Salvation (The Protectors, Book 2)

by Sloane Kennedy

  After the death of their parents, I hadn’t expected Trace to return to the military and I’d been fully prepared to ask for a transfer to a military hospital in Washington state so I could be with him and Seth. But when he’d shown back up on the base in Afghanistan less than two months after he’d left, I’d been stunned. We’d had our fair share of squabbles over the thirteen months we’d been together, but Trace’s decision to choose the military over his own brother had caused a massive rift between us. And I hadn’t even known at that point the full extent of Seth’s trauma as a result of being used as a pawn to get information from his father.

  From the moment I’d met Trace, I’d known that being in the military was in his blood. He’d thrived on every aspect of it, the comradery, the danger, the intense conditions. But it wasn’t until he left Seth in the care of his grandmother that I’d realized it was something more…it was a need he couldn’t give up…not wouldn’t, couldn’t. I’d argued over and over with him that Seth needed him more, but he’d assured me that their grandmother would look out for him and that Seth himself had told Trace it was okay for him to return to the front lines.

  A surge of anger went through me at the realization that Trace hadn’t just left Seth when he was vulnerable; he’d left him when Seth would have needed his big brother the most. There was no way in hell Seth would have been able to recover on his own from the brutal attack and knowing now what I knew about his grandmother’s health, I had to wonder if he’d gotten any kind of help.

  The realization hit me suddenly and I pulled out my phone and typed in Barry Fields into the search engine of the browser and hardened my jaw when I saw a picture of the young, smiling man next to a short bio saying he was a psychologist specializing in anxiety. I closed the browser and then hit a speed dial button.

  “Hey boss.”

  I didn’t bother telling the man on the other end not to call me that because he’d do it anyway.

  “Mav, get me everything you can on a psychologist named Barry Fields,” I said.

  “Is he a mark?” Mav asked in confusion as I heard him typing in the background.

  “No,” I said but didn’t offer any further explanation. Mav had been one of the first guys I’d hired when I’d started my pet project, and while he did his best work with a gun or knife in his hand, I’d relegated him to an information gathering role since I’d had to get rid of Benny, the analyst who’d been working for me for nearly just as long, but had sold me and all my men out for money to pay off years’ worth of gambling debts. Benny had begged and pleaded with me to show him mercy, but I’d saved that for the young man whose life Benny had nearly taken when he’d accepted a contract to kill him and tried to use one of my own men to do it.

  Luckily, Mace Calhoun had been smart enough to realize something was off with the assignment and hadn’t taken Jonas Davenport’s life, despite all the concrete evidence Benny had faked to prove the young artist had committed unspeakable crimes against several children. I’d taken care of Benny, as well as the men who’d put the contract out on Jonas, and then I’d spent weeks combing through all of Benny’s information to see if Jonas and Mace were his first victims or if he’d used my group for his own financial gain before. I’d been more than relieved to find out it was the former because I doubted I would have been able to live with the guilt of knowing an innocent life had been taken because I’d trusted the wrong man.

  “I’m on it,” Mav said.

  I was tempted to ask Mav to run Seth’s name too, but didn’t and not only because he would have figured out my connection to Seth and learned more about me, but because I didn’t want to find out everything I’d missed – no, ignored – from a computer; I wanted Seth to be the one to tell me. Because I needed more than just what was on paper.

  “Thanks,” I said before hanging up on Mav. I grabbed my shoulder holster and dragged it on before tugging on my suit jacket. I gave Bullet, who was lying outside my bedroom door, a quick pat before I went downstairs and swallowed down a quick cup of coffee that I’d had to microwave since Seth hadn’t left the machine on to keep the coffee that remained in the pot warm.

