“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.