“Blair!”
She searched the crowd and spotted Paige waving at her. The other woman was pushing her youngest daughter in a stroller as she joined them. Letting Drake take Michael, Blair stopped and peeked at the sleeping child then gave her friend a hug. “Where’s Ari?”
They fell into step behind the others with two of the bodyguards bringing up the rear.
“She already dragged Seth to the petting zoo, while Shane and Tuck went to check out the bull stock.” Years ago, Tucker could’ve gone pro in bull riding but had decided against it since there was no guarantee he could make a well-paying career out of it. However, he still participated in a few local, amateur rodeos each year, especially the one in Hazard, and was usually the man to beat. He’d be riding in the preliminaries this afternoon and most likely the finals tomorrow. The Hadleys would be cheering him on from the stands along with the rest of his family and friends.
“We’re headed to the petting zoo too. I thought you were working the admission ticket booth again this year.”
“Tomorrow and for a few hours on Sunday. Three days in a row is too much. Shane and Tuck would’ve been fine with Ashley and Ari all day, but Nicole had enough volunteers to take slots, so I’ve got today off, thank God. Who knew standing in one spot, all day long, could be so tiring?”
Blair completely understood. For two years, before Regan was born, she’d helped out for a full day at the rodeo while Drake had minded Trevor, then they’d switched, and he’d worked wherever the organizers needed him the next day. Over the next few years, as Drake’s business had grown, he’d set up a tent with the other vendors and sold many of his smaller pieces while growing a customer base for made-to-order furniture. This year was the first he didn’t have a vendor booth since he’d started—he rarely had time for non-custom work anymore, since he was taking orders for six months from now. She knew he missed doing the “just for fun” pieces and wondered if he’d be able to make some again with Grant helping out in the workshop. He wasn’t in there often, spending most of his time looking for the stalker, but he’d talked about the fun he’d had tinkering in the shop with his brother. In fact, the two men had been laughing about old times when they’d returned to the house for dinner last night, after spending about two hours together in the workshop.
Despite the stress she knew Grant was under, he’d seemed happier over the last few days. Of course, their threesome and sexual aerobics probably had something to do with that.
“So, you don’t have to go into details,” Paige said in a low voice while leaning toward Blair, “but how are things between the three of you? Any progress?”
Blair felt her cheeks heat up, and when she didn’t answer, Paige turned to fully look at her and chuckled. “Never mind, your blush says it all. Good for you. Didn’t I tell you it was delicious having two men lovin’ on you at the same time?”
She wasn’t sure if Grant had overheard Paige, but Blair’s face reddened even more when he glanced back at her and winked. Damn, it was going to be hard hiding her feelings for him in public now.
Somehow, they’d made it all the way to the ticket booth before someone recognized Grant behind his dark sunglasses and cowboy hat. It didn’t take long before they were surrounded by locals who’d known him most of his life. The four bodyguards stayed close to Blair, Paige, and the children, while Drake and Grant fended off the curious masses, giving vague answers to questions thrown at them. It wasn’t until Regan and Michael began to whine about wanting to go to the petting zoo that the two men were finally able to get the crowd to disperse and let the family enjoy their day out.
Once the small group got moving again, they passed by some of the vendor booths, and Paige nudged Blair then gestured to their left. “Check out Bridget.”
The obnoxious woman was wearing a pure-white, linen dress, that accentuated her perfect size-four figure, and red heels, as she showed a large painting to an older couple. While everyone else at the dusty rodeo was dressed in denim jeans or shorts, boots, and T-shirts or western shirts, Bridget looked ready to take Soho in New York City by storm. How her makeup wasn’t melting off her face was beyond Blair.
