His Soldier Under Siege

by Regan Black

  Despite the banter, Derek didn’t relax much. Deep lines bracketed his mouth and she suspected questions were fighting to get out. If Hank would leave, she might be willing to give him answers.

  The pizza arrived and Hank showed no sign of making a polite or swift exit. Resigned, she pulled out three plates and hoped they could find a conversation topic that didn’t have anything to do with her crummy day. The respite wouldn’t last, but a distraction would be welcome.

  Derek and Hank seemed to reach a truce and were talking cars, something the men in her life seemed to thrive on. Her older brother, Matt, was currently rebuilding a car with his son, Caleb. In true Riley tradition, the sweat equity would make it Caleb’s when they finished.

  She treasured those grease-stained days when she’d helped her dad with her first car. It warmed her heart to watch Derek’s gaze light up as he shared stories of working in the garage or yard with his dad and little brother before tragedy left them orphans.

  Though the conversation flowed, she felt Hank’s attention on her bruises, her picked-over slice of pizza and the untouched wine in her glass. Soon he’d be demanding the whole story. Buying a few minutes, she ducked into the kitchen and whipped up a quick frosting for the brownies before she carried the treats out on a platter. With luck, the rich sweets would ease the sting of the conversation she knew was coming.

  Hank picked up a second brownie and devoured it in two big bites. When he’d swallowed, he pointed at her neck. “What happened?”

  “Looks bad, doesn’t it?” Grace nibbled at her brownie. “You don’t have to worry.” She hoped Derek would pick up on her desire to gloss over the incident. “The base security team is on it.”

  Hank’s eyes were cool. “What happened?”

  Grace Ann shrugged. “It was a psych patient most likely,” she replied as casually as possible. That was a viable explanation until the investigators found hard evidence that the suspension and attack were connected. She was tired of wrestling with what-ifs tonight. “He got confused and things got a little rough in the stairwell. It happens.”

  “Not to you,” Hank stated.

  From behind Hank, Derek gave her a quizzical look. She willed him to just let her run with this watered-down version.

  “I hope they have him locked in his room for the night,” Hank said darkly.

  “Base security is top-notch.” She managed to keep her hands away from her throat. “Derek was a huge help.”

  Derek’s eyes went wide at the compliment and Hank’s narrowed. She wished she could hit Rewind and try that again. Hank bumped Derek’s shoulder in masculine approval. “You were there?”

  “I saw the, ah, patient push her into the stairwell and followed.” Derek took a long drink of his beer, his eyes on her.

  She wanted to shower him with kisses for playing along.

  “Good man,” Hank said.

  Derek picked at the label on his beer bottle. “Good timing.”

  “So when are you heading to Mom and Dad’s?” Hank asked her.

  She should have known the question was coming, but Hank and everyone else knew she didn’t run away when life got sticky. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “I was planning to call them after my shower. Now I suppose you can fill them in for me.”

  Thinking about running had been enough of a slip. Her parents had raised her to stand firm. She reached for her wine and changed her mind. Going to the kitchen for a glass of milk, she returned to the sofa. The cold liquid after the smooth chocolate did wonders for her raw throat.

  Removed from the shift rotation, she could make Kevin’s recovery her top priority. She might not be able to do much right away beyond lending Derek an ear or a guest room as necessary, but those things would help them both. Besides, if the stairwell attack and the busted window were isolated incidents, there was no reason to worry her parents. If the Riley Hunter was behind the suspension or the other trouble, she would handle it right here, on her own. Just as Matt had done when he had been the target.

  She would not retreat simply because someone was trying to torment her father through his children.

  “Where do they live?” Derek asked, breaking a brownie in two and giving her half.

  The man had a way about him. Observant. Kind. How would Hank react if she just leaned into Derek’s calming strength? It took some effort to steer her mind back onto the right track.

  “They have a new house on the coast of North Carolina,” Hank said. “They’re hoping to see you, Gracie.”

  “They will. I plan to go down for Memorial Day weekend. When do you have to get back to DC?” she asked Hank, stuffing the rest of the brownie into her mouth.

  He shifted in the chair, not quite meeting her gaze. Suddenly she understood his real intention here. “Oh, no. You are not babysitting me.”

  “Adult-sitting?” he ventured.

  Her temper lit like a match to paper and she surged to her feet. “No one tried adult-sitting Matt.”

  Hank stared at her. “Dad sent Alex. Remember?”

  Alex Gadsden was Matt’s best friend from West Point, currently serving with Special Forces. Her father had called in a favor, putting Alex in DC as extra protection for Matt during the Riley Hunter’s attacks. Momentarily deflated, she wasn’t ready to give in. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t need you skulking around playing bodyguard.”

  Hank stood, forcing her to look up to meet his gaze. “I can work the investigation from the Pentagon office. Since I’m close, Dad asked—”

  “Dad knows I’m a capable woman,” she interrupted. So what if the suspension and stairwell attack rattled her? She was safe now and those reactions would pass with a little time.

  “Dad’s concerned, Gracie. Mom’s flat-out worried.”

