Harrison's Heart (Heroes for Hire Book 7) Read online

  A block away was a coffee shop in the Riverside Center. Her diet sucked presently, but she didn’t care. Her normal rations consisted of all-natural yogurt and lots of fresh veggies and fruit. When she hit the streets, it was amazing how easily she became accustomed to not having all the things she used to love. Especially when the penalty meant she had to take the shit that came with it. She couldn’t do that right now. She might not be up for it ever again.

  She briefly contemplated leaving the country, a daily thought in her mind. But…could she do that if her mother lived? Her mother was the only person she cared about. She knew others said she had been the one to beat up her mom. That was a lie. She was fully capable of beating somebody up, but never her mother, the one who’d been her protective buffer against the world. Her mother had warned her to walk away when she came up against some of the most horrible offenses in the military. Being a man and serving was one thing, as a woman it was a completely different story.

  Her best friend had been raped by several men in their own unit. Such a horrible betrayal of both body and mind. Zoe had fought so hard to get justice. But when she found her friend hanging in the bathroom, tied up with her own shirt, she’d walked. There’d been no justice for her friend. None.

  And she doubted it would happen in her lifetime. There were so many cover-ups. The military couldn’t handle the thought that soldiers were anything but perfect. The men she’d believed to be good, honest, and upright patriots had turned on one of their own. And they were still raping other women.

  A rock sat in her path. She pulled her leg back and kicked it as far as she could. She had enough anger sliding through her that it shot forward, bounced and kept on rolling. But it wasn’t a big enough outlet for her temper.

  She entered the coffee shop and ordered two. Picking them up, she walked to the store next door and checked out a couple sandwiches on the menu. It was cheaper if she bought a large quantity. Benji could pack one away for later, and she could too. She bought four large with everything and had them wrapped and bagged so she take them to-go.

  With her purchases in hand, she made her way to where Benji sat. She’d seen him many times over the last few months since she’d left the military. In fact, when she needed to get away after her father’s shooting, Benji had been the first man on her mind. And the lifestyle he lived. She’d followed his example and disappeared into the streets.

  He was still singing, strumming away on his guitar, soulfully happy. She didn’t understand how that could be. It seemed like life was against him, that he’d always gotten the wrong end of the stick. And nobody gave a damn. Yet every day he showed up with a smile on his face, a gentle ring of happiness around his heart, and cheerfully played his guitar for silver coins in his cup.

  She needed to find some of that. She’d been sitting beside him, looking to see what his secret was. As it was right now, her anger was poisoning her. Eventually it would kill her. She was okay with that. Except she couldn’t leave her mom alone and unprotected. That asshole who shot her father would come back. No way he wouldn’t if he had intended to kill her father. The question dominant in her mind was, did he plan to take out her mom next? And was he alone or coming as part of a pack?

  *

  Harrison’s flight was due to depart soon, and he had been allowed early boarding. He opened his laptop and downloaded the information Ice sent—personal histories, including military records of all the family members. Richard, Ice’s father, would send his man Foster to the San Diego International Airport to meet Harrison when he landed and to drive him to Richard’s place. That was good because Richard had one hell of a house. And Harrison was always up for living in some luxury. Besides, Richard lived alone. Harrison wouldn’t have to deal with any romantic mess there.

  He looked at the senator’s file first. According to the reports, several death threats had been made against him, vicious letters delivered and nasty emails sent. Nothing the police had found was viable enough to convict anybody. The senator was well-loved within his constituency and yet hated by so many others. A strong religious faction had put him in power and shaped his own beliefs. He was antiabortion and antigun, yet he owned a firearm himself. In interviews, he gave confusing statements and countered questions with more questions. The media loved to hate him and vice versa. But nothing in here showed signs he had had a violent past or whispered he might’ve been a wife-beater.

  For all intents and purposes, they were the perfect family—from the outside. The senator was born into money, and married into a wealthy family.

  Harrison looked at the wife’s file next. In comparison to her husband’s, Trish’s file was very slim. She had two children and spent most of her time doing charity work now that the son and daughter were older. Trish appeared to be well-loved by the community, was often a guest speaker for women’s rights, and loved the underdog. No death threats against her personally, but there were some in association with her husband. She’d been born into big money and had been groomed to marry it as well.

  The kids had gone to boarding and private schools their whole lives, making Harrison wonder how they had any relationship as a family while spending so much time apart. Yet the comments made by those who knew Trish were how caring a mother she was and how involved she was in her children’s lives. Of course, those were surface observations. Who knew what the truth was? They had live-in servants: a housekeeper and a man who doubled as the gardener and chauffeur. Harrison shrugged. He couldn’t imagine what Trish’s days were like.

  Harrison pulled out the next file. The son had followed in his father’s footsteps: top-notch universities that led to some business experience and now into politics. He was not as well-loved, or as well-hated, as his father, but he was still young and could fall either way with time. He was a ladies’ man. Ice had included a picture of him in a tuxedo. On each arm, he was escorted by a beautiful woman. He looked like it was his right in life. Yet a bit of tension was around his lips. And the look in his eyes was not necessarily one Harrison was particularly fond of. Arrogance. Like some, he had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth and fully expected everybody else to cater to him.

