by Kat Martin
Both of them took seats in front of his desk, and a few minutes later Anson walked in and closed the door. They both rose to greet him.
“It’s good to see you, Jessie.” Anson smiled and reached out to take hold of her hand, clasping it in both of his and holding it a little longer than necessary. His greeting held the kind of warmth Bran understood. Clearly, the major, in his thirties, brown-haired and good-looking, would like to get to know Colonel Kegan’s daughter a whole lot better.
Not going to happen, Bran thought, feeling an unexpected surge of possessiveness. For the moment, Jessie was under his protection. The look in the major’s dark eyes did not sit well.
Jessie made the introductions. “Thomas, this is Brandon Garrett. He was a close friend of my brother’s. They served together in Afghanistan.”
The major looked him over, taking in his height and build. “I understand Daniel Kegan was Special Forces. Shall I assume you were, as well?”
“That’s right.”
“It’s good to meet you.” But it was clear he saw Bran as a rival and he wasn’t pleased. The men shook hands, then the major took a seat behind his desk. “What can I do for you?”
“We have some additional questions about the investigation,” Jessie said. “Also, we need a list of the visitors who came to see my father, particularly those who were there the day he died. I was told you have that information.”
The major released a weary sigh. “I was hoping you’d be able to deal with what happened and move on with your life, Jessie. Obviously that hasn’t happened.”
“My father was innocent, Thomas. I intend to prove it.”
“You must believe I did my best to defend the charges against him. Espionage, larceny, and treason are extremely serious offenses. Everything pointed to your father’s guilt, particularly the hundred thousand dollars in his offshore bank account.”
“He explained that to you,” she said. “That’s what you told me. Someone set up the account in his name and put the money in to make it look like he was involved in the theft.”
“Yes, that’s what he said.”
“How did the CID find the account?” Bran asked.
“They had a warrant to search his home. MPs took his computer, among other evidence. The bank information was found on his laptop.”
Bran leaned forward. “Very convenient, wouldn’t you say? A secret bank account worth a cool hundred grand sitting right there on his computer—the payoff for deadly chemical weapons possibly worth a hundred times that much on the black market, maybe a whole lot more?”
Anson’s jaw subtly tightened. “Even if you’re right, there’s no way to prove it.”
“I guess we’ll see,” Bran said.
“The ME mentioned you had access to the security camera video,” Jessie said. “I assume you’ve looked at it.”
The major’s gaze swung back to her and the warmth returned. “Of course. There was only a limited amount of footage, but I didn’t see anything unusual.”
“What about the stolen munitions?” Bran asked. “Have they been recovered yet?”
“Unfortunately, the weapons are still missing. No sign of them has turned up so far.”
“Got any idea how much inventory was taken?” he asked.
“The information is classified so even if I knew—which I don’t—I couldn’t tell you.”
“Who’s leading the investigation?” Bran pressed.
“General Holloway, head of CMA. He’s working closely with the project manager at Weidner to locate them.”
“Weidner Engineering is the civilian operation in charge of weapons destruction,” Bran said just to clarify.
“That is correct.” Anson’s gaze returned to Jessie and softened. “I’m sorry this happened, Jessie. Your father chose me to represent him on the basis of my reputation. He could have hired civilian counsel, but he believed strongly in the military system of justice.”
“I know he did. I’m sure he had every confidence in you, Thomas.”
“Unfortunately, aside from what he told me, I have no way of knowing whether he was innocent or guilty. Either way, it was my job to defend him. I wish I’d had a chance to dig deeper into his case, perhaps find something that would corroborate his story. As it happened, time ran out.”
“I don’t believe time simply ran out, Major,” she said. “I believe someone murdered him. In order to prove it, we need that list of visitors. We may also need to exhume his body.”
Anson blinked, obviously surprised. “You would need some sort of grounds for that.”
“I understand. Once we have them, will you handle it for me?”
The major breathed out slowly and rose from his chair. “I’ll help if I can. It’s the least I can do.”
SEVEN
They couldn’t get in to see General Holloway, her father’s superior, until he returned from a meeting at the Blue Grass Depot in Kentucky.
In the meantime, Jessie set up an appointment with the project manager for Weidner, a man named Robert De La Garza, for ten o’clock the next morning. She also hoped to speak to Charles Frazier again. Frazier said he’d reported the missing munitions directly to the CMA because her father hadn’t acted swiftly enough. He was concerned the weapons were a threat to national security.
She wanted Bran to question him, see if he could get something more out of him.
Over cheesesteak sandwiches and fries during a late lunch at Charley’s on the base, they took a cursory look at the visitors list, but nothing jumped out at either one of them. A few of the names were unfamiliar, people her father knew that Jessie had never met. They needed to follow up on those, but equally important was discovering who had contact with her father before his heart attack.
Kitchen stewards and orderlies, nurses, even doctors couldn’t be overlooked.
“You realize you could be following a wild-goose chase,” Bran reminded her as they finished the last of their meals and began to pack up paper cups and soiled wrappers.
“I know I could be wrong, but I just don’t think I am.”
