Lori froze and blinked at the digital numbers on the thermostat rapidly counting down. The tiny hairs on the nape of her neck lifted. Her breath locked in her sore throat.
This couldn’t be happening. One moment, the temperature had been displayed, showing seventy-four degrees. The next, Nick had set the alarm, and as she turned, she caught a flicker on the small screen from the corner of her eye.
Blind luck.
If she’d been standing at a different angle or two steps farther away, she would’ve missed it. But even now, her mind rejected what she was seeing.
Ten.
Her heart rate ticked up like a jackrabbit’s.
Nine.
Oh, God. What was going to happen once the dial reached one?
A current of horror and dread surged through her, electrifying her.
Nick grabbed her by the elbow and hustled toward the front door. At the same time, he touched his earpiece. “Ted, get out of the house. Now. There’s a bomb!”
His last word confirmed her worst fear. Echoed through her head on repeat.
Bomb. Bomb. Bomb.
A rush of dark energy overrode stark terror, blistering across her nerves. Her feet moved faster than her thoughts. Not that there was time to think or barely breathe.
Nick flung the front door open. A deafening alarm blared.
They were across the threshold in a heartbeat and burst out into the glare of sunshine. White lights mounted around the house that would’ve been blinding at night flashed at a frenetic pace.
Heart racing, she held on to Nick’s arm, her fingers digging into him as they ran as hard and as fast as possible down the porch stairs.
She tried to estimate where the timer was by now. How many seconds were left?
Whatever the answer, they needed more.
Her pulse throbbed in her throat. Everything was happening at warp speed. But it was as if her limbs moved in slo-mo, not carrying her away quickly enough.
How big would the blast radius be? Would they be in it?
They were at a breakneck sprint the instant they touched the lawn.
Still, they needed to be faster.
She glanced over her shoulder. No sign of Ted. Had he made it out of the attic, much less the house?
The ground shook and a searing clap blew out the windows in a shower of glass, spraying wood shrapnel followed by a roaring ball of flame. The force of the blast sent them hurtling forward off their feet.
Nick threw his arms around Lori in midair, using his body as cover. They both went down, the hilt of his gun jabbing into her ribs. A wave of hurt consumed her.
They’d landed with him taking the brunt of the fall and most of her weight on him. Her head would’ve slammed into the ground, but he’d tucked her skull against his chest, protecting her face with his hands when they hit the grass.
Nick rolled, blanketing her. His strong, muscular body was as taut as a shield. She inhaled a relieved breath. They were alive. Barely. But they were both breathing.
For a dizzying moment she clung to him, her fingers gripping him so tightly she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to let go. Lori’s ears rang and her scrambled brain swam in a haze. Heat bore down on them, but her body was cold, skin clammy. She ached all over like she’d been slam-dunked by a bulldozer.
Agony rocked through every muscle, every cell.
Singed, smoldering debris rained on the lawn. Nick scooted upright, hauling her along with him. She was so shell-shocked the prospect of moving seemed unfathomable, but he yanked her from the grass in a sharp, urgent tug she couldn’t resist until she was in a sitting position. He moved with such fluid quickness as if the explosion hadn’t left him dazed in the slightest.
She sat, trying to gain her bearings. Her bones had been jarred by the blast. It was a wonder none were broken, but there was the sting of scrapes and scalding bruises.
Nick was on his feet, weapon drawn, scanning their surroundings in the same blink of time that Lori managed another cough and pressed a hand to her splitting head.
She braced for a squad of hit men to come storming out of the tree line any second.
When none did, Nick touched his earpiece. “Ted! Ted! Talk to me.”
The sensation of the world rocking on a seesaw was subsiding, leaving Lori to deal with the pounding in her brain. She struggled to her hands and knees, finding the strength to stand.
Brushing hair from her face, she stared at the safe house, now engulfed in flames. Fire licked out of the broken windows, racing up the sides, tearing through holes in the roof. Black plumes billowed in the air. The roar of the blaze filled her ears.
Nothing could’ve survived that. Nothing and no one. It would’ve been impossible for him to have gotten down from the attic, climbed a flight of stairs and made it out of the house.
He’d been on the cusp of retirement about to start the next chapter of long, lazy days, fishing and drinking. Poor Ted.
