2. Flashback
Sean paid the vet bill with an internal sigh. He had enough money stashed away to help him coast for a long while, but Jabba was going to take a literal bite out of those savings.
On the plus side, the huge mutt was now completely debugged and clean. After helping the vet get the chain off, Sean had taken his truck to the nearest car wash and scrubbed it inside and out. No fleas or whatever the hell had been growing on the dog survived the scouring.
When the vet had said Jabba didn’t have a chip and there were no inquiries on the local sites about a lost dog matching his description, he’d dropped another chunk of change at the pet store, getting all the food and items the vet recommended.
He was such a sucker, but he hadn’t been able to resist those pathetically hopeful eyes staring out from beneath the mop of fur. “Any idea what kind of dog he is?”
The vet shrugged. “He’s a bit of a combo platter, I think. Definitely some Newfoundland and probably some Saint Bernard. Wouldn’t surprise me if there’s some Great Dane or Mastiff blood in there, too. On the good news side, he’s neutered. I think he’s over a year old and is probably fully grown.”
Hell, the beast might get bigger? “Let’s hope so. He’s already big enough to eat a whole sheep.”
At least the vet worked out of the same office as a groomer. While Sean paid, Jabba pranced out happily with the groomer, who looked about the same weight. He now resembled a dog more than a highland cow.
With a wave, Sean left with the big dog at his side, no instructions or leash required. He opened the truck’s passenger door and Jabba jumped inside. “Don’t you dare develop arthritis. I don’t want to be lifting you every time we go somewhere.”
Sean grinned as he jumped into the truck himself. He had a dog. And not just any dog. A giant who was going to require frequent meals and water breaks if he was going to recover from the trauma he’d been through.
“Do you know how lucky you are, Jabba?”
The dog grinned at him and woofed. Laughing, Sean put the truck into gear. “Time to get off Bad Choices Road before I end up with an alligator or a hippo. Let’s find Route 66 again. And don’t tell me you get car sick because wherever we’re going, it’s going to take a few days to get there.”
Jabba sat up, watching the scenery. When Sean lowered the window, he stuck his head out and grinned happily at the world going by.
They’d driven a few hours east when Sean’s phone buzzed with a text. Jabba yanked his head back in and nosed the phone where it sat on the console between them.
The phone dropped to the seat and then bounced to the floor. “Smooth move, Jabba.”
The phone didn’t buzz again, but curiosity got the best of him. Sean wasn’t exactly a great communicator, and he didn’t text a whole lot of people. Hell, not that many people even knew his number.
It was probably Epic with more details about his plan. Actually, it probably wasn’t Troy. The man had been exactly right in knowing that Sean’s curiosity was a beast in and of itself. He wanted to know about the project Epic had hinted about.
“Looks like we’re going to need a stop, Jabba. It’s time for you to have another small meal.”
Jabba’s eyes flickered, and he grinned at Sean.
“Okay. Keep your eyes open for the next rest stop.”
At the rest area, Sean pulled to the far end with a dog-friendly space. He opened the door, and Jabba hopped out. Thankfully, the lot was empty so Jabba wouldn’t scare some poodle out of its goofy haircut.
Sean set up a bowl of food and water from the nearby spout. While the dog was busy, he grabbed his phone from the floor and opened the text.
Everything inside of him went into warrior mode at the words.
Sally sos fort
No punctuation, as if she’d been in mortal danger when she’d texted and didn’t have the time. All while he’d been driving, not knowing Charlie’s little sister needed his help.
He punched the number, but it went straight to voice mail. You’ve reached Branna. Leave me a message.
Sean sent her a text telling her to call him immediately and then called again. And again.
Guilt swamped him. They’d grown up together in that tiny neighborhood just off Miami’s downtown district. It hadn’t been a fancy neighborhood, but one filled with hard-working middle-class families who hadn’t saved up enough for houses. Instead, they’d lived in concrete apartment blocks with terrible airflow, but there was always someone to help you out down the hall.
He missed that, but the memories were hard, and he hadn’t been back often. His parents had died when some drunken asshole had been texting and driving. Then, Charlie’s mom had been an innocent victim of a drive-by shooting while she was shopping.
“Come on, Branna. Answer the damn phone.” But it went to voice mail again.
A wet tongue slobbered on his hand, and he looked down to find Jabba watching him with concern. “You ready, boy? We’ve got to go.”
Jabba hopped up, and Sean picked up his bowls and jogged to the truck. He turned up the phone’s volume and stuck it in the cup holder where he would see it. This truck wasn’t new enough to have an integrated system.
Another good reason for that upgrade.
Sean was thankful he’d already been driving east, but this time there would be no meandering. Branna needed him.
What the hell had happened? And why had he been too much of a coward to spend time with her after Charlie’s funeral? She and her dad had been alone.
Branna had always been the tagalong when he and Charlie had hung out. She’d always tried to prove she was tough and cool enough to hang out with them, even though they were a couple of years older.
As they’d grown up, Sean had stopped seeing her as a little kid. By the time he and Charlie had signed up to enlist, his thoughts about Branna had been another reason to stay away. You simply weren’t supposed to lust after your best buddy’s little sister. It wasn’t right.
The memory of her standing at Charlie’s funeral swept through him. She’d been so strong for her dad, who’d been a puddle of tears. She’d taken care of him and everyone around her. The wake had been at the pub and he recalled her constantly moving around, making sure everyone was okay.
Who’d taken care of her?
