A Call for Kelp

by Bree Baker

  The stone collided with his back in a hearty thump, causing him to arch and cuss.

  I stooped and grabbed another. “Let him go,” I demanded, upright and stalking forward, my voice deep and cold. My gaze locked on the man’s head, where my next stone would land if needed. “Now.”

  The man put a foot inside the vehicle, and I released the second rock with practiced skill.

  He ducked a half heartbeat before the stone crashed into the window with a deafening thud and fell to the ground.

  I palmed another stone before he returned his eyes to mine. “Don’t. Move,” I told him, embracing the simultaneous fire and ice roaring through my veins. “I can throw a lot harder and I never miss.”

  Denver took advantage of the distraction, slid out of the man’s reach, and ran for me. He wrapped his arms tightly around my thigh upon arrival, and I circled him with one arm, keeping my next rock poised to throw. “One step in this direction, and I will knock you out with this rock. I’ve taken pictures of your face and license plate,” I said. “I’m sure Denver’s father, our local detective, would love to track down the man who tried to abduct his son.”

  The man’s posture relaxed in defeat.

  The sound of high heels on concrete pricked at my ears. We weren’t alone anymore, which I hoped made Denver and me safe. “What in blazes are you doing?” The senator’s seething voice turned me partially around.

  The expression on her face made me rethink my personal safety.

  I maintained my hold on Denver but lowered the rock.

  In a move I’d seen Grady perform countless times, I angled my body to keep the man in my line of sight as I addressed the senator. “I heard Denver crying,” I told her. “Then I caught that man trying to abduct him.”

  Recognition and shock flashed in her eyes.

  I looked from her to the man. Could this have had anything to do with her agreement to back her party’s next presidential candidate and the controversial bill? If so, would her continued presence here keep Denver in danger? What would his young life be like if the bill passed? I bit my tongue against the urge to tell her to leave town immediately.

  She marched forward with resolute determination and grabbed my elbow on her way past.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, trying to break free of her grip and dragging Denver along with me.

  “Get in the SUV,” she snapped.

  The man moved aside and opened the passenger door up front.

  I dug my heels in and lifted Denver onto one hip, prepared to run with him if necessary. “What’s going on?” I demanded. “Do you know this man?”

  The silver fox rubbed a palm over his twitching mouth, failing to hide an arrogant smile.

  Senator Denver’s gaze narrowed. “Yes. I do, and so does Denver. This is my husband. Denver’s grandfather, and you’ve been screaming at him on the street as if he’s a common criminal.”

  “She hit him with a rock,” Denver tattled. “And she hit the car!” he added proudly. “Hard!”

  Yet the window hadn’t broken, I realized belatedly. Because this was one of the senator’s insanely secure vehicles.

  I loosened my grip on Denver, confused and unsure. “This is your grandpa?”

  He shrugged and buried his face against my shoulder.

  “Why were you crying?” I asked. “I was so scared when I heard you cry.”

  The senator huffed. “Get in the vehicle, Miss Swan, or I might make someone else cry next.”

  I shot her a heated look, then settled Denver inside. I slid in beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. The senator climbed in after me and shut the door. Her husband rode shotgun beside a driver I hadn’t noticed before—a man who hadn’t bothered to get out and help during the commotion. I assumed he’d been given explicit instructions to stay behind the wheel.

  We glided away from the curb, and Denver’s grandpa turned to look at me over the seat between us. “He knows me,” he said. “He just doesn’t remember me. He was fine until we split up from Olivia. I brought him outside while she finished at the cash register. I thought he’d enjoy the sunshine, but he started to cry and I didn’t want him to draw any attention, so I tried to put him in the SUV. He likes Dominic.” He motioned to the man behind the steering wheel.

  “Hi,” I said, catching the driver’s eye in the rearview mirror.

  He touched the brim of his hat with two fingers in response.

  “Ha!” The senator snarled at the back of her husband’s head. “You didn’t want to draw attention? A ticker tape parade would have caused less commotion than the two of you.” She swung her livid expression in my direction.

  Denver wound his arms around me. “I’m sorry.”

  I planted a kiss on the top of his head. “You don’t have to be sorry. This isn’t your fault,” I whispered, stroking his hair with my free hand. “It was a misunderstanding on my part.”

  He rolled wide gray eyes up to me and grinned. “You hit Grandpa with a rock.”

  “I thought he was stealing you,” I said. “I would’ve hit him with a car if I’d had one.”

  Denver laughed and snuggled more tightly against my side.

  “I’ve been gone,” his grandpa said, sounding a little guilty. “The boy hasn’t seen me since he was three, and I wanted to make up for lost time,” he said. “Grady allowed him to stay with Olivia last night, so I’ve been trying to bond. We were on our way to drop him off at school this morning, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye again. So we went to breakfast, then did a little shopping.” He watched Denver with rapt curiosity. “He isn’t warming to me, and I don’t know why.”

  “You could talk to him as if he’s sitting right here and understands English,” I suggested. “Or try to be patient. You’ve just gotten back, and Denver’s been through a lot of change since you left. He moved to a new home in a new town and started a new school, all in the past twelve months alone. It would be a lot for anyone. Not to mention his…loss.”