Desperation elbowed aside her sorrow, putting her own predicament front and center.
“Ted!” Nick charged toward the house as if he intended to run inside and search for his partner.
A secondary explosion forced his feet to a sudden halt and his arm up, shielding his face. Lori’s stomach dropped as she turned away from the blast, stumbling backward.
It must’ve been the propane tank at the rear of the house blowing.
Her feet froze, her legs trembled, helplessness swallowing her.
Nick ripped out his earpiece and let it drop to the grass. He stood there, daunted and gaping, looking as horrified and hollowed out as she felt.
Not once in the year she’d known him had he ever let raw emotion spill across his face. Every gesture, every expression, had always seemed so controlled, almost calculated. Like he never dared loosen the rein on his composure.
He hung his head a moment, shook it and then flipped right back into protector mode.
Turning to her, his face now inscrutable, he checked her over. “Are you okay?” His hands made quick work of patting her face and arms as he searched for any apparent injuries. “The shock wave from the blast could’ve caused internal damage,” he said in a cold, detached tone. “Lori, are you okay?”
Aside from the fact that she’d almost been murdered three times in one day and it wasn’t even noon... Aside from the fact their safe house was now a raging inferno, that everything was hanging in the balance—her life, her future, the prospect of growing old, all the things people took for granted every day like breathing... To boot, this nightmare was her own doing, and she kept making poor choices that turned a bad situation into an epic disaster. She had not only jeopardized her own life and Nick’s, but also had gotten Ted killed. Now the only man left to protect her had hit the disconnect button and she cared more about whether or not he was all right than herself...
Other than that, she was just peachy.
“Nick, my God. Ted...” She wasn’t quite sure what to say. Were there any right words in this situation? She swallowed past the lump forming in her throat as he stared at her, his face a hardened mask. “I’m sorry. He was a good man and didn’t deserve...” She stepped closer, hoping the frost in his eyes might thaw. “Are you all right?”
Lori put a palm to his chest, and it was as if the gentle contact flipped a switch inside him. The ice in his eyes liquefied into a dark, molten fury that sharpened the angles of his face. His features contorted into something monstrous and murderous, his jaw tightening. His hands clenched. His bearing held all the menace of a junkyard dog ready to tear into someone.
The hair-trigger shift in him terrified her.
“Whoever is doing this, whoever blew Ted to smithereens... I’m going to rip them apart limb by limb.” He spoke with unmitigated gravity that left her speechless. “They’re going to keep coming. Let them. Because they have messed with the wrong marshal. No matter what it takes, even if it costs my own life, I’m going to kill every last one of them.”
PERPLEXED WAS A DECENT word to describe how Aiden Yazzie felt.
Watching Will Draper strut around like this was any other day, pretending that their office wasn’t caught up in a CAT-5 crapstorm, left Aiden utterly baffled.
This wasn’t about whether Draper was a good man or a bad man. Most people were a bit of both. This wasn’t even about if he was making the right choices or the wrong ones. Everyone made mistakes.
Aiden wanted to know if the boss gave a damn.
Beyond how it affected his career. Draper was a fast burner with serious ambitions, but there was something about him that Aiden couldn’t put his finger on.
Everyone had their way of dealing with things. Aiden glanced across his desk to his partner and best friend without benefits, Charlie. She ran around wearing armor made of ice, acting as if the only thing that mattered was the job and kicking butt. He was all in favor of being a fearless female, but even Wonder Woman wasn’t afraid to love.
Aiden took after his dad. Still waters ran deep, and on the surface he usually wore an easy smile unless he was ticked off. Or perplexed.
He turned back to the break room. Draper filled his mug with coffee and walked back to his office with his sunshine-and-rainbows swagger.
Not to hate on pretenses, but that nonchalance was totally unsettling.
Granted, Aiden and Charlie had the scoop on what was happening with Nick and the attack at the mall. The worker bees at Intel couldn’t help but buzz whenever something went wrong. Pretty hard to ignore the drone of disaster.
“We need to make our move now,” Charlie said, “before they do.” She gestured across the office to the only other SOG—Special Operations Group—members in their district.
