She nodded, though she wasn’t so sure. Someone else was behind this. Oscar and Benjamin were the fall guys. They’d been duped. Which meant the detonator and bracelet were likely not of their making.
“Do you recognize the device? Anything about it?” he asked.
She swallowed and forced herself to look at the bracelet. All Benjamin had said was that it was a remote detonating device. If she got away from the van, it would go off. And the tiny charge inside would likely injure if not kill her.
“Not without opening the casing,” she said finally.
“Okay, what about the bomb?”
“The detonator is attached to the C4. There’s nothing that directly ignites the homemade explosives. They wanted me to do that, but I told them I couldn’t.”
“You could though, couldn’t you?”
She nodded.
“That’s smart, sweetheart. Okay, so all we need to do is take the detonator off, right?”
“I can’t do that, Hunter.”
“Sure, you could. Think about it. Who spends more time blowing shit up than you? I bet even the bomb squad hasn’t seen as many explosives as you have. You’re probably better at this than they are.”
“I don’t make bombs though, Hunter!”
“No, but you know how they work. You know the pieces. You spent so much time studying them and figuring out how to be the best at your job, you know this.”
“No, I don’t, I really don’t.”
“Sure you do. Think about the hotel demo. You knew exactly how to set that up to bring the building down with minimal use of force. It was beautiful. That’s talent. You know your shit. You do.”
Okay, so she had done particularly well with the hotel. She’d worried there wouldn’t be enough, so she’d concentrated what she had on the main pillars and just tried weakening the supports. Her brothers had even given her a pat on the back for minimal debris and mess around the site.
“How is this different from the demo?” he asked.
“The demo was perfectly timed charges at strategic locations. This…is everything all in one spot.”
“Okay, so bigger boom, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know if Oscar and Benjamin did this themselves? Did they know what they were doing?”
“I don’t know. They’re…they’re working with someone. I don’t think they did this.” She lifted her wrist. “This looks…too fancy.”
“Okay, so what do you think?”
“I think I want you to leave. This is dangerous, Hunter. Explosives sweat in heat like this. It makes them unstable.”
“Sweetheart, the only way I’m getting out of here is with you. I’m not leaving until you do, got it? I’m sorry I was an ass yesterday. And I want all the time to make it up to you, but we’re losing minutes. And…and I don’t want to lose you. Not now that I’ve found you.”
Jesse sniffled and nodded.
Sure, she’d wanted to kick his ass yesterday, but…in the big picture, she didn’t want to be without him, either. If he wouldn’t leave, if he was determined to sit here in this easy bake oven with her then it was up to her to figure this out.
He was right.
She was the one with the knowledge here. Not him.
If he died, it was because of her.
“Do you have wire cutters? Maybe a screw driver?” She scooted down the length of the van.
“Yup. Spencer gave me a tool bag instead of a med bag. I’m glad you weren’t hurt. You weren’t, were you?” He dug around and started laying out a couple tools.
“No, I’m fine. Just scared.”
“Me, too.”
“What? You get scared, Mr. I-run-into-burning-buildings-for-fun?”
“That’s great coming from you, Ms. I-blow-stuff-up-for-fun.”
Hunter reached out and grasped her hand, giving it a squeeze.
For a moment they stared at each other. She could almost hear words he wasn’t speaking, something weighty and important, but also something she’d need time to hear. Time she wouldn’t have if they didn’t figure out how to disarm this bomb.
“Screwdriver?” She held out her hand.
Hunter offered her both a flathead and Phillips. She took the Phillips and set to work on what she could see. Once she’d loosened everything she had a better picture of what they were working with. She didn’t need to take it completely apart, that could be left up to the professionals, but she did need to disable the countdown trigger.
The thing about the countdown was that it sat completely on top of the five gallon bucket loaded with C4.
“I can do this. I can do this. I can do this,” she chanted out loud.
The street was near silent, anyone who wasn’t strictly necessary had been cleared out, including the surrounding traffic. It was just them, and the bomb.
“You got this, Jesse,” Hunter said, his voice pitched low.
She followed several wires with her fingers many times over. There was no undoing what she was going to do, so she had to do it right.
“Wire cutters?” She held out her hand.
Hunter placed the tool in her hand.
“Okay, I’m cutting the timing wire. This should disable the countdown. It’s still going to be a bomb, but not a live one.”
“Do it.”
“Will you please leave?”
“Not a chance.”
She kind of wanted to bash him over the head in some sort of vain hope that someone could drag him to safety, but her luck Hunter’s head was as hard as he was stubborn.
“Here goes.”
Jesse carefully pulled one wire away from the rest, slid the cutters around it, and squeezed her hand, blowing out a breath.
Snip.
She waited, counting the seconds.
Nothing happened.
“Jesse?”
She glanced down at the clock stuck at 4:31.
“Oh my God, it worked.” She sat down on the floor of the van, her wrist cradled to her chest. Real bombs were nothing like on TV. Yes, they could be complicated and difficult to disarm, but by and large they were simple, crude and did one thing.
“What about what he was saying? The remove detonator?” Hunter stared at her, lips compressed.
