by Anna Blakely
The shortened version of her name slipped out before he could stop it. Derek gave him a funny look, but surprisingly, the guy didn’t comment.
Not giving Derek the chance to answer him, Brynnon spoke first. “I’m assuming Charles Wright was Jordan’s father?”
“He was.” Derek nodded. He handed her a piece of paper that was on top of the stack of folders.
A look of sadness washed over Brynnon, and Grant had to shove his fists into his pockets to keep from reaching out for her.
“That’s him.” She handed the paper to Grant to look over. “That’s the man from the hospital.”
Grant looked down at Charles Wright’s picture. It was definitely the same guy. “He was asking you about a story?”
She hesitated. Grant could tell she was uncomfortable, but he had to force himself to ignore it. To treat this just like any other job.
“Brynnon, we need to know what he said to you. Exactly.”
“Not much, really. H-he accused my father of being a murderer.”
The hell? “Do you know why he would say that?”
Her eyes skittered to Derek then back to his as if trying to decide whether or not to answer the question. Derek responded, instead.
“Cantrell Construction built the bridge that collapsed.”
“But it wasn’t Dad’s fault,” Brynnon blurted. “At the hospital yesterday, Charles Wright claimed the company used low-quality materials, and that’s why the bridge gave way. But that’s not true.” She drew in a deep breath. “An investigation showed the foundation had been compromised during a recent bomb attack the week before, but it wasn’t discovered until after the collapse. My father contacted the military the second he found out about what happened and voluntarily provided them with all of the purchase orders and other records from that job.”
“Easy.” Grant attempted to calm her. “We’re not accusing your father of anything.”
“No, but Charles Wright is.” Her eyes pleaded with his. “You have to understand. When that bridge fell, the first person everyone looked at was my dad. Reporters hounded all of us for days until, finally, the news reported the actual cause. Dad’s business was built on the pride he took in what they did. Cantrell Construction was known for its high-quality work. Not the other way around.”
“Where do you think Wright got the notion they’d cut corners on that job?” Derek asked her.
“I have no idea.” She shook her head. “My guess is, he’s still mourning the loss of his son and wants someone to blame.”
Like every other emotion the man had, Derek’s skepticism was evident. “Maybe. Still seems wonky to me.”
“Why’s that?” Grant asked his teammate.
“It’s been over half a decade. Why go after Cantrell now? And why use Brynnon to do it?”
“The sins of your father,” she whispered more to herself than to them.
When Derek looked to Grant for an explanation, he went over to the table and retrieved the bagged note. Brynnon’s prints would most likely be the only ones on it, but he still wanted to try and preserve it as best he could. Just in case.
“Your father did not heed his warning,” Derek read the note aloud. “He was told what would happen to you if he didn’t confess. Now, you will atone for the sins of your father.” The man’s crystal blue eyes shot to Grant’s. “That last part is a version from a quote by the famous Roman poet, Horace. Our guy worded it a bit differently, but it’s basically the same thing. What the fuck?”
With a grim nod, Grant agreed. Charles Wright, or whoever sent that letter, wasn’t playing around.
“It all makes sense now.” Brynnon broke the silence. “Jordan’s dad blames mine for the death of his son.” She looked up at him, that damn fear now stronger than ever. “He wants to kill me, so my dad suffers the loss of a child, just like he did.”
Grant closed the distance between them in one long stride. With his hands on her shoulders, he locked eyes with hers. “That’s not going to happen.”
There was a short pause before Derek cleared his throat. Grant should probably be embarrassed by his blatant show of emotion in front of his teammate, but surprisingly, he wasn’t.
Acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred—thank Christ—the computer whiz looked at him and asked, “This note was in an envelope full of pictures?”
“Yes,” Brynnon answered for him as she grabbed the stack of pictures from the table and brought them to Derek.
Cursing under his breath, he flipped through a few before handing them back to her. “According to the message, your dad was warned.”
“Well, yeah. I mean, that’s why Grant’s here in the first place, right? He was hired to watch over me as a precaution because Dad received some sort of threat?”
“Some sort,” Derek parroted her words. When the former SEAL shared a look with Grant, he knew exactly what D was thinking.
Understanding hit him like a kick to the nuts. “Sonofabitch.”
“What?” Brynnon looked between both men. “What is it?”
Still talking to his teammate, Grant had to work hard to control his temper. “Cantrell fucking lied.” He swung his gaze to the man’s daughter. “This wasn’t just some vague threat like your father claimed. It was a threat against you.”
“What? No.” She adamantly denied the accusation. “My father wouldn’t do that. That doesn’t even make any sense. Why would he keep something like that from you? Or, me, for that matter?”
Grant’s eyes bore down on hers. “That’s what I intend to find out.” To Derek, he asked, “Can you stay with her until I get back?”
“Didn’t even have to ask, brother.”
“Thanks.” Grant went to get his coat from the hook near Brynnon’s door.
“You’re leaving?”
It was shit timing, but he had to find out what the hell was going on. Starting with a conversation between him and Senator Cantrell.
