The Beach House

by ladygris

When Will Brandt unexpectedly inherits a beach house from his estranged grandfather, he decides to rent the home to an old childhood friend. Things get complicated, however, when secrets are discovered and begin tying their families together. With an international plot coming to light, Will races to find an assassin before someone he cares about ends up dead.

4. Chapter 3

Guest: Thank you! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story.

oOo

The rest of that week passed before either Noelle or Will realized it. The rain settled over the area, dropping temperatures and making it difficult to paint even inside. Instead, Will spent time going stir-crazy at the B&B while Noelle learned a new job. He enjoyed watching her, however, and found he missed sharing coffee in the morning. She was a friend, and he had precious few of those anymore.

But he really shouldn't allow himself to become so attached to someone here. Should he? Anyone who knew him well would pick up on the secrets he kept, and they'd want to know about those secrets. While Noelle had her own secrets, she likely wouldn't settle for such generalities as "I have an office job" or "I travel a lot for work." She struck Will as the type to want details.

Then, there were those moments when he realized he'd stepped in it and didn't know how to get out. They usually cropped up around such small things as the condition of her home, why she'd lived out of her van, and if she had any other furniture in storage. She had a past that had nothing to do with the family drama between the Hayes and Blakes, and Will wished he could figure it out. It would help him understand her a little better and avoid any unwelcome conversation.

He didn't know what she'd do if he pried, but he suspected she'd clam up. Part of his job was knowing how to get the information he sought, and irritating the poor woman wouldn't work. No, he'd have to treat this like a deep cover mission. Meet the target, become friendly in whatever fashion is required, build trust, learn the truth. Unfortunately, that sort of operation took time, and Will didn't have it. Or did he? He hadn't given the Secretary any indication of his intentions with the IMF, and he could technically refuse a few missions. He did need a vacation, and extending the one already forced on him wouldn't be hard to do.

But did he want to put that much effort into learning the truth about Noelle to just walk away? Satisfy his curiosity and be done with her? That smacked too much of what his cousins had done to women in the past, and it had always rankled Will. Even when he'd been Billy Hayes, he'd hated to see the girls his male cousins hurt in the process of satisfying their own desires. It usually ended badly for everyone involved. Besides, he had the old family feud to think about. Did he really want to create more tension between the Hayes and the Blakes? Or would any of them care?

He didn't have any answers, and he spent the weekend trying to decide the best course of action. His work as an analyst had taught him to look at all sides of a problem and make a call on how to proceed. He failed miserably when it came to the subject of Noelle Blake. He just didn't have any idea how to get what he wanted without hurting either of them in the process.

The rain finally cleared by Monday, so Will showed up at the beach house to do more work. The deck was too wet for the repairs to continue, but Noelle let him into the house so he could work on painting. She apologized profusely for not having it done, but he waved it away. He had something to do and suddenly realized why he didn't just move into the beach house for himself. He needed to stay active.

How were Ethan, Jane, and Benji doing? The question occurred to Will after Noelle left for work. He hadn't heard from any members of the team and had no idea whether they even wanted him around. After all, he'd really stepped on all their toes when he hid his past as an agent from them. He suspected that Jane and Benji understood why he hadn't said a word, but Will had never told Ethan. How could he? He was responsible for the death of the man's wife, and nothing he said or did—no apology—would ever make up for that. Ethan Hunt had every right to hate him, and Will sometimes hated himself.

Those thoughts left him in a sour mood, and he glared out the window for a long time. It had taken a lot of years to get over what happened in Croatia. Even then, he had never fully recovered from being the man responsible for Julia Hunt's death. The IMF trusted him with a mission, and he failed. Your mission, should you choose to accept it. . . . The now-familiar trope played through his head, and he ironically thought he should have refused that mission. But that was the problem with the IMF. They handled things so vitally important to world politics and global peace that refusing a mission was next to impossible. Even if you disagreed, you still had to think about what the long-term complications would be if the mission failed.

Or maybe that was the analyst talking. Will set up in the spare bedroom, putting the same pale linen color on the walls in here as in the living room. Noelle had really taken to the style of the home, choosing to add pale green to the kitchen walls to break up all the monochrome coloring. And she'd found several new pieces of furniture over the weekend, including two wicker chairs for the living room that somehow went with everything else.

It took Will the rest of the day to finish the guest bedroom and the hallway. Noelle had agreed to paint her bedroom and the bathroom, relieving him of the uncomfortable sensation of prying into her personal life. Yes, he owned the house. But it was her home. Just like he wouldn't want his landlord poking around his personal business, he refused to do so to Noelle.

