by Regan Black
“Do you think the tree limb broke the window?” she asked.
“Not to my eye,” Radcliff said. “I called for a crime scene tech to come out and gather whatever they can find.”
She pressed her fingertips to her lips and nodded, accepting the assessment. Derek had never seen her so rattled. Of course he’d only really spent time with her on weekends, far from any real pressure. “Have there been any similar crimes in the area?”
“We always see a bump in burglary complaints when school starts up,” Radcliff answered. “Pure vandalism comes and goes.” He shrugged. “We’ll run it through the system for any similar incidents when we get back.”
Derek couldn’t be sure what Grace Ann thought, but in his mind that added up to more trouble aimed directly at her. “You don’t sound hopeful about catching the vandal.”
“It’s unlikely,” Radcliff admitted. “No sign in here or out there of the object used to break the window.” He shrugged again. “Probably a kid on a dare.”
Derek hoped the officer was right. Because of the different jurisdictions, no one was likely to connect the attack at the hospital, on federal property, with this incident in her civilian neighborhood, unless Grace Ann suggested it specifically. Something he knew she was not ready to do.
“House is clear,” Willet declared from the doorway. “I don’t think anything is out of place, but you’ll know best.”
“That’s good news,” Grace Ann said.
“Come on in and take a look.” Willet waved them closer. “Thank you for your service,” he added.
Color rose in Grace Ann’s cheeks. What had the police officer seen inside? She hadn’t yet given them more than her name, and there was no insignia on her jacket. He waited near the kitchen, as inconspicuously as possible, while she and the police officer walked the house.
With a full view of the spacious front room, Derek decided he liked her home. She’d chosen comfortable furnishings, nothing fussy and cluttered or too sparse and sterile. He noticed the framed flag and a shadow box with an award of some sort on the shelves flanking a big-screen television. He didn’t go closer, unwilling to tread on her frayed nerves. On the counter she had a framed picture from her last deployment in Afghanistan. She stood next to his brother, both of them grinning, surrounded by the rest of their team. The date was engraved on the frame. He’d seen a matching piece at Kevin’s house.
“Everything is still here,” she said when she came back into the main room.
Once again he fought the urge to gather her close. “That’s a relief.”
“It is.” Her smile lacked any real enthusiasm. “It was a long day at work,” she told the officers.
The officers promised to look into any connected complaints as Grace Ann walked them out. When they were alone again, Derek caught Grace Ann staring at the broken glass.
“Go on inside,” he said. “I’ll sweep this up and cover the window for tonight.”
“You’ve gone above and beyond already. It can wait until morning.” She glared at the mess. “It’s not like I have anywhere to be.”
She had yet to sit down with the hot tea and ice pack, and he knew she needed both. Needed to unwind. Though he expected resistance, he had no intention of leaving just yet. “Are you hungry?”
She tugged at that high collar again before meeting his gaze. “A little.”
“How is it I don’t know if you like to cook?” Camp cooking wasn’t the same as enjoying the process of building a meal at home.
“We’ve never had reason to discuss it.” Her lips twitched. “I don’t enjoy it much. Unless cookies and brownies count.”
His mouth watered. “From a mix or from scratch?” Homemade brownies were his favorite.
“Scratch.” Her sharp chin lifted in a way that made him long to nip and taste. “If you’re mixing up ingredients, might as well do it right.”
“That counts.” Baking was one thing he’d never mastered after stepping into a parental role with Kevin. Even with boxed mixes, he’d always managed to mess something up.
He pulled out his phone before she could try to send him away again. “I’ll order a pizza and you can make dessert while I clean up the garage.”
“How is it I didn’t know you’re so bossy?” She said it with a sweet smile that made him want to steal a kiss. He resisted. Barely.
“Lawyer.” He tapped the wide-bristled broom to the cement floor. “Comes with the territory.” He set to work, smiling when he heard the door close quietly behind her as she went inside.
Lawyer, pseudo-parent, oldest child: he supposed he came by his bossiness naturally. In this instance, with a woman with such vivid pain haunting her gaze, he counted it as a helpful trait rather than a hindrance.
Chapter 3
Grace Ann did not want company tonight—especially not in the form of Derek. He was temptation personified, the way he nurtured and soothed. She was sore, bordering on miserable and overwhelmed. It would be so easy to let him take care of her.
Easy, but not smart.
She wanted the house to herself because she was afraid to be alone. She needed to prove she could stand on her own, despite the horrible surprises of the day.
Strong. Unflappable. Resolute. Those were the words she kept close to her heart. Words that described generations of her ancestors, whether or not they served in the military. Rileys didn’t break and they sure didn’t break down. How could she maintain any sense of independence if bodyguards intervened or whisked her away? As soon as the Riley Hunter investigators heard about the attack in the stairwell, there would be more protective measures fencing her in. Given a chance, she could handle this on her own. She needed to do so.
Although she desperately wanted to send Derek away, she couldn’t do it simply because she felt needy and fragile. He was in the middle of a crisis, too. The prior limits of their arrangement had to give a little. Yes, it was weird having him in her personal space—her home—despite what they’d shared on their weekends away, but she’d figure it out.
