A Reason to Dream: Sisters of My Heart Trilogy: Book One

By P. L. Byers

Brenna Harris was a nurturer at heart. Having lost her sister at a young age, then having to watch her parents marriage fall apart, she quickly learned that it was up to her to take on the responsibility to care for and protect the people around her.

Grant Warner preferred a solitary existence. As a police detective, he often found himself sitting in his car watching a suspect or going under cover with only himself as company. After the falling out he had with his family, the solitude suited him. He didnt need, nor did he want the responsibility of having to make anyone else happy.

Then one fateful day, while working undercover to solve a murder case, Grant watched helplessly as a beautiful stranger stepped forward to protect him, putting her own life at risk. From that moment on, their lives became inherently entwined.

As Grant works with his department to help solve a series of murders, he fights equally hard against his attraction to Brenna. When she comes under threat from some unknown assailant, he has no choice but to step in to protect her. As much as he wants her safe, being with her goes against the self-imposed, singular existence that he prefers.

Can Brenna show Grant that a life with her is worth the risk? Will Grant allow her in or will he walk away from her like he did his own family?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504963299

P. L. Byers

P. L. Byers is the author of a dozen novels and counting, including her Out of the Darkness Series and Sister’s of the Heart Trilogy. She is a member of RWA (Romance Writers of America), NERW (New England Romance Writers), and PAN (Published Authors Network). Her love for creating her characters and the stories behind them has been an all-consuming ambition. “If any of my readers get a tenth of the enjoyment in reading my books as I do in writing them, then all the time and effort put into this dream will make it all worthwhile,” she writes. P. L. Byers lives in Franklin, Massachusetts with her kind and patient husband and two incredibly spoiled cats. You can contact P. L. Byers through her website at www.plbyers.com or e-mail her at [e-mail]. You can also follow her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/PLByers.

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© 2015 P. L. Byers. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Please note that this book was originally published in 2014 through Dellarte Press

Book cover and author photo taken by Karen Moriarty at www.kemphoto.com

P. L. Byers’ website created and maintained by www.bigpresenceagency.com

Published by AuthorHouse 11/20/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-6331-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-6330-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-6329-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015919361

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgement

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Author Bio

Dedication

When I was a little girl, I was very fortunate to grow up in the presence of two incredibly special women. I dedicate this book in their honor, for all the ways they influenced me and for the wonderful memories they left behind. These memories will reside forever in my heart! Not a day goes by that I don’t miss you!

To Grandma M - It would take too many pages to mention every sweet memory I have of you. You always made me feel like I was the most important thing you had to do each day we had together. A special gift you had, because I know that each of your other grandchildren felt the same way. I miss you every time I have a cup of tea, smell a homemade cookie, or take a bite of an apple pie. Thank you for the chats we had on the swing on your front porch and for the love you so freely gave me!

To Grandma T - You and I shared a different kind of relationship but I knew, without a doubt, that you loved me. I always admired your strength and my memories of being with you remain in my heart. I remember so clearly how happy I felt when I looked up in the stands at one of my basketball games and saw that you cared enough to come. I fondly remember your valiant attempt to teach me to crochet and how red my hand was from your tapping and instruction to drop that stitch. You were a strong, incredible woman and I hope you knew how much I loved you!

Acknowledgement

I couldn’t possibly continue to write without the support of some very special people. First, thank you to my wonderful husband who continues to encourage and support me. To Lisa and Rita who spend endless hours combing over my manuscripts to find ways to make it better, I appreciate everything you do!!

To Justin, a special thank you for responding so quickly to my emails for help! Your inputs from a psychology standpoint were awesome! Thank you, you make me proud!

I would like to express a very special thank you to my stepson, Charlie. I hate the word stepson because it somehow doesn’t begin to express how special you are to me. As the designer and keeper of my website, you absolutely rock! I appreciate the time you take to keep it fresh and interesting, and I especially thank you for being patient with this technologically challenged writer!

