Grant forced his voice to come out steady and even, showing no signs that his world and all his bright, shining plans for his future were falling apart. “I understand. I’ll call Mad for you. He left the service two days before me. He’s probably done getting drunk and laid by now. Maybe he’s bored and ready to work again.”
“Madison Parker?” asked David.
“You remember him?”
“I worked with him once. Quiet guy, but he got the job done, right?”
“Every single time.” In fact, he was probably a better man for the job, anyway. Mad was a freaking machine. He would have found a way to keep everyone here safe and still make it to Denver by sunset.
“Can I trust him?” asked David.
“With Noelle’s and your son’s life.”
“Okay. Call him. I’m desperate enough to give him a shot.”
He ended the call and tried not to pay attention to the searing pain of loss ripping him apart. His dream of days spent working side by side with David and Caleb, and his evenings hanging out with his almost-nephew, crumbled. The bitter taste of loss coated his mouth until he thought he might throw up.
It had been so long since he’d dared to dream about anything more than his next conquest in bed. Pursuing this dream had demanded more courage than any mission he’d ever undertaken. And where did it get him? Right back where he’d started, with nothing in his future but the bleak knowledge that no matter how hard he tried, how long he worked, he would never truly belong.
He’d always be the one on the outside looking in, wishing for something others took for granted—something he could never have.
The hot tear hitting the back of his hand surprised him. He hadn’t cried in years, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.
Grant shoved away his regret at losing his job. No sense in throwing a fit over something that was already a done deal. David had a family to think about, and Grant wasn’t going to get in the way of something like that, no matter what it cost him. His happiness was expendable.
He scrolled through his contacts until he found Mad’s number. Before Grant had even hung up the phone, Mad had agreed to help and was out of his hotel room and heading for the highway. With luck, he’d hit Denver by sundown. Knowing Mad, he’d work though the night and keep working for the next ten days straight if that’s what it took to help David.
So much for Grant’s dream of being a part of David’s business—part of his family. He’d have to find his future elsewhere, which was one bleak fucking prospect.
It made him wish more than ever that he could be the kind of man who could find it with Isabelle. Too bad he cared about her too much to risk trying.
Wyatt was pissed. Isabelle walked into her school like nothing had happened. He’d seen the wreck on the news. He’d seen her car. How the hell had she walked away from something like that?
Fucking airbags.
Wyatt’s time was running out. He’d ditched his motel room and was sleeping on an old girlfriend’s couch, but sooner or later, the cops would track him down if he stayed in town. He needed to get out, but not without his son.
Maybe the plan to get Isabelle out of the picture was flawed, anyway. Who knew what those nosy social service fucks would do even if she was gone? Chances were they might find another Isabelle to put Dale with and he’d be stuck finding him all over again.
What Wyatt needed to do was convince Dale to leave with him. Make it look like he ran away. But how was he going to do that? Dale had been brainwashed and wasn’t likely to trust him. What he needed was leverage—a way of convincing Dale to come peacefully.
Isabelle was an obvious choice, but she had that goon living with her now. No way was Wyatt going to mess with that guy. He wasn’t made of hulking muscle, but there was something about the way he moved, some kind of confidence that told Wyatt he was dangerous. He’d learned to spot men like that in prison and keep his distance. He wasn’t about to fuck things up by getting stupid now.
So if he couldn’t use Isabelle, who could he use? That blond piece of fluff Dale drove to school this morning? It wasn’t the first time he’d seen them together. Maybe there was something going on between them.
Hell, maybe Wyatt would bring her along with them. He hadn’t had a piece of ass that fine in years. He was due.
A plan started forming in Wyatt’s head, and he laughed at how simple it was. All he really had to do was grab the girl. If Dale cared about her, he’d come along without a fuss. If not, then Wyatt still had himself a sweet little thing to fuck. It was a win–win situation, just the kind he liked.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The visit to the funeral home to plan Everett’s service was harder than Isabelle had expected. Thank God Grant was there to hold her hand and help her get through it.
The coroner still hadn’t released his body yet, and they had no way of knowing how long it might be until they did. Hopefully not too long. She needed this to be over—to know Everett was resting in peace and that she’d done everything she could to give him the kind of respect and love a real family would have.
Grant hit the drive-thru at a burger joint, but Isabelle wasn’t sure she could eat right now. She was too upset. Too heartsick over realizing that she’d really never see Everett again—never see him blush because she caught him looking at her, never hear him lecture her about putting more money into her retirement account.