  I ended up stuck in morning rush hour traffic, so it was late by the time I made it to the city. I searched out Seth’s building and discovered that the parking garage where he’d been mugged was open to the public, which wouldn’t help in terms of improving the security. I found Seth’s car easily since it was in a reserved spot near the elevator and parked a few aisles over. It was only ten o’clock in the morning and since I didn’t know what time he took lunch, I knew I could have a potentially long wait and that was assuming he even left the office for lunch today. But an hour later, I saw him step off the elevator. He hesitated as he cleared the bank of elevators and looked all around him. I was oddly proud of him when I saw him straighten himself, despite the look of abject fear in his gaze. He walked quickly to his car and kept scanning his surroundings but he remained calm. I kept my distance as I followed him out of the garage and east out of the city, but it wasn’t until he began crossing the bridge over Lake Washington that I realized where he was going.

  I didn’t need GPS after that but I had to keep my distance as the traffic grew lighter as he made his way to a quiet community on the eastern side of the island. Just like the Whidbey Island house, the house Seth pulled into sat on lush acreage right up against the water. I’d only been to the Nichols’s main residence a couple of times since the family had been vacationing at the Whidbey Island house the majority of the times I’d visited with Trace. Their vacation home was much larger and more remote, but that wasn’t to say the Mercer Island house wasn’t beautiful because it was; it just had a more sedate look to it and actually looked small and quaint compared to the mansions on either side of it. Which was why it seemed less likely that the men who’d burglarized the home had chosen it at random when there’d been much more secluded and well-off homes to choose from in the area.

  I parked across the street from the house and watched Seth as he sat in his car in the roundabout driveway. I couldn’t actually see him up close but I could see that he hadn’t gotten out of the car. He sat there for a good twenty minutes before putting the car in gear and leaving the house again. I ducked down in my own car so he wouldn’t see me but didn’t follow him. Instead, I got out of the car and walked to a neighboring house across the street and a few doors down where I saw an older woman working on a garden bright with colorful flowers.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  She looked up and smiled, her floppy hat covering her brow from the glare of the warm Spring sun.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “The house across the street,” I said pointing to the Nichols house. “I heard it was for sale,” I said, mustering a charming smile that I wasn’t feeling.

  “Oh no, I don’t think so,” she said. “I don’t think that boy will ever sell it,” she added.

  “Boy?” I asked.

  She shook her head and chuckled. “Well, I suppose he’s not a boy anymore. Seth’s all grown up now but I still remember him from when he used to mow my lawn and help me in my garden,” she said as she motioned to the flowers in front of her.

  “So this Seth, the house belongs to him?”

  She nodded. “Inherited it after his parents passed. Poor thing,” she added.

  “Yeah, the realtor I was talking to mentioned there’d been a robbery and some people died,” I said quietly, trying to keep as much emotion from my voice as possible.

  She shook her head. “So sad. It could have been any one of us,” she added and then looked around the neighborhood. She lowered her voice and said, “That boy and his mama weren’t even supposed to be there that night. Bonita – that was their housekeeper at the time – she told me the next day that Seth and his mama were supposed to visit his grandmother up north but she hadn’t been feeling well so they canceled their trip last minute.”

  I barely managed to keep my expression neutral as an idea be
gan to rattle around in my head.

  “So he still lives there?” I asked.

  “Oh dear Lord, no,” she said. “I haven’t seen Seth in years. I keep expecting the house to go up on the market but it hasn’t.”

  I nodded. “Well, thank you.”

  She gave me a smile and focused on her flowers as I made my way back to my car. The men who’d killed Seth’s parents had never been found and it had been chalked up to a random event, but the idea that Seth’s father was supposed to have been there by himself that night had me wondering things I probably shouldn’t. I supposed I’d gotten too used to dealing with the worst of humanity to blindly accept that sometimes random events were just that – random.

  The trip to Mercer Island caused more questions than answers, so I made my way back to the city but didn’t go to Seth’s office. The GPS showed he’d already gotten back there so I knew I had some time before he headed out for the day. I made my way to the southern side of the city and parked in front of a small, converted house that said Harold Brighton, Esquire & Associates.

