by Liz Johnson
“Jordan Somerton.” He shoved his hand out first to Cody, who shook it fast, then to Kristi, who offered him a wavering smile. “You must be Kristi and Cody.” Hitching a thumb in Zach’s direction, he said, “This guy showed your pictures to everyone who’d stand still long enough while we were deployed.”
“You’re a—a SEAL, too?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jordan pressed his baseball glove of a hand to his forehead in a mock salute. “Now, where’s this surprise you promised me?”
Zach nodded toward the house to indicate their bomb, but then reconsidered Kristi and Cody. He couldn’t leave them outside and unprotected while he and Jordan got to work. “Can they wait in your truck?”
Kristi shook her head. “We’re fine out here.”
Jordan flipped her his keys, which she caught in a two-handed, unsteady grip. “Bring it back with a full tank. It’s the white truck about a block down the road.”
She looked about ready to argue, so Zach caught her eye. “Please. For my peace of mind. Call the detective, let her know that I’m inside—I don’t want to get shot again.” He offered a dry chuckle, but only Jordan gave him a half-grinned response. “They should send the crime scene unit. Then lay low until they get here.”
After a long pause, she nodded, scooped up Cody’s dragging blanket and scurried toward the truck.
The knot that had been slowly building inside him released its tension by half, and he sucked in a full breath, his first since he’d seen the wire. “Let’s get this thing done.”
As Jordan trotted behind him into the house, the two men donned their vests. They flipped open the cupboard door, clipped the trigger wire and analyzed the bomb on the bottom shelf. Jordan let out a tense hiss of air through his teeth. “This wouldn’t have just blown the cupboard and the stove.”
Zach nodded. “It would have ignited the gas line and lit up the whole house.”
“Uh-huh.” Jordan pulled a pair of needle-nose pliers out of his pocket and poked at what appeared to be a loose wire. It pulled taut, and he sucked in a harsh breath. Zach’s heart slammed into his throat as he realized they were looking at a fail-safe.
Jordan rummaged through the wires, his fingers sure and steady, as Zach peered over his shoulder, holding a flashlight beam on the right spot.
“This guy knew what he was doing. He’s good.”
Jordan snipped another wire and pulled the box free, so they could see it in the clear.
It was neat, tidy and deadly.
Zach couldn’t shake the seasick feeling in his stomach. “If he’s so good, why’d he miss a shot at Kristi by almost two feet at three hundred yards?”
Jordan shrugged. “Maybe he’s a bad shot.”
Narrowing his eyes, Zach shook his head. “The guy who made this—who put in the time and had the know-how to get this so precise—would he really have fired a weapon from across the hospital parking lot if he’s a bad shot?”
“This guy?” Jordan’s deep brown gaze swooped over the hand-sized explosive that had nearly taken out Zach’s whole family. Every wire had a place, every corner bent to precisely a ninety-degree angle. “No. Whoever made this wouldn’t miss his mark.”
That’s what Zach was afraid of.
SEVEN
Kristi spent the entire night kicking her blankets off and then pulling them back on. She flopped on one side, then flipped to the other. Nothing felt right. Nothing was comfortable.
Especially not the brief exchange she’d overheard between Zach and Jordan hours before.
As the cops had disappeared with the remains of the bomb, Jordan bid his farewell, too. After giving Cody a fist bump and telling him to take care of Zach, he turned to Kristi and tipped his head with a mock salute. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Hope to see you again soon.” He left unspoken the hope that it would be under better circumstances next time.
Zach walked Jordan toward his car, and as she steered Cody in the direction of his bedroom, she heard something she was sure Zach hadn’t meant for her to.
“Call me if this happens again,” Jordan said, his voice deep and a little gravelly.
Zach nodded. “I will. But I hope I don’t need to.”
Kristi pressed herself against the hallway wall as Cody reached the top of the stairs and Jordan’s voice dropped. “He didn’t get what he wanted.”
“I know.” Zach sighed, and she could picture him rubbing the top of his head in the way he did when he was thinking through what he was trying to say. “But it just doesn’t make any sense.”
“What’s that?”
“How could he miss?”
There was a long silence, and she imagined the two men—nearly equal in height and breadth—staring eye-to-eye.
She didn’t know what the bomber missed, but she couldn’t move as she waited for them to say more.
“Like I said before. This guy wouldn’t miss. Not by two feet. Not from that parking garage.”
Her chest seized to a halt. They were talking about the shooting at the hospital. Because, of course, they were connected. Of course, the man who left the bomb was the same one who had shot at her.
But why was Jordan saying that the shooter wouldn’t miss? Of course, he’d missed. Unless…
Her mind tumbled the scenarios around and around, every one making her stomach ache a little more.
Unless the shooter had been aiming for Zach. After all, Jackson Cole hadn’t said he’d kill her—he’d said he’d make her pay. And what better way to cause her pain than to make her lose a husband all over again?
Zach had grumbled again. “I know. That’s why I’m worried.”
If he had been worried, then she needed to be, too.
After flipping her covers off, she marched to the bathroom, splashed some water on her face and pulled on her robe. Yanking on the knot at her waist, she gave herself a decided nod in the mirror, ignoring the way her morning hair flipped out like a pop icon’s from the seventies.
