by Addison Fox
He’d made the mistake of letting those feelings slip the year he turned fifteen, when he’d made an unsuccessful attempt to find his birth parents on the internet. Hays and Josephine and his siblings had spent the last sixteen years trying to change his mind.
Attempting to convince him he was as Colton as they come.
Oh, how he wished that were true. But he’d just gotten left in their barn one Christmas morning. Heck, he had better knowledge of Alex’s lineage than his own.
“It depends on what, Donovan?”
Bellamy’s intense focus and near breathless request caught him up short. This wasn’t about him. Nor was it about whatever asinine issues he couldn’t get over.
This was about her and her life and whatever lurked in the shadows, seemingly focused on her.
“Okay. Three things come to mind when I read that email. Either you inadvertently got information you shouldn’t have or you’ve got information someone’s using to embarrass LSP and were specifically targeted with it. Or you did it.”
“I didn’t!”
He raised his hands in a stop-don’t-shoot gesture. “We’re taking that one off the table, okay?”
“Okay.” She nodded. “But even if we go with the first two, why do either? The company is a significant employer in this area. Their stock has risen year after year for over a decade. They’ve been on the leading edge in several health categories.” Her gaze drifted to Alex as a small smile edged her lips. “We even have a robust veterinary medicine program in partnership with Texas A&M. I just don’t see why the company would manipulate the drug supply or why someone with an intent to do ill would suggest they were. None of it rings true.”
“Why not?”
Her eyes widened, the smile fading as her mouth dropped open. “Because it’s illegal.”
He fought his own smile at her innocence. Legality and illegality were lines far too many crossed easily and with impunity, nonplussed by the risk of consequences. For far too many, illegal activities were framed in one way only—don’t get caught.
“Let’s also table that it’s illegal for now. Why don’t either of those options ring true for you?”
She stilled, her eyes drifting over the flower beds as she thought over his question. Alex stared up at her, an enraptured expression on his face when her deep thoughts brought on additional belly rubs.
He seemed even more grateful when the belly rubs continued once she spoke again. “Sutton Taylor is our CEO. He’s a good man and a great leader. He’s not the sort to fix drug prices and throttle supply. It’s just not possible.”
Donovan wasn’t quite ready to give any CEO such carte blanche for benevolence, but he wasn’t ready to debunk her instincts there, either. “Okay. Anyone else?”
“I don’t know. A disgruntled employee, maybe?”
“You have layoffs anytime in the recent past? It is the holidays. People out of work at Christmas have a lot of fair and well-aimed anger.”
“The company hasn’t had a single layoff since we brought a major Alzheimer’s drug to market a decade ago.”
“Okay. Who else? A landowner or a manufacturer? Maybe a government official? There are any number of worlds LSP plays in during the normal course of business. Lots of places an enemy could be lurking.”
“Maybe. I guess.” She shrugged at that. “I guess I could see it, but I simply don’t have knowledge of all those areas. But—” She broke off, something alighting in her face. “Why would I get the email and be possibly framed if it were an area I had no knowledge of? I don’t work in real estate or manufacturing. I don’t even manage the finances for that area.”
“What areas do you manage?”
“Drug trials, drug launches, go-to-market strategies and the relationships with our supply chain.”
“There you go. So you are connected there.”
“Connected to the degree that I know how it works. I know the players.”
“So if someone were framing you, you’d be a person who others could believe might be involved.”
“No!” Her hand stilled where it rested over Alex’s fur. “Yes, maybe. I guess.”
“That’s where we need to focus.”
“But who would do that to me?”
“We’re going to find out.”
A light breeze kicked up and with it, Alex shifted into motion. One moment he was flat on his back, tongue lolling in ecstasy, and the next he was on all fours, his nose buried in the ground as he took off through the grass.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” Donovan was up and after Alex, his partner’s alert focus and intermittent barking all he needed to know.
Alex had found a scent.
Bellamy’s property wasn’t large and it didn’t take Alex long to cover the ground, stopping before a small toolshed.
“What’s wrong with him?” Bellamy nearly ran into his back before she stilled, her hand going to his shoulder to steady herself.
“He’s fine. It’s what he’s found that’s not. I need you to move back.”
“You think he found something? In my shed?”
Since she hadn’t moved, he did it himself, walking her back several steps to stand at the corner of the house.
“When was the last time you were in here?”
“An hour ago. I wanted to get my gardening equipment.”
“And you didn’t see anything odd or off?”
“No.” She let out a long, low sigh. “I’m not sure I’d have seen much. I was angry and...well, I just slammed in and out of there without really looking at anything.”
Donovan fought the shudder at what might have happened to her if she’d stepped the wrong place and instead focused on the matter at hand. “I need you to go to my car and get my equipment in the back. I need to make a call.”
“For what?”
“Backup in Austin.”
“Backup?” Her voice faded on that word, her eyes widening in dawning horror.
“If Alex’s nose is right, and it always is, it looks like you’ve got a bomb in your shed. The last thing we need to do is set it off this close to the house.”