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I’d give you the flower friends share,

A pink carnation showing you I care.

It’s the flower that says I’ll never forget you,

A symbol of a friendship that’ll remain true!

by countrybabe

Written June 27th, 2006

Prologue

I N HINDSIGHT, IT hadn’t been a good idea to put an exploding device in her teacher’s desk. Since her sister passed away some years before, Brenna Harris’ life had become something that she neither liked nor had control of. Being a thirteen year old girl, and not having the maturity to express her frustration better, the small prank she planned was her vain attempt to be heard, by anybody who would listen.

As Brenna Harris gently placed the firecrackers in Mr. Donavan’s right desk drawer, she knew in the back of her mind it wasn’t a good idea. For the past few months, however, her teacher had been picking on Brenna, embarrassing her in front of her classmates. It was hard enough being a teenager, but he was just making her life more difficult. Having had enough, she decided that a little pay back was in order.

Walking over to the door leading into the hallway, she peered down the hall and saw that he was on his way back. Quickly going over to the desk, she lit the fuse and exited the room just as he was a few doors down. As he approached and looked her way, she smiled and nodded, then turned to some of the other students in the hallway, pretending to continue a conversation.

Just as he entered the room, the firecrackers went off, causing him to jump back and scream in fear. The loud explosions only lasted a few seconds, but the noise was enough that it drew the attention of everyone in the hall and surrounding classrooms. Just as Brenna turned to go down the hallway, Mr. Donavan came rushing out of the room, his face red with anger, searching for the guilty student. Seeing Brenna walking away he started yelling. Ms. Harris, get back here this minute!

When Brenna turned, and saw the look on his face, she knew that she’d been caught. Lighting the firecrackers seemed like a good idea at the time, but seeing her teacher’s red, angry face, she knew she had made a huge mistake. Getting caught that quickly was not something she had anticipated.

To the principal’s office young lady, he yelled, practically frothing at the mouth.

Knowing there was nothing she could do or say, she followed her arch-nemesis to the office. In hindsight this was not the smartest thing she could have done. A phone call to her already embattled, divorced parents was not going to help her home life at all.

Entering the office, she looked behind her to see that another girl was following them in. She knew that the girl’s name was Madison Bowman, but not much else. They ran in different circles and only had a few classes together but still, Brenna had never had any issues with the girl, she just figured she was heading in their same direction. Smiling, Brenna stepped aside to let her pass. When she didn’t, Brenna shrugged and turned as the principal came out from his office. He listened intently as Mr. Donavan gave his account of what happened. Turning to Brenna he said, What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?

Just as she was about to speak, Madison stepped up. I don’t mean to interrupt you sir, but Brenna was in the hall with me and couldn’t possibly have put those firecrackers in Mr. Donavan’s desk. She never left my side.

Mr. Donavan practically sputtered, Since when have you and Brenna Harris been best buddies, Ms. Bowman?

Since last week when we started hanging out at my house, she quickly replied.

Brenna on the other hand said nothing, looking at the auburn haired girl as she lied right to the principal’s face. Why on earth would this girl who knew nothing about her, intervene to protect her? She was standing nearest the door and had to have known that she was, in fact, the guilty person.

The principal looked to Mr. Donavan. Well Mr. Donavan, I guess we have an innocent girl here. Did you actually see Brenna place the firecrackers or see her exit your room right before?

Well….no. I didn’t actually see her do it. But she was near my room, out in the hall.

Were there any other students in the hallway?

I’m afraid there were quite a few, actually.

Well then, the principal began. We need to investigate this further since obviously Brenna didn’t do it. Girls, thank you for your time. Head back to class please.

Later that day Brenna waited outside the school entrance for Madison to come out. She needed an explanation as to why the girl stuck up for her, and being the suspicious sort, wanted to know what it was going to cost her. When Madison finally came out, they walked to the park by the school and sat on the swings and talked for several hours. Strangely enough, Madison only wanted to help her out, and the asking price was her friendship. From that day on, they became the best of friends and typically, where one girl was, the other was never far behind.