After a quick text to Coop to verify the senator was at his office, Grant told Brynnon, “I’ll be back soon. Derek will keep you safe.” When she started to argue, he added, “He’s a former SEAL, like me, and he’s well-trained.”
“I don’t care about that.” She shook her head. “I just want you to calm down and think about this for a second before you go storming off to my father’s office.”
“Nothing to think about, Princess. Your father intentionally left out vital information that could very well have affected your safety. I need to know why.”
“Not to step on any toes, here, but I have to agree with your man, Brynnon. What your dad did wasn’t cool.”
Her wheels turned. “If he did what you’re saying, I’m sure there was a reasonable explanation as to why. Dad would never knowingly put me in danger.”
Like Brynnon, Grant ignored Derek’s claim that he was her man. “That’s exactly why I’m going to see him. To give your father a chance to explain.”
But if Grant found out the senator had purposely allowed his daughter to be in more danger than he’d let on, then God help him.
“You got this, D?” he asked his teammate.
“I’ll protect her like she’s my own.”
Knowing just how much those words meant, Grant gave his friend a nod of thanks.
“While you’re gone”—Derek added— “I’ll run the note and pics through the scanner to see if anything pops up, and I’ll leave these for you to look through.” He held the folders up a little higher.
“What’s in them?”
“Information on the twelve soldiers who died on the bridge. I have copies of it all at my place.” He shrugged. “If Wright’s claims are true, there are eleven other families out there with motive. Figured between the two of us, we may be able to find something that sticks out.”
“Sounds good.” With one final glance in Brynnon’s direction, Grant left.
Less than twenty minutes later, he found himself arguing with Cantrell’s personal assistant. The girl was young and pro
bably good at her job, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to keep him from seeing the senator.
“I told you he’s in a meeting.” The well-intended woman brazenly stepped into his path. “If you’d like to have a seat, I’m sure he will be more than happy to speak to you after—”
“I don’t have time to wait.”
Grant sidestepped her and reached for the expensive doorknob.
“Sir, please stop.” She turned to Coop, who was standing nonchalantly to the side. “Don’t just stand there, stop him!”
“Sorry, Jaynee.” Coop folded his arms. “Grant’s right. What he needs to discuss with your boss can’t wait.”
Having zero patience or time for this bullshit, Grant turned the knob and barged into Cantrell’s private office.
Brynnon’s father was sitting behind his desk and Martin Downing was in one of the two leather chairs facing him. Both men immediately stopped speaking and turned their attention onto him.
“We need to talk,” he growled not giving two fucks who the guy was or what political power the man had.
Scowling, Martin stood abruptly. “You can’t just walk in here like this and interrupt us. Just who do you think you are?”
Wanting to flick the stuck-up bastard like the annoying bug he was, Grant shot back, “The man trying to keep the senator’s daughter alive.”
“I am so sorry, Senator,” a worried Jaynee piped in. “I tried to tell him to wait, but he—”
“It’s okay, Jaynee.” William Cantrell held his hand palm-up to calm the woman down. He looked back at Grant. “What happened?” His eyes widened with concern. “Is she all right?”
Never one to pull any punches, Grant spouted off, “No thanks to you.”
Guilt permeated from the man, but his little sidekick kept coming at him. “How dare you talk to the senator like that!”
Ignoring him, Grant kept his focus on Cantrell. “When were you planning on telling me the truth?”
The senator blinked before telling his assistant, “We’re good here, Jaynee. Thank you.”
Both scared of him and confused by her boss’s directive, the girl’s hesitant eyes moved from his to Cantrell’s. “A-are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“O-okay, Sir. If you say so.” With a final, wary glance in Grant’s direction, Jaynee turned and left the office.
To Martin, Grant said, “You can leave, too, Downing.”
Red-faced, Cantrell’s Chief of Staff appeared to be on the verge of a serious tantrum. “Now wait just a damn minute. I don’t take orders from you.” Martin spun on his expensive shoes and faced Cantrell. “Sir, I really think I—”
“Martin should stay.” The senator looked at Grant. “If you’re here for the reason I think you are, he needs to know what you’ve discovered.”
Grant didn’t like it but refused to waste any more time arguing. “Fine.” He turned to Martin, “Shut the door.”
Downing looked to his boss, and only after Cantrell gave him a single nod of his head, did he do as he’d been asked. Jesus, what a prick.
The second the door closed, Grant laid into Brynnon’s father. “When you called Jake looking for protection, you told him the threat was against you, but Brynnon’s the real target, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Cantrell sighed.
“Why did you lie?”
“First, tell me what happened,” her father pleaded. “Is she really okay?”
“Do you even care?”
Grant knew he should probably watch his mouth, given the powerful position the man was in, but at the moment, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to him was finding out the truth, so he could keep Brynnon safe.
“Of course, I care. She’s my daughter. Now, tell me what happened!”
“Someone just tried running her over with a fucking car!” Grant’s voice echoed off the thick walls. “That’s what happened.”
