Page 48 of The Desperate Warrior

“Even more reason to keep tabs on him. We can’t leave any stone unturned,” Brock countered. “If Dean’s harmless, then an investigation will prove that.” He spoke to Jules’s dad. “It’s probably better for you not to mention anything to Dean’s parents. On the off chance that Dean could be dangerous, we don’t want to tip him off that we’re onto him.”

“Fair enough,” he said evenly.

Sutton took charge of the call. “Is there anything else?”

“That’s all for now,” Brock clipped. “We’ll keep moving forward and hope to have some answers soon.”

Sutton homed in on Luke. “You know what I expect from you.”

“I do, and I won’t let you down,” Luke responded.

Sutton eyed him for one long moment before turning his attention to Brock. “Keep a close watch on Jules. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

Brock threw Jules a slight smile. There was a glint of something deeper in his eyes. "Don’t worry. I plan to keep her in my sight the entire time."

Jules huffed softly but didn’t argue. Just what she needed—Brock with her 24/7.

"Good," Sutton nodded. "If anything changes, update me. Otherwise, send me reports every couple of days."

“Will do,” Brock said.

Sutton spoke to Clayton. “Your daughter’s in good hands. Brock’s the best of the best.”

“I have no doubt.” His voice rang with confidence. “The added layer of devotion certainly helps,” he added with a sparkle in his eyes.

Heat flamed Jules’s face. Dad just had to go there.

Sutton didn’t acknowledge the remark, but Jules could tell from his expression that he was fully aware of the situation. “Cheerio,” he said in the way of parting the second before he got off the call.

“See you, sweetheart,” her dad said, and then the image of him flicked off.

Luke took in a long breath as he turned to Brock. “Well, we have our marching orders. Time to get busy.”

“Time to get busy,” Brock repeated.

Chapter 12

After the video call ended, Jules wasn’t sure what to do with herself. For the past week, she’d been lounging around, watching TV, feeling sorry for herself, and eating copious amounts of ice cream. But that routine didn’t work with Brock here. It was impossible to wallow when the object of her frustration was in the same house.

Luke had darted out, saying he was going to Steve Randall’s workplace to question his boss and coworkers, hoping for some clue as to where the man might’ve gone. Brock was coordinating with her dad to schedule repairs on the shattered window from the tree damage. Also, he was putting in a call to the PI to instruct him to look into Dean Powell.

Nikki was out on the front porch with her computer, diving headfirst into party-planning mode. Jules could’ve joined her, she supposed, but the last thing she wanted to think about right now was centerpieces or cupcake flavors.

Finally, unsure what else to do, she decided to brave the stairs and retreat to the guest bedroom. She hadn’t ventured upstairs since the accident. The effort was too exhausting on crutches, but she needed solitude … and she needed to wean herself off of the crutches.No time like the present.Brockoffered to help, but she waved him off, insisting she could manage.

The climb was slow and arduous, but she made it. Of course, her heart was pounding wildly, and she felt like her head would explode, but that was beside the point. Once upstairs, she sank onto the bed and watched a few minutes of a show on her phone. Eventually, she closed her eyes and drifted off into a restless sleep. Remnants from her nightmare the night before came echoing back. She saw a man coming towards her. She saw the flicker of metal as terror engulfed her. Something about Steve’s feet, shoes, or maybe it was his gait, kept circling through her mind—some detail she couldn’t pin down. But she felt that it was important.

When she awoke, she made her way back downstairs.

Brock’s voice drifted from the kitchen. Curious, she hobbled closer and paused in the doorway. His phone was propped up on the counter. On the screen was the face of a young boy—Trevor.

“Dad, I miss you so much.” Trevor’s voice was thick with emotion. His red-rimmed eyes made it obvious that he'd been crying. “When are you coming home?”

“I miss you too, buddy,” Brock said gently. “I'm on an assignment right now, but you can call me anytime.”

“It’s not the same,” Trevor moaned. “Mom said you were coming home tomorrow. She said we could go out for pizza and ice cream.”

Brock's voice tensed. “I never said that. Trev, I didn’t make that promise.”

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