Bridget glanced in their direction, and her eyes went wide when she spotted Grant. She excused herself and ran over to him, throwing her arms around him and shocking the hell out of him and those around him. “Grant! Oh my God, it’s true! You’re alive! Let me look at you.” Without releasing him, she leaned back and ogled him. “You’re as handsome as ever and so muscular too. I’ll never understand how Blair left you to return to this godforsaken town. We should go out some—”
The woman was practically purring and drooling as she ran her hands over his broad shoulders and chest. Blair was about to say something, but Grant grasped Bridget’s upper arms and moved her back a few steps—away from him. “Blair didn’t leave me, Bridget. As far as she and everyone else knew, I was dead. And for someone who hates this town as much as you do, after all these years, I’m surprised to see you still live here. You should check out Washington D.C.—I’m sure you’d fit in perfectly with the sharks there. As for going out with you, I’ve got better things to do. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a petting zoo to get to. Forgive me for not saying it was a pleasure to see you again.”
Paige and Blair did their best not to burst out laughing at the stunned and indignant look on Bridget’s face when Grant picked up Regan and started their group moving again. The other woman glared at all of them before turning on her heel, almost falling on the uneven ground, and making her way back to her booth.
Behind Blair, Manny snorted and chuckled. “God, I love small town drama.”
Blair had no idea what Bridget thought she’d accomplish by her little display. Grant hadn’t liked the woman back in high school—she’d hit on him relentlessly, even after he’d started dating Blair—and it was obvious his opinion of her had never changed.
After Manny’s statement, the two women couldn’t hold back their laughter. Blair realized it was the first time since she’d received the photo of Grant on her phone that she’d laughed so hard her stomach hurt. It felt good, and suddenly she pushed the anxiety of the stalker to the back of her mind and looked forward to a fun day with her family and friends.
Chapter Twenty
It’d been a long day for both the adults and the kids. Between all the fun things to see and do, watching the amateur rounds of rodeo events, and everyone wanting to talk to Grant, the Hadley family was exhausted. While Blair held Regan in her arms and Drake carried Michael, Grant was giving Trevor a piggy-back ride as they all trudged toward the parking lot. Grant wanted nothing more than to get home and put his feet up for a while, although he’d had a fun time with Blair, Drake, and the kids—better than he’d expected. They’d stayed long enough to see Tucker ride a bull named Stone Cold for eight seconds to make it to tomorrow’s final round. He’d won the amateur event the last two years and was going for a three-peat. Of all the bad-ass and risky things Grant had done in his youth and in the CIA, getting on the back of a pissed-off, 1700-pound animal had never been something he’d been willing to try. Not in this lifetime—probably not in the next one either.
Surrounded by four of Grant’s “friends,” with their concealed weapons, they wove their way through the rows of vehicles in the packed parking lot. Vic and Grant led the way, not stopping for anyone else who wanted just a moment of time from the man who’d come back from the dead. Grant did his best not to sound rude as he brushed people off. He understood he would be Hazard’s side-show freak for a few weeks until everything settled down and someone or something new sparked the small town’s interest. For now, he just had to put up with it.
The last few days, sleeping in the master bedroom with Blair between him and Drake had settled him in a way he hadn’t expected. While the horrified look in Blair’s eyes when she’d first seen his scars had rattled him, he’d done his best to not let her know it’d upset him. The next morning, while the kids played in the ba
ckyard after breakfast, he’d given Drake and Blair the much watered-down version of how he’d gotten all the scars. His captors’ favorite way to torture him had been holding a lit cigarette to his skin. There were times he could still smell the vile odor of burning flesh. But he’d been truthful when he’d told them his shrink, Dr. Trudy Dunbar, in Tampa, had helped him deal with the aftermath of his abuse. She was a friend of Sawyer’s and his teammates’ and was also on the government’s approved list for counseling special ops veterans who had loads of classified data in their heads. While he couldn’t tell her a lot of the details of where he’d been held captive and why, she hadn’t needed them in order to treat him.
