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 living 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.
“I’ve been reading over Jordan Wright’s file. It’s crazy how much we have in common. Hell.” He huffed out a breath. “I could’ve been him.”
Pulling out a chair, Brynnon sat beside him. “What do you mean?”
“We were close in age, and he was an only child. His mom died from lung cancer shortly after he graduated from high school.” His eyes met hers. “I can’t tell you the number of times I traveled over bridges just like that one while in Afghanistan or some other middle-eastern country. Something like that could've just as easily happened to me and my team.”
Sensing he wasn’t finished purging, Brynnon remained quiet and let him finish out his darkened thoughts. When Grant looked back down at Jordan Wright’s service photo, his face filled with heartbreaking affliction.
“I’ve seen a lot of friends and teammates die. I accepted that part of the job a long time ago. We all did.” He swallowed hard, his eyes still focusing on Jordan’s picture. “But sitting here and reading through his file, I just keep thinking, why didn’t he get to come home? He was the all-American guy. Good son, great soldier...married with a baby on the way. So why did I make it out, but he didn’t? It just doesn’t make any sense. The guy barely had a chance to live.”
Oh, Grant.Reaching over, Brynnon covered his tight fist with her hand. “I can’t answer that. I wish I could, but the truth is it was just his time. And you...” She paused. “You do have a chance to live.”
