A Lover's Vow

“He fired his former attorney, Jess Washington,” Caden said, eyeing Carson curiously. “He never said why. Granddad didn’t, either.”

Carson nodded. “Yes, he felt Washington didn’t do a good job representing him at the trial. And now he’s wondering whether it was intentional, since Vidal Duncan was the one who recommended Washington.”

Jace shrugged. “Duncan recommended Shana,” he said, smiling over at his wife. “And she worked out just great for Granger Aeronautics.”

“Yes, but he had an ulterior motive in making sure that I did,” Shana reminded her husband.

Caden glanced over at the other three men. “So who are you three?”

“They’re friends of mine,” Carson said. “They are also friends of your father.”

Dalton frowned. “Since when?”

Roland chuckled. “I’ve known your father since Carson became his attorney. He was going into the slammer just as I was getting out, so our paths never crossed.”

“You served time in jail?” Caden asked, beating Dalton to the punch.

“Yes. We all have.”

“Not me,” Bobby Turner spoke up proudly. “My record’s clean.”

“Yes, Bobby, it is, and we want to make sure it stays that way,” Roland replied.

“You met Dad through Carson, too?” Dalton asked the man called Stonewall. There was something about him that reminded Dalton of several agents he’d worked with while in the USN. Stonewall had very little to say, but Dalton knew not to take his silence lightly. He’d been sizing things up, and in a way, that made Dalton a little uncomfortable. He looked like the type of man you wouldn’t want to cross. Although Roland Summers wasn’t a small man, either; Stonewall stood at least an inch or two over him. And although both were muscular compared to Bobby’s slim frame, Stonewall looked a lot more edgy—dangerous and threatening.

“No, I met Shep when we served time together at Glenworth,” Stonewall said.

“You were at Glenworth?” Jace asked, studying the man.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Dalton asked, as if he had a right to know. He knew Glenworth Penitentiary, the prison where his father had served time for ten years before being sent to Delvers Prison. It wasn’t an Alcatraz but was known to house hardened criminals, those locked up for long periods of time and considered a definite menace to society, like murderers, bank robbers and habitual offenders. Dalton wondered which category Stonewall fell in.

Stonewall crossed his arms over his chest. “Doesn’t matter why I was there. Thanks to Shep, I’m no longer a convict,” he said in a voice that sounded as dangerous as he looked.

“Dad got you out?” Caden asked.

Stonewall’s lips curved at the corners. It was a smile that nobody saw coming. “In a manner of speaking. He kept me out of trouble. Without Shep at Glenworth, there’s no doubt in my mind I would have killed several guards and inmates by now.”

Shit! What sort of men had Dad associated with while at Glenworth? Dalton knew all about his father’s ten years at Glenworth and that Sheppard Granger had been a model prisoner. Hell, he’d even started a number of positive programs for the inmates, such as Toastmasters, Future Leaders of Tomorrow and a GED program. His efforts had been successful and were recognized by the media and even the governor himself. But then, his father had always been a born leader, a man admired and respected. That wouldn’t change just because a fucking jury found him guilty of a crime he hadn’t committed. Five years ago, on the recommendation of the warden at Glenworth, the governor had approved Sheppard’s transfer to Delvers, a prison that housed less-serious offenders.

Dalton knew he wasn’t imagining things. The room had grown silent. It seemed that everyone, especially his brothers and their wives, were speechless after the man’s blatant admission. However, he did notice that Stonewall’s testimonial didn’t seem to faze Carson, Bobby or Roland at all. Moments later, after clearing his throat, Jace turned to Carson. “I’m trying to understand what’s going on. Dalton said he was followed tonight and that you can tell us all why.”

Carson nodded, and a light smile touched her lips. “Yes, and I suggest we all sit down. You are all tall men, and I’ll get a neck ache looking up at you guys.”

Dalton nodded. Although his condo was a nice size, the living room didn’t have seating for ten people. “I’ll grab some additional chairs from the dining room.”

It didn’t take long for everyone to be seated. The Grangers turned expectant eyes to Carson. She was about to speak when Dalton’s doorbell rang. “Who in the hell can that be?” Dalton asked, standing.

“That’s probably my other two men,” Roland offered.

“Former inmates, as well?” Dalton couldn’t help asking, considering what they’d been told so far.

“Yes.”

Dalton frowned as he headed for the door. His gaze met Jules’s, and somehow he could decipher her thoughts, which were identical to his own. Jeez. What was this? The meeting of the former criminals club? What type of business was Roland Summers operating with employees...including Roland himself...who were former inmates at Glenworth? And why was his dad’s attorney involved with them? Dalton didn’t know about his brothers, but he wasn’t feeling too good about this. And what was going on with his and Jules’s thoughts connecting? How did that happen...and why? That was scary as hell. So far she hadn’t had anything to say, but he knew she was listening attentively and carefully observing everything that was going on. So was he. He couldn’t wait to hear what Carson Boyett had to say.

He opened his door to find two tall, muscular men standing there. They looked like real ass-kickers. “Yes?”

“We’re here for Carson’s meeting,” one of the men said, seeming to stare him down.

Dalton started to ask for their names and even thought of asking them to present their ID. But what would be the point? It was late. He wasn’t in the mood, and he had a feeling they weren’t, either. So he just moved aside and said, “Welcome to the party.” He led them toward the living room.

The moment they entered the living room, Caden glanced their way and was out of his seat in a flash. “Striker?”

Striker? Dalton glanced at the men behind him, and one of them actually smiled.

“Yeah, man, it’s me.”

“Wait a minute.” Jace stood and glanced at Caden and then back at the man Caden had just called by name. “Isn’t that the name of the guy who saved your life that night Grover tried to run you over?”

“Yes,” Caden said, nodding. He then looked over at Carson. “I want to know what’s going on.”

Carson inhaled deeply. “What’s going on is that your father believed your lives were in danger, and he requested bodyguards be assigned to each of you,” she said, addressing the three brothers.

“What?” the Grangers and the wives asked simultaneously, not believing what they were hearing.

“Are you kidding us?” Dalton asked. “Why would Dad think that? Was this before or after that attempt was made on Jace’s life?”

“After. Someone sent him an email in prison and told him that if the three of you reopened his case, bodily harm would come to you. He felt he wasn’t in a position to call the person’s bluff, so he told me what to do.”

“Trust me,” the man standing beside Striker said. “Had I been there, that bastard wouldn’t have gotten close to you, Jace.”

“But you were there,” Caden said, staring over at Striker. “And you didn’t happen to be out walking like you claimed, did you? You were guarding me that night.”

Striker nodded. “Yes.”

“You saved my life. You pushed me aside—would have taken the hit to protect me.” Caden shook his head slowly. “Amazing. You would have lost your life for a job.”

“No,” Striker said, holding Caden’s gaze. “Not for a job. For Shep. I would do just about anything for that man, especially protect his sons. Your father is one of a kind.”

Thinking the mood was getting kind of sappy, Dalton said in a lighthearted tone, “Don’t tell us that Dad kept you from killing guards and fellow inmates, too.”

Striker moved his gaze from Caden to Dalton. “No, he didn’t keep me from killing any of the prison guards or fellow inmates. What he did was keep me from killing Stonewall.”

Dalton’s throat tightened. Damn, the man was serious. He couldn’t imagine his father keeping Stonewall and this man called Striker from coming to blows. There was a lull in the conversation in the room, and he understood why...at least with his brothers. They were probably wondering how their father had endured being incarcerated for fifteen years.

He switched his gaze from Striker to the big hulk of a guy standing beside him. “And you are?”