The one thing Trudy hadn’t been able to help him escape, though, were his nightmares. But for the past few nights, lying next to Blair, he’d slept soundly, without waking up in a cold sweat and a scream on his lips. He never woke up swinging, but, instead, frozen in fear. At first, he’d been ashamed about that. He’d definitely fought the North Korean soldiers any time he was able to, but his nightmares seemed to have the opposite effect on him. Trudy had explained sometimes a person’s mind dealt with the horrors it’d gone through in a different way after the real threat was gone. Grant was under no illusion his nightmares wouldn’t return—and he, Blair, and Drake would deal with it when they did—but for now, he was grateful they were being held at bay.
Once Blair’s SUV was in view, for some reason, the hair on the back of Grant’s neck rose and a warning tingle shot down his spine. His head swiveled around as his eyes darted in every direction. Beside him, the special-ops agent was doing the same, but he’d been doing that all day. Grant wasn’t sure if Vic sensed something awry now or if Grant’s instincts were off. Something didn’t feel right, but he didn’t spot anything or anyone out of place. They only had to pass one more row to get to the SUV, and Grant couldn’t see anyone near it.
“Uncle Grant, can I get down?” Trevor asked.
“Sure, sport.” After making sure no vehicles were coming toward them from either direction, he bent his knees a little and let go of the boy’s thighs as the hands around his neck released him. Trevor was about to run toward the SUV when something caught Grant’s eyes, and he grabbed his son by the shoulder, stopping his forward momentum. Trevor looked up at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
Two steps ahead of Grant, Vic stopped short and scanned the area, his hand at his lower back where his weapon was hidden from view. He glanced over his shoulder at Grant. “What is it?”
“Look next to the driver’s door of Blair’s SUV.”
A muttered curse told Grant the other man had quickly zeroed in on the problem. Drake stopped next to his brother. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone’s been underneath the driver’s side.” Grant pointed to the disturbed dirt and gravel sweeping away from the SUV. Someone had slid out from underneath the vehicle.
Dropping to his knees, Vic cautiously bent down and peered under the chassis. A low “damn” reached Grant’s ears, and he knew his fear had been confirmed. Vic got back to his feet and his gaze zipped to Manny’s. “Get them in the other vehicles and get out of here. Check ’em first though—it’s a pipe.”
Without hesitation, the other hired men grabbed hold of Trevor’s, Drake’s, and Blair’s upper arms and quickly steered them toward one of the other SUVs. The operatives’ gazes were alert, taking in their surroundings. Drake and Blair looked at Grant, with a combination of shock and alarm in their eyes. Not wanting to scare the kids, Grant made an explosion gesture with his hands and made sure the adults understood him. “We’ll call the sheriff and have this taken care of. I’ll see you back at the house later. Do everything Manny, Bruce, and Liam tell you to do. It’ll be all right.”
Before opening the doors, Manny crouched down and inspected the undercarriage of the SUV he’d driven into the lot earlier. Declaring it safe, he opened the rear door for Blair. “Get in.”
Wide-eyed, she turned to Drake but also glanced back at Grant. “We need the car seats.”
Grant shook his head. The last thing they needed to do was stand out here in the open, arguing about car seats. “Don’t worry about the seats. The guys know how to drive in the worst conditions—y’all will be safe. Just buckle the kids in.” Any other time, Grant would’ve given in to the need for the seats, but there was no way of knowing if the pipe bomb was rigged to the engine or one of the doors being opened or any other action for that matter. His family had to get out of there—they were in more danger of the bomb than a car accident at this moment, and the other two operatives would be following Manny back to the house to guarantee their safety.
As the adults bundled the kids into the back of the SUV, they put Trevor between Blair and Drake and sat Michael and Regan on their parents’ laps. Meanwhile, Manny had whipped out his phone and called the other operatives who’d been monitoring the family from a discreet distance throughout the day. They’d be waiting at the exit of the parking lot to escort the others home.
Once he was sure his family was safely on their way out of there, Grant pulled out his own phone and hit the speed dial for Lane. “We’ve got a problem in the parking lot,” he said without preamble when the other man answered. “How soon can you get a bomb squad here? And how fast can you evacuate the area?”