She sucked down a deep breath.
Someone had activated the timer.
If the bomb didn’t blow when it was supposed to, then there was a chance it could be triggered remotely. She just didn’t know how that worked.
On a demo site, she had a wire that went from her detonator to the charges. It was a manual switch. Something she flipped and then things went boom.
“Let me think. Let me think.” She stared at the device, all those wires. “There isn’t a wire to a remote trigger, which means…it has to be wireless. Wireless means a thing. A thingie?”
“A receiver?” Hunter suggested.
“Yes! So…what does that look like?” She studied the key pad and clock, looking for something that looked more foreign than…well, the rest of this weird device.
“That. Right there? With the antennae? Is that it?”
“I don’t know.” Jesse lifted the wire antennae up a bit, following the wires. She had a bad-right kind of feeling about this. “Hunter, if I cut these wires, it could trigger the bomb. Will you please leave?”
“No chance in hell, Jesse.”
Her mouth was dry. She couldn’t form words, so she nodded instead.
Jesse carefully wedged her wire cutters in between the timer and antennae, saying a silent prayer, and snipped the main wire.
She held still.
Nothing happened.
“Jesse?”
“I think that was it.” Just to be careful, she removed what appeared to be the transmitter from the device.
There were always risks. Secondary triggers. Fail safes. She didn’t know the types of bombs. That wasn’t what she did, or wanted to do. But she’d done her best.
“You did great, Jesse.” Hunter lea
ned over and brushed his lips across hers.
“Squad is eleven minutes out. They’re coming on foot,” Arthur yelled.
“They need to get here in five,” Hunter hollered back.
Jesse relaxed, as much as she could sitting at the foot of a bomb with another one strapped to her wrist.
It was going to be okay.
Everything was going to be all right.
Unless someone blew them up while they waited.
19.
The fifteen minutes it took for the bomb squad to arrive and remove the bracelet detonator from Jesse’s wrist were the longest minutes in Hunter’s life. The moment she was free, Hunter wrapped her in his arms, lifted her feet off the pavement and carried her into the shade. They were soaked with sweat, overheated and exhausted. But they were alive.
“We’re okay,” she muttered into his shirt.
They were, but he’d come so close to losing her in every way possible.
“Stop. I need to hold you.” He buried his face in her hair, hating the scent of blood on her.
“Jesse? Jesse!”
She turned her head toward her brother’s voice.
Hunter wanted to keep her to himself, but he couldn’t. Not yet at least.
The cops had Justin and James two streets away at a barricade and weren’t letting them any closer.
“I want to go home,” Jesse said.
And he wanted to keep her to himself. Two wants at odds with each other.
“Yeah, I bet.” Hunter took her hand and they walked in silence toward her brothers.
He still had almost a full shift ahead of him. Hours spent away from her. So much to say. To apologize for. To set right. This wasn’t the time or place.
About ten feet away from the barricade he stopped and pulled her to his chest.
He couldn’t be within five feet of her brothers without wanting to deck them. Jesse needed someone to lean on, to catch her when the adrenaline burned out and she dropped, because it was coming. If she wasn’t prepared for it, the after effects could be devastating. It was a lot like what he went through after truly intense fires, when lives were on the line. Hunter wanted be the one to hold her when that happened, but he was already MIA on his unit. He couldn’t go with her. This time, he’d had to trust her brothers.
“I have to get back to my crew.” His ass was going to get chewed out for having left them like that.
“Do you have to?” She squeezed him back.
“Yeah, but I’ll call you, okay, sweetheart?”
“Okay.”
He let go of her and watched her take two unsteady steps. She glanced at him over her shoulder. If the circumstance was different, he’d take the longing in her gaze as a good sign. Right now, he just wanted to soothe it, make it go away. But he had a job to do and she needed to go somewhere she felt safe. Chances were Arthur could track her down if he needed her, and the media would be all over the story before she was ready for them.
Hunter waved at her and watched her cross to her brothers.
At least Justin had pulled his head out of his ass enough to offer Jesse a hug. James didn’t let go of her all the way to the corner and out of sight.
Fuck, but Hunter wanted to stay with her. He wasn’t grounded yet.
“Hey—Hunter.”
He jerked his head up.
Spencer waved at him from the back of the ambulance. They’d pulled it farther down the street when things went bad.
Hunter jogged over.
“Sorry about the bag, man. It’s still in there.” Hunter stripped off the shirt and took his fireman’s uniform back.
“No big deal. Need a ride back? They sent your crew home.”
“Would you mind?”
“Not at all.”
“Thanks.”
Hunter climbed in back of the ambulance and after a few minutes sorting out how to leave the perimeter they were on their way back into the Deep Ellum area.
“Everyone okay?” he asked.
“Besides the shooter’s arm, no other injuries.”
“Good. Good.” Hunter leaned his head back. It was over, and now…they were back to normal. It was a strange, jarring moment.
“You seen Abby lately?”
“Uh, yeah. Earlier.” Such a normal, mundane question. “Hey, what about her having some sort of reaction Friday?”
