there’d been when they were married. His high-stress life was definitely taking a toll. Not that he probably cared.

  “Be happy, Arden. That’s all I want for you.”

  “I’m content. For now, it’s enough.” She pushed wind-blown strands of hair off her face. “I’m slowly working my way up to happy.”

  Reaching out, he drew her against his broad chest for a brief, hard hug. She was enveloped by his strength, not to mention the unique scent of man, which had nothing to do with cologne or aftershave. Pheromones. Sheer masculinity. Her breath caught in her throat before he released her and stepped back.

  Pressing a palm against the Jeep’s hood, she stiffened her knees and managed to remain upright. “Stay safe, Brody.”

  “I will. Maybe I’ll see you again next year. Same time. Same place.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Bye, Arden. Drive carefully.”

  She unlocked the door and hitched herself up onto the seat. After starting the engine, she let it warm up as her gaze was drawn to the only man she’d ever loved. Even though she’d fallen out of love with him a long time ago, her feelings for him were still strong.

  He got into his car and drove away with a light tap on the horn. Off to save the world, one victim at a time.

  With a sigh, she put the Jeep in gear and turned out of the parking lot. The drive through the quaint streets and across the bay to Marblehead Neck didn’t take long. After passing Castle Rock, she turned off Ocean Avenue and entered the Grant estate through stone pillars to pull up in front of the huge, white Victorian house. Letting out the clutch with a jerk, she killed the engine.

  A rush of memories flooded over her as she sat for a moment without moving. Rocking baby River in the glider on the long front porch. Chasing a shrieking toddler across the huge lawn until they both landed on the grass, rolling and giggling together. Sitting with Brody on the rocks behind the house at sunset, wrapped in his arms as they ignored the picture-perfect sky in favor of making out.

  The damn jars weren’t worth the pain.

  Before she could start the car, the front door opened, and a heavyset, older woman walked out onto the porch. Her brow creased in a frown as she stared at the battered Jeep.

  Too late to leave now.

  Slowly, Arden stepped out onto the driveway and gave a little wave. “Hello, Bernice.”

  “My goodness. Mrs. Grant, I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “I hadn’t planned to be here. I saw Brody at the cemetery.”

  Her face crumpled for a moment. “That’s right. March tenth.” She straightened her shoulders beneath a navy-blue cardigan. Once again, all business, from her short gray hair down to her sensible shoes. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Brody said I can have the old jars his grandmother collected. I’m hoping you know where they’re kept.” Arden climbed the porch steps and stopped a yard short of the woman who’d been the housekeeper for the Grants a lot longer than she’d known the family.

  “Of course. Come with me, but watch your step. I just mopped the floors, and they may be a little slippery.”

  She and Bernice had never been friendly, not like the warm relationship she’d shared with the woman’s husband who was in charge of the grounds. “How’s Gene?”

  “His arthritis is bothering him some. Neither of us is as young as we used to be, but he has a helper now. A man from Mr. Grant’s SEAL team who was down on his luck.”

  Typical Brody, always bringing in strays. “Nice of him to help out his buddy.”

  She gave a jerky nod. “We could all use a hand up now and then.”

  “Well, I’m glad Gene isn’t carrying the entire load alone.”

  Bernice led the way past a formal parlor and dining room, through the gleaming, updated kitchen, to a large, old-fashioned pantry. When she bent to lift a wooden crate off a corner shelf, Arden touched her arm.

  “I’ll get that. I don’t want you to strain your back.”

  “Suit yourself.” Bernice moved out of the way.

  Arden slid the crate off the shelf and grunted beneath the weight. “This will keep me in honey jars for a while.”

  “I expect so.” The housekeeper headed straight back to the front of the house.

  Arden couldn’t suppress a wry smile. She was tempted to ask for a cup of tea, just to see the disconcerted look on the grouchy old woman’s face. But that would mean spending more time in a place she preferred to avoid.

  “Thank you for your help.” She paused on the front porch. “Please tell your husband I said hello.”

  “I’ll do that. Good-bye, Mrs. Grant.” She shut the door with
a firm click.