  “Uprooting him was his dad’s decision, not mine,” the man shot back. “And he’s not the only one who suffered a great loss. Amy was my only daughter.”

  “And Denver’s only mother,” I said softly. “And Denver is six. He’s perfectly within his rights to like you or not.” An overwhelming sense of pride and love overcame me, and I realized I would protect Grady’s son with my life, against all threats, from strangers or family.

  And I didn’t give two hotcakes what Grady’s former in-laws or anyone else thought about it.

  My phone buzzed and Grady’s face appeared on the screen.

  “Daddy’s calling,” Denver said.

  Denver’s grandpa twisted to speak to his wife over the seat while I swiped the screen to accept the call. “This is the woman you’ve all been talking about?”

  “She grows on you,” she said as I pressed the speaker button.

  “Hello?”

  “What’s going on?” Grady asked, his voice thickly laced with tension.

  “False alarm,” I said. “Just a little misunderstanding.”

  “What kind of false alarm?” he demanded. “Why do you have photos of my father-in-law?”

  Everyone’s eyes were on me. I cleared my throat before trying to speak. “I thought he was kidnapping Denver.”

  Grady’s father-in-law shot me a grouchy look. “You might’ve asked who I was,” he said, indignantly. “What kind of person hears a child cry and immediately assumes a kidnapping? It’s quite a large jump, don’t you think?”

  “You were stuffing a screaming kid into a vehicle,” I snapped. “That’s not a jump. It’s the definition of kidnapping!”

  “Everly!” Grady’s voice roared through the speaker, breaking my name into syllables and successfully stilling the passengers around me. “My place. Now.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

&nbs
p; The senator instructed the driver to take us to her place, then she instructed me to advise Grady of the same. She claimed that Northrop Manor had better security and her preferred coffee on hand, which were both true, but I suspected the change of destination had more to do with her need for control than anything else. A subtle reminder that she was the boss of Grady. And everyone. And everything. And after all, this was all about her. Wasn’t it?

  The driver slowed at the closed wrought iron gates outside Northrop Manor, and I frowned. I realized for the first time how much it irked me that the senator had butted in and bought the place out from under an organization that planned to make the property a living museum.

  The massive automated gates opened slowly, and the SUV rolled smoothly through. I did my best to stay on alert in case I needed to defend myself or Denver again, but he’d begun to play with my fingers, making them talk and sing, sometimes fighting one another with sound effects. So, by the time the vehicle stopped outside the enormous stone manor, my focus had turned wholly to the adorable, carefree boy at my side, and my attitude was as light as my heart.

  The door beside Denver opened suddenly, and Grady stared inside. His gaze caught on his son, who was molded to my side and playing with my hands. “You okay, buddy?” he asked before pulling Denver into his arms.

  “Daddy!”

  Grady’s heated expression softened as his son’s small arms wrapped eagerly around his neck.

  I scooted toward the open door, unsure if I was in trouble. Grady shifted Denver onto one side, then took my hand, helping me down.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I heard Denver crying. I knew he should’ve been in school, and I didn’t recognize your father-in-law. I was scared and confused.” I chewed my lip and winced when I got too carried away.

  “It’s okay,” he said, holding onto me a moment longer than necessary before letting me go. “Thank you.”

  I furrowed my brow, taken aback by the thick sincerity in his words when I’d been bracing for another argument. “You’re not angry?”

  “You protected my son,” he said.

  Denver’s head lifted from Grady’s shoulder at that. “Miss Everly hit Grandpa with a rock.”

  Grady’s mouth opened. His gaze jumped to his in-laws, already moving toward the house. “What?”

  “She said, give me that boy,” Denver began in a mock menacing tone, “or next time I’ll hit you harder!”

  The burn in my cheeks increased furiously. “That’s a paraphrase,” I said.

  Grady set Denver on the ground. “Why don’t you go inside and ask Grandma for a snack?”

  Denver gave a quick salute and ran for the house.

  “I am so sorry,” I repeated. “I didn’t know.”

  Grady watched until Denver was safely inside, the massive wooden door shut behind him, then he focused his blank cop expression on me. “I need to talk with Olivia and Martin before I take you home.”

  I nodded, sensing the caution in his tone. I wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, but if Grady was worried, then I was shaking in my sneakers.

  He set his hand on the small of my back and guided me into the house.

  I clasped my hands in front of me to stop them from shaking and clenched my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering, my body’s graceless ways of dealing with the aftershocks of excess adrenaline. The sounds of percolating coffee echoed through the cavernous home, pinging off the high-arched foyer ceiling and ponging from the pristine marble floor. Tendrils of enchanting steam pulled us toward the kitchen. I admired the majestic staircase, beautiful painted landscapes on canvases, and priceless antique chandeliers as we moved. The home’s interior craftsmanship was breathtaking, but the parlors and sitting areas I spied through yawning doorways came up barren every time. Aside from a few strategically placed pieces of art and the occasional side table with vase, Northrop Manor was empty.

