Always (The Protectors Book 3)

by Leeanna Morgan

  Mallory waved them all across to her. “Well done. That was incredible.”

  Bella gave Natasha a hug. “You did great. It doesn’t matter about the spin.”

  “You didn’t fall over,” Aimee added. “It was just about perfect.”

  Mallory knew the girls were trying to make Natasha feel better, but Natasha still didn’t seem happy.

  “I don’t think I should do that spin. Bella is better at it than I am.”

  “But you’re doing that move,” Bella said.

  Natasha looked at the ice. “I’m going to let everyone down.”

  Mallory decided not to say anything. There wasn’t one girl in front of her that hadn’t worried about the same thing.

  Zoe gave Natasha a hug. “I felt the same about my spin, but I kept practicing and I got it right. If you want, we could go to the rink after school and practice together.”

  Heads were nodding all around Natasha.

  “I could come, too,” Bella said. “We could have hot chocolate afterward.”

  Mallory had to hold back a smile. Bella loved hot chocolate. If there was ever a chance to combine anything with a cup of chocolate, she would find it.

  Natasha sent Bella a hopeful smile. “I’d have to check with mom.”

  Bella nodded. “Rachel could take us there and drop you home if your mom’s working. It will be fun.”

  Mallory was glad to see the girls supporting each other. “How about we go to Bella’s house and get changed. Rachel has made something for us to eat and drink before we leave.”

  Zoe and Bella skated beside Natasha as they left the ice.

  “Congratulations.”

  Mallory turned around and smiled. “Hi, Grant. I didn’t know you were there.”

  “I’ve only just arrived. The girls did well.”

  “They did.” She smiled as he skated toward her. “You dusted off your ice hockey skates.”

  “I thought I’d practice my spin. I’ve got a bet to win.”

  “You almost got it the first time.”

  Grant held out his hand. “Only because I’ve got the best coach in Montana. Help me warm up.”

  Mallory looked across the lake at her students.

  “They won’t miss you. The kitchen counter is groaning under the weight of the food Rachel has baked. And if you’re still not convinced, there are four moms inside, ready to help the girls out of their dresses.”

  “Okay, but only for a few minutes.” She slipped her hand into Grant’s. “You’re a bad influence on me.”

  “I’m trying to be.” He pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her waist.

  Mallory skated beside him, lengthening her forward stroke until they were skating in perfect unison. “Has anyone told you you’d make a great figure skater?”

  Grant laughed. “You wouldn’t be trying to sweet talk me, would you?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe so that I wouldn’t practice my spin?”

  Mallory smiled. “I’m shocked that you think I’d stoop to such underhand tactics to win our bet.”

  Grant’s hands tightened on hers. “I want you to see my ranch. I’m going to win the bet.”

  “Your ranch means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

  “More than anyone realizes. It kept me sane and gave me something to focus on when I returned from Afghanistan.”

  Mallory knew what he meant. Everyone needed something to distract them from difficult times. If it wasn’t for her physical therapy degree, she didn’t know what she would have done after her accident.

  Grant increased his speed and she laughed. “You’re an adrenaline junkie.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “I love it.” The spectacular scenery was a blur as they raced across the ice. She felt alive, and for the first time in a long while, happy.

  Grant’s arm tightened around her waist. “We’d better slow down. Your students might want to join us.”

  “You’d be like the Pied Piper with a line of nine- and ten-year-olds behind you.”

  “I prefer one twenty-eight-year-old beside me,” Grant murmured.

  Mallory smiled as they slowed down and came to a stop. “I’m glad. But this isn’t practicing your spin. Are you ready to impress me?”

  “I was hoping I’d done that already.”

  The heat of a blush hit her cheeks. “What am I going to do with you?”

  Grant leaned forward and gently kissed her. “You’ll have to work that out for yourself.”

  Before she could think of something to say, he skated away. Mallory touched her fingers to her lips. She could still feel the heat of his mouth and see the promise in his eyes.

  She needed to tell him about her skating career, the reason she never competed after her accident. And the reason she was here now.

  Her life was more complicated than he realized. When he knew the truth, it could change everything, and not for the better.

  Grant turned toward her, skating in deliberate strokes across the ice. He centered his bodyweight over his right leg, and with the skill of a person born to skate, executed a perfect one-foot spin.

  She might be visiting his ranch sooner than she thought.

  ***

  After they left the ice, Grant and Mallory went inside and joined the skating team for hot chocolate and cookies. They spent the next thirty minutes surrounded by overexcited girls.

  Bella’s dog, Milo, had been even more excited. He’d rushed between each girl, wagging his tail and licking everyone. By the time the girls went home, Grant was feeling happier than he had in a long time.

  He sat on the sofa beside Mallory. “I’ll be surprised if any of the girls sleep very much over the next two weeks.”

  “They deserve to be excited. They’ve worked hard to get this far.”

  “Did you skate in events like the Winter Festival?”

