Chapter 2
Grant
Grant smirked at the officer that let him out of the cell. When the police had dragged him into the station, they told him that he was going to prison for a long time. Then Kate appeared like an angel, sent by his birth father. And she rescued Gus! Grant appreciated someone who solved problems efficiently.
“Thank you for your service,” the mayor said, shaking his hand.
“I’m sure this was all a big misunderstanding,” Kate told her.
“Absolutely. Just so that everyone else knows it, we have a press conference scheduled in an hour. I’m sure Sergeant Jones would be happy to explain the situation.” She looked at Kate and Grant meaningfully.
“Of course he would,” Kate replied.
Grant nodded.
The pair settled down on a bench while the news media and the mayor’s aides scurried around, setting up a lectern and microphones for the press conference. Grant pulled Gus out of the bag. The corgi yipped and licked his face. Grant set him down and batted him around playfully.
“Who’s the best puppy in the whole world?” Grant said, laughing as Gus tripped over his short legs while trying to jump up on him.
The puppy wagged his tail at Kate, but she excused herself, explaining, “I need to call off the lawyers.”
Grant watched Kate out of the corner of his eye. She was pretty—slightly curvy, not a lot of makeup—and she smelled good. It wasn’t like a heavy perfume, just a clean scent. She was nothing like the girls he was used to in the Marines, the ones with too much cheap makeup and trashy clothes, who were only looking to score their very own hero husband and the basic allowance for housing that came along with him. Kate didn’t seem like that at all. She didn’t give off desperate vibes, just a calm, competent professionalism.
Kate returned to the bench and pulled a wet wipe out of her bag and proceeded to clean off his face. “You can’t go in front of the cameras looking like that,” she told him.
“You don’t think the blood and dirt gives me a sort of rakish charm?” he joked and gave her a grin.
She gave him a small smile. She was very close to him as she carefully cleaned his face. Grant suppressed a shiver as her manicured nails brushed his lips as she carefully dabbed at a cut on his cheek.
“Well, that will have to do,” she said, adjusting the collar of his uniform.
“Are you ready, Sergeant?” the mayor asked.
Gus still tucked under his arm, Grant followed her to the lectern.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, members of the press,” the mayor began. “Today, I have called a brief press conference to clear up some rumors and confusion surrounding Sergeant Grant Jones. First, I would like to commend Sergeant Jones on his service to our country.”
Grant tried not to roll his eyes as the mayor went on her spiel about how great he was and how he had brought the same level of character used on the battlefield to the little town of Barton. If only they knew.
“And now this would-be child abductor is off the street,” the mayor concluded. “The police are currently investigating other cases he may have been involved in. I’m sure Sergeant Jones would be happy to give his side of the story and answer any question you may have. Sergeant Jones, everyone.” She stepped back and led a round of applause.
Grant stepped up to the lectern and cleared his throat. “Good afternoon.” He focused on the comforting weight of his lucky watch on his wrist and tried to project confidence.
Gus, still tucked under his arm, gave a yip. The members of the press laughed and said, “Aww.”
“Thank you for taking the time to be here,” Grant began. “The only reason I crossed paths with Tedson was because of Gus. I was returning from visiting my adoptive parents, and there was a pickup truck driving erratically in front of me. The car stopped and dumped a dog out of the truck.” He held up Gus. “The little guy ran furiously after the car. I stopped and chased around after him for a bit. It felt a little bit like being a drill instructor chasing after the boots.”
Grant smiled and earned a laugh out of the press. “The pup thought it was a game, I think. I finally caught him, and we stopped at the nearby Walmart. I was going to pick up some food and a crate for Gus, then I saw Tedson, and I just lost it. I have fought on four combat tours, just returned from Syria. I was so sick and tired of bad people getting away with stuff. I did attack him—I’m not going to lie—but I don’t regret it a bit. As the fantastic mayor of Barton has informed me, Tedson was a no-count criminal. Someone who tries to abduct kids and dumps puppies on the side of the road deserves what they get, I say.”
“Hear! Hear!” shouted one of the cops in the crowd.
