by Anna Blakely
Grant could tell Martin wasn’t happy his boss sided with him, but he couldn’t give two fucks less.
“Thank you, sir.” He looked at Martin. “It’s my understanding the charity event tomorrow night is one endorsed by this office. Brynnon still insists on going, so if you really want to help, you’ll get me a list of everyone attending, as well as any of your staff and the catering crew.”
The man looked as though he wanted to say more, but instead, made his smartest decision yet by answering with, “I’ll take care of that.”
“I’ll need it within the next hour so my guy can run backgrounds on each of the names.”
Martin shook his head. “The guests and staff have already been vetted by our office.”
“We’ll have the list to you within the hour,” Cantrell assured him. “Martin, why don’t you go ahead and get started on that, so Mr. Hill and his team have plenty of time to go through it.”
Begrudgingly, the other man gave his boss a nod. “Yes, sir.” Knowing he’d just been dismissed, Martin left Grant and the senator alone.
Turning to leave, Grant was surprised when Cantrell closed the door and turned to him. “I wanted to have a word with you, alone, if that’s okay.”
“Of course.”
He’d do his best to control his temper, mainly because he genuinely liked his job and wanted to keep it. But if the guy thought Grant was going to take an ass-chewing sitting down when Cantrell was the one who’d fucked up, he had another think coming.
“I’m not usually a man to mix words, so I’m just going to get right to it. Are you sleeping with my daughter?”
Grant’s eyes flew to Brynnon’s father’s. What the actual fuck? “No, sir,” he answered honestly. “I’m not.”
Cantrell gave him an assessing glance. “Huh. Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Sir?”
“I’m rarely wrong about these things, but for some reason, I believe you.”
The guy actually sounded disappointed—which sure as hell couldn’t be right. Grant cleared his throat. “If there’s nothing else, I should be going.”
“Not so fast.”
Cantrell stepped closer. Grant towered over the older man, yet he still felt like he was about to be scolded like a child. Well, this should be fun.
“You may not have slept with her yet, but you do have feelings for my daughter, don’t you?”
Feeling as though he’d fallen down a rabbit hole of epic proportions, Grant did his best to sound indifferent. “Sir, you hired me to protect Brynnon. Sleeping with a client is against R.I.S.C. policy, and would be grounds for—”
A bark of laughter burst from William Cantrell’s chest. “Spare me the corporate CYA bullshit, Grant. Your job isn’t in danger here. We’re just two men having a conversation. That’s all.”
Yeah...a conversation about having sex with your daughter.
How the fuck was he supposed to respond to that? Was this a set-up? As he spoke, Grant had to force himself not to scan the room for hidden cameras.
“Sir, I’m a little confused by your line of questioning.”
“Christ, son,” Cantrell chuckled. “I guess it’s true what they say...you can take the man out of the military, but you can’t take the military out of the man.” Shaking his head, the man slapped Grant on the shoulder. “How about I talk, and you listen?”
Grant blinked. “Okay.”
“Here’s the short of it. I’ve seen the way you look at my daughter and vice versa. I understand you have a job to do, and there’s nothing more important to me than my daughter’s safety. But after, if you want and she’s willing, I thought you should know I’m okay with it.”
Holy. Fucking. Shitballs. Confused as hell, now, Grant’s brows turned inward as he asked, “You’re giving me permission to date your daughter?”
Cantrell nodded. “Brynnon’s had a hard time finding the right man. Someone who can appreciate and support her independence. Someone who isn’t just interested in the family’s bank account, if you catch my drift.”
“I do.”
“Good.” Brynnon’s father walked to the door. “Now that that’s settled, please be sure to let me know what you find out when you speak to Charles Wright. Hopefully, once you two have had that conversation, the threats to Brynnon will stop and we can all go on with our lives.”
“Yes, sir.”
After a brief conversation with Coop, Grant left the building. He called Derek on the way to his truck.
“It’s me.”