She arrived as he finished cleaning out the last of the brushes for the day and taking a few measurements for the privacy screens around her bathroom window. If the weather held, he intended to build a new trellis for the climbing rose planted below the window, one that would function as a shutter and help train the rose to grow in a little better area. For now, he turned as she stepped through the door, looking tired and ready to be off her feet.

A smile touched her lips when she saw him, though. "Hi."

Suddenly, the situation seemed a little too intimate. He returned the smile. "I'm almost done. Just. . .need to finish cleaning some things up."

She kicked off her shoes right next to the door, walking barefoot into the kitchen to open the fridge. "No problem." She pulled out a bottle of water and then eyed him hesitantly. "I know this is going to be weird, but. . .Well, I. . . .I got a small grill, and I put some meat on to marinate this morning. It's too much for me, and. . . .Would you like to. . .uh. . .share dinner?"

Will turned to face her as she flushed and stumbled over her invitation. "Uh. . . ."

"I mean, it's not a date or anything. I just. . . ." She stared at him, a completely vulnerable look in her brown eyes. "I kind of don't want to be alone tonight. It's just. . .today wasn't the best day, and I really. . . ."

"I understand." Will glanced down at his attire, pleased to see he hadn't dripped too much paint all over him. "Let me know if you need anything."

A smile lit up her face, and she shook her head. "You've worked harder than I have today. Though, if you're looking for something to do, I could handle having some furniture set up on the back deck."

Will grinned at that and dutifully went to set up a table between the two chairs on the deck. The chairs still needed a good paint job, but Noelle had already sanded them down in preparation. They fit perfectly against the corner of the house, and a small charcoal grill tucked neatly into another corner. The air was a bit chilly, but it would make a great evening just enjoying dinner with a friend.

Noelle had done a lot for the house. He realized this as he looked around. She'd picked out the paint colors, filled it with furniture, added little touches of herself here and there, and somehow, with just her presence, kept it from looking derelict. The only changes to the outside came in the repairs to the deck, but having someone living in the house just seemed the right thing. Not for the first time, Will was glad he'd rented it.

She came outside to start the grill, and they worked in companionable silence until dinner was ready. While Noelle grilled and prepared a vegetable dish inside, Will took measurements for the privacy screen and started putting it together in his mind. Based on the instructional videos he'd watched online, it shouldn't be too hard to get the thing together. He just hoped he didn't do something like slicing his hand too badly. That would certainly ruin his mood.

Then, he realized what had happened. With just a simple invitation, Noelle had managed to lift the morose mood he'd been in until he felt accepted and at peace. Smiling as she carried their drinks outside, he let out a deep breath.

Maybe it wouldn't take him too long to satisfy his curiosity. He just suddenly hoped he'd be able to leave when he did.

oOo

Noelle carried a couple blankets outside along with the tall glasses of tea. Will stood at the railing, looking at the beach and lost in thought. He did glance in her direction as soon as the door opened, but he seemed to recognize her without really seeing her.

There was something about him that was a little too wary. Noelle saw it all the time, and it made her wonder what kind of man William Brandt really was. A cop? Crook? Accountant? Somehow, she doubted he just sat behind the desk. She'd seen him working, and the muscles hidden under his clothes weren't the working-out variety. He did something physically demanding, and it intrigued her that he chose an accountant's appearance.

He appeared to help her carry their plates outside, setting them on the table she'd purchased at Walmart the next town over. It had cost a bit, but summer was coming. She needed to be able to get outdoors and enjoy the sound of the lake on the beach. After all, that was one reason she rented this house.

They ate in silence, both unwinding after the day. Will lost the tense, wary look he'd had when she first got home, and she managed to push aside her own struggles.

"What happened?"

The quiet question startled Noelle. She glanced up to see Will contemplating the last bite of chicken. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged with one shoulder. "You looked. . .upset."

She sighed deeply. "You ever have one of those days where something you'd just rather forget won't leave you alone?" When he nodded understandingly, she continued, "It was like that today."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No." She eyed him. "What about you? How'd you go from Billy Hayes to William Brandt?"

He raised an eyebrow, finally looking at her with assessing blue eyes. He seemed to peel away the masks she wore and find her reasons. "It's a long story."

"Okay."

He sat back in his chair, letting out a deep breath as he rubbed his hand over his mouth. "The summer we met was the last time I ever came to the beach house." He shook his head, pressing his lips together as he did so. "I always knew something was different, but I never knew what. That was the year I learned that it was me. Then, we just didn't come here anymore."

"You and your parents?"

