Unpredictable Risk (R.I.S.C. Book 5)

by Anna Blakely

  Brynnon glanced over to the far wall where Grant was standing. With his arms crossed in front of him, he had his back against the wall, and the scowl she’d thought was starting to vanish more prevalent than ever. And he was staring at her.

  Looking away, Brynnon had thought the olive branch she’d offered in the truck had done the trick. Apparently not. Maybe he just hates kids.

  Her gut tightened at the thought. Which was a ridiculous reaction because, hello, it wasn’t like they were ever going to date, let alone get to the point where they’d discuss having kids.

  You need to get laid.

  Billy’s earlier words ran through her mind, and Brynnon was starting to think he was right. Too bad the one man she wanted to fix that particular issue was about as hands-off as a guy could get.

  “You weren’t kidding about him being grumpy,” Angie continued. “The guy looks absolutely miserable.”

  “Told ya.” Brynnon pushed away her worthless thoughts of sex with Grant.

  “Maybe it’s been a while.”

  “A while?”

  “You know. Sex.”

  “Angie!” Brynnon looked to make sure the kids weren’t listening. “There are children here.”

  “Who are all too busy playing with their new toys to give a damn about what we’re saying.”

  “Still. They might hear you.”

  “Quit trying to divert the conversation.” Her knowledgeable friend smirked. “I’m telling you, the second you two get back to your place, you need to jump his bones.”

  “He’s my bodyguard, Ang. Not a date.”

  “So, tell him you need him to guard your body a little closer.”

  Brynnon couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re insufferable.”

  “And you’re suffering. From lackofdickitis.”

  Barking out a laugh, Brynnon covered her mouth to keep from drawing attention their way. “Stop,” she laughed behind her palm. “Seriously.”

  “I am serious. When was the last time you had sex with something that didn’t require batteries?”

  Brynnon glanced around again, praying no one was listening. “I’m not having this conversation. Besides, he’s not even my type.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” her friend agreed. “I can’t imagine you being attracted to such a tall, dark, and seriously built sex machine like him.”

  Refusing to comment, Brynnon stood silently while Angie continued fueling the fire. “Come on, Bryn. Look at him. He’s like a buff, walking, talking, life-size sex doll.”

  “That may be, but he’s also the most impatient, grumpy, bossy-ass man I’ve ever known.”

  Angie’s lips curled into a slow smile. “Oh, man. It’s worse than I thought.”

  Brynnon’s brows knitted together. “What’s worse?”

  “You.” The other woman grinned. “You’ve got it bad for the man. Way worse than I thought.”

  “I do not.”

  “Oh, yes, you do. And I’d be willing to bet, from the way he keeps looking at you, the man would be more than happy to offer up a cure for what ails you.”

  “Sorry to be the one to tell you, my well-intentioned friend, but you’d lose your ass on that bet.”

  Angie crossed her flannel-covered arms. “And you know that how?”

  “He told me.”

  Her brown brows grew into high arches. “He told you? Wait, so have you two actually talked about this? When? What was said? Good God, woman, why haven’t you told me any of this?”

  “Shh...” Brynnon hushed her friend. “I haven’t told you because the conversation only happened a couple hours ago.”

  Dark brows rose. “Seriously?”

  Rolling her eyes, Brynnon nodded. “I know. It was stupid. I never should’ve opened my big mouth.”

  Angie grinned. “You initiated it?”

  “Like an idiot, yes. Unfortunately, I did.”

  Throwing her hands on her narrow hips, Brynnon’s friend demanded, “Details, woman. Now.”

  On a sigh, Brynnon proceeded to share all about the conversation she’d had with Grant. Saying it out loud made the possibility of them becoming more seem less promising than she’d initially thought. On the other hand, she was pretty proud for putting herself out there, regardless.

  “He wants you.” Angie grinned from ear to ear.

  “So?”

  “So? He’s a man, and he verbally admitted that he wants to sleep with you.”