He tossed the trash in the can. “I believe in following your gut. We’ll keep working our latest theory, see what turns up.”
Jessie flashed him a grateful smile. “Thanks for sticking with me on this.”
He just nodded.
Before they left the base, Bran stopped to pick up his weapon at the armory. It was late in the afternoon when the SUV rolled along Club House Drive, heading back to the resort.
“Besides going over the main list of visitors,” Bran said, “we need to find out who else came in contact with your father that last day.”
Jessie sighed. “It’s not going to be easy.”
“We’ll start on it tomorrow. I think we’ve done enough for today.”
Weariness washed over her. “It’s after five. I could really use a glass of wine.” She summoned a tired smile. “Scratch that. I’d kill for a cosmo.”
Bran chuckled. “We can do that. Too early for supper, but I could use a snack of some kind.” Instead of heading for the building that housed their second-floor suite, Bran drove up in front of the entrance to the resort and parked the SUV.
As they walked into the open, high-ceilinged lobby with its gray rock walls and heavy wooden beams, Jessie was reminded that today was October 31. Jack-o’-lanterns flickered on tables, orange and black crepe paper draped from ceilings, gauzy spiderwebs clung to walls, and the staff all wore costumes.
“Halloween,” Jessie said. “My least favorite holiday.”
“What?” Bran grinned. “You don’t like ghosts and goblins?”
“Devils and monsters and ghouls? Are you kidding me? When I was little, some of the costumes people wore freaked me out. Though I did like trick-or-treating, getting all that free candy.”
Bran led her into the bar, whic
h was also decorated in orange and black. They sat down in front of a window looking over the pool toward the mountains. A candle flickered in a miniature pumpkin in the middle of the table. The room was about half full, many of the customers wearing costumes or masks.
A waitress dressed as a pirate wench in a low-cut white cotton blouse, black corset, and very short, red gathered skirt came by to take their orders. Long dark hair hung down her back, and her bosom nearly spilled over the top of her blouse.
The waitress gave Bran a thorough glance and smiled. “Happy Halloween. What can I get you?”
Jessie had a hunch the woman was offering more than a drink, but Bran didn’t seem to notice.
“Cosmo for the lady,” he said. “Club soda with a lime for me.”
Jessie’s gaze shot to his face. “Seriously?”
He just smiled. “And bring us an order of those wings that guy over there is eating.” He glanced at Jessie. “Anything else you want?”
She just shook her head.
The waitress smiled at Bran. “I’ll be right back.” She sashayed away, hips swaying, but Bran’s gaze didn’t follow.
“You’re not drinking,” Jessie said.
“I don’t drink when I’m working. The glass of wine I had last night was it till this is over. Add to that, I’m carrying.”
Carrying. For an instant, she had forgotten it wasn’t long ago people were shooting at her. That, and the reminder she was nothing more than a debt he believed he owed her brother, did nothing to heighten her mood.
Bran glanced around at their colorful surroundings. “My brothers and I used to love Halloween. Mom would let us pick our own costumes, and we all tried to outdo each other to see which of us could look the scariest.”
“I’m more a Thanksgiving and Christmas person myself. I look forward to the holiday season every year.” The thought sobered her. She wouldn’t be having Thanksgiving or Christmas with her father this year. Her mom was gone. Her brother, Danny. Now her dad. She would face the holidays alone. She felt a quick burn behind her eyes and glanced away, hoping Bran wouldn’t notice.
He reached over and covered her hand where it rested on top of the table. “Hey, I can see where your thoughts just went. You’re welcome at our house. Chase and his wife, Harper, are planning to make a big Thanksgiving dinner. They’re newlyweds, and Harper is excited to be hosting. There’ll be other people there too, friends of the family. For Christmas, we’re all flying down to the family ranch out in the Texas Hill Country. It’s real pretty out there.”
She wiped an unexpected tear from her cheek. “That’s really nice of you, but I’m sure I’ll find something to do.” She managed a half-hearted smile. “I’m just not used to Dad being gone, you know? It doesn’t seem quite real.”
She toyed with the paper napkin the waitress had set in front of her. “Dad was my rock. He was always there when I needed him. I miss him every day.” She looked Bran straight in the face. “I’m going to clear his name, Bran. No matter what it takes.”
He squeezed her hand. “We’re only getting started. The next few days should be interesting.”
The drinks and wings came. Bran helped himself, and they talked and began to relax. She probably shouldn’t be drinking because Bran was looking better and better. She wanted to reach out and brush back the curl of dark hair that had fallen over his forehead. She wanted to run her hands over all those glorious muscles beneath his shirt.
Inwardly she sighed. She didn’t have sex with men she had only just met, no matter how attractive they were. After Ray Cummings, she wasn’t sure she would ever have sex again—though she had tried on two separate occasions. Guys she had been dating for a while and believed their relationship might be going somewhere. Both attempts had been disastrous, embarrassing for both of them and especially her.
She finished her cosmo and was thinking about ordering another when Bran rose abruptly from his chair.
“Time to go,” he said, but the wings he’d ordered were only half gone.
“What is it?”