“You talk to Cantrell?”
“I did.”
“And? How’d it go?”
“It was...” Grant searched for the right word. “Enlightening.”
“Enlightening?” Derek’s voice perked up. “Do tell.”
He got into his truck and made his way through the parking lot. Bypassing the incredibly awkward conversation at the end, Grant told him what he knew.
“Cantrell claims he didn’t tell us Bryn was the target because he didn’t want her to worry. Speaking of, how is she?”
“Worried.” Derek sighed. “I swear, the woman hasn’t stopped pacing since you left.”
Grant cursed under his breath. “Send me Wright’s address. I want to drop in and see what I can learn.”
“Hang on.” There was a pause and then, “There. I just sent it.”
“Thanks. I’ll be back at the condo as soon as I’m finished grilling Wright.”
“You want backup?”
“No. Stay with her. I’ll let you know when I’m done.” With that, Grant ended the call and began following the GPS directions to Charles Wright’s home.
As he drove, Grant replayed the conversation with Senator Cantrell. You do have feelings for my daughter, don’t you?
The man’s words ran on a continuous loop through his mind. The closer he got to Wright’s place, the more he began to admit the answer...
Yes.
Despite his best efforts against it, the fiery redhead had wormed her way into a heart he’d thought no longer existed. And damn if he knew what to do about it.
****
Chapter 11
“What the hell are you two doing here?”
Brynnon watched an angry Grant march down the broken sidewalk toward her. Derek was right. The guy was not happy to see them there.
“Cool your jets, big guy,” she told him. “And don’t be mad at Derek. I made him bring me.”
Grant’s gray eyes shot to his teammate. “She made you?”
“What can I say?” The other man shrugged. “Your gal made a good argument.”
When Grant opened his mouth, no doubt to lay into Derek, Brynnon slid between the two men. “Derek told me my father admitted the threat was against me not him. With everything that’s happened, I think it’s pretty clear whoever sent it means business.”
Lips she’d had the pleasure of tasting pressed together as Grant’s nostrils began to flare. “Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be here.”
Yep. He’s mad. Well, he wasn’t the only one.
“I have a right to question him.”
The handsome man looked back at her as if she were crazy. “Are you even listening to yourself? The man is trying to kill you, and you want to just what? Stroll right on up and knock on his goddamn door?” He shook his head. “No. Not happening.” To Derek, he ordered, “Take her back to the condo.”
Brynnon knew Grant’s overbearing bossiness stemmed from concern for her. But as sweet as it was, she wasn’t giving up. Her gut was telling her she needed to talk with Charles Wright.
Straightening her shoulders, Brynnon lifted her chin. “First, we don’t know for sure he’s the one who sent the threats or tried to run me over. Second, I’m going in there, whether you like it or not.”
Resting his hands on his narrow hips, he leaned down until they were nearly nose-to-nose. “Like hell.”
Refusing to back down, Brynnon looked him right in the eye. “Charles Wright approached me for a rea
son.”
“Yeah, because the guy’s fucked in the head and wants to kill you to get back at your dad.”
“I don’t think so.” When he started to argue again, she quickly explained why it would be a good idea to let her stay. “Look, just listen to me for a second, okay? I did a lot of thinking while you were gone. You’re right. Someone is trying to use me as revenge for what they believe my dad did, but if Wright truly wanted to kill me, why didn’t he do it at the hospital?”
“She has a point,” Derek gave his two cents, something Grant didn’t appreciate.
He zeroed in on his friend. “You’re kidding me. You seriously think this is a good idea?”
“Fuck, no.” Derek made a face. “I think it’s a terrible idea.”
“See?” Grant raised an arrogant brow her way.
“But—” Derek interjected— “I also think she’s right. At least, about Wright. I watched the tape from the hospital. He had more than enough time to kill Brynnon. Hell, Wright was close enough to her the guy could’ve easily stabbed her and walked away before you ever came around that corner. But he never even laid a hand on her. Why?”