  Mallory nodded. “My skating club used to have two fundraising events each year. The money helped pay for our skaters to go to different competitions.”

  “How expensive is figure skating?”

  “It depends on whether you have private or group coaching lessons, how many times a week you’re at the rink, and whether you enter competitions. Mom and dad mortgaged their home to pay for my private lessons.”

  Grant stared at her. “What kind of coaching did you have?”

  “The best. My coach’s name was Sergei Romanov. He was a Russian Olympic figure skater who defected to the United States in 2002. Eventually, he made his home in Florida and started his own figure skating school.”

  “Just how good were you?”

  “I was a U.S. Nationals Champion.”

  Grant’s mouth dropped open. “For real?”

  Mallory nodded.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t like talking about my skating career.”

  “Is it because of the car accident?”

  She turned toward him. “Sort of. I—”

  “There you are. Why are you hiding in here?” John sat in a chair opposite them.

  Grant glared at his brother. “We’re talking. Haven’t you got something else to do?”

  John stretched out his legs and yawned. “Nope. We have the house to ourselves and peace reigns. What devious plans are you hatching?”

  Sometimes his brother was as perceptive as a stone.

  “I was telling Grant about my skating career,” Mallory murmured.

  “Did you tell him you were in the U.S. Olympic Figure Skating Team?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Grant looked at Mallory, then turned to his brother. “You knew all of this and didn’t tell me?”

  “Everyone knows. Mallory’s our local celebrity. Don’t you read Doris Stanley’s community Facebook page?”

  Mallory sighed. “It took her about two weeks to work out who I was.”

  “I can’t believe this.” Grant was annoyed, and he didn’t know why.

  Jo
hn frowned. “What’s not to believe? We’re in the midst of greatness. There aren’t many people who can say they’ve eaten sandwiches with an Olympic figure skater.”

  “I didn’t get to the Olympics,” Mallory said.

  Her quiet voice put Grant’s protective radar on full alert. “If you were on the Olympic team, why didn’t you compete?”

  “The car accident was six weeks before the Winter Olympics. I couldn’t compete.”

  “Bella said you hurt your back.”

  “The impact of the accident compressed some of the nerves in my spinal cord. I couldn’t walk for a few weeks.”

  If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn Mallory wasn’t telling him the whole truth. But why would she lie?

  John helped himself to a cookie. “I called Sam this morning, Grant. She said you contacted her and asked about security codes.”

  Mallory’s head shot up. “You told someone about the numbers?”

  John frowned. “I’m missing a piece of information. What numbers are you talking about?”

  Grant focused all of his attention on Mallory. He’d talk to his brother later. “I didn’t mean to go behind your back, but I wanted to know if Sam could tell us what the numbers meant. She works at Fletcher Security and is the best code breaker in the country.”

  “You should have asked me first.”

  “You’re right, but it was only a ten-minute conversation. She didn’t see the numbers.”

  John cleared his throat. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  Grant waited for Mallory to speak. He’d already said too much by calling Sam.

  Mallory sat ramrod straight. “It’s a long story.”

  Grant knew for a fact that, long story or not, it wouldn’t stop his brother from asking more questions.

  John smiled encouragingly at Mallory. “I’ve got all day. Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

  She glared at Grant as if this were all his fault. It probably was, but he was only trying to help.

  “I didn’t remember anything about my car accident until a couple of months ago. On Thursday night I remembered the last words my boyfriend said to me. He told me to look at the photo beside my bed. Grant and I found it last night. There are two sets of numbers on the back of the picture. We’re trying to find out what they mean.”

  John kept his gaze locked on Mallory. “Do you have the numbers with you?”

  She nodded and pulled out her cell phone. “I took a photo of them this morning.”

  Grant started to smile, then remembered he was in trouble. He needed to look suitably remorseful, not proud of her forward thinking.

  John studied the numbers. “What have you eliminated?”

  Mallory tapped her cell phone and found what she was searching for. “I made a list of what we’ve already tried. We don’t think the numbers belong to a bank account, a phone number or print number. I called the resort that we’re standing in front of in the photo—the numbers don’t have anything to do with their building security.” She touched Grant’s arm. “I had another thought last night.”

  He leaned forward. “What was it?”

  She showed him her phone. “It could be a file number. Simon had a high-security cloud storage account. He used to joke that even the FBI wouldn’t be able to see what he was working on.”

  Grant thought about what she’d said. Out of all the things the numbers could have been, that made the most sense. “What was the name of the cloud system he used?”

  “I don’t know. Simon used to work on his laptop all the time. There could be an icon on his desktop or something in his Internet history.”

  John looked closely at her. “Do you know where Simon’s laptop is?”

  Mallory shook her head. “I don’t think he took it with us on the night he died, but I still don’t remember a lot from before the accident. If it wasn’t in the car, then it would have been in his apartment. After he died, his parents paid a moving company to take everything away. I don’t know what they did with his belongings.”