“Not sure. Couple guys came in after we did. Fellow wearing a Frankenstein mask and the guy next to him with a skeleton face. They’re in jeans and sneakers, not costumes, and they seemed a little too interested in us. Don’t look at them. Just get up and let’s go.”
Jessie stood and started walking. Bran tossed some bills on the table to cover the drinks, and a sizable tip, and they crossed the room to the door.
“Keep walking,” Bran said. “I’ll be right behind you.” He held back long enough to see if the men were following, then caught up with her a few paces later.
“They were paying their tab, getting ready to leave. Head for the car.” They walked hurriedly in that direction, Bran clicked the door locks, and they climbed inside. His hand went automatically to the Glock clipped to his belt beneath his shirt, then he started the engine.
They drove out of the lot, following the road around the main building to the structure where they were staying. Hurriedly, they climbed the wooden stairs to the outdoor corridor that led to the rooms.
Bran stopped her at the door to the suite. “Wait here.” He pulled his pistol and went inside, came out a few seconds later, his jacket off, his gun reholstered.
“All clear. Go in and lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone but me. I’ll be right back.”
Jessie walked into the room and Bran closed the door. She counted to ten, then turned the knob and cracked the door enough to see what was going on in the corridor. Bran had almost reached the staircase. He took a quick look over the railing, then flattened himself behind one of the wooden pillars supporting the roof.
Jessie could hear the sound of quiet footfalls coming up to the second floor, and her pulse slammed into gear. She glanced around the suite in search of a weapon, wished she had the revolver she kept for self-defense in her apartment. She found a black, long-handled LED flashlight in Bran’s gear bag and raced back to the door.
Through the crack, she saw two men top the stairs, one around six feet, with what looked like a tattoo on the side of his neck and dark brown hair pulled back in a man bun. The other guy was way taller, a mountain of a man, thick-shouldered and muscular, with a bald head and straggly blond beard. Each held a semiautomatic pistol.
Jessie’s heart raced as Bran stepped out from behind the pillar, grabbed the guy with the tattoo by the arm and twisted, wrenching the gun out of his hand, sending it flying. Bran spun and shot his leg out in a sideways kick that smashed against the bald man’s wrist, knocking his pistol into the air. The gun flew over the railing of the balcony, and the fight was on.
Gripping the flashlight, Jessie ran toward the men as Bran threw a series of punches that sent the tattooed guy careening backward, crashing to the floor of the corridor. Bran whirled to face the bald man, ducking a sharp, heavy blow and throwing a powerful punch that buried fist-deep in the man’s stomach, doubling him over.
The tattooed man shoved to his feet and charged, and Jessie swung the heavy LED flashlight, hitting him in the head and sending him staggering into the wall. His man bun came loose, and his hair fell down to his shoulders. Swearing foully, he pushed to his feet and rushed her, stopped before he reached her when he saw the fight was nearly over and Bran was winning.
With another foul curse, he spun and ran in the opposite direction, toward a set of stairs at the far end of the hall.
Bran was still throwing punches when one of the doors along the corridor flew open and a slender woman with a little girl in a pink princess costume and an adorable little boy in a plush, black-and-yellow leopard outfit walked out into the hall.
Everything happened at once. A knife appeared in the bald, bearded man’s hand. His arm shot toward the little boy and wrapped around his neck, yanking him off his feet.
“Teddy!” his mother screamed as the bald man held the squirming child agains
t his thick chest, the blade of his knife pressed against the little boy’s throat.
“Nobody move! Do what I say and the boy won’t get hurt!”
So far Bran hadn’t pulled his weapon. Jessie thought he didn’t want to escalate the situation. Now his hand hovered over the pistol grip.
“The boy is coming with me to the parking lot,” the bald man said. In the lot below, a car engine roared to life. “When I get there, I’ll let him go. Anybody tries to interfere, I slit the kid’s throat.” He looked hard at Bran. “You understand?”
Bran inhaled deeply, then slowly released the breath he’d taken and appeared to relax, but Jessie recognized the tension in the muscles across his shoulders and the back of his neck.
“No one will interfere,” Bran said calmly. “But I’ll be right behind you all the way to the parking lot.”
Teddy was crying, calling for his mother as the big bald man hauled him toward the stairs.
“My baby,” the woman sobbed, holding on to her little girl, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please don’t let him hurt my baby.”
“Stay here,” Bran commanded. “Stay with her, Jessie.”
Jessie managed to nod, the flashlight shaking in her hand. When the bald man was halfway down the stairs, Bran drew his weapon and followed, and Jessie and the mother ran for the railing to see what was happening.
Tires screeched as a white pickup truck skidded to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and the passenger door flew open.
“Toss your weapon!” the bald man shouted at Bran.
Bran leveled the gun at the man’s bald head. “Not gonna happen. Let the boy go and you can leave.”
Silence fell. The truck engine idled.
“Holster your pistol and I’ll let the boy go. Otherwise he comes with me.”
With little choice, Bran holstered his gun. The man tossed the little boy the few feet between them and ran for the truck, and Bran caught the child in his arms. The pickup roared away, leaving the smell of burning rubber in its wake, and Jessie breathed a shaky sigh of relief.