“I’m sorry.”
“My father is the reason I’m here. Just before he died, a little over two months ago, he was removed from active duty. He was charged with larceny—the theft of military property, specifically chemical weapons stored at the depot. Because the army believed he was selling the weapons to a foreign entity, he was also charged with espionage and treason, and confined to the stockade at Fort Carson. At the hearing he pleaded not guilty to all charges, but he died before he could prove it.”
Bran leaned back in his chair. “The timing’s unfortunate to say the least.”
“That’s the thing. My father didn’t just conveniently have a heart attack five days after they arrested him. He was murdered. The perfect scapegoat for the real criminals.”
Bran’s gaze sharpened. “How do you fit into the picture, and why were those men shooting at you?”
“I’m a freelance journalist. I investigate unsolved crimes, environmental disasters, political scandals, celebrity misdeeds, anything that makes an interesting story and maybe does some good. Mostly the articles are published digitally in online magazines. But I have a certain reputation for thoroughness and honesty that has helped me grow a sizable audience. In other words, I’m good at my job.”
A corner of his mouth edged up. She remembered her brother telling her that Brandon Garrett was a heartbreaker and that if Danny ever brought him home, she was forbidden to go out with him. Not that she ever paid much attention to her older brother when it came to dating. But now that she had met Bran, she understood her brother’s warning.
“I’m guessing you decided to investigate the theft of chemical weapons from the depot,” Bran said. “The crime your father was charged with.”
“The crime my father was wrongly accused of committing.”
“All right, we’ll assume for now that’s true.”
“It’s true. I know my father. He was a soldier’s soldier, army all the way. Add to that, he was a patriot. He would never do anything to harm our country or the people in it. Those munitions stored at the depot? The contents are deadly. God only knows how many people could be killed.”
Bran’s dark eyebrows drew together. “Are you saying the army never recovered the stolen property?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. They’re still searching, but as far as they’re concerned, the man responsible for the theft is dead. They claim that’s the reason they haven’t been able to find the munitions, or even a link to anyone else involved.”
“But you believe they can’t find a link because your father wasn’t the guy behind the thefts.”
“Exactly.”
“Did you talk to him before he died?”
Her throat tightened. She missed him so much. “No. He never called me. He didn’t want me to know anything about it. I think he was sure he could prove his innocence and it would all go away.”
“But that didn’t happen.”
“No, and without his help, it makes all of this even more difficult.” She inhaled deeply, needing a moment to compose herself.
“I was devastated by my father’s death,” she continued. “It took a while for me to accept that he was actually gone and decide to investigate what really happened. Once I started, I was determined to prove his innocence. I had just begun asking questions and trying to get answers when I realized I was being followed and that perhaps my life was in danger.”
Bran seemed to be watching her closely. “Are you sure what you’re doing is worth that kind of risk? Your dad wouldn’t want you to die trying to save his reputation.”
“It’s worth it to me. I’m not giving up—which is the reason those men were waiting for me at the airport when my plane landed. Or I’m assuming that’s how they found me. I’m pretty sure somebody’s been watching me for weeks, but this is the first time they’ve openly threatened me.”
“Who’s they?”
Jessie gripped her hands tighter beneath the table. “I don’t know. I’m hoping you can help me find out.”
TWO
Bran could tell by the dark look on Chase’s face when he walked into the office and saw the broken windows—his brother wasn’t happy. He took a look around and headed straight for Bran. At least the glass on the floor had been swept up.
“What the hell, little brother?” Chase propped his hands on his hips as he surveyed the jagged shards left in the window frames, all that remained after the shooting.
“Take it easy. I’ve already called the glass company. They’re sending a guy out to take measurements and replace the panes. I’ll take care of the cost.”
“It’s not the money and you know it.” Considering they were each worth millions, thanks to the extremely profitable oil-and-gas business their father had left them and the great job their brother, Reese, as CEO, had been doing to grow the company.
“Someone could have been seriously injured or even killed,” Chase said. He was the oldest of the Garrett brothers, brown eyes, dark blond hair, a hard jaw rimmed by a short, dark blond beard. Chase was newly married and extremely happy. Well, until today. “What’s going on?”
Bran tipped his head toward the woman quietly sitting in the oak chair next to his desk. “Chase, meet Jessie Kegan. She’s a journalist from Colorado. And Daniel Kegan’s younger sister.” After the shooting, there had been no more problems, but the back door was now locked and Jax was keeping an eye on the front just in case.
Chase’s dark gaze went to Jessie, but he didn’t have to ask who Daniel Kegan was. He knew how close Danny and Bran had been, knew Danny had been killed in the war—killed saving Bran’s life. Knew the pain his friend’s death had caused.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jessie,” Chase said. “I assume all of this has something to do with you.”
“I came to ask for Brandon’s help. I didn’t mean to bring trouble down on all of you.”
Chase’s expression softened. “Trouble kind of goes with the territory when you’re in the security business.” His gaze returned to Bran. “I take it you’re going to help Ms. Kegan solve her problem.”
“I’ll keep her safe. But the problem won’t be solved until we track down the people involved. To do that, we’re going to need to go back to Colorado.”
“When are you leaving?”
Bran glanced toward the broken windows, his hand automatically going to the custom grip on the Glock 19 now clipped to his belt. “I’d say the sooner the better.”