  “Weren’t you there?”

  “No. They asked for the key to his apartment and didn’t speak to me again.”

  Grant watched his brother, waiting to see what he thought. His company had been involved in so many cases that he must have come across the same type of situation before.

  John tilted his head to the side. “How important is it to know what the numbers mean?”

  Mallory sighed. “It was important to Simon. I can’t ignore what he said without at least trying to figure it out.”

  “It appears as though we have a mystery to solve—that’s if you want my help?”

  Mallory looked at Grant.

  “John owns a successful security company. If you want answers, he’s the right person to help.”

  Mallory rubbed her forehead. She was so stressed that Grant wanted to wrap her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay. But he had no idea what the numbers meant or if they’d ever find out.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’d appreciate your help.”

  John nodded. “Is there anything else you haven’t told us?”

  She glanced at Grant.

  He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what she said next.

  “I didn’t stop skating because of my injuries from the car accident. Before Simon died, someone sent me letters telling me to stop skating. I thought it was a hoax. After the accident, they told me my parents would be next if I didn’t do what they said.” Tears filled her eyes. “Simon died because of me.”

  Grant held onto her hand. “A truck hit his car. It might have been an accident.”

  “Did you tell the police?” John asked.

  Mallory shook her head. “I didn’t want anything to happen to my parents.”

  John sat quietly in his chair. “Do you have copies of the police report from the accident?”

  “No. I couldn’t read anything about the crash after Simon died.”

  John pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “I’ll contact a few people I know. We’ll need to do some background research—are you happy for my team to do that?”

  Mallory hesitated. “I’d like you to help me, but I need to know how much it will cost.”

  Grant looked at his brother. He knew how much Fletcher Security charged and to most people, it was more than they could afford.

  John left his cell phone on the table. “It won’t cost you anything.”

  “I can’t let you do that. You’ll have expenses you need to recover and staff you need to pay.”

  “You haven’t charged any of the parents for the skating lessons you’re giving the girls. Think of this as a thank you.”

  Grant was sure Mallory was about to disagree, so he jumped into the conversation. “She’ll take it.”

  Mallory’s eyebrows rose.

  “John’s got a sweet tooth. He’ll be your friend for life if you take a couple of cakes to his office.”

  “I can do that,” she sighed. “Thank you, John. I appreciate what you’re doing for me. Hopefully, it won’t take long to work out what the numbers mean.”

  Grant was glad she was feeling optimistic because he wasn’t. It would have been hard investigating the accident straight after it happened. Trying to find answers two years after Simon died made things even worse.

  But if anyone could help them, it was John. Between the three of them, they should be able to work out what had happened. Whether they found the information Mallory was hoping for was another story.

  ***

  “What’s going on?” John asked.

  Grant threw another log into the basket they’d brought out to the woodshed. After Mallory had left Emerald Lake, he’d stayed with his brother. He was wondering how long it would take him to dissect what was happening with Mallory.

  “You know what’s going on. Mallory needs our help.”

  “Did you know about the threats someone sent her?”

  “No
.”

  “This could get messy.”

  Grant picked up the basket and headed toward the door. “Only if the people who threatened her know we’re looking for them. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “Is she prepared for the consequences if they find out?”

  He didn’t reply. If Mallory was correct, and Simon’s death hadn’t been an accident, she knew only too well what could happen.

  John followed him across the yard. “Mallory doesn’t strike me as the type who scares easily. You have to prepare her for a worst-case scenario.”

  “Isn’t that what I do best?”

  “There’s no need to get angry with me.”

  Grant left the wood on the back porch. “I’m not angry with you. I’m upset with whoever put Mallory in this situation. If the letters were hoaxes, they took away her dream and changed her life. If they’re responsible for Simon’s death, they’re even worse monsters.”

  “There’s no point being angry. We need to find them and make sure they’re held accountable for what they did. How much do you know about Mallory’s boyfriend?”

  “Not much. His family was wealthy—they owned a property investment company in Orlando. A few months before he died, Simon had an argument with his father. He didn’t agree with something he wanted him to do. Mallory didn’t know what it was about, but it was enough to have an impact on their relationship.”

  John frowned. “Mallory needs to be careful. Make sure she’s got both our cell phone numbers on speed dial. Is there someone she can stay with while we do our investigation?”

  “I’ll ask her, but I don’t think she’ll want to stay with anyone else.”

  “She’ll like staying in her home even less if someone comes looking for her.” John picked up the basket. “Is your father’s underground bolt-hole ready for visitors?”

  “It won’t come to that.”

  John didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to.

  Grant’s biological father had been a survivalist. He’d spent all of his money preparing for post-apocalyptic America. Except it hadn’t been a nuclear explosion that killed his dad—a car accident near Chinook had done that.

  His lasting legacy to his son was a network of underground bunkers in Hills County. It had been Grant’s refuge when he’d returned from Afghanistan—and it might become Mallory’s.