  We stopped at a granite-topped island, across from Martin and Olivia. They were tipped slightly forward, toe to toe and whispering. Their matching scowls said neither was happy, and I suspected I was the cause.

  Denver sat on the floor with a plump tuxedo cat and an apple. He’d hooked headphones over his ears and was staring at a handheld device with swimming cartoon goldfish. He laughed as the cat pawed at the screen.

  “Well?” Grady said, directing my attention back to the adults in the room. He’d removed his hand from my back in favor of planting it on his narrow hip. “What are you doing here, Martin?” His voice remained impressively civil despite a distinctly dangerous look in his eye.

  Denver’s grandpa bristled and straightened. “I came to see my wife is safe.”

  “I told you she was,” Grady said. “I told you not to come.”

  Martin bristled. “I needed time to see where she’s staying, explore the town, interview her security staff.”

  “No. You didn’t,” Grady said. “I told you I would watch over her, and you promised to trust me.”

  I eyeballed the two men. They were nothing alike in appearance, though both were tall and at the moment, unhappy. To me, Grady always looked as if he’d just come in from a long day of working outdoors. He preferred jeans, T-shirts, and boots to any sort of uniform or suit. He was tan and sculpted with an ever-present two-day stubble and carefree wind-styled hair. Martin was lean and sophisticated in appearance, wearing high-end clothing and dress shoes. His cheeks were smooth, his skin fair, and his haircut likely cost more than my wardrobe. It blew the old adage about women marrying men like their fathers right out of the water.

  Martin’s expression sharpened and his stance turned rigid. “Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same for Amy.”

  Grady’s jaw set. “Don’t bring Amy into this. This isn’t about her, and it’s not about me. It’s about you. Coming here was stupid and selfish. You have protocols for a reason. You need to get out of here and follow them.” He shot a pointed look at Denver on the floor. “If anything happens to him because of you, I will never stop blaming you. Neither would Amy.”

  Blood drained momentarily from Martin’s face, then his complexion slowly turned red. “How dare you.”

  Grady ignored the accusation. “What were you doing with my son today?”

  “Trying to get to know him,” Martin snapped. “He’s my grandson and he didn’t even recognize me.”

  “Whose fault is that?” Grady asked. “Not his. He’s had enough loss. I only allow people in Denver’s life who aren’t going anywhere.”

  The older couple turned their eyes on me.

  I blushed again, taking acute interest in the mosaic tile floor.

  “Then you show up, knowing you can’t stay,” Grady continued. “You say you want to bond with him, but you know you don’t have time. For about a dozen reasons, Martin, go home.”

  I’d been trying to keep up with the conversation until Grady implied I wasn’t going anywhere. I wasn’t, but did he mean it the way everyone else in the room had taken it? Myself included? Had Grady allowed Denver to grow attached to me because he wanted me to be around?

  The senator released a heavy sigh, then motioned us to a table fit for twelve in the next room. “Let’s sit. Coffee will be served soon.”

  Grady seated his palm against the small of my back again, and I curled my toes inside my shoes to deal with the corresponding electric current running through me.

  I gawked at the impressive wooden columns, wainscoting, and muraled ceiling above another priceless chandelier. How was every room I entered impossibly more fabulous than the last? “Your home is beautiful,” I said, taking a seat beside Grady.

  “Thank you,” the senator said, inclining her head magnanimously.

  Martin watched Grady and me closely, his gaze making a circuit from one of our faces to the other. “What’s your relationship to this woman?” he asked Grady.

  “She’s
my friend and Denise’s. And she’s important to Denver.”

  My heart thudded happily.

  “She’s a tea shop owner,” Martin stated. His lips curled distastefully, as if my occupation was akin to puppy puncher. “What can the two of you possibly have in common?”

  I opened my mouth to protest but I wasn’t sure how, and I was more than a little interested in hearing Grady’s answer. I folded my hands in my lap and waited.

  “Everly was the first friend I made here,” Grady said. “We met the day I arrived, and I accused her of murder.”

  The senator rolled her eyes, as if she might’ve heard this story before.

  Martin frowned. “What?”

  Grady’s lips twitched, fighting a smile. “I thought she killed an old man. She set me straight. Proved me wrong—and never once blamed me for it. She was the first person here I told about Amy. She was the first to meet Denver, and she has been the one and only person in this town who consistently looks at me as if I’m not about to explode. Even when I am.”

  I pressed my lips together, fighting a smile of my own.

  “She and I have been through a lot together in the past year, and it’s made us close,” Grady said. “We have a lot in common. Most of which you wouldn’t understand.”

  “And she’s the reason you refuse to return to the Marshals Service?” Martin asked with barely tamped hostility.

  “I won’t return to the marshals because I’m happy here,” Grady said. “Denver is thriving, and I won’t put work or anything else before him again.”

  Martin’s anger slowly faded, as if Grady’s words had somehow poked a hole in his balloon of rage. “I’m getting out too,” he said.

  The senator swiveled to face him. “What do you mean you’re getting out?”

  “I’m retiring,” Martin said. “When you told me about the threats made against you, I was devastated. I got into this business to protect people, and I want to spend my days protecting you, not some foreign dignitary. I want to be here for you. I want to be your first man.”