For this type of dire situation, Draper needed to send deputies certified as elite tactical operators. Most SOG members worked full-time assigned to US Marshals Service’s offices throughout the country and remained on call twenty-four hours a day for high-priority SOG missions. Only toughies made of steel endured the grueling training designed to weed out everyone except the best of the best—not that he was tooting his own horn. Okay, maybe he was just a little. Once they passed, it still took someone highly disciplined to make a commitment to respond to an emergency at the drop of a hat.
The list of potentials for Draper to choose from was short.
“Come on, before Tweedledee and Tweedledum beat us to it,” Charlie said, always hungry for action and keen to shoot something.
They didn’t let their skills get rusty, training four days a week—Krav Maga, long runs, practice at the range—but there was nothing like the zing of a real-world scenario.
Still, a part of Aiden couldn’t help but wonder if her eagerness was a sign that she had unresolved issues with Nick.
Why did she have to mess around with someone from the office?
Especially Mr. Dark and Stormy, who had that carved-in-stone jaw.
Eck! Aiden shook it off and pulled on a grin. “Let’s make it happen.”
They raised their knuckles for a fist bump and then touched their wrists together in unity.
Spinning out of his seat, Aiden was on Charlie’s heels.
By the time Tweedledee and Tweedledum caught sight of them, Charlie was knocking on the boss’s door.
“Come in,” Draper said.
“You snooze, you lose,” mouthed Aiden.
Tweedledum threw him the bird.
Aiden blew him a kiss and gave him an up yours arm gesture.
“Hey, boss,” Charlie said, leaning against one of the chairs in front of his desk and folding her arms.
Aiden closed the door and turned. He dragged his gaze up Charlie’s svelte figure, appreciating the sight of muscle where there should be muscle and softness where there should be softness. It was a wonder Yazzie was able to work around her without getting sidetracked and a tragedy he was firmly planted in the friend zone—without benefits.
Cursing Nick in his mind, he stepped up beside Charlie.
“We heard McKenna and Zeeman ran into some trouble,” she said. “Are you planning to send backup?”
Draper stared into those intelligent, sharp blue eyes of hers, playing his cards close to the vest, wearing his usual everything’s fine expression. “What did you hear?” he asked, neither confirming nor denying anything.
Baffling. “Assassination attempt on Hummingbird at the mall.”
Draper shifted his gaze to Aiden. “Word spreads fast. I’ll have to rectify that.”
In all fairness, it didn’t spread so much as it was harvested. Most of the office was still clueless. Take Tweedledee and Tweedledum, for example.
“Everything regarding Hummingbird is need-to-know. Who told you about what happened to McKenna and Zeeman?” Draper asked, his gray eyes narrowing.
She flashed that trademark, megawatt smile that was pure Charlie Killinger and ran her fingers back through her sunny-blond hair cut in an angled bob. “I have my sources and my ways of squeezing information from a person.”
“I’m sure you do,” Draper said, “but I’m afraid I’m going to need you to be more specific.”
Her smile evaporated, mouth flattening into a frosty expression. “Intel is in a frenzy. It’s clear something happened.”
“We both nosed around,” Aiden said, tagging in. “Heard McKenna and Zeeman were attacked and are going to need backup. This is need-to-know for SOG personnel.”
“Then why don’t I have all my SOG personnel in my office right now?”
Charlie tilted her head to the side. “Because we’re smarter, sharper and better looking.”
Aiden couldn’t disagree on that point and threw in a nod for good measure.
It only seemed to irritate Draper based on the sour look that slithered across his face.
“Yazzie and I want in,” Charlie said.
“No surprise there.” Draper drew in a deep breath, slipping his composed mask back on. “Are you sure you can handle supporting McKenna?” he asked Charlie.
She stiffened, those sapphire eyes turning to slits. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Did she really want Draper to spell it out? Not even Aiden wanted the debacle rehashed.
“You and McKenna had a thing last year,” Draper said. “He broke it off. You weren’t too happy about it from what I’ve heard.”
With a wave, she dismissed the assessment. “I mean no disrespect when I say this, sir, but any issues between Nick and me is our business.”
And Aiden’s, unfortunately. It had been this weird lover-lover-best-friend triangle. Aiden had had to hear about it from both sides. He’d played it cool and acted neutral, offering nuggets of advice that made his gut burn with jealousy.
