Jenna paused her shuffling, purse spread open on one arm, and turned to gape at him in clear confusion.
Alex snorted. “Doubtful, but I’ll bite. Why?” He reached forward as he spoke, gathering up Jon’s papers.
Jon held the thought in his throat for another single second. It was a hell of a commitment. But it made sense to him, even though the beginning would be a headache.I know how to handle headaches.“Seems to me we don’t have enough skilled rescue personnel around here. And I need something to keep me busy once this one”—he jerked a thumb in Jenna’s direction—“gets her bakery back up-and-running. So, I think I’ll open one.”
“Holy shit, Jon,” Jenna muttered.
Alex’s brows disappeared beneath the swoop of his hair. “A search and rescue group?”
“Private company,” Jon said. “I imagine it’ll do more than strict SAR eventually, but whatever’s going on right now ought to be good proving ground for any founding members.”
Alex folded his arms across his chest. “What kind of work did you do with the Marines, exactly? Only ones I ever knew personally were mostly violent assholes. They were very good at the violence, but still assholes.”
Jon debated taking that as an insult for a moment, decided to let the skewed perspective go, and replied, “Reconnaissance. I ended up in Force Recon for a while.”
Alex let out a whistle. “I’ll admit I can see how that’d be helpful. But maybe before you go planning to open whole businesses, you take that old key and put it in the neglected lock?” He motioned to his left, toward the interior door. “You can get there faster through here. Turn right, then take the second left.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
Jenna pushed her papers forward as she re-shouldered her purse. “Thank you for your help, Alex.”
Jon offered Alex a nod before leading the way through the interior door and down the hall pathways as directed. In under a minute, he was standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling storage unit bearing an old padlock and the number that matched the one scrawled on his grandfather’s note.
He peeled the key off the card, carefully removed the aged tape, and polished the edges a bit with some tightly applied water and old-fashioned pressure. Once the adhesive was gone, Jon shoved the card away and stuck the key into the lock. The lock itself had probably been nice once, but as with most things, sitting unused for over a decade had dimmed its shine. There were signs of webs around the corners of the roll-up door, and in the tighter nooks around the lock, but it was also clear that someone at Campbell’s made an effort not tocompletelyignore the exterior of their rented spaces.
Jon dismissed the pointless observation, waited until the key settled into place, and twisted. He felt the metal click and give, and felt a simultaneous sense of relief somewhere inside. In quick motions he was on his feet again and rolling up the door, which squeaked and scraped far too much.
About a foot into the space was a tall vault-like safe. It had never been cutting-edge, but it might well have been above-average quality when it was installed.
“There’s a safe inside the storage locker?” Jenna asked with a gasp.
Jon couldn’t help but chuckle. “Probably he didn’t trust George.” It wasn’t an unreasonable thought, really. This was what his grandfather had meant, then, about needing another code. He could see the panel clearly. He strode up to it and, reflecting on the hint his grandfather had left him, confidently input his own tag number.
Chapter twelve
Inheritance
The door to thesafe popped open just a couple of inches, letting out a hiss as air rushed into the long-sealed space. For a heavy moment, the sound resonated like the audible build-up of unexpected tension in Jon’s chest.
He reached out and pulled the door the rest of the way open.
The safe was about four feet tall, the opening closer to three feet in width, and similarly deep. It was made of a sturdy metal that would be a bitch to move, meaning Jon was definitelykeeping the storage unit until he could figure that out. The safe itself, regardless of what was currently inside, he knew he could make use of.
He lowered to a crouch for a better look at the contents, illuminated by strip lighting that had probably been triggered by the door’s movement. They blinked and flickered briefly, too long out of use, before finally stabilizing. Jon’s heart gave a hard kick. His calves ached as his body rocked with a sharp breath, nearly dropping him to his knees.
The safe contained the heart of his grandfather’s memorabilia, carefully positioned in a clear, shiny new display case that ran the height of the space along the back wall. His grandfather had done two tours and earned a respectable number of awards, none of which had apparently been buried with him or sent anywhere after. There were photographs, still framed, carefully positioned among the ribbons and medals.
The same shelves housed within the built-in plexiglass display curved around the sides, but the side walls were mostly bare. On the left, on the highest shelf, rested a photo album with an old, effeminate ribbon on the spine. It wasn’t his grandfather’s taste, but Jon only had to glance at the photo in the center—the cover photo—to understand. The album was his grandmother’s, which meant it had older family photos, likely not dating more recent than Jon’s primary school years. But it would keep their faces in his memory, and he was grateful for that.
On the opposite wall, one long, narrow box was taped tight on the bottom shelf and a smaller lock box rested on the third shelf as if presented for attention. That box was blue, metal, and boasted what looked like a holiday bow on top.
Though he was curious about the long, taped box, Jon reached first for the one that looked bizarrely like a birthday present in steel. He extracted it, noting that it felt alarmingly light, andstood so he could rest it atop the safe and get some blood flowing back into his legs.
Jenna shuffled closer. “Is that a bow?”
His lips twitched. “Guess he was feeling kitschy.” He motioned her over. “You don’t have to be shy, Jen.” He knew she was trying to be respectful, but he had nothing to hide from her.
She didn’t argue, but didn’t crowd him, either.
