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

by Anna Blakely

  “What did you find?” Derek asked the disgruntled man.

  Continuing on with his round-about answer, Wright scoffed. “At first? Not much. I knew someone like me wasn’t going to get very far on my own, so after about a year, I hired a private investigator. He’s former military. I call him once a week to see if he’s found anything new. For the last five years, he’s been researching what happened with no luck. But a few days ago, the guy called me. Said he’d found something interesting. That he was almost certain he’d found the proof I’d been looking for all along.”

  “What kind of proof?”

  “Something about paperwork not matching up. He wouldn’t give me any details over the phone.”

  “What’s his name?” Derek asked.

  “Oh, no.” Wright smirked. “I’m not telling you that.”

  “Why not?” Grant challenged.

  “Why should I? You’ll probably just go try and strong-arm him the way you are me.”

  “No one’s trying to strong-arm you, Mr. Wright,” Brynnon tried to assure him. “We all want the same thing here.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  Brynnon looked him square in the eye. “To get to the truth.”

  “Dad, you need to calm down,” Jessica put an arm on her father’s shoulder. “Remember the doctors’ warnings about your heart.”

  Chest heaving, Wright kept his eyes locked on Brynnon’s but kept quiet. A few seconds passed before Grant broke the silence.

  “Did your investigator send you what he found?”

  Wright shook his head, his gaze sliding to Grant. “He was supposed to come by yesterday morning, but he never did.”

  “Yet, you still showed up at the hospital to confront Miss Cantrell.”

  The man’s hard eyes became narrowed slits. “It’s not like I could just waltz into her father’s office.” He looked back at her. “I read about the party for the kids in the paper. I thought...” He paused. “I thought maybe you would actually listen.”

  “You pretended to be a reporter to get close to her,” Derek responded. “Doesn’t instill a lot of trust when you start the whole thing off by lying about who you were.”

  His eyes shot to Grant’s. “I’m on borrowed time, son. And when my time comes, I want to go to the good Lord knowing my son got the justice he deserved.”

  With a gentle voice, Brynnon told him, “I’m listening, now.” She glanced at the other two men then back to Wright. “We all are.”

  The ball was in his court now. She’d tried to get him to understand they were only trying to help. If he didn’t want to believe her, there was nothing more she could do about it.

  A single nod was the only response he gave, but it was enough.

  Brynnon’s mouth turned up in a slight smile. “Thank you.” After he gave her another nod, she said, “Your PI didn’t show up, but you must have other information you’ve gathered over the years.”

  “I do,” Wright confirmed her thoughts.

  “May we see it?” When he hesitated, she added, “We’re not going to take it and run, Mr. Wright. I promise. I just want to see what has you so convinced my father’s actions caused Jordan and those other brave men and women to lose their lives.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Wright turned away from her and gave his daughter a look. “Come help me get the files.” To Brynnon, he said, “I’ll be right back.”

  Brynnon drew in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “Well, at least he didn’t outright refuse.”

  “You know, you’re pretty good at this,” Derek commented with a crooked smile. “You and Hill are like the perfect good cop, bad cop duo.”

  She grinned, but Grant simply grunted and walked over to the small end table near the couch. Picking up one of several prescription bottles, he studied the label before holding it up.

  “He’s telling the truth. About having cancer, at least. My mom used to take this same medicine when she was going through treatments. Supposed to help boost the immune system.”

  Brynnon’s heart ached as she watched him set the bottle back down. It was hard to imagine the strong, formidable man before her as a broken, grieving teenager.

  “Here.” Wright came back into the room. He and Jessica each handed her a bulging folder. “This is everything I've found over the last six years.”

  Grant and Derek both stood over her shoulder as she began to look over the folders’ contents. Some of what she saw made sense, like the copies of the purchase orders Cantrell Construction had used. Others, such as the topographical map with scribbled notes, would take more time to go over.

  When Brynnon got to a picture of the bridge post-collapse, her chest tightened. “I can’t imagine how scared they must have been,” she spoke absentmindedly.

  “It’s all I think about,” Jordan’s father stared at the photo. “What must’ve gone through my boy’s mind as he fell to his death. He had to have known he wouldn’t survive a fall like that. That he’d never see his wife again or meet his baby boy. Jordan had no idea he had a sister ...”

  The older man’s voice cracked. He blinked a few times before clearing his throat and looking back up at her. “It’s not right. It’s not right that your father continued on with his life as if nothing ever happened. Not when so many others lost theirs.”

  “Mr. Wright,” Brynnon addressed him as she closed the folder. “Obviously I can’t begin to imagine the pain Jordan’s death caused you—”

  “No,” he shot back. “You can’t.”

  Giving him a sad smile, she did her best to empathize. “But I do know what it’s like to lose someone you loved so dearly.” She took a step closer. “With your permission, I’d like to take this folder home and look through it. See if there’s anything there you may have missed.”

  “Why? So you can cover it up like your old man has?”