She wasn’t going to wait around for Cole to find her.
Not when he seemed to have inside information about her every move. How did he know so much about her and her daily activities?
She had no clue. But she had an idea where they could start.
Kristi made it halfway down the stairs to tell Zach about her plan before she heard a cheerful ruckus coming from the living room. Someone had put Christmas carols on the radio, and Cody was singing along—off-key and about two beats behind.
She swung into the room to find Cody lying on the floor, gluing neon puffs on a red-and-white stocking. He looked up, his gap-toothed grin too wide for her to ignore.
Pointing to his art project, Cody laughed. “I’m making one for Zach. For Christmas Eve.”
Her attempt to return his smile was a complete failure, and she wrapped her arms around her middle to keep herself from flying apart as her gaze swept over the rest of the scene.
The “Jingle Bells” music wasn’t coming from the radio. Zach, sitting at the upright piano, which she’d assumed was purely decorative, pounded away on the keys. His grin matched Cody’s in enthusiasm and joy, but his tone was perfect. She’d never heard him sing before, but he had a pleasant voice, low and soothing.
The whole scene was picture-perfect. But it wasn’t supposed to be him in the picture. This was wrong. It was all wrong.
Her eyes filled with tears before she could even begin to identify why. There weren’t words for whatever this emotion was that filled her chest and pressed on her heart until it felt like it might pop. There were only tears. And then a sudden outburst.
“Stop it. Just stop it.”
Cody looked up with startled, unblinking eyes as the piano music slammed to a stop.
She risked a look in Zach’s direction, expecting warranted censure. Instead, his face was calm. His eyes were filled with a mix of questions she couldn’t answer and tenderness she didn’t deserve.
She scrambled for something to say to fill the awkward silence. “J
ust don’t…don’t work on that now. It’s too early. We’re going to hang stockings on Christmas Eve. Like we do with your—”
Father.
Except Aaron was gone. This was their third Christmas without him. So why did it feel like the first all of a sudden?
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she spun, rushing for the safety of her room.
Behind her, Zach spoke to Cody, his words hushed and soothing. “Sit tight, little man. I’ll be right back.”
Kristi slammed her bedroom door and fell back against it. No matter how hard she tried to catch her breath, it was always an inch away.
Suddenly the door at her back rattled, the knock soft and words softer.
“Kristi? Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”
No. She most definitely did not want to talk about it.
Apparently Zach couldn’t read her mind. “Talk to me. What was that all about?” The door rattled as he leaned against it. “Please let me help.”
How could he help when she didn’t even know what was going on in her own mind?
She choked back a sob that wanted to escape and forced out, “I’m okay.”
He didn’t respond for a long moment, the quiet hanging heavy between them. Screwing the heels of her palms into her eyes, she tried to shut off the waterworks, which just gushed harder.
“I’m sorry.”
Why was he apologizing? He wasn’t the one who’d flipped out over an off-key Christmas song and a badly decorated stocking.
Zach cleared his throat but kept his voice whisper low. “I forget sometimes. You’re so capable and confident, and I forget that this is all new to you. I’m trained to handle this kind of stress. But this isn’t your norm. And it’s not an easy situation.”
She turned and rested her forehead against the door. “Why are you being so nice to me?” From Montana to the present, there was no explanation for him disrupting his whole life for her and Cody. And now it seemed as if his very life was in danger because of her. Why would anyone risk that?
Except maybe he was just that good of a man.
“You’ve had a hard week—a hard couple years. Nobody blames you.”
With a little snick of the door, she opened it far enough to catch his gaze, which was filled with warmth. The little cleft in his chin popped as he offered her a half smile.
“I feel like such an idiot.”
“You’re not.” His tone left no room for argument, but it didn’t stop her from trying.
“I yelled at my son because decorating stockings and singing Christmas songs was something we did with Aaron.” Gathering a full breath, she let out the truth in a rush. “And it hit me that it’s never going to be like that again.”
A muscle in his well-defined jaw jumped. Then he held out his hand, an unmistakable invitation. When she slid her hand into his, warmth seeped through her veins until it swirled through her chest, thawing the fear that had frozen there. He gave a gentle tug, and before she realized what had happened, she was surrounded by him. His arms around her back held her close as she rested her forehead against his chest.
“It’s been more than two years. I’m supposed to have moved on.”
“Who told you that?” He didn’t wait for her response. “Whoever said that is a liar. There is no moving on when you lose someone you love. It just gets a little easier. To breathe. To move. To live.”
“But it’s not easy,” she argued. “It’s still so hard. I’m worried about Cody and his heart. He’s going downhill. I didn’t sleep at all last night. I was replaying yesterday over and over. What if that bomb had gone off? What if you hadn’t seen it? Or hadn’t been here? I don’t think I can wait for the next attempt. The police are only hitting dead ends. I have to do something to find Cole, but I feel like he’s always ahead of us. How does he know where we are all the time?”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing.” His chest rumbled below her ear.