Who was taking care of her now?
Cursing himself, Sean pulled over to the side of the road and dug through his contacts until he came to Seamus O’Dea’s number.
An automated voice greeted him. The number you have dialed is out of service.
Shit. Why would Seamus have changed his number? Sean tried Branna once more before getting back on the road.
He kicked up the speed a little, but not enough to get pulled over. He needed to get his ass to Miami, and he needed to get there now.
* * *
Branna didn’t have a clue what time it was, but she hadn’t heard any human noises for what had to be several hours. She rose to her feet and stretched her muscles. The leap across the alley had been successful, but her landing had been less than stellar. A sprained ankle along with too many aches and pains to number. Although she’d had nothing else to do since arriving in the fort.
Would Sean remember?
If he didn’t remember the silly nickname he and Charlie had called her, she was done. It would be another few days before her ankle was up to running, and if she didn’t stay hidden, running would be her only option.
Would Sean remember her? And the fort?
They’d been exploring the bowels of the apartment building where Sean’s family had lived when they’d come across a loose frame on one of the duct vents in a bathroom in the deepest part of the basement. The bathroom was attached to a janitorial closet and appeared abandoned to them. It certainly hadn’t been clean enough to use.
The boys had probably been eleven, which had made her about nine. They hadn’t known she was trailing after them that day until they’d pulled off the frame and dragged over an old crate to stand on.
She’d popped into the room and said she wanted to see, too. They’d both rolled their eyes and called her Sally, but they’d let her hang out. They always had.
The duct had been large enough for them to crawl into, so they had. The boys had insisted on being first because they’d decided they were going to be military men, and that meant they protected the girls.
It had made her roll her eyes, but they’d both become exactly that kind of men. Protective. Head to the danger instead of running away.
Branna’s eyes filled with tears. Charlie had died because he wanted to help, to protect. Would he be ashamed that she hadn’t stood up to Prince? That she’d run? She hoped not. And what would Sean think of her?
With a disgusted sigh, Branna took a couple of deep breaths to settle herself. She hobbled to the duct above her head. It was the only way in and out of this tiny space. None of them had any idea why the room had been built or what its purpose had been.
But it reminded them of the snug behind the bar. A hidden room just for them.
There was no matching grate on this end of the duct, so she placed her hands on the ledge and hauled herself up. Not as easy a task as it had been when she’d been a kid. At least she’d stayed small enough to fit through the duct itself.
It was less than ten feet, but crawling through the cramped space always had her heart pounding so hard she thought someone might hear it.
At the end of the space, she peered through the grate. Nothing had changed since her last visit.
She dropped, used the disgusting toilet, and then washed her hands. She cupped them together and drank some water from the sink. Not too much, because the trek to get back into the hidden room required a lot of energy.
The injuries from her not-so-graceful landing weren’t major, but the aches and pains made hoisting herself into the duct onerous.
Of course, it would have been easy for Charlie or Sean, but she wasn’t part of a special teams Army machine. She tended bar, took care of the books and staff, and sang songs.
She should probably add some cardio to her daily routine. Standing on her feet all day didn’t seem to be cutting it.
Even though the bathroom was old and dirty, Branna had to force herself to stand on the crate to get back into the duct, and to the hidden room. The bathroom at least had a glimmer of light from under the door.
She’d risked turning on her phone for the light before she’d dropped into the room the first time. There hadn’t been critters or corpses like she’d feared, simply an empty four-by-four space.
Unwilling to risk Prince’s people using it to trace her, she’d taken the card thingy out of her phone before she’d turned it on. And she’d turned it off immediately.
It had probably been at least a day since they’d burned down her pub, but she knew it could be several more days before Sean came.
If he came.
No. When he came. No negative thinking.
Surely, if Prince’s hackers had tracked her, they’d have been in the basement by now. But she’d heard nothing that sounded like a search.
Branna dropped back into the small space, trying to keep all her weight on her good ankle. The room was the basic size of a large closet, and she wondered if they’d simply forgotten to add a door to the hallway when they’d been building it.
Having nothing else to do, Branna curled up in the dark and let herself think about Sean. She’d crushed on him from an early age and had never quite gotten over it.
He’d always been a good-looking kid. Friendly and fun. Not one to strike up a conversation like Charlie, but one to watch your back, no matter what.
When he’d arrived for Charlie’s funeral, Sean had helped with the food and the organization. He’d intervened when people were draining her with their questions or when they started blaming Charlie for his own death. That’s what you get when you enlist.
He’d materialized at her side and stared down the idiots. He’d say something like. Charlie was one of the bravest men I’ve ever known. He spent his life taking care of others and trying to make the world safer. He was a hero.
Then Sean stared at the people until they thanked him for his service and scuttled away. Those memories were the only smiles she and her dad had found during those long days.
And now her dad was gone, too. She was alone.
The thought made the walls close in around her as she sat in the dark and twisted her mom’s engagement ring around her finger. It was all she had left of her mom. And she had nothing of her dad’s or Charlie’s. The only things she owned were the ring, the clothes she wore, and her useless phone.
Maybe something could be salvaged from the ruins, but she doubted it. She’d never seen a fire like that.
Tears filled her eyes, but she swallowed them back. It wasn’t safe to lose control. That would have to wait. She did some more deep breathing and brought up images of the sexy man she hoped was riding to her rescue.
She hoped he’d come soon. And that she wasn’t making him a target for Prince Hawley.