  I’d only met Harry Brighton once when I’d met with him to discuss the surprise inheritance Trace had left me. His office hadn’t changed much over the years. The furniture and décor were outdated and worn and the reception area consisted of one small desk with the same old receptionist sitting behind it, her silver hair twisted around the top of her head in a sloppy bun with a couple of pencils shoved through it to hold it in place. She was looking over the top of her glasses at an ancient looking computer screen that took up about half her desk and there were papers strewn everywhere. There was no one in the waiting area but the TV in the corner of the room was tuned to a talk show of some kind.

  “Can I help you?” the receptionist asked without looking up at me.

  “Is Mr. Brighton available?”

  “I’m afraid not,” she said before finally straightening her glasses and looking up at me. “Mr. Grisham, how nice to see you again.”

  I couldn’t help but be surprised that she remembered me, considering I’d only been there the one time nearly six years ago. Since I couldn’t recall her name, I merely nodded.

  “Dolores! I need the Conway file!” I heard a high pitched voice yell and then there was the click-click of heels. A woman rounded the corner from the back of the building where I knew the offices were and stopped when she saw me. Her frown disappeared and she straightened her elegant suit. She was quite attractive and put together and I couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t quite match the laid back atmosphere of the office.

  “Tabby, this is Mr. Ronan Grisham,” Dolores said with a wave of her hand. “He’s a friend of the Nichols family.”

  The woman stiffened and then smoothed her jacket again before jutting out her hand. “Tabitha Brighton,” she said formally, her high-pitched voice now low and clear and much less screechy.

  “Tabby is Harry’s daughter, Mr. Grisham,” Dolores said as she began clicking away at her keyboard again.

  “It’s Tabitha,” the woman said crisply, though I wasn’t sure if she was telling me or Dolores that. “How can I help you, Mr. Grisham?”

  “I was hoping to speak with your father.”

  Tabitha’s face fell but she recovered quickly. “I’m afraid my father has retired. Are you looking for someone to assist you with your inheritance?”

  The question caught me off guard and she must have sensed my surprise because she said, “I’ve taken over the majority of my father’s clients. I remember seeing your file a few weeks ago as I was trying to familiarize myself with his cases. I noticed we didn’t have an attorney listed for you…”

  The not so subtle query irritated me, though I couldn’t really explain why. Maybe because the woman seemed so much like the stereotypical attorney whereas I’d found her father to be much more relaxed and laid back when I’d worked with him so many years ago. “I’m just passing through town and I wanted to say hi to your father. Is he around?”

  Tabitha’s jaw hardened for a moment and then she forced a smile to her lips. “He’s retired, Mr. Grisham,” she repeated as if that was answer enough.

  “Here,” Dolores said as she handed me a piece of paper. “He’s at Sunny Oaks – two streets over and down a few blocks. I’m sure he’d love the company,” the old woman said as she shot Tabitha a stern look. Tabitha didn’t look pleased and turned on her heel and stalked back in the direction she’d come from.

  “Thanks,” I said as I waved the paper at Dolores.

  “He likes the fries from the diner down the street,” Dolores said in response. “Mayonnaise, not ketchup,” she added.

  I chuckled at the subtle order. “Yes, ma’am.”

  It took about twenty minutes to get the fries from the diner and find the assisted living community. The receptionist pointed me in the direction of a common room where there were a few senior citizens milling around playing cards or watching TV. I recognized Harry almost instantly because of his hair. It was almost all white except for a thick patch of black hair above his forehead. I had no idea if he dyed it that way on purpose but it looked almost exactly like it had six years ago.

  “Mr. Brighton,” I said as I stopped next to the table where he was playing a game of Solitaire. His eyes lit on the white paper bag in my hand before lifting up. Like Dolores, he recognized me instantly.

  “Mr. Grisham,” he said with a nod. “I see you stopped by the office,” he said with a nod towards the bag in my hand.