"Me and my mom." He watched her as he said it. "Never knew my dad."

Noelle cleared her throat. "Sorry." She shifted in her chair. "Uh. . .so, after that summer?"

"We went back to California." He blew out a breath, his eyes looking into the past more than at the beach. "I went back to being Billy Brandt. It was something of an identity for me. I was tough, and the other kids were afraid of me. I guess I kind of had it coming because I was the bully."

She chuckled. "Now that I can't see."

He grinned. "I knew how to charm a girl, too. That's why you didn't see it. But I didn't have those piercings and that hair for nothing."

"True." She finished her tea. "What changed?"

"I went to college." He shook his head. "At first, it was a party. But, then, one of the girls I knew went to a party and never came home. They said it was alcohol poisoning. But that made me really stop and think about what I was doing. I didn't stop doing it, but I always thought about her. My entire freshman year is a blur, and I remember my mom having the biggest fit when I went out partying that summer. She said I was gonna kill myself." He took a tremulous breath. "I guess I was okay with it. She wasn't. She came to get me one night during my sophomore year and just. . . ."

Noelle watched the change. Will might have been a grown man, but grief was grief. No matter who a person became, their losses still hurt even years later. "I'm sorry."

He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. "It wasn't a drunk driver or anything like that. We got into an argument that night, and I kicked her out of my dorm room. Three days later, the cops showed up to tell me she'd died from a massive stroke."

Noelle winced at that. "Will, I'm so sorry I asked."

"Don't be." He turned to face her, his expression firm. "That changed me. The last thing I said to her was to tell her to get out of my room. I never meant for her to get out of my life." He fell silent for a moment, letting out a deep breath and shaking his head. "I left college for the rest of the semester and, when I went back, I was different. I just decided that. . .Well, no one was going to help me out or look out for me. So it was up to me, and I couldn't stand the thought that she died for nothing." He cleared his throat. "So, what about you? How'd you go from Fran to Noelle?"

Noelle smiled tensely. She should have known he'd turn the conversation back on her. "Mom and Dad moved us to Chicago when I was sixteen. I met a guy, fell in love, got married, got divorced, and came home."

He narrowed his eyes. "Look, if you don't want to talk about it, just say so."

"It's not that. It's. . . ." She realized his tone of voice. He wasn't angry or hurt so much as giving her an out if she wanted to take it. "Sorry. I'm used to getting lambasted for something I couldn't control."

He nodded at that, an understanding expression on his face. "Okay, so, how come you don't like your name?"

"What? Francesca?"

"Yeah."

"It's. . . ." Noelle shrugged. "My ex didn't like it, so I quit using it." There. She'd told him the truth even if it didn't begin to cover everything that happened.

Will stared at her for a long moment, his eyes still narrowed. "Well, he was wrong," he said eventually as he sat back in the chair and looked at the sky. "Your name's pretty. Both names."

For just a moment, Noelle didn't know what to say. For the last twelve years, she'd used her middle name and had grown comfortable with it. She even liked it. But her first name? That was a taboo subject even with her family, and she'd allowed a man she really didn't know to ferret out the truth. Travis had been so controlling, and his absolute disdain for her name only made things worse. In his mind, "Francesca" belonged to a farm girl, not a savvy city woman. Noelle wasn't even an acceptable name to him, but he didn't want to spend the money it would take to change it. Not to mention her absolute refusal. "Noelle" was a family name, as was "Francesca," and she planned to use one or the other.

Realizing she was staring, she tried to find something to say. "Really?"

"Yep." Will kept his eyes on stars that had finally appeared. "Francesca. It's. . .noble and luxurious. Like one of those Italian villas that have history in the walls. You just expect a princess or duchess named Francesca to come out of one of the rooms."

Noelle smiled at the image he created. When he said her name, he did so with a playful tone, one that made certain she knew he wasn't trying to do more than compliment her. "I'm not noble or a princess or anything. But thank you."

He looked over then, a smile on his face and all tension gone. "You're welcome." After a moment, he added, "Francesca."

She laughed and punched his arm.

The rest of the evening passed quietly, and Noelle regretfully walked Will to the door after another half hour. She had work the next day, and he looked tired. But their conversation over dinner, while not necessarily light or relaxing, had done wonders for her. She retired that night smiling at the teasing but complimentary way he said her first name. And she decided that, if he wanted, he could use it. But only him, and only because he made her laugh.

oOo

Will stewed the entire drive back to the bed and breakfast. He stopped just short of berating himself, and he refused to take his anger out on the car.

The lies had slipped out way too easily.