  “Weren’t you listening? Yes, he admitted he wanted me. But right after that, he basically told me nothing could happen between us. At least not while he’s still my bodyguard, and who knows how long that ordeal is going to last. So, none of it matters.”

  “Like hell, it doesn’t. You just have to tear down his defenses.”

  “Right,” Brynnon scoffed. “Look at the guy, Ang. Does he look like a man who’s easy to break?”

  When her friend turned her gaze toward where Grant was still standing, Brynnon shot out her hand and grabbed the other woman’s arm. “I didn’t mean that literally! Now he’s probably going to know we’re talking about him.”

  “Oh, he knows, sweetie.”

  Unable to help it herself, Brynnon slid a glance his way. Sure, enough, he was staring right back at her. Even from this distance, she could feel the electrical current running between them.

  Maybe it was best if they didn’t sleep together. If the guy made her feel this way with twenty feet spanning between them, she’d probably spontaneously combust if they so much as kissed.

  Brynnon groaned. “I’m going to the restroom.” When Angie started to say something else, Brynnon raised her palm. “Alone.”

  “Fine.” Angie smirked. “But there’s only one cure for lackofdickitis, and it sure as hell ain’t your dildo.”

  “Jesus.” Brynnon shook her head. “Remind me again why I invited you here?”

  “Because you love me.”

  With a hand on her arm, Brynnon smiled. “Yeah. I really do.” She stepped past her friend. “I’ll be right back.”

  Though it took a lot of strength, she forced herself to look straight ahead, not relaxing until she made her way around the corner out of his line of sight. Ducking into the ladies’ room, she did her thing and took her time washing her hands.

  When she’d given Grant the whole ‘neat lines’ spiel, she’d felt confident in her ability to wear him down. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Angie’s words rang past her ears...

  He verbally admitted he wants to sleep with you.

  Shaking her head at her reflection, Brynnon quickly rinsed the soap from her hands and ran them under the automatic hand dryer. Reminding herself why she was here, she decided to focus on the kids and not the object of her desire for the rest of their time here.

  Pushing the swinging door open, she stepped out into the hallway. It was empty, save for an older gentleman standing against the wall in front of her. He looked right at her, so Brynnon gave him a polite smile and turned back in the direction from which she came.

  “Miss Cantrell?”

  Surprised the man knew her name, Brynnon stopped mid-step and turned back around. The older man—she guessed him to be in his sixties—approached her.

  “You are Senator Cantrell’s daughter, aren’t you?”

  “I’m sorry, have we met?”

  The man shook his head, his blue eyes zeroed in on hers.

  Okay... Calling upon years of experience dealing with the public, Brynnon held out her hand and smiled. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I’m Brynnon.”

  “I know who you are,” he spoke sharply, refusing to take her hand.

  Alarm bells started going off in her head. Returning her arm to her side, she asked, “And you are?”

  “Charles Miller. I’m”—he paused half a second before blurting, “I’m a reporter.

  Brynnon glanced down at the generic press badge hanging around the man’s collared neck. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Miller. Who do you write for?”

&
nbsp; The man’s eyes skittered away for only a second before finding hers again. “The, uh, Dallas Observer.”

  “I’m familiar with it.” Brynnon offered the man a smile. “Are you wanting to know more about the children’s Christmas party we’re putting on today?”

  “Actually, I want to know how your father sleeps at night.”

  The man’s statement took her completely off guard. “Excuse me?”

  “Cantrell Construction built the bridge that collapsed near Kunar six years ago, correct?”

  Brynnon’s heart thumped hard inside her chest at the memory of such a tragic event in the U.S. military’s history. “Y-yes, but—”

  “Twelve soldiers died that day because your father decided to use low-quality supplies.”

  She recoiled as if she’d been struck. It had been years since anyone had asked her about that day. “I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, was it? I don’t know who your source is, but I can assure you, my father’s company used only the highest quality supplies for every project they took on. Furthermore, there was a full investigation into the cause of the collapse, and Cantrell Construction was not found liable in any way. I’m sure your boss can get you a copy of the report. Honestly”—she shook her head— “I’m not sure why your editor would even send you here to question me about something that’s old news.