Her arms squeezed his waist a little tighter. “Do you think maybe—could someone at my office be feeding him information?” His whole frame tensed, but he didn’t speak. “Like which days I’m working and when I’m not. Walt always has a schedule of Cody’s doctor’s appointments, so he knows when I’m unavailable.”
“You think someone you work with would be willing to share information like that?”
“I don’t know.” She sighed hard. “Maybe if they were tricked or threatened. But the reasons for it aren’t important right now. I just know that Cole seems to have that information—and I have to do something.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, too. Well, not that you should do something. Me. I have to find him before he finds us again, and I have an idea.”
“Me, too.” But he might not like hers very much. “You go first.”
“You said that Cole is involved in drugs. My friend Amy Delgado is a DEA agent—he might be on their radar. I’ll call her this morning and see if they have any leads for us.”
“Good. That’s a good idea.”
“And what’s your plan?”
She tried to relax in his arms, but something about confessing her idea—and being this close to him—had her body curling in on itself.
“That bad, huh?” A note of humor tinkled through his words as his arms flexed.
“Somewhere in my office there’s a file on Cole. If I could find it…”
His embrace turned more steel than shifting sand. “Why don’t you just ask for it?”
“And risk alerting someone there that I’m looking into Cole? If someone is feeding Cole information about my schedule, who knows how deep they are in with him.”
“But why not ask Walt? He was threatened, too, right?”
She nodded, hating the direction of her thoughts, hating more that they might be accurate. “Yes, but he hasn’t been harassed at all. What if he’s the one working with Cole?” She didn’t want to believe it of her kind, loyal boss. She didn’t want to believe it of anyone at the office. But she didn’t know whom she could trust.
He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face toward him. But she couldn’t meet his gaze. She refused to analyze whether it was because she didn’t want him to read the fear in her eyes or because his touch on her face was making her insides a little too jiggly.
“I can get in and out during the holiday party tonight. No one will notice.”
He chewed on the corner of his mouth for a long second but finally nodded. “Okay. If the DEA can’t help us out, we’ll go.”
“Wait. We? No.” She grabbed for a steadying breath as she pushed away from him. Space. She needed a little space to think.
But he interrupted. “Yes, we. Cole has been one step ahead of us everywhere we go, like you said. And if there’s really someone in your office—someone who will be at the party—under his influence, no way am I letting you go in there alone. Period.” He cringed, like maybe he hadn’t meant to sound so much like a caveman.
“But what about Cody? We can’t leave him alone, and we can’t take him with us.” There. That would put a pin in his argument.
“I’ll call Luke and Mandy.” Or not.
Zach had mentioned Mandy before. But just because she was a friend of his didn’t mean Kristi was ready to trust her with Cody.
She must have projected her hesitations across her face because he swooped in. “Mandy is a physical therapist, and Luke is a navy medic. They can handle anything that comes up. We’ll only be gone for a couple hours.”
“I can go alone to the party. I’ll slip in and out and be back in forty-five minutes.”
He put his hands on his trim hips and shook his head. “You’re not going alone.”
Her mind warred at his words. Part of her wanted to yell at him that she’d been doing just fine on her own for the last two years and she didn’t need his help. But the other part of her screamed that this was new and terrifying, and she couldn’t control this situation any more than she’d been able to control Aaron’s death.
And if anything happened to her, Cody would have to deal with losing a parent all over again.
She couldn’t even stomach the thought of putting her brave little man through that.
Swallowing her initial reaction, she nodded once. “Fine.”
Zach visibly relaxed. “And first I’m calling Amy.”
*
Zach held his breath as the phone on the other end of the line rang. He needed Amy Delgado to pick up. He needed answers. And he needed them quickly. He couldn’t protect Kristi and Cody without a little intel. That’s where interdepartmental relationships came in handy.
“Delgado.”
“Amy. It’s Zach. McCloud.”
“Uh-huh.” Rats. She didn’t sound particularly happy to hear from him. Probably because the last time they’d talked, he’d had to call her to tell her that Jordan had to cancel their first—and only—date.
It wasn’t his buddy’s fault, though. Jordan’s sniper skills had been required on a special operation, and he hadn’t had time to call her himself before he went wheels up. And he sure hadn’t been able to talk about the very classified mission after the fact.
As a result, Amy hadn’t warmed back up to Jordan after the broken date and perceived slight.
Maybe she hadn’t warmed back up to Zach either.
“What do you want, McCloud?” Her words were clipped but not entirely unkind.
He moved forward like walking on ice. “I got married last year.”
“I heard.”
Right, because she was still friends with another one of their SEAL team members, Will Gumble, whom she’d helped get planted in a Panamanian drug cartel in order to rescue his now wife.
“My wife is in trouble.”
Amy must have been at her computer; the keys on her keyboard clacked at a steady rhythm. “Uh-huh.”
“She had a run-in with Jackson Cole.”
The typing stopped, and she sucked in a sharp breath. That…really wasn’t the reaction he’d wanted. He’d been hoping she’d ask, “Who?” which would mean this guy wasn’t as dangerous as he and Kristi feared.
Instead, she said, “What happened?”
He spelled out the event at Kristi’s office. “And someone’s been targeting her.”