  But then what could one expect from a rich pretty boy who never had to do a real day’s work in his life?

  When Harrison opened the daughter’s file, he found only a few pages but slowed his reading. Something about her really caught his attention. Nothing Richard had said gave any indication as to what was going on in her world. They also didn’t know if she had been kidnapped and possibly murdered as a result of the earlier attacks on her parents. She’d done a stint in the military, joining against her parents’ wishes. Apparently they had quite a fight over it, but she was an adult, and with her thumb to her nose, had joined anyway.

  She’d done her time, and then she’d walked. She was a top-notch martial arts expert. And although she’d been training since she was young, and on the surface she’d been given every advantage, she didn’t appear to like team sports. Throughout her childhood she had attended classes in shooting, archery, martial arts, and of course, all the expected “refined” curriculum, like painting and music. Yet she had turned to the military anyway—the ultimate in team sports. And there she had excelled. She had a competitive edge, and maybe, finally throwing off the shackles of her family, had found a place of her own.

  Until something changed. Harrison read through lots of glowing recommendations and comments about her behavior—top of the class, strong with teamwork, and dependable. But as he read farther, he noted a dividing line, separating the time before and after. Some inciting incident had warranted the comments afterward. Angry. Undisciplined. No respect for authority. She was recommended for a psych evaluation. Turned it down. Was forced to attend. Showed up, then walked out. He raised his eyebrows at that. It took a lot to thumb her nose at the military. That was one hell of a big machine to buck. When it stomped back, a lot of people got hurt. He didn’t know what had gone on in her world, but something had.<
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  From top of the class to the bottom of the ranks mentally, emotionally, and physically. She appeared to have stopped caring or wanted out so badly she’d do anything. But the military wasn’t very good at letting people leave.

  He kept reading but found little more, and nothing that explained her current behavior. He was more fascinated than ever. For all intents and purposes, she was well-loved but had probably found the authority too much to bear. Her father couldn’t have been easy to live with. And growing up in the public eye was never fun.

  If she hadn’t had the beauty of her mother, that could’ve been an issue as well. Her brother, Alex, appeared to be the favored child, and that would’ve been another. Harrison wanted to label her the poor little rich girl, but there was something about the look in her eyes in her first military photo—where she looked so damn proud and happy—that he couldn’t do anything but smile. He remembered his initial military days too. He knew exactly how she felt.

  Then there was a second picture—her exit photo as she walked out, filled with anger, a tight pinched look to her lips and a hardened gaze. No. Not anger. Violence was in her now. He shook his head. “What happened to you?”

  She’d be twenty-seven, going on twenty-eight. And, since leaving the military, nobody had any idea what she was up to other than floating through life. She stayed in touch with the family but had no permanent job. According to reports, she’d been home that day her father had been shot. But the time line was confused. Nobody knew how long she’d been there, where she’d come from, or if she’d walked in, shot her father and walked out. He studied the exit photo. The look in her eyes. With that anger, she absolutely would have no trouble shooting her father and running—if he was her target. But Harrison doubted she had. Something had occurred during those years in the military, but something else a few years later for her father to end up with a bullet in his head and her mother beaten and in a private hospital.

  Harrison closed the folders and shut down his laptop as the stewardesses came around with drinks. He stared out the window, wondering what the hell had happened to that “perfect” family. Bad circumstances didn’t seem to care how much money anybody had.

  Shit happened to them all.

  He landed at the airport to see Foster, Richard’s man, waiting for him. Traveling was so much easier when walking out of a massive airport, Harrison could find a friendly face. As he got to the limousine, he opened the front door, getting in the passenger’s side.

  “It’s good to see you, Foster.” Harrison smiled at him.

  “It’s good to see you too, sir. You’re alone, right? How are you?”

  “I’m meeting two of the guys in Coronado. But I’ll be staying at Richard’s place.”

  “It’ll be good to have another face around the table. Richard’s been very busy lately. It’s been pretty quiet at the house.”

  Harrison could imagine.

  “Still, it’s a big place, and there’s always work to be done.” Foster chuckled. “I happen to like yard work. And the house makes me happy.” He shot a glance at Harrison. “I’ve been there going on twenty years now, you know?”

  “Wow. You must be happy then.”

  “Indeed. I moved into the cottage a couple years ago. That’s made for a nice change too.”

  Harrison leaned back against the seat and settled in for the drive through the heavy traffic. There were a lot worse things in life than having your own little cottage in a ritzy place like that.

  “Richard isn’t around enough to cause any work. If the house functions and stays safe and secure while he’s gone, he’s happy.”

  “But who’s cooking?” Harrison asked. “And how is Richard’s health and attitude lately?”

  Foster seemed to stiffen a bit.

  “I’m only asking because Ice is concerned.”

  Foster relaxed. “It would be nice to see her again.”