It was several months later that the two girls went in to the cafeteria for lunch and noticed a rather small blond haired girl with huge blue eyes, sitting alone at a table. Going over, they sat down with her and started to eat their lunch. It took several attempts at conversation, but the girl finally opened up a little and told them that her name was Christine Marshall, and that she was new to town.

Both Brenna and Madison noticed that the girl had fading bruises on her face and arms but didn’t say anything. The new girl fit easily into their tight knit friendship and before long, she’d become an important part of their circle. It wasn’t until a week later that they saw more bruises on their new friend. When school was over for the day, they walked with her to the same park that Brenna and Madison had gone to, and sat her down to talk. Eventually she told them that her mother had passed away when she was seven years old and that her father had a hard time and sometimes took out his frustrations on her.

It was that very moment that the three girls promised to always be there for the other. They made a pact to always have each other’s back, a promise they all three took to heart. As far as they were concerned, theirs’ was a sisterhood that was unbreakable.

Chapter One

G RANT WARNER HUDDLED down on the dirty, scarred bench, trying to get comfortable. The dirt he’d smeared on his face was starting to itch and the bench he’d been sitting on for over an hour was getting harder on his backside. He swore that the clothes his captain had handed him to put on earlier this morning were infested with tiny, living creatures, because he was sure he felt things crawling underneath.

Shifting once again, he looked around the subway station for possible suspects. In the past two weeks, three homeless people had been murdered, so it only made sense to send in a decoy to see if the person responsible could be caught. Grant had volunteered to disguise himself as a homeless person. Now here he was, sitting in the cold underground MBTA Station at Park Street in Boston on a cold, dreary day in May.

In an effort to minimize any danger to innocent passengers, the station was filled with other undercover Boston police detectives, wandering around, attempting to blend in with the crowd. It had already been three hours since they started, and Grant was getting impatient. He loved his job, but at times the waiting around got on his nerves.

Glancing to his left, Grant saw one of the other agents make a motion, indicating that someone suspicious was approaching him from behind. He turned slightly, hoping to see if the man approaching had any type of visible weapon.

* * *

Brenna Harris entered Park Street Station at a fast pace, trying to get to her train on time. She’d had a long day dealing with a recently assigned case. As a licensed social worker, she was used to long, crazy hours, but it was the sadness of her most recent case that was weighing heavily on her. Boston University had prepared her for the job, but not the emotional toll of her cases. She had more clients than she had time for, but she still went above and beyond to make sure the children she was responsible for, knew that she cared deeply.

Coming to a stop on the platform, she looked down the track and breathed a sigh of relief. She had made it in plenty of time. Stepping back, she checked her watch and then looked around at the other passengers. Sometimes, if she was lucky, Brenna would see her friend Madison, who worked downtown several days a week and often took this same train.

Not seeing her friend anywhere, she looked around for a bench and noticed a homeless man huddled under a lot of clothing, trying to keep warm. She started to walk toward him to see if she could help him find a shelter to stay in. Suddenly, she noticed a man approaching him with what appeared to be a knife in his right hand. Brenna ran toward the homeless man, yelling for him to watch out.

Her screams alerted the thief. Just as she reached the homeless man, the attacker turned toward her and violently shoved her away, knocking her to the ground. Brenna didn’t have time to register what was happening, and was unable to protect herself as she went down hard on to the cement, her head hitting with a thump.

Grant turned and saw the woman coming but couldn’t react quick enough to stop her. He couldn’t stop the man from shoving her to the ground either. He winced as he heard her head hit the pavement. As Grant jumped forward, the thief grabbed Brenna’s purse and ran for the closest exit. He was quicker than any of the undercover police officers. He dashed between the other passengers and escaped out onto the street.