  Brynnon shook her head, hating that life had taught this man to be so untrusting. “No. I want to help you get to the truth, so you can find the peace you’re searching for. And these two men are going to help me. They’re both former military, so they understand better than most the sacrifice your son gave that day. What every soldier on that bridge gave. They have resources beyond yours and mine that can help us find out if there is any truth to your suspicions.”

  With a leery glance, Wright asked, “What branch?”

  “Navy,” Derek answered for both men.

  He eyed Grant more closely. “SEALs?”

  Grant nodded. “We were both with the Teams.”

  A smidge of respect replaced some of Wright’s animosity. “Then I hope what she’s saying is true.”

  “We will find out what happened to your son and the others,” Grant promised. Turning his voice deadly, he warned the older man, “But the threats and the violence toward Miss Cantrell ends now.”

  Silver brows bunched together as he looked back at Brynnon. “I’ve harbored a lot of hate toward your father for quite some time, but I would never threaten or harm a woman.” He shook his head. “That’s not how I was raised.”

  “Do you know anyone who drives a maroon sedan?” Derek asked.

  Wright blinked quickly before stammering, “I...um, no. I don’t...”

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” Grant growled. “You were pissed off because Brynnon didn’t give you the answers you were looking for, so you waited until we left the hospital and followed us to her house.”

  “No.” Wright shook his head. “You’re wrong.”

  Ignoring the man’s claim, Grant rested his hands on his narrow hips and continued sharing his theory. “Then when she was standing by herself next to the mailbox, you saw your chance and tried to run her over. Hell, you damn near killed us both.”

  The older man continued to adamantly deny the accusation. “It wasn’t me! I told you, I was in chemo.” He looked to Brynnon, pleading for her to believe him. “That’s why I talked to you when I did. I was already going to be near the hospital for my treatment. I saw that
you’d be there, too, so I went to see you. But I never tried to hurt you. I give you my word.”

  “Your word?”

  “Grant,” Brynnon tried to intervene, but the angry warrior didn’t back down.

  “No.” Shaking his head, her angry bodyguard took a step forward and glared down at the agitated man. “You cornered an innocent woman in the hallway of a children’s hospital and then lied about who you were. Sorry, but your word doesn’t mean jack shit to me.”

  “I swear, I didn’t—”

  “It was me,” Jessica blurted loudly. All eyes turned to her, the young woman’s shoulders sagging with defeat. To Brynnon, she admitted, “I did it.” She looked at Brynnon. “I’m the one who sent the threats to your dad. I took the pictures and...I-I was the one driving the car.”

  Brynnon grabbed Grant’s hand when she felt him stiffen in anger in an attempt to keep him calm.

  “Jessica.” Her father looked up at her, stunned. “Why?”

  “Why?” the other woman gave her father an incredulous look. “Because I’m so sick of this! The stress and anger. Watching you get your hopes up every single week when you call that worthless P.I. only to be let down again and again. Your heart can’t take it much longer, Dad. Not with the added strain from the cancer and chemo.”

  Jessica knelt down in front of her father’s frail form. Tears fell from her eyes when she took his hands in hers and continued on.

  “I just found you, and now...” Her voice broke. “I’m going to lose you, soon. I did what I did because I couldn’t stand to see you spend one more precious second, the seconds we have left together, being consumed by this hateful, anger-driven need for what you think may be the truth.”

  Jessica had been stalking her. Had sent threats to her father, and just today had come damn close to killing both her and Grant. But despite all that, Brynnon felt her heart breaking for the poor woman.

  She watched as Jessica stood. Wiping her tears away, she faced Brynnon again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get that close to you. I swear. I only meant to scare you. And the pictures...” she looked chagrined. “My dad has spent nearly every penny of his savings trying to find the truth about my brother’s death. Not knowing is tearing him apart, and I—”

  “Jessica.” Charles shook his head. It was obvious he’d had no idea what his daughter had been up to.

  Tears formed in the woman’s pleading blue eyes again. “I-I didn’t know what else to do. I thought maybe if your dad believed one of his own kids was in danger, he’d confess. My father could finally be at peace and live his last days focusing on other things.”

  “Like you,” Brynnon surmised.

  “Yes.” The torn woman nodded. “As selfish as it sounds, I want us to be able to appreciate the time we have left instead of chasing ghosts.” When Jessica took a step toward her, Brynnon squeezed Grant’s hand to keep him from charging the other woman. “I really am sorry for what I did. I swear, I won’t do anything like that again. I just...” She looked at Charles again, the love she felt for her father unmistakable. “I can’t bear to see him like this. You know?”

  A tear escaped the corner of Brynnon’s eye before she could stop it. Using her free hand, she wiped it away. “I do know. And, I’m not going to say what you did was okay—”

  “No,” Grant interrupted. “It sure as hell wasn’t okay”

  “But...” She looked back at Jessica. “I understand your need to protect your father.”

  “Mr. Wright”—she drew her focus back to him— “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’m asking you to, anyway. Or, at least to trust them.” She tipped her head toward Grant and Derek. “Please. Let us talk with your private investigator so we can see for ourselves what evidence he thinks he has.”

  “What if you don’t like what you find?” he challenged her. “Are you really going to stand there and tell me you’d sell out your own father for the sake of my son? Someone you never even met?”