  “Like Richard, she’s busy. They are two peas in a pod. They went in opposite directions, but they’re both filling their lives by doing a lot of good for many people.”

  “A man can’t ask for any more of his kids than that,” Foster said.

  Harrison thought about it. Nobody at the compound had any, nor were any of the women pregnant or already a mother. He couldn’t imagine what that would do to the place when they did. Surely that was the next step. How could it not be? Whether it was a good thing or not, he wasn’t at all sure.

  When they reached Richard’s driveway, they found the lights on and a car parked out front. “Richard’s home.”

  Harrison hopped out, grabbed his bag from the back seat and walked to the front door. It opened, and there was Richard. He was tired and a little frailer than the last time Harrison saw him. Although Richard visited Ice when he could, and Ice made a point to see him as often as she could, the rest of the guys didn’t see Richard much.

  “You should move to Texas,” Harrison said. “We could always use a doctor on the compound.”

  Richard laughed. “Maybe, if grandchildren become a possibility, I’ll consider it,” he said, “but I’m not ready to retire yet.”

  His comment was in line with what Harrison had wondered about earlier—children at the compound—and he smiled. “That would be something to see. I can’t imagine Ice having children.”

  “Oddly enough, I can. When she was growing up, she was always babysitting the neighbors’ kids. It will happen one day. But hopefully not for a while. I am not quite ready for that stage of life either.”

  Richard showed Harrison to his room. Harrison dropped his bag next to the bed and followed Richard to the living area. “Any change in Trish’s condition?”

  Richard shook his head. “No.”

  There was something in his voice, then a whisper of emotion ran across his face that had Harrison wondering what was going on between those two. As Richard handed him a brandy, and they sat in front of the fireplace, Harrison had to ask, “How well do you know Trish?”

  “We were in a relationship before she married the senator.” He swirled brandy around in his glass. “At the time I was doing my residency, and that was tough enough to get through without finding hours in my day for a woman who was fairly demanding. At least I thought she was back then. I wasn’t making the money she wanted, so she married up.”

  “Not an uncommon story,” Harrison murmured.

  “No, not at all.” Richard smiled. “But life experience makes one change perspectives. As I look back over those years, I realized that, as much as I’d like to return to those days, maybe give her more attention to keep her in my life, it was not to be.”

  “And if her husband passes away?”

  Richard raised his gaze and laughed. “She’s been married thirty years. One doesn’t walk away easily from something like that.”

  “Did her husband beat her?”

  Richard sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t know for sure. I’ve seen her a few times over the past dozen years. There were never any visible bruises. Yet she’d recoil if someone made a sudden movement or easily startled if approached from behind. The signs of abuse were there. However, the beating she sustained this time almost brutalized her face, the feminine elegance she had. If I didn’t know better, I’d say a woman had done it.”

  Chapter 3

  As Zoe returned to Benji’s side, he sat in silence. He wasn’t playing; he wasn’t singing. And the look on his face had turned tense. She glanced around, but didn’t see anything wrong. “Benji, it’s me.”

  He inclined his head and said, “I know it is, girl. You need to walk right past.”

  She froze. “Why is that?”

  “Footsteps stopped just outside of my hearing,” he whispered in low tones. “They’ve been standing there for a good seven to eight minutes.”

  She placed a cup of coffee in front of him, took a sandwich from her bag and placed it in front of him, then said, “One coffee, one sandwich.”

  “God bless you, child. Now go
. Whoever it is, they’re on the far side of the street.” He reached out, found the coffee cup with his hand and picked it up. “Now that they found you, make sure you don’t come back.”

  She straightened and, with a heavy heart, took the other coffee out of its cardboard carrier. A trash receptacle was up ahead. She dumped the cardboard tray and kept going. At the intersection, she stopped, looked at the lights and casually glanced around the neighborhood. Indeed, somebody was on the far side, dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt and hoodie—the hood not on his head—with dark sunglasses and a baseball cap.

  She snorted out loud. “Like he doesn’t stand out.” Several people stopped at the intersection with her. When the lights changed to cross the road, she turned in the direction of the man upsetting Benji. She didn’t know who the hell he was after, but she planned to get a good look at him. And if he was after her, he wouldn’t find her easy prey. She’d learned a long time ago to take the offensive instead of waiting for someone to come after her.

  She didn’t recognize the man at all. But that didn’t mean much. He could be hired muscle. She also didn’t know if he was connected to either her father’s shooting or her mother’s beating.

  As he watched her coming toward him, he straightened and shifted back farther. But his eyes were those of a predator.

  She was no man’s prey.

  She looked at the hot coffee in her hand. She really wanted to enjoy it, not waste it by having to throw it at him. She glanced around for other options. She wasn’t very good on that whole idea of ignoring things in life. She already had evidence of that. She lowered the bag with the sandwiches along her far side. As she walked closer, she slipped the bag over her wrist and lifted the lid off the coffee. She could almost hear Benji on the other side of the street saying, “Don’t do it, girlie. Don’t do it.”