She had to. She’d been raised with a strict philosophy about hospitality. Together, her parents had led by example and built a reputation for emphasizing the importance of family and community strength to the health of a soldier and the army as a whole. While her father had been blazing a trail as a command officer, her mother had worked with equal fervor developing those support programs.
Grace Ann could be hospitable. She could maintain the no-strings boundaries and keep her feelings in check, even here at home. Letting him help wasn’t weakness or fear or clinging, it was friendship. A hearty meal, decadent chocolate and sleep would do them both a world of good. Better than the simple tea and ice pack she’d planned.
Eyeing the time, she mixed up her basic brownie recipe, adding an extra oomph with chocolate chips and a swirl of peanut butter. She smiled. A serious step up from their normal fare on camping weekends.
With the brownies in the oven, she still had a good ten minutes before the earliest possible arrival on the pizza. Plenty of time to scrub away the memory of those brutal hands crushing her throat. She dashed down the hall to her bathroom.
Dropping clean yoga pants and a sweatshirt on the bench at the foot of her bed, she went into the bath and stripped while the water heated. Her reflection in the mirror gave her a start.
The deep shadows under her eyes only proved it was time to switch to a stronger eye cream. The bruises on her neck were harder to dismiss. Maybe the suspension was a good thing after all. She couldn’t treat patients looking like this, and she didn’t have the skill with makeup to hide them. This time of year it was too warm to explain a turtleneck layered under her scrubs, though hospitals were notoriously cold.
Turning from the mirror before she could start calculating where other bruises might soon appear, she stepped under the hot spray of water and lathered up, scouring away the rem
nants of the attack and her frustration over the suspension. The guilt over Kevin lingered. She doubted any amount of time or water would ease that sting.
Aware of the time, she twisted off the tap and reached for her towel. Drying off, she was grateful for the steam-fogged mirror blurring out her reflection. Through the closed bathroom door, she heard a man calling her name and felt the weight of footsteps in the hallway. The voice was deeper and far more agitated than Derek’s.
“Grace Ann! Where are you?”
Recognizing the voice, she groaned. What was Hank Lawson doing here? Though he wasn’t her brother by blood, her father had practically adopted him over a decade ago. For years, he’d been to every holiday and family gathering unless an assignment interfered.
Currently serving in the Army Criminal Investigation Command, he was the lead investigator on the Riley Hunter case. As such, he had a standing order that any reports involving the safety of the Riley siblings were forwarded to his office for review. She’d hoped to put off this more or less official discussion until tomorrow at the earliest.
“Grace Ann!” Hank’s voice boomed through the house. “Who is this guy in your garage?”
Aw, crap. She could imagine Hank gripping Derek by his collar and holding him at arm’s length like a mangy cat. Would today never end? Tugging the towel around her to cover everything important, she walked out of the bathroom just as her bedroom door flew open.
Hank filled the doorway, Derek on his heels. Both men were nearly the same height, though Hank was built like a bear and Derek was lean. They both appeared ready to leap into action to remove the other should she give the word. It would be an interesting free-for-all. Derek had the reach, but she knew Hank could fight dirty.
“Far enough.” She held up a hand. They skidded to a halt just inside the doorway. “What are you doing here?”
Hank’s gaze locked onto her neck and went dark with barely leashed fury. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “He do that?”
“If he had, he wouldn’t be here. That’s Derek Sayer. Kevin’s older brother.” She spoke with the icy calm she reserved for the worst medical crises and waited for Hank’s normally cool head and logic to catch up with the rest of him.
Hank’s face relaxed and his lips formed a silent O as the name registered. She’d called Hank right after the news of the crash reached the unit. He knew about Kevin. More importantly, he knew exactly why Kevin had been in that helicopter instead of her. Thanks to his full access to the facts, Hank would best understand the guilt weighing on her.
“Derek, this is Hank Lawson.”
“More context?” Derek’s thunderous gaze collided with hers and then he raised his hands in surrender. “Forget it.” He shook his head, backing into the hall. “I’ll go wait for the pizza.”
Hank slammed the bedroom door closed. “I found him on his phone in your garage. What’s he doing here?”
“I invited him.” It wasn’t much of a fib in the grand scheme. “This is my house, since you’ve clearly forgotten.” How dare he overstep and intrude? “Derek drove me home and we found the garage window busted. He’s helping. Not that my personal life is any of your business.”
Grabbing her clothes, she returned to the bathroom to dress. She blotted her hair with the towel and then folded it over the rack. Dressing with lightning speed, she finger-combed her hair and smoothed moisturizer over her face. It wasn’t going to get any better than this without a team of Oscar-winning makeup artists. She was too sore and weary to fuss.
Opening the door, she found Hank pacing. “Why are you here?”
His eyes were full of pity when he faced her. “I heard, okay?”
She doubted he was referring to the success of Kevin’s surgery. Arms folded over her chest, she cocked an eyebrow, her patience with him nearly gone. Still, she knew better than to volunteer information. “Heard about what?”
“C’mon, Gracie. Your suspension.”
If he’d danced a jig she’d have been less startled. She’d assumed he was here to overanalyze the attack in the stairwell.