  She stalked away from him. They could not have this argument in front of Derek. This was exactly the angst-filled drama the two of them avoided in their private, friends-with-benefits arrangement. Bad enough she still had to tell him she should’ve been on that helicopter. How could she explain that some faceless, nameless revenge-seeker was the reason Kevin had taken her place?

  She wasn’t ready to face her parents, regardless of the potential to surf and soak up the spring sunshine. Her mom, an excellent nurse with plenty of experience with soldiers, would see right through Grace Ann’s thin defenses. When she wasn’t working or away with Derek, the ugly memories from the tragedy at the village school during her deployment tended to surface, demanding attention. Tears stung her nose and the back of her raw throat. On a silent oath, she struggled to regain her composure. She was an emotional disaster zone and this wasn’t the place for the dam to break.

  “They’ll get over it. I am not running.”

  She was a Riley, raised to stand proud and serve. To fight for those who couldn’t. She would not cave to the antics of a bully, no matter how many thugs he hired to harass her.

  Hank’s gaze narrowed and she realized too late that she’d moved into a position almost behind Derek, as if he was the shield she preferred over her own family.

  “Grace Ann.” Hank’s voice was edged with ice. “We should discuss this privately.”

  “I can go,” Derek offered. “A hotel is—”

  “You’re staying,” Grace Ann stated. “I invited you.” Sort of. She glared at Hank. “Derek gets the guest room.” She stepped forward, drilled a finger into her brother’s shoulder. “You’ll have to take the couch.”

  “You have three bedrooms,” Hank argued.

  Grace Ann was already marching down the hall. “My house, my rules. Beds are for invited guests,” she hollered back. “Deal with it,” she finished before she gave in to a fit of coughing.

  She slammed her bedroom door and locked it on principle. Hiding in her room might make her an ostrich, but she couldn’t handle another unpleasant or difficult discussion tonight.

&nbs
p; Exhausted, physically and emotionally, she needed space. Sore from her head to her toes, she went to her bathroom for some ibuprofen and a glass of water before crawling into bed. If she didn’t feel better by morning, she would give in and get an exam.

  Sleep didn’t come quickly.

  In the dark, she could finally admit she’d been braced for more trouble for some time now. Assuming at least part of her wretched day had been orchestrated by the madman set on settling some score with her dad, she needed to come up with a plan to move forward without sacrificing her privacy or independence.

  Curling up on her side, she sucked in a breath as the incidents rolled through her mind in an unrelenting cycle: the helicopter crash, the suspension, the stairwell, the broken window. It didn’t seem possible that one man could have that kind of reach. And yet Hank, currently working to identify the Riley Hunter, would try and connect the dots.

  Derek deserved to know why his brother was in the hospital. Kevin deserved an apology.

  Since she didn’t believe in procrastination, she could already see that tomorrow wouldn’t be much better than today.

  * * *

  Derek watched Hank cautiously. Caring about and caring for a sibling were two different things. He recognized the worry etched on Hank’s face and sympathized completely.

  Tamping down his curiosity about why Grace Ann would need a babysitter, he cleaned up the dinner dishes and washed the bowl, a little intimidated by her bright red stand mixer. The brownies had been the best he’d had since his mom died. Maybe Grace Ann could do justice to the Sayer family recipe.

  He was about to root around her cabinets for plastic or foil to cover the brownies left in the pan when Hank came in, opened a drawer and handled the task.

  “She’s stubborn,” he muttered.

  “I’ve learned most people are,” Derek said diplomatically. “I can leave,” he offered again. Though he hadn’t planned on spending the night, the idea held considerable appeal. He’d expected to feel awkward or pressured. Other than the tangle with Hank, being here felt remarkably right. What did that mean?

  Hank let loose a bark of laughter. “If you leave she’ll flay me in the morning.”

  Derek didn’t know how to interpret that, so he kept his mouth shut. There was more going on here than just her suspension. There was a reason she’d fudged the details on the incident in the stairwell and he’d honor her privacy until she confided in him about it.

  “She thinks the world of your brother,” Hank said; taking two more beers from the fridge, he offered one to Derek.

  “Yeah, me, too.” Derek popped off the cap and followed Hank back to the front room.

  The bigger man flopped down on the couch and drank deeply from the bottle. “What do you make of the busted window in the garage?” he asked.

  “Bad luck?” Derek watched the dark, quiet street through the front window. “It rattled her,” he added, trying to block the memory of how fragile she’d appeared in the moment. “Reasonable considering how her day ended.”

  “Did the cops find anything?”

  “A partial footprint,” Derek replied. “Nothing was stolen or out of place in either the garage or the house. The police think it was kids on a dare.”

  “You don’t sound convinced,” Hank observed.

  “I’m a corporate lawyer, not a cop,” Derek said. “It just seems like a lot of bad luck for one person in a day.”

  “Some days are like that,” Hank muttered.

  Derek couldn’t argue that. He thought of Kevin and the long road of recovery ahead of him. According to the doctors, his brother had at least two more days in the hospital, then a transfer to a skilled nursing facility for a few weeks. He’d been warned Kevin would need assistance for the first week or two at home. The commander, LTC Bingham, promised Derek all the support the unit could offer Kevin.