  Rather than appease him, the man’s eyes flared with anger. “Old news?”

  “Yes. As you, yourself stated, the incident happened over six years ago. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really do need to get back to the children.”

  With a snarl, the reporter got in her face. “Your father is a murderer, and I’m going to make sure the world knows it.”

  ****

  Grant watched Brynnon say something more to her friend and head for the wing’s entrance. He took a step in that direction, but Angie—the woman Brynnon had introduced to him as her best friend when they’d first arrived—mouthed the word, Bathroom.

  Glancing to where Brynnon had disappeared, he hesitated before deciding to stay put. He hated having her out of his sight for even a minute, but he’d already noticed the dead-end hallway as they’d walked in earlier. The only things down there were the two restrooms with a water fountain in between. And it wasn’t like he could follow her into the bathroom.

  I’ll give her five minutes, then I’m going after her.

  With a nod, Grant let her friend know he understood and stayed where he’d been posted for the past hour. Two minutes later, a young, African American boy he’d seen opening presents earlier approached him. Wearing a pair of Transformers pajamas, the kid appeared to be about eight years old.

  Only two years younger than—No. He was not going to go there.

  “You Miss Brynnon’s boyfriend?” the boy asked boldly.

  Grant dialed back his emotions, his deep voice answering, “Depends. Who’s asking?”

  “I’m Kenny.” The young man held out his hand.

  Dwarfed inside Grant’s fist, the two shook hands. “Grant.”

  “Nice to meet you. But you still didn’t answer my question.”

  Letting go of the boy’s hand, Grant shook his head. “No. I’m not her boyfriend.”

  Confused, Kenny tilted his head. “So why do you keep staring at her like that?”

  Damn, this kid’s observant. “I’m her bodyguard.”

  “Bodyguard.” Kenny’s round eyes grew wide. “She in danger?”

  “No. It’s just a precaution.”

  A tiny pair of shoulders sagged as relief flooded the young boy. “Good.” Milk chocolate eyes slid down to Grant’s waist. “You carrying?”

  Jesus, this kid damn near made him want to smile. “Maybe.”

  His eyes rose to Grant’s again. “Good,” he used a serious tone. “Someone tries to hurt Miss Brynnon, you gonna shoot them?”

  “If I have to,” Grant answered honestly. I’ll take out anyone who dares to bring her harm.

  “Good,” the kid said again. “That’s really good.”

  When Brynnon had first mentioned coming here, Grant had wanted nothing to do with it. The kid part was hard enough. Throw cancer in the mix, and it was like dropping him in the middle of his own personal hell. Even so, he was actually starting to enjoy talking with Kenny.

  “Yeah? Why’s that?”

  Looking up at him as if he’d lost his damn mind, Kenny asked, “Don’t you two ever talk? She’s the nicest lady I know, besides my mom.”

  “You think so?”

  “Heck, yeah. Miss Brynnon’s a really busy lady, but she still takes the time to come by and see me.” Looking around to make sure no one was listening, Kenny whispered, “Well, technically, she comes to see all the kids. But I know I’m her favorite.”

  Grant felt the corner of his mouth turn upward. “That so?”

  The kid gave him a no shit look. “Duh. It’s probably because we have so much in common since she works on houses and all that.” Standing a little taller—which wasn’t saying much since he was all of four feet—Kenny told him proudly, “I want to be an architect when I grow up.”

  Before Grant could respond, the boy looked over at the group of kids and gasped. “Oh, they’re lining up for cookies and stuff! I gotta go!”

  Grant watched as Kenny started to run off, but the boy stopped and turned back around.

  “You promise you won’t let anyone hurt Miss Brynnon?”

  A warm feeling spread throughout his chest. “Not while I’m around.”

  Kenny smiled. “Then I hope you stay around her forever. She’s special.”

  With that, the boy turned back around and joined the other kids in line.

  “Yeah,” Grant whispered to himself. “She is.”