“See?” Brynnon shot back, mimicking Grant with her own arched brow.
Grant huffed out a breath and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Christ. It’s like trying to reason with a fucking ten-year-old.”
“You’re just pissed because you know I’m right,” Brynnon hissed. “The man is grieving the loss of his son, Grant” After drawing in a deep breath, she reached out, squeezing his taut forearm. “You and I both know what it feels like to have lost someone we loved. Charles Wright needs someone to blame, and for some reason, my father’s the person he chose. If I go in there, I know I can get him to listen. Or...”
“Or what?”
“Maybe...” She paused. “Maybe he did find something that implicates Cantrell Construction. I know in my heart, my father didn’t do anything wrong, but there were a lot of employees working on that project. What if...” She licked her lips nervously. “What if one of them did?” She took a step closer to him. “I need to know the truth. So does Charles Wright.”
Conflicted, Grant stared back down at her. “And if he’s not just a grieving father and he really is the one trying to kill you? Then what?”
She gave him a crooked smile and shrugged. “Then you protect me.”
A second later, Brynnon knew she’d won.
Grant shook his head. “Fine,” he huffed. “We’ll do things your way. But the second I sense something’s off, we’re gone.”
“Okay.” Brynnon nodded. With a hand to his bicep, she whispered, “Thank you.”
He turned to Derek. “Things go sideways, you get her the hell out of there.”
“Roger that.”
With a low curse, Grant began walking toward Wright’s house. “Let’s go.”
They’d parked a few houses down, Brynnon assumed to keep from being spotted. If Charles Wright really was the one who’d tried to run her over, he’d most likely take off running the second he saw them.
“I don’t see the car from earlier. Do you?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean anything. The guy could’ve ditched it.”
Derek spoke up first. “There’s no record of Wright ever owning a vehicle matching the description you gave me. But, like you said, that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
As they approached the small, one-level home, Grant instinctively moved his body closer to hers. He rested a hand on the small of her back, the protective gesture comforting.
All of a sudden, Brynnon was hit with the image of his hard body slamming into hers, the two of them flying toward the ground. A shudder of fear raced down her spine.
“You good?”
“Yeah,” she lied. “Just cold.” If she let him know her nerves had kicked in, he’d make her wait in the car for sure.
With his free hand, Grant knocked on the front door. While they waited for its owner to answer, Brynnon looked back up at him. “Remember. Let me do the talking.”
His gaze was intense as he handed her the keys to his truck. “He tries anything, you get your ass out.”
Brynnon shook her head. “I’m not going to leave you behind.”
“That’s the deal. Otherwise, you and D can leave right now.”
Sensing he wasn’t budging on this one, Brynnon took the keys. She started to lie and agree to his terms, because there was no way in hell she’d leave him or Derek in any sort of mortal danger. Before she could, Charles Wright answered the door.
Looking worn down, he appeared confused at first. When he realized who she was, he scowled. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I was hoping we could talk.”
The older man shook his head. “I said all I wanted to say to you yesterday.”
“Well, I didn’t.” She sighed. “I wish you’d told me who you really were.”
“Why?” he snarled. “So you could keep making excuses for your murdering father?”
“Mr. Wright, someone sent a letter to Miss Cantrell’s father threatening to harm her,” Grant spoke up. “And today, after speaking with you at the hospital, they tried to run her over. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“Go to hell.” To Brynnon, he added, “And take your father with you.”
The bitter man tried to shut the door, but a quick move of Brynnon’s hand kept it from closing. “Mr. Wright, please. Someone’s been following me. They left pictures of me in my mailbox, along with this.” She pulled the baggie with the note out of her coat pocket to show him.
Wright shook his head. “Well, it certainly wasn’t me.”
“You got an alibi that can back that up?” Derek asked.
The man lifted his chin. “As a matter of fact, I do. The nursing staff at Dallas Regional’s cancer treatment center. So, if you came here hoping to pin that on me so you could shut me up, you’re going to be very disappointed.”