  I laughed and handed him the bag and then took the seat across from him when he invited me to do so.

  “How is Seth?” Harry asked the second I sat.

  “I was going to ask you that,” I admitted. “I’ve been away for a bit and just got back to the city yesterday,” I hedged, not wanting to explain to this man the details of why I’d stayed away.

  Harry began rifling around the bag for a fry and the small to-go container of mayonnaise I’d been given. “I’m sorry to say, I haven’t been able to get up to see him as much as I’d like,” he said. “Tabby doesn’t have time to drive me up to Whidbey Island and cabs are terribly expensive.”

  “He doesn’t come down to see you?” I asked.

  “Oh no,” Harry said as he began chewing on the fry. “Well, you know how tough it is for him to leave the house.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant by that so I said, “It is a long drive.”

  Harry stopped chewing for a moment and studied me. While his body might have aged, his brain certainly hadn’t and I could see him putting the pieces together. His friendliness faded away and suspicion clouded his gaze as he pushed the bag away. “What can I do for you, Mr. Grisham?”

  The man in front of me was the man I remembered. His less than neat office and too relaxed manner of dress had made me wonder about his abilities the first time I’d met him, but I’d known as soon as he’d started talking to me that he was much sharper than he appeared. And loyal. And not just to Seth’s father who he’d gone to school with as kids, but to Seth as well if the current hard look he was giving me was anything to go by.

  I knew it was going to be a challenge getting anything out of him at that point but I was desperate for answers that I doubted I’d be able to pull out of Seth anytime soon. “I fucked up, Mr. Brighton,” I finally admitted. “I got caught up in my own grief and I wasn’t there for him the way I should have been. I get that now.”

  Harry seemed to soften somewhat and the fact that he reached for the fries again was a good sign. “How can I help, Mr. Grisham?”

  “It’s Ronan,” I said.

  He nodded. “Ronan.”

  “Are you still his lawyer?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I retired about six months ago. Tabby handles some of the day to day stuff but I suspect her…personality might not be a good match for Seth.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I love my girl but she’s got a lot of ambition and sometimes that can get her into trouble. Seth – he’s a smar
t boy but my Tabby likes it when she’s smarter.”

  “Is Seth looking to take his business elsewhere?”

  Harry paused and then said, “I think he’s holding off on making a decision out of respect for me, but a colleague who visits me once a month mentioned rumors that his father’s business partner, Stan Sadorsky, is urging Seth to use the company’s counsel for his personal affairs.”

  I could only imagine that with Seth’s personal fortune, the financial loss would hit Harry’s daughter pretty hard. But I didn’t press Harry any further because I could see his loyalties were torn between Seth and his daughter.

  “You mentioned it being tough for him to leave the house,” I prodded.

  “I didn’t notice it myself at first when I went up to Whidbey Island to meet with him regarding his parents’ estate. I thought he was just still grieving and he also had his grandmother to look after. He’d missed so much school that it made sense for him to have a tutor to help him catch up, but he ended up hiring the tutor to home school him so he wouldn’t have to go back to school at all. About a year after the incident, my wife and I started inviting him down to the city to join us for dinner but he’d always say he was busy. After his grandmother passed, he asked me about his options when it came to a legal guardian.”

  “And you helped him become emancipated.”

  Harry nodded. “He was responsible, self-sufficient and he didn’t have anyone…” Harry’s eyes settled on me. “I asked him about you looking out for him but he said that wasn’t an option.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that so I remained silent.

  “I thought with his grandmother gone, he’d start getting out more. He got his GED just before he turned seventeen. The judge who’d granted Seth’s request for emancipation assigned me as trustee of his inheritance until he turned eighteen, so I paid a lot of the bills. I was excited for him when he enrolled in college at the University of Washington in Seattle but he dropped out after a few weeks and enrolled in an online program. I’m not sure if he completed the program – he didn’t talk much about himself when I’d go visit him.”