“There’s a saying,” Grant continued, “that all it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing. I feel like I did my part here today.” The press broke out in applause. “Any questions?” Grant asked.
“You returned from Syria only three days ago,” one reporter said. “Is this how you thought you would be spending your first few days back home?”
Grant laughed and ran his fingers through his short-cropped hair. “No, ma’am, this was not how I expected it to go. Though I will say being in a jail cell is actually a lot more relaxing than chasing after the terrorists and dodging rockets.” That earned him another chuckle from the press.
“What are your plans for the future?” another reporter asked.
“I’m looking to get out of the military, maybe go to college, find a girl, and finally settle down. Definitely spoil Gus.”
The puppy gave a small bark.
“You’ve certainly earned it,” the mayor said, applauding, then she took back the microphone. “We here in Barton want to thank Sergeant Jones for all he’s done for our town and, more importantly, for our country.”
Resisting the urge to gag, Grant leaned over the lectern microphone and said, “Thank you, Mayor, and don’t forget to vote in the upcoming election!” He winked.
The crowd chuckled.
The mayor said with a laugh, “I did not tell him to say that!”
Grant smiled at her and gave her a hug. The press took pictures. Finally, when he had finished shaking hands, the police gave him his bags back.
“Ready to go?” Kate asked him.
Grant yawned.
“I need to take back my rental car,” he told her.
“Already taken care of,” she replied. “Your father has told me to make sure you have everything you need.”
“Is that so?” Grant said and followed her to the BMW. They drove through the small town, out to a private airfield.
I didn’t even know this was here, Grant thought. It was as if a whole other world existed parallel to the one where he had lived in a tiny cinder-block house with his adoptive parents.
“Wow,” he said as they drove right up onto the airstrip. There was a Gulfstream jet, all black, parked on the runway. Grant could tell his mouth was hanging open in surprise, and he shut it but couldn’t keep his eyes from bugging out.
“This is one of the smaller and older of Mr. Holbrook’s—your father’s—planes. He has a fleet. The nicer one is in the shop currently, so unfortunately, we have to take this one.”
“This seems fine to me,” Grant said.
One of the flight attendants, wearing an impeccably tailored suit, descended the staircase.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Holbrook,” he said.
Grant was taken aback. “Oh no, it’s Jones,” he corrected him.
“Of course,” the man said. “My apologies.”
“You’ll be a Holbrook soon,” Kate told him with a smile.
Grant didn’t know what to think about that. He had been Jones his entire life. Except that he had been adopted, so maybe Jones wasn’t really his name and Holbrook was. He shook his head. He was too tired for this. He just wanted to sleep. He followed Kate up the stairs into the plane.
“Good night,” he murmured. The interior of the plane had deep, creamy leather seats. There were black and brass accents on the tables and wall moldings that were punctuated by large round windows. Grant hugged Gus closer to his chest, suddenly self-conscious about his disheveled uniform. His stay in the jail cell hadn’t done it any favors, either.
“Have a seat,” Kate said to him.
“Do you have a towel or anything to sit on?” he asked desperately. He didn’t want to ruin the light-colored leather with his filthy uniform.
She raised a perfect eyebrow and quirked her mouth. He couldn’t help but stare. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He tried to shake off the feeling. It was only because he had been in a war zone for the past eight months, surrounded by the smelliest, nastiest, filthiest Marines that side of the Atlantic. He was just latching onto the first pretty face he saw.
“Would a towel make you more comfortable?” she asked him.
He nodded, and she waved one of the flight attendants over, and he draped a blanket over the seat. It was probably the nicest blanket Grant had ever seen.
“I meant like an old towel,” Grant said after a moment.
“This is all that we have, sir,” the flight attendant said. “I’m very sorry.”
“No, no,” Grant said, “it’s fine.” He settled down gingerly, buckled his seat belt, and settled Gus on his lap.
“Good evening,” the captain said over the intercom after they had taken off and were speeding through the air. “We are at a cruising altitude of thirty-five thousand feet. We will be reaching Westchester County Airport in approximately two hours.”
But Grant didn’t hear any of it. He was sound asleep.