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 itshigh-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 againstyou.”
“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?”