Brynnon sucked in a breath. “You have cancer? I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t need your pity. What I need is for my son to get justice.”
“We want that, too,” Brynnon assured him. “Please, Mr. Wright.” She glanced up at Grant and then back to Charles. “Can we come inside and talk about this? I promise we won’t stay long.” She smiled. “Plus, it’s freezing out here. I can’t imagine it would be good if you were to get sick.”
The man shook his head. “Now, you’re starting to sound like those damn doctors.” Eyeing the three of them suspiciously, he said, “I don’t know what your game is, but I have a gun, and I still know how to use it.”
Grant and Derek both stiffened beside her. Ah, hell. Sensing the former SEALs’ impending outbursts, Brynnon put a hand to Grant’s arm and intervened.
“I can assure you, Mr. Wright. We’re just here to talk.”
The man hesitated a few more seconds before stepping aside and letting them into his home. The place was small and not very well kept. There was laundry strewn about, and it hadn’t appeared to have been dusted for quite some time.
“You’ll have to excuse the mess. It’s the cleaning lady’s day off.”
“We don’t care about the state of your house, Mr. Wright,” Grant spoke sternly. “We want to know why you blame Cantrell Construction for the death of your son.”
“Like I told her”—he looked Brynnon’s way—“the materials they used weren’t up to snuff.”
Picking up a framed photo, Brynnon asked, “Is this him?” It was amongst several scattered about a tall bookshelf. “Is this Jordan?”
In the one she’d chosen, a handsome groom and his bride were smiling for the camera. The same woman was in several other pictures, only without her husband. In some, she was holding a small baby. Others, the child was older.
“Yes.” The female voice took them all by surprise. “That’s my brother and Stacey. His widow.”
Brynnon and her two guards turned to see a woman about her age s
tanding in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. She was petite with short, blonde hair. The woman was attractive...and the spitting image of Charles Wright.
“This is Jessica Price. My daughter.”
“Daughter?” Derek looked confused. “None of the reports I ran mentioned anything about you having a daughter.”
“That’s probably because Dad didn’t know I existed until a few years ago.”
“She’s right,” Charles spoke up. “Back in the day, Jessica’s mother and I...well, we had a moment of indiscretion. It was a one-time thing, and we lost touch afterward.”
“I take it your wife knew nothing about the affair?” Grant asked.
Wright lifted his chin. “It’s not something I’m proud of, but Jordan’s mom and I were going through a rough patch. I needed someone to talk to, and Camille, Jessica’s mom, was there. She and I worked together. We went out one night after work and...”
“They made me.” Jessica smiled, but her expression was odd. Almost nervous.
Charles looked ashamed. “After, I told Camille it was a mistake. That I loved my wife, and it could never happen again.”
Brynnon frowned. “And Camille never told you she was pregnant?”
“No. She got a promotion a couple of weeks later and was transferred out of state. I didn’t know I had a daughter until Jessica showed up at my door a couple of years back.”
“After my mom finally told me the truth about who my father was, I paid to have a DNA test done so there wouldn’t be any doubts.” She glanced at her father. “For either of us.”
“Do you live here with your father, Jessica?” Grant grumbled.
“No. I have an apartment. I come by to check on him a few times a week.”
Brynnon’s expression softened. “So, you never knew Jordan?”
“No.” Jessica shook her head. “I wish I had, though. To hear Dad talk, my brother was amazing.”
Genuine sadness filled Brynnon’s heart. “I’m sorry.”
Wright huffed out a breath. “If you were truly sorry, you’d be doing everything you could to find the truth, just like I’ve been doing for the past six years.” He pressed his lips together tightly before shaking his head in disgust. “The military claimed that what happened was nothing more than a tragic accident. The case was closed, and everybody went on about their business, but not me. I knew something wasn’t right, so I started looking into it more.”