“We’ll get you through this,” said Grant in a steady, confident voice.
Isabelle wondered if he’d ever been unsure of anything in his life. If so, she’d never seen it. He was rock solid, and she couldn’t imagine having to deal with all of this without him.
When he left, she would probably grieve for him as much as she was for Everett. What a lovely thought that was.
“I’m going to be fine,” she assured him. “It’s just hard right now, you know?”
Grant nodded, sparing her a quick glance away from the road. “The funeral will be tough, but so are you. And I’ll be there by your side.”
“Don’t say that, Grant. We don’t know how long it will be until they release the body, and if the police find Wyatt and prove he’s the killer before then, you’ll already be gone. I don’t want you making promises just because I’m upset.”
“I’m going to be here for Everett’s funeral,” he stated in a hard tone.
“You have your job to think about. I doubt your boss is going to appreciate you taking time off so soon after starting.”
His hands tightened on the wheel, and his voice took on an unnaturally neutral cadence. “Don’t worry about my job. I’ve got it covered.”
Isabelle let it drop. He was a grown man and could make up his own mind. Besides, she really wanted him by her side when they stood at Everett’s grave. She didn’t want to face that alone.
Grant pulled into her driveway and killed the engine. Before she could open her door, he turned in his seat and took her hand in his. Bright shards of clear amber shone in his eyes, and he had a fiercely determined set to his hard jaw. “We’re going to get through this. The police will find Wyatt, Amanda, and Keith will be safe, and you won’t have to worry about any of us anymore. All you’ll have to worry about is figuring out how you’re going to keep up with all those kids you’re going to bring into your home.”
That was a happy thought, and she so desperately needed one of those right now. “How do you know? How do you know that’s the way it will end?”
“Because you didn’t stop fighting when the police didn’t believe the suicides were murders. You didn’t give up. We have the police on our side now, working on the case, and as much as I think that Detective Mathews is a dickhead for thinking I could kill those people, he’s smart and determined. He’s not going to let us down.”
Isabelle clung to that notion and let it make her feel better. She still wasn’t as confident as Grant was, but she’d never met anyone who was.
“Will you do something for me?” she asked.
“Anything in my power, honey.”
“If something happens to me—”
“It won’t.”
She covered his mouth so she could finish. “If something happens to me, will you take care of Dale until he graduates?”
Under her hand, Grant’s face went white. His pupils contracted down to tiny black points, and a fine sweat broke out along his forehead. “I can’t, Isabelle. I’m sorry.”
“But he doesn’t have anyone else. His dad will try to get him back, and I know you’d be able to keep him safe. He’s almost done with school, and he’s no trouble at all.”
“It’s not that. Dale’s a great kid. But I can’t be his dad.”
“Why? You’re great with him. He listens to you. Looks up to you.”
“Only because he sees me as some random guy who will be gone in a few days. If he actually had to listen to me, it would be different.”
“Why?”
Grant got out of the car, slamming the door hard. His sack of fast food was still sitting between the seats. Isabelle grabbed it, along with the coffee mug full of fancy tea one of her students had given her, and followed him inside.
He’d made quick work of unlocking the door and was no longer in the kitchen by the time Isabelle walked in. She threw the bag of food and tea on the counter, along with her purse and jacket, and went to find him. She was not going to let him leave her hanging like this, not for something this important to her, and not when he was obviously in pain.
He was already up the stairs when she caught up with him. She followed him into his room without asking permission. She didn’t even care she was invading his private space.
He kept his back to her, and she could see tension vibrating his frame. “I don’t really want company right now.”
“Fine, then answer my question and I’ll get out of your hair. Why can’t you be Dale’s father? Is it something he did?”
He turned around and looked at her like she was insane. “God, no. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Then what is it? You’re a good man. You like him. I trust you. Why won’t you take care of him for a few months? Is it your job?”
“I don’t have—” He ran his hands through his hair, making a mess of it. “It has nothing to do with the job.”
“Then what, Grant?”
“I just can’t be anyone’s dad. At least not yet.”
Isabelle had no idea what he meant by that. “Why not yet? Is something happening I don’t know about? Are you going back into the military again?” The thought that she’d have to worry about him day after day and go for months without hearing from him scared her silly. She wasn’t sure how she’d deal with it if he said he was going back to that life again.
Not that she had any say in the matter.
“There’s nothing you need to know,” he said.
It was an evasive answer, but she let it go in favor of pursuing what she really wanted to know. “Then what’s going on? If you’re not ready to be a dad now, when will you?”