ONE
Dallas, Texas
Too much downtime always made him nervous, kind of edgy as he waited for the other shoe to drop. It had been a week since his last client had headed back to Nashville, Bran’s services as a bodyguard no longer required. A week of peace and quiet he should have enjoyed.
Instead, he had a nagging feeling that something bad was coming down the line.
Lounging back in the chair behind his desk at Maximum Security, Brandon Garrett ended the phone conversation he’d been having with Heath Ford, a Dallas police detective. Ford was working a murder case that involved one of Bran’s former clients, a white rapper who called himself String Bean. Unfortunately for Bean, when Bran’s services had ended after his last concert tour, he had been murdered.
Bran’s jaw clenched. String Bean had been a cocky, arrogant little prick, but he didn’t deserve to die. The only good news was that Ford was the best detective on the force. He was following a lead that looked promising, and he wouldn’t give up till he brought the killer to justice. Bran would do whatever he could to help him. Which might turn into something, but not enough to keep him busy.
The sound of the front door swinging open caught his attention and he glanced up. A gust of cool, late October air swept in, along with a petite, whirlwind of a woman with the prettiest strawberry blond hair Bran had ever seen.
She had a sweet little body to match her fiery long hair, he noticed, enhanced by the dark blue stretch jeans curving over her sexy ass and the peach knit top that hugged her breasts.
It wasn’t tough to read the anxiety in her big green eyes as she surveyed the room, gripping a wheeled carry-on, probably coming straight from the airport. But instead of walking to where the receptionist, Mindy Stewart, sat behind the front desk, she paused.
Her glance slid past the dark red, tufted leather sofa and chairs in the waiting area, over the antique farm tools decorating the walls, to the rows of oak desks where Jonah Wolfe, Jaxon Ryker, Lissa Blayne, and Jason Maddox were all hard at work.
Those green eyes landed on Bran, and as she started toward him, there was something about her that rang a distant bell. Interest piqued, he rose from his chair. “Can I help you?”
“You’re Brandon Garrett, right? You were a friend of my brother’s. Danny Kegan? I recognize you from the photos Danny sent home.”
The mention of his best friend’s name hit him like a blow, and the muscles across his stomach clenched. Daniel Kegan had been a member of his spec ops team, a brother, not just a friend. Danny had saved Bran’s life at the cost of his own. He was KIA in Afghanistan.
Bran stared down at the girl, who was maybe five foot four. “You’re Jessie,” he said, remembering the younger sister Daniel Kegan had talked so much about. “You look like him. Same color hair and eyes.” An image of Danny’s face arose along with a painful memory of the day he died. Bran forced away the images of blood and death and concentrated on the woman.
Nervously she licked her lips, which were plump and pink and fit her delicate features perfectly.
“My brother said if I ever needed help, I should come to you. He said you’d help me no matter what.” She glanced back toward the door, and his mind shifted away from the physical jolt he felt as he looked at her to the worry in her eyes.
“Danny was my closest friend. Whatever you need, I’ll help. Come on. Let’s go into the conference room and you can tell me what’s going on.” When her gaze shot back to the door, his senses went on alert.
“I didn’t mean I needed your help later,” Jessie said nervously. “I meant I need your help right now.”
Gunshots exploded through the windows. “Get down!” Bran shoved Jessie to the floor behind his desk and covered her with his body as glass shattered and a stream of bullets sprayed across the room.
Ryker popped up, gun drawn, and ran for the door. Maddox and Lissa were shuffling through their desks, arming themselves. Wolfe drew his ankle gun and ran for the rear entrance, ready for any threat that might come from there.
“Black SUV with tinted windows,” Ryker called back. Six feet of solid muscle, dark hair and eyes, Jax was a former navy SEAL, currently a PI and occasional bounty hunter. “Couldn’t get a plate number.” Jax’s gaze swung to the front of the room. “Mindy, you okay?”
She eased up from beneath her desk. “I—I’m okay. Should I call the police?” Around here, it was never good to jump to conclusions.
Bran hauled Jessie to her feet. He could feel her trembling. Her eyes looked even bigger and brighter than they had before. “Are they coming back?” he asked.
“I—I don’t know. It could have just been a warning.”
Bran turned to Mindy. “Unless someone’s already phoned it in, let’s wait to call the cops till we know what’s going on.” His attention returned to Jessie. “We need to talk.”
She just nodded. Her face had gone pale, making a fine line of freckles stand out on her forehead and the bridge of her nose.
Bran took her arm and urged her toward the conference room. “Keep a sharp eye,” he said to The Max crew. “Just in case.”
* * *
Jessie sank unsteadily into one of the rolling chairs around the long oak conference table. The man she had come to see, Brandon Garrett, sat down beside her.
“Okay, let’s hear it,” he said. “What’s going on?”
She thought of the men who had just shot up his office and her pulse started thumping again. “Danny said if I ever needed help—”
“Yeah, I get that. Your brother knew he could count on me. Like I said, I’ll help you any way I can, but I need to know what’s going on.”
Bran was taller than Danny, around six-three, she guessed, with a soldier’s lean, hard body, V-shaped, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. Powerful biceps bulged beneath the sleeves of his dark blue T-shirt. With his slightly too-long mink-brown hair, straight nose and masculine features, he was ridiculously handsome, except for the hard line of his jaw and the darkness in his eyes that contrasted sharply with their beautiful shade of cobalt blue.
“Start at the beginning,” he said.
Jessie took a shaky breath and let it out slowly, giving herself time to think. “I’m not exactly sure where the beginning actually is. My father was Colonel James Kegan, Commander, US Army Alamo Chemical Depot.”
Bran nodded. “Danny mentioned that. He was very proud of his dad.”
“Dad was proud of Danny, too. He was a great father.”
Bran’s gaze narrowed on her face. “You said was. When did he die?”
“He died on August 15. I still have trouble believing he’s actually gone.”