And the kicker?
Neither of them had listened to a word he’d said.
“That’s a load of hogwash,” Draper said. “It became my business when McKenna got into a fight with another deputy over you, which I’m told you instigated. The issues between you two went from private to public with the incident.”
That fight had caused long-term waves in the office that’d persisted after Draper had exiled Nick to no-man’s-land for the use of excessive force.
Charlie scoffed. “Fine, let’s clear the air and get on the same page. First—” she raised a finger “—Nick did break things off with me, but I was peeved because he beat me to the punch. I’m the one who pulls the plug on a fling. Not the other way around. Second—” another finger lifted “—I never instigate fights, but I’m more than happy to end them with words, and when that doesn’t cut the mustard, I’ll use my fist.” Charlie stared at him straight in the eyes. “And third, I never allow anything in my personal life to get in the way of doing my job. Not ever. Sir,” she snapped.
Aiden elbowed her. “You forgot one,” he said to her in Navajo.
Fewer than a million people still spoke the language of his people and it was mostly only heard on a reservation. Charlie had taken an interest in learning when she’d accompanied him back home for his mom’s funeral. Came in handy.
“What did she forget to add?” Draper asked, making it clear that he was no slouch and understood.
Aiden raised his brows and gave a nod that he was impressed. Because, come on, that was impressive and made Aiden even more leery of the dude.
“I’m quick on the uptake,” Draper said, patting his own back, exuding that me me me attitude. “At previous offices I picked up a little Spanish, Russian and French. Call me paranoid, but I want to know what someone is saying in my presence.”
Yeah, that did sound paranoid.
“She neglected to mention that Deputy Douche,” Aiden said, refusing to sully his mouth saying the dude’s name, “was talking smack about Charlie to Nick. She can screw who she likes and if she was a guy, that idiot never would’ve called her those foul things.”
Tease. Whore. Slut. Aiden had made certain that every ugly, disgusting word had been documented in their statements. The other deputies had sided with Nick, Charlie and Aiden, and took to calling Jeff Snyder “Douche.” Including the Tweedle duo.
After six months of constant disrespect, Jeff “Douche” Snyder transferred.
Good riddance, if you asked Aiden. There was no room for troublemakers on the team.
Aiden clenched his fingers to fists. “If Nick hadn’t broken his jaw, I would’ve.”
“I take it you would’ve broken his jaw, too?” Draper asked Charlie.
“Meh.” She made a noncommittal sound and gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Sticks and stones. Right?”
“Okay. Fine.” Draper raised his palms. “I take it you two aren’t going to back down or back off until you get the assignment.”
They nodded in unison.
“One question, sir,” Aiden said. “How was Hummingbird’s location compromised? Did the witness violate protocol?”
Draper squirmed in his seat, caught himself and stiffened. There was still a disturbing lack of consternation on his face. “We’re not sure how the breach happened. It’ll take Intel time to dig, unravel the knot of involvement and track any leads to figure out how we were compromised.”
How an assassin had found their witness in the dang mall.
“You’ll provide support,” Draper said. “Zeeman is on his last leg, counting down the minutes to retirement of long, lazy days in the Key West sunshine. He’s highly decorated, but short-termer-itis is real. Gear up, then head to Big Bear Lake and escort Hummingbird back to San Diego.”
Charlie and Aiden exchanged confused glances. “Why are they way up at Big Bear?” she asked.
That was in the mountains. Hours away.
“I decided to use the LA office’s remote safe house at Big Bear to keep Hummingbird as far away from San Diego as possible while awaiting the trial. Yes, it’s an outside-the-box move. But I thought it the best way to ensure her safety. And,” he said, straightening his tie, “Jack Foy himself commended and endorsed the idea.”
Golly gee. The US Attorney for the Southern District of California himself.
Did Draper get tendinitis in his elbow from patting his own back so much?
“I’m going to call local police, or rather the sheriff’s department,” Draper said. “Have them send a car to the safe house and stay put until—”
Lynn Jacobs, Draper’s assistant, hurried into the office without knocking, cutting him off. “Sir.” Worry lines creased her middle-aged face and her watery, brown eyes were wide with shock or fear. “Nick is on the phone. There’s been another incident.”