When the Riley Hunter had gone after Matt, the first, vague threat of “you will pay” had quickly revealed the son Matt had kept a secret from the family for fourteen years, at the request of his son’s mother. Once the madman had all three of them in the crosshairs, every ugly attempt on their lives had been documented and sent anonymously through pictures and live video to torture General Riley.
Having survived the Riley Hunter’s violent plan, Matt and Bethany had finally married and were building the family they’d both always wanted. Her mom in particular was thrilled. Despite missing her first grandson’s early years, Patricia had been making up for lost time.
“You think the suspension is related to the Riley Hunter?” How could the madman know exactly which buttons to push for Matt and now for her?
“It brings those challenges back to the surface for you,” Hank said.
That seemed to be the man’s MO. During Matt and Bethany’s ordeal, Hank joined the team of investigators working the case, using his connections within the army’s Criminal Investigation Division. From her recollection of the latest update, the only motive seemed to be someone determined to deal revenge against the general using his children as pawns.
“Does Dad know about the suspension?”
Hank cringed. “He does.”
That was a pretty good indication that the bogus accusation had originated with the Riley Hunter. Her breath backed up in her lungs, fear banding across her chest. What would he try next? Had he sent someone to try to kill her in the hospital?
“I was at the Pentagon on another issue,” Hank said. “Dad asked me to check on you.”
That was Riley Code for “protect Grace Ann.” The family concern should be a comfort, especially in light of the alarming tactics the madman employed. Would running help? No. Where was her fight? She was better than this unfocused dread and uncertainty brewing inside her.
“I rescheduled my meetings as soon as he called,” Hank continued. “You know he doesn’t believe the accusation. Naturally, he’s worried for you, Gracie. With good reason.”
It gave her chills to think about how close she’d come to losing her older brother and the new sister-in-law and nephew she was just getting to know. It was bad enough having Matt’s secrets revealed, but having him targeted by what amounted to an invisible enemy had been torture. He and his new family had survived, and the Riley Hunter had apparently conceded the contest to Matt. The attacks had stopped, gone dormant. Until now, if she was reading Hank right.
Instinctively, her hand fluttered up to her neck. Hank noticed and she wished she’d chosen a top that covered the tender area.
He stepped closer, studying the marks on her neck. “Who did this?”
“It was random.” If Hank had heard about the attack, there was no point rehashing it. If he hadn’t, there was no point tossing gasoline on the Riley Hunter fire. “I’m fine.” She pasted a smile on her face and spread her arms wide. “Let’s go have pizza.”
“You can talk to me, Gracie,” Hank said.
“I know. I am.” She opened the bedroom door and the rich aroma of chocolate wafted in. “Smells like the brownies are nearly done. Come on.”
No amount of anger or worry would make Hank dumb enough to let the treats burn.
They found Derek eyeing the oven timer as if he expected the appliance to turn into a man-eating monster when the countdown finished. Ignoring the hard looks the men exchanged, she welcomed the jolt of cold tile on her bare feet as she stepped into her kitchen. Here, at least, was a corner of the world where she was in complete control.
When the brownies were cooling on a rack, she offered each of her guests a beer and poured herself a glass of red wine. She needed something stronger than tea and the idea of an ice pack after the hot shower felt all wrong.
“How is Kevin?” Hank asked Derek as they settled on the stools at the counter that bridged kitchen and front room.
She saw the blatant effort to make amends was skeptically received, though Derek kept it civil. “He looks rough to me, but everyone says he’ll make a full recovery.”
“Is he in ICU? Is that why you aren’t with him at the hospital?”
Hearing the judgment behind the words, she shot Hank the quelling look she’d learned from her mother. She felt Derek’s eyes on her throat, as gentle and warm as a silk scarf. She was grateful the sweatshirt hid goose bumps rising on her arms.
“Derek will have plenty of time with Kevin in the days ahead. No one rests well in a bedside chair and he’s overdue for some quality sleep.” Her explanation put a halt to any speculation or argument. “I’ve invited him to stay over,” she said, daring either of them to contradict her.
“It’s stressful when a call like that comes.” Hank studied his beer bottle. “Pretty stressful making the call, too.”
Her bonus brother had a compassionate streak a mile wide, though he rarely trusted anyone outside the family enough to show it. “Hank is the fourth son my dad always wanted,” Grace Ann said, finally giving Derek the context he’d requested.
It wasn’t as if they were in a normal relationship or he had any reason to be jealous. As a friend, though, she was happy to clarify how Hank fit into her life. She and Derek had always been open about seeing other people. For her part, going out had become more risk and far less enjoyable since they’d all been put on alert with the Riley Hunter.
“General Riley practically adopted me out of boot camp,” Hank said, a wistful smile brightening his face. “He was a commander at my first post and found out I didn’t have any family to go home to over a holiday break.”
“He did everything but file a formal petition and change Hank’s name,” Grace Ann added. “Once Mom fell for him, the rest of our votes didn’t count. He’s the extra brother I didn’t really need,” she teased.
“That’s me.” Hank raised his beer. “Superfluous and proud.”
