“Gone. I didn’t see the bomb, but whoever built the damn thing knew what they were doing.”
Grant’s eyes slid closed. He’d seen first-hand the heart and soul Brynnon had put into that place and how happy she was there. His heart physically hurt, knowing the loss was a devastating one.
I’m so sorry, baby
With a desperate need to find the bastard responsible, Grant filled his lungs and tried to remain focused on that.
“I told Derek to look into Jessica Price. She’s the one who sent the threats and almost killed Brynnon before.”
“Yeah, D told me about her, but, uh...” Coop paused. “It wasn’t her.”
Unhappy with that answer, Grant spun back around. “Who the fuck else would it be?”
“I don’t know, but I’m telling you, it wasn’t Jessica Price.”
“Her father, then. Hell, Charles Wright’s the one with a hard-on for Senator Cantrell. He could’ve—”
Coop shook his head. “It wasn’t him, either.”
“How the hell can you be so sure?” Grant growled, his frustration building at an increasingly fast pace.
He needed it to be Wright or his daughter. If it was, if the evidence pointed to one or the other, then Brynnon would finally be safe.
I need her to be safe.
Keeping his cool, Coop responded calmly with, “We know it wasn’t Wright because the man was admitted to Dallas Regional earlier today.”
“When did you find this out?”
“Derek called just before you showed up. Since I was the one still guarding Brynnon, he contacted me rather than you.”
“What happened.”
“Apparently, Jessica went by to take him to lunch at around eleven and found him unresponsive. Hospital security shows her staying with her father from the minute the ambulance arrived with Wright right up until...”
A sick feeling settled in his gut. “Until when?”
Regretfully, Coop told him, “Grant, Charles Wright never regained consciousness. He died less than an hour ago, and his daughter was by his side the entire time. The team of doctors and nurses who were assigned to him have already vouched for her, which means—”
“Someone else planted the bomb.” Grant ran a hand over his rough jaw before sliding it around to the back of his neck. With his fingers pressing against the tense muscles there, he sighed loudly. “Does Bryn know?”
Coop nodded. “I told her.”
Damn.“How’d she take it?”
“Not great.” The other man shook his head. “Even knowing the guy had spent years trying to prove her father basically killed those soldiers, Brynnon still genuinely felt bad that she hadn’t been able to give Wright answers before he died. Crazy, right?”
No, Grant thought. Not crazy. It was kind and loving. It was...Brynnon. His heart broke for her, knowing she’d take Wright’s death as a personal failure.
Looking back at his teammate, Grant said, “D’s spent the last few days going back through the files on the P.I.’s computer. He’s gonna stay with Cantrell until you get there, and then keep at it until he finds something.”
Playing musical bodyguards was highly unprofessional, but Grant couldn’t bring himself to care about that right now. Nothing—not even the job he loved—would’ve kept him away from her tonight. Thankfully, the senator had agreed.
Earlier, Grant thought he’d go mad waiting for her to get back to the city. After Coop finally called with the hotel information and to say they’d arrived at their room, Brynnon spoke to her father. Grant had tried to ignore the crushing disappointment he’d felt when she hadn’t asked to talk to him, too.
After ending that call, William Cantrell contacted her brother to fill him in on what had happened. Unwilling to stick around another second, Grant had bluntly told the man he was leaving.
Giving permission he hadn’t asked for, Brynnon’s father simply waved him away as Grant ran out of the office, probably breaking a few land speed records on the drive over. He didn’t care.