He really shouldn't have been surprised. His entire life was about lies and deception. So why should it bug him to tell Noelle that he'd always been a Brandt when he'd chosen that name? Why did he all of a sudden want to be a Hayes again?

You care too much. The little voice in the back of his head whispered the truth, and Will pushed it away. Of course he cared too much. He had liked Noelle back when they were kids, and she was an attractive woman. But just because he cared didn't mean he was falling in love with her.

Did it?

Back in his room, Will gathered his clothes and climbed into a shower. All he'd done was paint that day, and it had taken a lot out of him. Maybe it was his thoughts through most of the day: the debate whether to return to active IMF field work or stay an analyst. Maybe it was being back at the beach house and remembering that he wasn't a member of his own blood kin anymore. Or maybe it was a combination of everything. He couldn't be sure. Whatever had happened, it had worn him out.

After his shower, he climbed into bed and switched out the light. But he continued to stare at the ceiling, his thoughts not shutting down like he wanted them to. He'd had days like this before, and there was always the next mission to prep for, the next mission brief to record, the next crisis to avert. Here, he had nothing. He was left at night with his own thoughts and memories that should have been forgotten.

But Noelle had asked, so he'd answered. Most of what he'd told her was the truth, and he didn't regret a single one of the choices he'd made after his mother's untimely death. But that little bit about his name. . . .Didn't a man's name help define him? For years, he'd been at peace with the Brandt name because, frankly, it created a layer of protection between him and his family. Even though he'd been out of the field for a few years now, he still had a few bullets with his name printed on them. Thankfully, he wasn't as well-known as Ethan, but that didn't change much. He made enemies in his line of work, and letting his family think he was dead or didn't care was best.

Then, a thought occurred to him, and he tossed onto his side. Somehow, in spite of the IMF's security, his family had found him. How? There were ways around IMF's name-change policies, but they were pretty complicated and little known. It was because of those policies that he'd officially changed his last name. But, still, they'd found him.

Which one of them had found him? A private investigator? A cousin? His grandfather before the man died? Will's lips curled as he thought about that. At this moment, he couldn't bring himself to care whether or not he'd pleased the man. Joseph Hayes had stood over his daughter's coffin and disowned her son. He hadn't earned Will's devotion or favor after that.

When he finally did get to sleep, he dreamed about his mother, about hearing of her death, and about her funeral. It had been a defining point in his life. He might not have cared what his grandfather thought about him, but he did care what his mother thought. Out of his entire family, she'd been an outcast along with him. And she'd taught him to be better than he was back then. So, he'd taken the summer to get his head screwed on straight and had gone back to school with a new purpose. People who knew him before saw the change, and they eventually quit inviting him to parties and such. He discovered a love for strategy and problem-solving, leading to his degree in Criminal Justice. On the day he graduated with honors, he left behind the life of Billy Hayes.

He didn't change his name right away. A recruiter for the IMF approached him, but there was a long hiring process. Figuring he had nothing to lose, Will started using his given name and continued working his rather steady job. When the IMF finally came through and revealed the scope of what he'd be asked to do, he had jumped on the opportunity. Travel the world on the government's dime, fight bad guys, and make a difference worldwide? What kid his age wouldn't want that? He endured the lengthy, grueling training and, on the day he became an agent, legally changed his last name to Brandt.

Up until Croatia, he'd never regretted a single decision since his mother's death. But Croatia shook everything he believed about himself. He'd been making life-or-death situations every single day for years, and it suddenly didn't mean much if he couldn't keep one woman alive. His idea of preventing such an event through better intel and planning led him to become Chief Analyst for the IMF. The Impossible Mission Force didn't give out that title to just anyone. An analyst had to prove himself or herself through their work, and a near spotless record as an analyst made William Brandt one of the best.

All that changed in Moscow when he saw Ethan Hunt again.

The following morning, Will pulled out his phone and dialed from memory. He listened to the ring tone on the other end and actually smiled when the person answered. "Benji? It's Brandt."

"Brandt?" The Englishman's distracted voice changed. "What time is it where you're at?"

"Early." Will ignored the clock that told him the sun hadn't even risen yet. "Got a question for you. But I need to know you're secure."

"Okay." Benji obviously set aside something, and Will listened as he cursed. "Okay, sorry. I'm secure."

"A couple weeks ago, I found out my grandfather passed away." Will ran a hand over his face, seeing dawn starting to lighten the eastern horizon. "Somehow, my family—who I've not heard from in fifteen years—found me. They found my new name, Benji. Not William Hayes, but William Brandt."