  Tomorrow, he’d have to coordinate with his office for an extended telecommuting schedule. “I should probably be there when Kevin wakes up in the morning,” he mused.

  “Probably,” Hank agreed. “But since I’m not ready to meet my maker, I’m afraid I can’t let you leave without explaining it to Gracie yourself.” Hank studied the beer bottle in his hands. Sitting forward, he placed the half-empty bottle on the coffee table. “I didn’t mean to make her bad day worse. Patricia will tan my hide when she hears about the way I stormed around earlier. I’m just worried.”

  “Patricia?” Derek queried. He knew Grace Ann had a big family and wanted to keep the names straight.

  “Grace Ann’s mom. Mrs. Riley is tough as nails about hospitality and manners. About everything important,” he added. “I’ve been an honorary Riley for about a decade now, but she’ll use that mom voice and remind me I should know better. Grace Ann wouldn’t have left you in the garage alone, her doors unlocked, if she didn’t trust you. I’ll get an earful for that, too.”

  He sounded so miserable about the pending recriminations, Derek considered himself fortunate he only had to worry about disappointing Kevin. Though they lived and worked in separate cities, they got together often enough and stayed in touch through calls and text messages.

  Derek was still curious about the real cause of Hank’s worry, but it wasn’t his place to stick his nose in family issues. “Were the brownies a family recipe?” he asked, hoping to lighten things up.

  “Nah. Gracie comes up with that kind of thing off the top of her head all the time. We all tease her about being a stress baker.”

  “There are worse ways to cope.”

  “You said it.” Smiling a little, Hank stood up and rubbed his hand over his regulation haircut. “Works out best for the people close enough to enjoy the results.” He stacked a couple of throw pillows on one end of the couch. “I know she’s got an alarm system and you’re here, but I’m going to stay over, anyway. It’ll ease Dad’s mind.”

  Derek stood up and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Is there anything I should know?”

  Hank sighed. “I’ve trampled enough of her boundaries for one visit. Whatever she wants to share with you really should be up to her.”

  “All right.” Derek moved toward the hallway.

  “Hey,” Hank said. “One question.”

  “Sure.” Derek paused.

  “You saw the patient who attacked her, right?”

  Derek nodded. “I did. We gave the description at the base security office.”

  “Good.” Hank’s brow furrowed. “Think you’d recognize him if you saw him again?”

  “Definitely.”

  “That is really good news,” Hank said. “Sleep well.”

  “You, too.”

  After bringing in his overnight bag from the car, Derek prepared for bed in the guest room while the uneasiness of Grace Ann’s troubles, known and unknown, circled through his mind. The memory of her being pinned to that rail would stay with him for a long time.

  Considering the majority of his next forty-eight hours would be spent in or near Kevin’s room, maybe he could use the extra time on the hospital campus to search for her assailant.

  Officially he and Grace Ann were only acquaintances. Between them there was the friends-with-benefits thing. Now that the door had been opened for something more personal, more intimate, Derek wanted to march right into that unknown territory.

  Chapter 4

  The next morning Grace Ann rose early, showered away the aches that had set in overnight and debated what to make for breakfast. It was the least she could do for Derek after the chaos of yesterday. Hank would benefit, too, if he’d stayed, but she wasn’t cooking for him.

  Today would be better. Despite the hard facts she needed to tell Derek, it had to be an easier day. She assumed he’d want to get to the hospital as early as possible and she planned to ride with him so she could pick up her car. On her way home, she’d check in at the police
station for any news about the vandal. Then it would be the hardware store to order a new window.

  She tiptoed past Hank and into the kitchen and punched the button to brew a fresh cup of coffee. Maybe if she plied her brother with a stack of pancakes, eggs and sausage he’d install the window for her before he left.

  And he would leave. Riley Hunter or a string of bad luck, she could handle herself.

  Set to silent, her cell phone display lit up with an incoming call. Her father’s smiling face filled the screen. She answered, keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t wake up Hank. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hi, sweetheart. How you holding up?”

  “I’m great,” she said, ignoring the tenderness in her throat and stiffness in her back. She should get out for a run today and work out the lingering kinks.

  “Grace Ann, it’s me.”

  She peered out into the front room where Hank was sprawled uncomfortably across her couch. With so many other things to feel guilty about, she couldn’t drum up much for him.

  “I know.” She kept her voice low as she quietly gathered ingredients for breakfast. “Sure, I’m angry about the suspension.” Mad enough to ask him to pull strings. She caught herself before the inappropriate request tumbled past her lips. “I’m livid that my friend is injured.” She glanced around to be sure Derek wasn’t in earshot. “It should’ve been me on that helicopter.”

  “That’s my girl.” Her dad’s pride came through loud and clear. “Be mad. Your mother and I are furious, too. Just don’t let temper make you overconfident or blind to your surroundings. All of us need to stay vigilant.”

  As she whisked together pancake batter, she thought about her broken garage window. It must have been a kid. Maybe Hank would call it wishful thinking, but she couldn’t see what the Riley Hunter would gain by such a petty inconvenience.

  “Can I ask who told you I was under investigation?” She started the oven to heat the sausage.

  “Bingham sent me an email. As a courtesy.”