“Girl needs to remember to bring her Epi Pen with her.” Spencer shook his head.
They shot the bull about nothing in particular until the driver pulled up at the station. Hunter jumped out and rolled his shoulders, preparing himself for an unholy shit storm.
He stepped into the firehouse and followed the sounds into the kitchen-eating-rec area. Someone had ordered pizza and the crew was digging in without him.
Drake saw him first, pausing with a half-eaten slice of pizza halfway to his mouth.
“Hunter!” Drake blurted after a half second of staring.
Everyone else’s head whipped around and the room went silent.
“Wow, hey guys. Save any pizza for me?” He crossed to the pizza boxes and lifted a lid.
“What the hell are you doing here? How’s Jesse?” Drake followed after him. “Everly’s worried sick.”
“She’s good. Just went home with her brothers.” And he was here. With these guys.
“Shaw,” their chief bellowed.
Hunter’s spine went straight and he dropped the piece of pepperoni pizza he was considering eating for lack of anything better to do.
“Yeah, chief?” He turned to face their station chief, a fifty-something black man with a tendency to frown.
Donaldson crooked his finger at Hunter.
Shit.
Hunter followed Donaldson out into the hall.
“Sir, I can explain.” Not very well, but he could try.
Donaldson planted his hands on his hips and stared at Hunter.
“How is she?” he asked.
“She?”
“The girl? The one Drake says you’re dating?”
“She’s…okay. Shaken up.”
“Check in tomorrow, let me know how she is.” Donaldson held out his hand. Hunter stared at his chief as Donaldson pumped his arm and slapped him on the back. “Thanks for checking in. Next time, warn someone before you go off and be a hero, okay?”
“Sir…?”
“Go hug your girl. Get out of here. Before I have the others hose you down in the gator pit for that stunt.”
“Yes…sir.”
Hunter was out of the door and in his Jeep in less than thirty seconds. He had his neighbor on the phone before he got out of the driveway and made it home in less than five minutes. He parked long enough to load Elsa up before he peeled out, headed for Jesse.
She might not be ready to forgive him once the dust settled, he still had some apologizing to do, but he was more than ready to follow his heart on this one.
Jesse was the kind of girl he wanted to keep.
Elsa seemed to catch his mood and hunched down in the back seat, ears plastered against her head and the occasional whine breaking the silence.
Traffic wasn’t horrible, but when he already wanted to be near Jesse, one car ahead of him was too many.
The drive had never felt longer or her place more remote than it did now. By the time he pulled into the drive the sun was touching the horizon, signaling just how long the ordeal had taken.
He’d gone on shift at noon.
They’d been called out to the rally a little after one.
Jesse had texted him sometime after four.
The van had shown up at…almost six.
The stand-off with Benjamin and Oscar had taken forty-five minutes.
Another half hour or more from de-arming the bomb to getting Jesse free.
And then all the time cleaning up the scene.
He pulled down to Jesse’s barn, but the only house with lights on was Justin’s.
Hunter let Elsa out and after a moment of waffling over what to do
with her, opted for her to follow him.
The brothers were likely assembled, and it wasn’t as though Jesse needed him around. He was the one with the need to be here. They could give him the boot, tell him to get out, as easily as welcome him.
Hunter stopped halfway between the two homes, staring at the bright yellow rectangles of light.
What if she didn’t want him here?
Shit.
He’d been so consumed by what he wanted that he hadn’t considered asking if he could or even should come by.
The front door creaked open.
Damn it.
“Hunter?” Justin called out.
“Yeah.” Too late to turn around and slink out now. Hunter slapped his thigh and crossed the rest of the distance to Justin’s front door dragging a fifty pound weight of guilt.
Justin met him at the near end of the porch, one arm braced against the wooden post supporting the roof.
“She’s still pretty shaken up,” Justin said.
“Do you think I should leave? I can give her space.” Hunter would do it even if he hated the very idea.
Justin stared at him, the fading light casting shadows across his face.
“You’re here now. Might as well come in.” He leaned down and scratched Elsa behind the ears. Okay, maybe Justin wasn’t a complete ass.
He pushed off the railing and led the way to the front door, and didn’t say one word about Elsa.
Hunter mentally braced himself and stepped over the threshold.
Jesse sat huddled on the sofa, Sirius in her lap, Dumbledore at her feet and the rest of her pack pressing in on all sides. She was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. She stared at him in slack-jawed surprise, which told him all he needed to know about his presence here.
“Hunter?”
The way her voice broke killed him.
She didn’t want him.
What the hell was he doing here?
She’d been more than clear when she’d told him to stay away, and he should have listened.
Terry hurled the remote across the room.
All the work. All the prep.
For nothing.
Yeah, they had a surplus of ammunition and drugs to trade, but the true statement hadn’t been made.
That was what he got for trusting idiots like Benjamin. The remote detonators hadn’t even worked right. He should have sent in someone else, but Oscar and Benjamin were disposable. They didn’t matter. Now, they could expose Terry if he didn’t act fast.
Up in Flames (Firehouse Three Book 1) Page 18