  Speaking of which...

  He checked his watch. Nearly ten minutes had passed since Brynnon left to go to the bathroom. He scanned the room to make sure he hadn’t missed her return. Angie was over at the nurse’s station, helping serve the kids cookies and drinks, but the object of his search was nowhere to be seen.

  Damn it.

  Walking swiftly across the room, Grant headed for the restrooms. The sound of a man’s angry voice hit his ears just as he rounded the corner. The sight before him sending an immediate surge of anger through his system.

  “Your father is a murder, and I’m going to make sure the world knows it.”

  A man appearing to be about sixty or so was in Brynnon’s face, and it was clear the guy was pissed.

  What the fuck?

  “You’re wrong,” Brynnon’s sharp voice seethed. “And you need to leave before I call for security.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Grant’s voice grated. He was by her side in seconds. The relief in her eyes when she swung her gaze to his was like a punch to his gut.

  “The truth will come out.” With that, the man walked away, disappearing down the hall. Grant started to go after him, but a small hand on his chest stopped him.

  “Let him go.”

  “Who was he?” Grant demanded.

  “Just a reporter.”

  “What the fuck did he want?”

  Though she tried to hide it, Grant saw the tremor in her hand as she removed it from his chest. “Nothing.”

  “Sure as hell didn’t look like nothing.” He did a visual sweep of her body. If he hurt her, I’ll fucking kill him.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”

  His eyes shot to hers.

  “I’m fine, Grant. Really.” Brynnon lowered her arm. “He was just after a story that doesn’t exist. That’s all.”

  “Apparently, he didn’t get the memo.”

  “Right?” She shook her head. “That came out of nowhere, for sure.”

  “What’s the non-existent story?”

  Brynnon took a breath to compose herself. “Nothing important. I promise.” Seeing he wasn’t convinced, she added, “This sort of thing happens all the time. An overzealous reporter catches wind of something they think might be their chance to la
nd a big story. They try to dig up dirt on a U.S. Senator or his family only to find out it’s completely bogus. Seriously, let’s just forget about it and go see Angie and the kids. After, we need to call your friend and set up an appointment to get you fitted for your tux.”

  Begrudgingly, Grant agreed and walked her back to the party. But as he waited for Brynnon to say her goodbyes and give out hugs, he thought more about the man he’d seen talking to her. He’d appeared bitter. Angry. Not exactly characteristics he’d expect to find in an overzealous reporter. Maybe a trip to the paper where the guy worked would help put the uneasy feeling in his gut to rest.

  Grant stood back as Brynnon doled out hugs to each and every child there. As they started to leave, he heard a voice holler out for him.

  “Bye, Grant! Remember what we talked about!”

  He turned and gave Kenny a wave.

  A look of shock spread over Brynnon’s face. “Shut the front door. Is that an actual smile I see?”

  Clearing his throat, Grant returned to his usual state of indifference, muttering, “Cute kid.”

  Brynnon gave him a knowing grin. “I see you met Kenny. That explains it.”

  “What’s his story?”

  Her lips flattened slightly. “When Kenny was four, he was diagnosed with Neuroblastoma. It’s a rare type of cancer that most commonly affects children. From everything I’ve read, most don’t even survive past the age of five, but Kenny’s a fighter. His doctors chose an aggressive course of treatment that took him to the brink of death. But he went into remission three years ago.”

  “How old is he, now?”

  “He just turned eight last month.”

  Grant pushed the elevator button and waited. “So, if he’s in remission, why is he a patient here?”

  What was left of Brynnon’s smile vanished. “He went in for one of his bi-yearly checkups. Completely routine. The scan showed another tumor. You wouldn’t know it to talk with him, but the cancer is spreading rapidly this time.”

  “What’s the prognosis?”

  “I spoke to his mother the last time I was here. The doctors only give him another month or two.”

  The unexpected news hit Grant in the chest. Reflexively, he swung his gaze back to the end of the hall where he could still hear the children laughing. “Damn.”