  Arden rolled her eyes. Straining beneath the load, she carried the crate down the stairs, managed to open the rear door of her Jeep, and lifted the box into the back. After latching the door, she turned and caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

  Sabrina Perrault came through the row of cherry trees that acted as a visual barrier between the Grant estate and the tennis courts belonging to the house next door. The woman stopped and took a step backward. Apparently realizing she’d been seen, she shrugged narrow shoulders beneath a plush jacket and continued across the lawn.

  “Hello, Sabrina. How are you?” Arden faced her ex-neighbor and wondered if the woman was still trying to get her claws—in this case, perfectly manicured nails painted a deep mauve—into Brody. The attractive divorcée was pushing forty and had two daughters who must be middle-school-aged by now. Her ring finger was still bare.

  “I can’t complain. It’s been a few years. You look well.” Whiskey-colored eyes that reminded Arden of a cat narrowed. “When I saw movement in the driveway over here, I expected Brody was home. Knowing how tough today always is for him, I thought he might want some company.”

  “I ran into him earlier at the cemetery, but he left for Boston.”

  Sabrina’s lips tightened as she pushed platinum hair over one shoulder. “All that man does is work. You’d think he’d take time off to enjoy himself now and then.”

  “That’s not how Brody rolls.” Arden opened the driver’s side door and leaned against it. “Not to cut this reunion short, but I have a long drive ahead.”

  “By all means, don’t let me keep you. Have a safe trip home.”

  “Thank you. Take care, Sabrina.”

  Arden climbed into the Jeep and started the engine. After executing a three-point-turn in the tight space, she drove down the driveway, braking when she reached the street. A cobalt Lexus stopped abruptly, and the driver’s side window slid down as Arden rolled down her own.

  “Oh, my God, Arden!” With a squeal, the driver pulled to the edge of the road, threw open her door, and ran across the street. “I can’t believe it!”

  Arden put on the emergency brake and stepped to the pavement. When her old friend reached her, she wrapped her in a tight hug.

  “It’s good to see you, Nic.” Arden pulled back and smiled. “Finally, a face I’m actually glad to see.”

  “You could have called me if you were going to be in town.” Nicole Welch drew auburn brows together in a frown. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  Of all their neighbors, Nicole and her husband Tim were the couple she and Brody had spent the most time with. She’d missed the easy camaraderie she’d shared with Nic after moving to Vermont.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t. I only stopped by the house to pick up some jars after spending time at the cemetery.”

  “Oh, Christ. It’s River’s birthday.” Her eyes watered as she reached in for another hug. “I’m sorry, Arden. The date didn’t click this morning.”

  “No reason why it should.” With an effort, she kept her voice even. “How are Tim and the boys?”

  “The boys wear me out. I just dropped them off at baseball practice. It’s my day for carpool.” Her smile was hesitant. “Tim is really happy in his new job. We’re finally on firm financial ground again after those lean years when he was changing careers.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that.” Arden squeezed her arm.

  One of the reasons she hadn’t called Nic was the discomfort in her expressive eyes. Her friend didn’t like talking about her happy, healthy boys or her solid marriage, not after Arden’s world had fallen apart.

  “Can you come over for a visit? I’ll break out a bottle of chardonnay, and we can gossip about the neighbors. It’ll be like old times.”

  Arden grimaced. “I just spoke to Sabrina, so I could even contribute to the gossip. But I’m afraid I can’t stay. I’d like to get home before the sun goes down and the roads ice up.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” Arden rested a hand on the doorframe. “It really is wonderful to see you.”

  “We’ll get together the next time you’re in town.”

  “Sure. Give Tim my best.”

  Her friend smiled and stepped backward. “I will.”

  “Bye, Nic.” Arden stepped into the Jeep and pulled the door shut. After putting the car in gear, she gave a final wave. When she glanced in the rearview mirror a few seconds later, Nicole was still standing on the edge of the street, looking after her.

  Shivering in the cold, Arden reached for the knob to turn up the heat and focused on the road ahead. It was definitely time to go home.

  Chapter Two

  “Eight million dollars is nothing. Just give the asshole the money and get my daughter back!” A vein throbbed in Senator Jennings’ forehead, and his face was a mottled red.

  “Sir, please take a seat and try to calm down. You won’t do your daughter any good if you stroke out.” Counterstrike’s medic placed a restraining hand on the senator’s shoulder.