Benji cursed again. "It's possible. I mean, we take precautions and classify all that kind of thing. But if someone has the right connections or the right abilities, they can find out. . . ."

"That's what I'm worried about." Will ran a hand through his hair, thinking about Julia Hunt. "Benji, you know better than me that what we do. . . .There're people out there who wouldn't stop with just me. And, no matter what my family's done, they don't deserve that."

"I'll look into it," Benji promised. "Just don't do anything stupid."

"I won't." Will hung up a moment later.

Just talking to Benji had helped. Back on the mission, he'd found Benji a combination of annoying and intimidating. With just a few keystrokes on the computer, Benji could completely erase a person's life. Somehow, through all of that, Will had learned to trust the Englishman. If Benji said he'd take care of something, he would. Will just had to wait for him to work his magic.

Deciding he was up for the day, he sat on the deck and watched the sun rise. His eyes told him that he hadn't slept much, and he sighed deeply. The moment he showed up at Noelle's, she'd know something was up. And he didn't have an answer for her.

The rest of the morning passed quietly with Will preparing for another work day and eating breakfast. He arrived at the beach house just before Noelle left for the day. She answered the door with a smile on her face and a coffee cup in her hand. "Good morning," she said brightly as she handed him the cup.

Will chuckled as he accepted her offering. "Thanks. I needed this."

Her bright expression changed suddenly. "Rough night?"

"Yeah." He took a sip of coffee and ironically thought it had never tasted so good. "You should teach Greta how to make this!" The comment slipped out before he could stop it.

Noelle laughed. "Not sure I could teach her anything." She shifted on her feet. "Look, before I go, I wanted to apologize."

Will went from studying the wonderful cup of coffee to studying her. She had an uncertain expression on her face and, if he was reading things right, had bitten the inside of her lip. "Why?"

"For last night." She shrugged, her hands in the pockets of her jeans. "Yesterday was a rough day. My ex called to tell me something, and Greta wanted to make me feel better. Usually when Travis and I talk, the best thing is to just get on with life. Not help me over it. I know she had the best of intentions, but it just really got on my nerves. You don't tend to ask a lot of questions, and being alone just didn't appeal. But you've got your own life, and. . . ."

"Wait." Will held up a hand to stop the rambling apology. "For the record, my life right now is getting this house in decent condition so that, when I go back East, you don't have to worry about anything. So staying to share a quiet evening on the back deck really didn't bother me."

"You didn't mind too much?"

"I didn't mind at all."

"Good." Noelle nodded as if convincing herself. "And, now, after that thoroughly embarrassing explanation, I need to go to work."

Will couldn't help it. He laughed as she found her shoes and purse. Noelle gave him a mock irritated look, but she waved with a bright smile.

After finishing his coffee, he made his way outside and to the back of the house. He managed to get the privacy screen finished and in place before noon and, when Benji called, decided to walk along the beach. Benji started in on what he'd found and then paused mid-sentence. "Are you at the beach?"

Will chuckled. "Yeah. My grandfather left behind an old beach house on Lake Michigan."

"Okay, next vacation is at your place."

"Sorry, no can do. I've already rented the house."

"You rented it?"

The smile still hadn't left Will's face. Somehow, the conversation had lifted a bit of the irritation. "What did you find, Benji?"

"Well, that's just it." The Englishman quickly refocused his attention. "They didn't hack our servers, and everything about you seems to be secure. I think they just used good old-fashioned investigative work. How long ago did your grandfather pass?"

"Almost four months."

"Then it was probably a very good investigator. I mean, if I knew who it was, I'd be looking into him as an analyst because if anyone can find you after IMF changes your identity, then they've got serious skills."

"Or they just got lucky and someone recognized me." Will ran a hand over his face. "It wouldn't be hard to link me to the government, and the right wheels greased in the right places would lead them to an analyst named William Brandt."

"Or, there's that," Benji admitted. "Look, don't worry about it too much. I mean, don't freak out if someone startles you any more than you would. It's not very likely someone will come after you. But I've already brought the matter to the Secretary's attention, and IMF is looking into it. They're still setting up everything in the new office, so we're double-checking to make certain we weren't breached."

"Thanks, Benji."

Will hung up a moment later, not really at ease. This all seemed very innocent, but even innocent things had a way of biting him in the rear. He hoped beyond anything that a private investigator had just gotten lucky. But if a PI could find him, then his enemies could.

Closing his eyes, he sighed and resisted the urge to throw his phone into Lake Michigan. It looked like he would have to move after leaving Wisconsin. Just the thing he didn't wanted to do.

~TBC