got around base that Justin and a few others had trouble keeping their hands out of the company till. They were accepting kickbacks from vendors who supplied the base’s convenience stores with food and drinks.”
Justin had never mentioned anything about it to her. “I can’t believe he would do that. Especially with who his father is.”
Brady snorted. “I think his father is why he did it. Justin didn’t like that his father was in charge of enforcing the rules. Tim Ambrose doesn’t let anyone forget he’s in charge and he likes to be in control. Justin bucked the system when he could.”
Susan had met Justin’s father several times and she’d gotten the impression he wasn’t happy with her as his son’s choice for a girlfriend. She’d assumed it was a hang-up about her past, maybe her humble upbringing or her mother’s problems with the law. Perhaps he hadn’t liked that he couldn’t control Justin’s decisions in regards to her. “Justin didn’t strike me as a rule-breaker.” If Brady was right, she had been in the dark about that part of Justin’s life. It wasn’t an “if” Brady was telling the truth. Trumans didn’t lie, even when the truth hurt. Susan couldn’t help but wonder what else she was in the dark about when it came to Justin. Something that would make him enemies? Something that would get him killed?
“I must sound like a fool for not knowing these things about Justin.”
“Not a fool, just a woman who sees the best in people. Don’t waste energy worrying about it. We’ll figure this out together.”
Susan closed her eyes. When he said together, she saw them as a team. With Brady, no such concept of team or partner existed. He ran the show and brought people along for the ride. In most circumstances, she didn’t mind. Life with Brady was exciting and ever-changing. In this case, Susan wanted control. She wanted to do everything possible to clear her name. “If the police don’t know about Justin’s checkered past in the air force, maybe I should tell them. Maybe it will help them connect Justin to someone bad he was involved with in the present.”
Brady shook his head. “Bringing a theory like that to the police without evidence won’t help. Justin’s father is involved in the case and calling the shots, at least from behind the scenes. He won’t allow Justin’s name to be dragged through the mud by allowing the past to enter the equation.”
What about her good name? Everything she could think to do wasn’t working. “When I’ve had some sleep, I’ll feel better,” Susan said. She’d been telling herself things like that for the past week. Every time she thought them, they were a lie. Nothing made her feel better or eased the guilt she carried.
“I’ll throw clean sheets on my bed for you. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
She couldn’t expect him to do that. He’d done enough and she didn’t want to feel indebted to him. “I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Half the time I sleep on the couch anyway. Don’t give it another thought.”
He put fresh sheets on the bed and tidied his room, tossing laundry in the hamper. He put a pair of clothes for her on the end of the bed. “These might be too big, but they’re clean. I’ll put out a towel for you in the bathroom.”
Formal. Like they were strangers. She’d spent the night with Brady many times before and this felt bizarre.
Brady went to his safe next to his dresser and opened it, pulling out his gun. He checked it for bullets. “Holler if you need anything,” he said over his shoulder.
He closed the safe and left the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
She’d never seen him remove his gun from the safe before tonight. He was taking the threat to her life seriously.
Susan pushed aside her worries about staying at Brady’s and her anxiety about Brady needing to use the gun. It was late and she was tired. The day had been long and difficult. A quick shower to scrub the smoke and fire stink off her and then sleep would feel great. She wouldn’t think about what waited for her tomorrow. She would take one day at a time. Same as she had when her father had been murdered.
Exhaustion tugged at her and she hurried through a shower. If she weren’t covered in smoke and grime, she might have skipped it altogether. She dressed in Brady’s clothes and crawled into bed, closing her eyes, knowing Brady would find his way, unwanted, into her dreams.
* * *
Brady shifted on the couch and reached under it to check his gun. He wanted it in arm’s reach. Not since his work as a pararescueman had he needed to sleep with a gun beside him. Then, he’d had his team around providing backup.
Alone with Susan, he was her sole protector. Was he up to the task? His skills were out of practice and he wasn’t nimble on his feet. When he’d been with the pararescuemen, he’d worked with in-depth intel, extensive resources and top-of-the-line equipment. In protecting Susan, he had none of that. He didn’t even know whom he was protecting her from.
Doubts ran through him, but the events of the last week didn’t leave him much choice. He needed to look out for Susan. Brady wasn’t naïve enough to believe whoever was stalking Susan would give up.
Someone believed Susan knew something about Justin’s murder and they didn’t want it revealed. If they believed it, then Harris might be right and Susan held the key to solving Justin’s murder. Had she been drugged? Or was she blocking the trauma of the memory?
Brady’s knee ached and he reached to massage it. He’d pressed his body hard going into the fire to help Susan. Now that his adrenaline was slowing, he was paying for it. Unable to get comfortable on the couch, he sat up and grabbed the file Harris has given him on Justin’s murder.
Brady had read it a dozen times and thought it over twice that often. He’d made his own notes in the margins, most of which consisted of questions without answers.
His attention swerved to a noise at the front door. Was someone testing the front lock, trying to open the door? Harris stopping by again uninvited? Brady’s landlord made an appearance only when it was a matter of life and death. Connor was also former Special Forces and more of a recluse than Brady was. He hated trespassers.
Brady wasn’t taking chances. He retrieved his gun from under the couch and checked again that it was loaded. He wouldn’t open fire until he saw who was foolish enough to break into his home.
Scratching at the door. A screwdriver trying to pry it open? He didn’t have a window facing the front and the door didn’t have a peephole. He could swing the door open and surprise whoever was there, but he’d prefer to know who was on the other side. What if more than one person was looking for Susan? How quickly could Brady take them out and prevent them from getting to her?
Doubts flooded his mind. His Special Forces training had taught him that success in an operation was ninety percent mental. Brady had failed in a big way once, letting down his team and himself when the stakes were life and death. Brady pictured himself freezing, gun in hand, letting an enemy get the advantage. He shook off the memory. Could he succeed now when the stakes were as high?
Wood breaking sounded loud against the silence of the room. The door gave way under the weight of a man dressed in black. The man swung a gun around the room, sweeping for occupants.
Brady ducked behind the couch and strained to listen. Was anyone else