  Finally, Jennings gave in to Patch’s urging and dropped onto the leather club chair. After taking a few deep breaths, his deep color slowly receded.

  Brody met his father’s gaze across the width of the massive mahogany desk in his office on Capitol Hill. As a result of a rigorous exercise routine and healthy diet, John Grant usually looked younger than his sixty-nine years. Not today. A sheen of perspiration dampened his forehead, and his hands shook as he gripped the edge of the desk. Brody knew very well his father was reliving a similar scene that had played out five and a half years earlier.

  Turning to face their distraught client, Brody spoke firmly, not sugar-coating the truth. “Senator Jennings, as much as I’d like to tell you Amy’s abductor will release her as soon as the ransom money hits his account, I’m afraid that’s not usually the case. We need to stall for time until we can locate your daughter. The best chance of a positive outcome is for our team to go in and rescue her before the kidnapper receives the money.”

  “Do you know where this animal is holding her?” His voice broke. “It’s been nearly fourteen hours since she disappeared. I can’t begin to imagine how terrified our girl is.”

  Brody glanced across the room at Scarlet, who sat on the couch next to the senator’s wife, and hoped she could offer some measure of comfort. As their coordinator between the victim’s family and the team in the field, she was far more comfortable than he was dealing with distraught parents. Given a choice, he’d rather dodge bullets than witness their heartache.

  Their pain was far too personal.

  “Amy is sixteen, and from everything you’ve told us about her, she’s a bright and capable young woman.” Scarlet spoke in a positive tone. “Yes, she’s frightened, but I bet she’s holding it together, doing everything in her power to stay strong until help arrives.”

  Lydia Jennings wiped the tears off her face. “Amy is smart. And kind. Did I mention how much everyone loves her?” She broke down again. “You have to save my baby.”

  “We intend to.” Brody was quick to reassure both parents. “We’re working on locating her right now, and our intel indicates she’s still in the D.C. area.”

  He stared out the window down the length of the National Mall where lights illuminated the darkness all the way to the Washington Monument. Somewhere out in the sprawling city, an innocent girl was being held against her will.

  After a quick knock, Luna opened the inner office door. Their computer genius zeroed in on Senator Jennings. “It’s almost time for the next call. I’d like to go over exactly what the senator needs to say one more time. Keeping the kidnapper on the line long enough to pinpoint his location is critical.”

  Jennings rose to his feet. “I know my part, but I’ll let you coach me through it again. What if he throws us a curve ball?”

  Luna gave him an encouraging smile. “You’ll be looking at a computer screen, and I’ll type in a response if he goes off script. We’
re experienced in these situations, sir. We’ll handle any variables as they’re presented.”

  After the two left the room, Patch approached Brody and spoke in a low voice. “Senator Grant doesn’t look so good. He’s sweating bullets.”

  Brody hadn’t told his teammates that John Grant was his father. Nor did they know anything about his past. It was far safer for everyone at Counterstrike to keep their personal lives private. To the men and women he was closest to—the friends he spent the majority of his time with—he was simply Wolf. Brody Grant didn’t exist.

  “John has known Amy Jennings since she was born, so this is hitting him pretty hard. I’ll see if I can convince him to rest someplace quiet.” Brody walked over to his dad and touched his shoulder. “Come next door with me.”

  With a nod, his father rose to his feet and followed him through the connecting private bath to a small room with a single bed where he slept occasional after a late-night work session.

  “I want you to try a few of those relaxation techniques Mom told me your doctor recommended. You look like crap.”

  His dad sank onto the bed and ran a hand through his thick, silver hair. “I’m glad Bill came to me when he got the call from the kidnapper. Understandably, he was losing his mind and didn’t know where to turn since he was afraid to go to the police. But, damn, this brings back memories. I don’t know how you can stay so calm.”

  “Years of experience.” Brody dropped onto the only chair in the cramped space. “I feel each and every case personally. I just don’t let them tear me apart.”

  “Especially today, on River’s birthday.” His father’s voice broke. “Yesterday now, since it’s after midnight.”

  “I talked to Arden earlier. She was at the cemetery. Actually, we had lunch together.”

  His dad straightened, and blue eyes, the same light shade as his own, brightened. “How is she? Your mom calls her now and then.”

  “Good. She’s doing her best to rebuild her life and seems to be succeeding.”