“Fuck me. Where are you exactly?”
“North side, fourth row out, about seven vehicles from the end.” He scanned the lot. There were dozens of people milling about, walking to or from their trucks or cars and laughing without a care in world. Little did they know there was a pipe bomb under Blair’s SUV.
“We’re on our way.”
In under a minute, Grant saw mounted and foot patrol officers closing in on their location. The police and sheriff’s deputies immediately started shifting the public away from where Grant and Vic stood. Laughter turned to confusion, and even a few arguments, as no one could understand why they were being prevented from returning to their vehicles. But they weren’t Grant’s problem right now.
Even though he trusted Vic’s knowledge and assessment, Grant squatted down and peered under the driver’s door. Sure enough, someone had attached a pipe bomb to the undercarriage. Going around to the passenger side, Grant took a look at the device from that angle too. Thankfully, there didn’t appear to be a timer, nor wires leading to any of the doors, which meant it was probably rigged to the ignition and would’ve gone off when the engine was started.
As he got to his feet and joined Vic at the front of the vehicle, Chief Hughes, Lane, and one of the deputies hurried over. The latter was introduced as a member of the sheriff’s bomb squad, Deputy Hudson Stokes. After Grant gave them a quick rundown of the situation, Stokes dropped down and wriggled under the SUV to get a better look at what he was dealing with. “Huh. Hey, did either of you touch this?”
Grant squatted down and peered under the chassis at the man. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I know, stupid question, but had to ask. It’s not live.” He was using a small mirror at the end of an expanded handle to see the device from every angle.
“What?”
“It’s not connected to anything.” He pulled on the edges of the silver strips holding the metal canister against the undercarriage. “It’s just a timer Duct-taped to an empty canister. The top is missing, and there’s nothing in it.”
Stokes crawled out from under the vehicle and handed the dud device to Grant. Sure enough, the canister was useless—thank God. Grant muttered a curse before turning to the other men. “It’s another warning that this bastard can get me or my family at any time and any place. He’s fucking toying with me, and I’m sick of it.”
“I don’t blame you,” Chief Hughes responded after telling Tad Winslow to have the officers and deputies return to their assigned posts for the event and allow people back into the parking lot. “But it doesn’t get us any closer to figuring out who he is and what his end game is.”
The man was right, but it just
made Grant’s anger boil even more. He ran through possible options in his head. If he left town, trying to lure the stalker away, there was no guarantee he’d follow. If Grant stayed and waited him out, they could be the bastard’s puppets for weeks or months. If they tried to send Blair and the kids away and reduce the number of targets, how could they be certain the stalker wouldn’t follow them instead of staying to mess with Grant. Three options and none of them viable, in his opinion.
Lane took a step forward, his arms over his chest. “Two more days, and ninety percent of the tourists and rodeo people will be gone come Monday morning. The fewer people around, the harder it will be for this guy to blend in. If we step up our search, maybe it’ll force him out into the open, but we have to wait until the rodeo clears out.”
Grant knew the lawman was right, although none of them were happy about it right now. As an undercover operative, Grant had learned to be patient, but that was a quality he no longer possessed—at least when it came to his family’s safety. But now, he’d have to figure out a way to control his impatience. Two more days, then he’d hunt the bastard down. And if the stalker was lucky, Lane or one of the other cops would find him first.
Chapter Twenty-One
Three nights later, Drake and Grant had offered to treat Blair and the kids to dinner at Bar None, accompanied by Vic and Manny, after she’d forgotten to plug in the slow cooker with a pot roast inside. She’d felt like such an idiot but blamed it on the stress she’d been under. While things were fine between her, Drake, and Grant, she couldn’t stop worrying about the stalker, even though they were being heavily guarded. Liam and Bruce were in the parking lot with a pizza, watching over the vehicles—they weren’t taking any chances this time—while the other guards were keeping an eye on the Hadley’s house and property.
Don't Shoot the Messenger: Hazard Falls Book 2 Page 15