Grant, knowing that his fellow detectives were following the thief, kneeled down to the woman who had tried to come to his rescue. He touched her shoulder gently, trying to rouse her back to consciousness. When there was no response, he spoke into the mini-microphone in his right hand and requested an ambulance.

Within ten minutes, Grant heard the ambulance pull up outside on Park Street. It wasn’t long before the EMTs made their way down to the platform where he waited with the injured woman. Grant showed the paramedics his badge. They quickly examined the woman, started an IV, and checked her vital signs. Finally, when she was still nonresponsive, they looked to Grant for information.

I have no idea who she is, he said. I was working undercover; she came and intervened when she thought I was a defenseless, homeless man. The perp knocked her down, grabbed her purse, and ran off. I don’t know yet if he’s been caught or if he dumped the purse somewhere. I looked in a few of her pockets, and her ID isn’t on her, so I assume it’s in her purse.

We’re going to transport her to Brigham and Women’s Hospital, the paramedic said. There’s a pretty serious bump on her head. If you want to follow, maybe she’ll regain consciousness once we’re there.

I’m riding with you, Grant said as he shrugged out of his disguise. Seeing the skeptical expressions, he said more sternly, This is not up for a discussion.

Rather than wasting their time discussing it, the EMTs quickly loaded Brenna onto the gurney, adjusted the IV’s, and started for the exit. Once they had her in the ambulance, Grant jumped in the back, staying close but making sure not to interfere with the paramedic doing his job.

When they arrived at the hospital, Grant stayed in the Emergency Room as the medical staff worked on the woman. Grant stood off to the side, out of the way of the doctors and nurses rushing back and forth, observing the scene playing out before him. It just didn’t feel right to leave the woman alone. While her intervention at the MBTA station hadn’t been necessary, she hadn’t known that. Most people would have walked away from a situation like that; but this courageous woman stepped in, without regard for her own safety, to help him. At the very least, he thought, she deserved not to be left alone in a strange place.

Grant knew what it was like being alone. Most of the time, his self-imposed isolation didn’t bother him. His job often required him to work alone, infiltrating some group known to deal drugs or sitting in his car following a suspect that needed to be brought to justice. Those times he preferred the solitude. It was when he was home, off duty, rambling around his condo that his thoughts drifted to how nice it might be to have someone to come home to after a grueling day like this one.

When Grant had first started his job, he had just had a falling out with his family, and being alone appealed to him. Going under-cover and being unreachable for weeks at a time suited his purpose. Invariably, when he would return to his place after being away, there would be a dozen tearful messages from his mother, begging him to call. After months of unreturned calls, his mom had finally gotten the hint and stopped leaving messages.

Not being one to give up easily, she eventually sent his brother Dan to Grant’s house to check on him. Grant loved his younger brother; but after several attempts, even Dan got the hint that Grant wanted distance from their parents. Dan would still come by, but it was usually to watch the Celtics or to mooch dinner from his big brother. Grant loved that they were close; but after two years, he still refused to discuss their parents. Some things, he felt, were just unforgivable.

Chapter Two

L ATER THAT EVENING, Grant was sitting in a chair next to the woman who had tried to save him. The tests the emergency room physician had done showed that she had a severe concussion but no other injuries. They admitted her to a room and not wanting to leave her alone; Grant followed the gurney up and watched as the nursing staff got her settled. When the nurses left the room, he pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down, waiting for her to awaken.

Unfortunately, the man who had knocked her down kept her purse, which carried her ID. The other detectives had searched the surrounding streets and dumpsters but had had no luck in finding the stolen item. For now, the poor woman would remain nameless.

Grant watched the heart monitor for a few minutes. According to the physician on call, her vital signs were good, but with the severity of the hit to her head, it could take days for her to wake up. Glancing back to the woman lying in the bed, he thought she looked too pale. Her brunette hair looked to be about shoulder length and curled gently around her face. She was such a petite woman that the bed appeared to swallow her up.