  Straightening her spine, Brynnon looked Charles Wright in the eye and told him the God’s honest truth. “I promise you, if I find out someone at father’s company was in any way responsible for what happened to Jordan and the others, I will tell you. And if that’s the case, I’ll hand over every scrap of evidence to you. After that, you’ll be free to use it however you deem fit.”

  The broken man studied her a few seconds longer before giving up the name. “Hank Mitchell. He’s the one who’s been working this case for me. Lives in Phoenix, but I’ll call him and let him know it’s okay to talk with you about what he found.”

  “Thank you for trusting me.” Brynnon looked up at Grant before adding, “Trusting us.”

  Wright’s jaw muscles bulged. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

  “You won’t,” Grant assured him. “But cancer or no cancer, you or your daughter ever come near Brynnon without a personal invitation again, I guarantee that’s a decision you will regret.”

  With his final warning given, the three of them left Charles Wright and his daughter and headed back to the condo. Without a word to either man, Brynnon went upstairs to her office, shut the door, and called her father.

  Hours later while lying in bed, she found herself struggling to shut her mind off enough to sleep. Along with the day’s emotional roller coaster of events, the conversation with her dad played over again in her head.

  At first, he’d begun by falling all over himself, apologizing and trying to make her understand he’d only kept the threat against her a secret out of his innate need to protect her. Brynnon told him she understood but quickly reminded him she was a grown-ass woman who needed his honesty more than his protection.

  With that issue out of the way, she’d then shared what they knew about Wright and his daughter. She’d only just begun to talk when Martin entered her dad’s office. Deciding this was information his Chief of Staff needed to hear, her dad put the phone on speaker.

  Brynnon went through the entire thing, starting from the moment Wright opened the door and ending at the point when they’d left. Understandably, her father had wanted to file charges against Jessica for the threats and stalking, but Brynnon eventually talked him out of it.

  What Jessica Price did was wrong, but Brynnon couldn’t help but understand the roots from which the woman’s desperation had grown.

  With Martin’s unsolicited support, her dad had blown off what Wright said about his private investigator’s so-called proof, claiming if there was something off with the paperwork, it was likely a simple clerical error.

  Of course, Martin had thrown his two cents in when he could. After practically grilling her on what exactly Mitchell supposedly found—which she didn’t know because Wright didn’t have that information—Martin told her under no circumstances could Mitchell have anything showing that Cantrell Construction was liable for the bridge collapse. He also insisted any mistake found was most assuredly on the supply company’s end. Not theirs.

  Since Jessica had sworn she’d leave Brynnon alone from here on out, she’d fully expected her dad to relieve Grant of his duties. Surprisingly, he’d insisted Grant remain as her bodyguard a while longer, just in case.

  The relief she felt from knowing Grant would still be with her had hit with an almost shocking force. When the overbearing man had shown up unannounced that first day, she’d been ready to fight tooth and nail to get rid of him. Now, Brynnon found it hard to imagine not having the quiet, broody security expert around.

  She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. One thirty-three. Knowing sleep was an impossible goal to achieve, she threw her covers off with a groan and stood.

  Wearing a pair of striped cotton pajama bottoms and a fitted tank top, she contemplated whether or not to get her robe from behind the bathroom door. Given the hour and how quiet the condo was, Grant was most likely asleep. Besides, she’d only be down there long enough to make a cup of hot tea.

  Deciding to forgo the robe, Brynnon quietly made her way downstairs. The liv
ing room was dark, but the light in the kitchen was still on.

  Assuming Grant had forgotten to turn it off before falling asleep, she stepped softly on her bare toes so she wouldn’t wake him. When Brynnon walked into the kitchen, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she found him awake and sitting at her table.

  He glanced up at her, his brows furrowing inward. “What are you doing up?”

  The tattoo. Before now, she’d only seen small glimpses of its edge where it stopped at his wrist. But now, wearing only his black V-neck T and jeans, Brynnon could see much more of the ink decorating every inch of his right arm.

  The intricate design disappeared beneath his short sleeve, and she had to fight the urge to reach down and rip the damn thing off.

  “Bryn? Are you okay?” Grant asked, his voice now laced with concern. “Is it your head? Are you hurting?”

  Finally snapping out of it, she answered with a casual, “Couldn’t sleep.” Walking over to the table, Brynnon’s eyes fell on the photos and papers there. “Are those the files Derek brought over earlier?

  Grant looked back down at the organized mess. “Yeah.”

  She noticed Jordan Wright’s folder was open and resting front and center above all the others. “He was so young,” she stated quietly.

  “Two years younger than I am now.”

  Moving her gaze from the picture to Grant’s face, Brynnon realized how tired and worn he looked. Almost as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

  With a hand to his muscular shoulder, she asked, “What about you? Are you okay?”

  Blinking, he looked up at her and nodded. “Yeah.”

  “You sure? Because I was about to make myself some tea and everyone knows tea and conversation go together.” She gave him a tiny smile, hoping it would get him to open up a little. Surprisingly, it worked.