Suddenly looking much older than before, Cantrell plopped down into his high-back chair and shook his head. “Oh, God.” With unshed tears filling his eyes, he looked up at Grant. “But she’s okay? She wasn’t hurt, was she?”
“A bump on the head. I was able to push her out of the way at the last second.”
The man put his head in his hands and held it there. After a few seconds, he wiped his reddened eyes dry and straightened his shoulders.
“Thank you.”
“You can thank me by telling me what’s really going on.”
“It’s my fault,” Martin spoke up. “I advised the senator to keep the nature of the threat from Brynnon.”
“No, Martin. You were only trying to help. It was my decision not to tell her.”
Bypassing Cantrell’s comment, Grant narrowed his eyes to Downing. “Why the hell would you do something like that?”
“Because I know Bryn.”
That raised Grant’s shackles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’ve known her a hell of a lot longer than you. If she knew the threat was against her, she would’ve been even more stressed than she already was.”
“You kept this from her so she wouldn’t be fucking stressed?” Grant wasn’t buying it.
“Brynnon’s always been a bit of a worrier,” her father tried to explain. “After her mother died, she was constantly worried about me. Always checking up on me to make sure I was eating right and getting enough rest. That sort of thing. When her brother started acting out, she worried about him. Made sure he went to his meetings, had food in his refrigerator.”
“That doesn’t sound like a worrier to me, Senator. That sounds like a loving daughter and sister.”
“She has a life now. A successful business. I didn’t want her to constantly be looking over her shoulder. That’s no way to spend your days. Trust me, I’ve had to do it more often than I’d have liked. I didn’t want that for her.”
“So why hire me at all?”
“That was also my idea,” Martin butted in again. “I knew the senator would feel better with someone watching over her.”
Grant ran a hand over his jaw. “You didn’t want her to worry, yet you still tell her there’s a threat against you, and then coerce her into accepting my help? Didn’t you think she’d be just as worried about you and your safety?”
The older man smiled. “Do you have children, Grant?”
A familiar pain cut through his chest. “No, sir.”
“When you do, you’ll understand. As a parent, you have to make a million different decisions. Sometimes, it’s clear which direction you need to go. Others, you do what you think is best and pray you were right.” The man stood and came around to the front of his desk. “I’ve had numerous threats via phone calls, letters, emails throughout the years. Do you know how many of those came to fruition?”
“No, sir.”
“None. Not a single one.”
Grant began to understand. “You assumed this was just like all those other times.”
He nodded, and Martin finished the explanation.
“If Brynnon thought the threat was against her father, she’d blow it off as nothing more than an annoyance. I knew he could convince her to go along with having a security detail, at least for a week or two. Our hope was, by that time, we would’ve been able to ferret out whoever sent the message to start with, and you and she could go on with your lives as if nothing ever happened.”
Cantrell looked back at Grant. “She could focus on her career rather than spending every single day in fear.”
Shit. Grant still thought it was a dumbass move, but as misguided as it had been, he was beginning to understand why the senator did what he did.
“That’s why you didn’t put a guard on Billy,” he stated. “It wasn’t because you knew he’d fight you tooth and nail; it was because he’s not the one in danger. She is.”
“I’ve still been keeping an eye on Billy, just in case,” Martin told Grant. “I text or call regularly. Go by his place now and again.”
Grant took a deep breath and let it out slowly but remained quiet.
“I love my children, Grant. They mean more to me than any of this,” Cantrell waved his arms around his office. “I realize I may not have gone about this the right way, but I can assure you...every decision I’ve ever made in regard to Billy and Brynnon has been out of love.”
No, he sure as hell hadn’t gone about this the right way, but Grant wasn’t going to keep beating a dead horse. The guy knew he screwed up, and from the look on his face, there was nothing more Grant could say or do to make him feel any worse than he already did.
“Does Brynnon know whoever sent the senator that first threat is after her?” Martin asked.
“She does now.”
Grant proceeded to tell them about Charles Wright and why he had a grudge against Cantrell. He also told them about the pictures and letter Brynnon received, and that he had a guy scanning them for prints as they spoke.
“Do the police know?” Martin asked, sounding alarmed. “Have they arrested this Charles Wright guy?”
“There isn’t any hard evidence against him.”
Again, it was Martin who asked, “Well, what about the car that almost hit Brynnon? Were you able to get a license plate or see the driver?”
“The driver was wearing a hood, and I only got a partial. My associate is working on that, as well.” Grant turned to the senator. “I’m going to pay Charles Wright a visit after I leave here. I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” Martin inserted himself again. “Shouldn’t the police handle this? I have several contacts in the department. I could contact one of them.”
“I have contacts of my own, but I’d like to talk with Wright first before bringing in the DPD.”
“I really think this is a matter for the police, now,” Martin looked to his boss. “You know I can push things through on that front.”
“With all due respect, Senator,” Grant jumped right back in. “You came to R.I.S.C. because you know what we’re capable of. So, trust me to do my job.”
Cantrell looked from him to Martin, and back again. “You’re right. I do trust you, and I’m well aware of what you and your team can do. I’ll support whatever you think is best for the safety of my daughter.”