Chapter Six
Bellamy fought the rising tide of panic that filled her stomach and crept up her throat.
A bomb?
In her shed?
She’d blithely walked past a few hours before.
A bomb.
One discovered by a sweet dog she’d been petting two minutes ago.
The anger and frustration she’d carried home from the police station vanished in full as she stared into the back of Donovan’s SUV. Protective gear just as he described it filled the space, and she lifted out the thick jacket and headgear so he would be safe.
For her.
Shivers gripped her at the idea his life was in danger. She had a healthy enough self-image to know that she’d not asked for this or wished it on herself, but it didn’t change the fact that Donovan was in danger on her behalf. Alex, too, for that matter.
“Bellamy! Did you find it?”
Her woolgathering at an end, she grabbed the gear and ran back to him. The materials were heavy and she was slightly winded by the time she got to him. “Here.”
He took them easily, lifting them from her arms. “Go stand by the car, please.”
“I can’t leave you here.”
“Go now. You can’t be here. I’m protected and I know what I’m doing.”
“I know, but—”
“I’ll send Alex with you. He’s good company and can stay with you until backup comes.”
“Of course.”
He ran a finger down her cheek in one long stroke. “I know what I’m doing. But it’s easier to do it without worrying about you.”
The color of his already dark eyes deepened, drawing her in. “I will.”
With quick instructions, Donovan ordered Alex to stay by her side. The black Lab trotted beside her, so close they nearly touched, all the way to the front yard. Sirens echoed in the distance and Bellamy braced herself for what came next.
More danger.
More suspicion.
And even more proof that someone was out to kill her.
* * *
DONOVAN HEARD THE sirens in the distance, mentally timing when his backup would arrive. He’d already calculated what might lay beyond the door and took some solace in the fact that she’d already entered and exited the shed once without detonating the device.
Dumb luck?
Or further proof they were dealing with an amateur?
The car bomb had been crude, the lapse in detonation time a pretty solid indicator they weren’t dealing with an expert. But lack of skill didn’t diminish the risk that the bastard would get lucky at some point.
There was the alternative—that someone was trying to scare Bellamy more than hurt her—but why? Even for experts, bombs were tricky things. If the goal was to frighten, there were a hell of a lot easier ways to accomplish that.
Which took him right back to an amateur, and the question that seemed to swirl at the center of all of this: What was going on at LSP?
The email had been quite clear. LSP was fixing prices and managing the supply of necessary flu vaccine. It seemed like an odd choice—surely there was more money to be made on other drugs. But flu was also ubiquitous. So many took the vaccine that keeping it out of circulation would incite panic.
And where there was panic and chaos, you had the right mix to put an object in demand.
Wasn’t that the heart of all supply and demand? Make it seem irresistible and you made the product a must-have.
Only in this case, lives were at stake. The elderly and the infirm and small children all needed the vaccine to prevent an outbreak or to diminish the severity of one. How many people were ultimately protected by vaccines supplied by LSP?
Were there other pharmaceutical companies that could provide the needed supply if Lone Star couldn’t?
Donovan didn’t know enough about the specifics but made a mental note to ask Bellamy later. If the supply chain really was damaged in all this, there had to be reasons it wasn’t simply a matter of changing course and getting more vaccine from someone else.
His questions faded in full as the Whisperwood PD pulled up to Bellamy’s house, the fire department in tow. Although they depended on Donovan’s team in Austin as well as the K-9 unit for the majority of their bomb works, the local team was trained in basic detonation work and could support him as he walked through the proper procedures.
“What do you have there, Colton?” Chief Thompson hollered the request as he strode across Bellamy’s yard.
“A hot one, if Alex’s nose is any indication.”
“Isn’t his nose always an indication?”
“That’s why you’re here, Chief, while that hot sub you bought for lunch is getting cold on your desk.”
“It’s a cold sandwich today. It’ll keep.”
It was dopey banter, but it kept the situation moving forward until Archer could reach him. The man was already in protective gear that matched Donovan’s, sans the helmet.
“What do you have?” The question was quiet, not meant for any potential bystanders or the small crowd gathered around Bellamy.
“Not sure yet. I don’t think it’s tied to the door, as Ms. Reeves went in and out about an hour ago, but I figured I’d wait to test that theory.”
The chief nodded before asking a few more questions, then ordered his team forward to help set the scene. The fire department had already run their lines so they could quickly put out any potential blazes and an ambulance was on standby a bit farther down the road.
“It looks like Ms. Reeves is in a heap of trouble.” The chief eyed the door before his gaze slipped back toward Bellamy. “A rather big heap.”
“Sure seems that way.” Donovan agreed.
“It also seems like a lot of trouble for someone to set this little scenario up all on their own.”
“I was thinking along the same lines. Especially since she’s so pale, it’s a wonder she’s not reflecting light right now.” Donovan avoided turning back to look at that confused face for fear he’d lose his concentration. But even without looking, he knew she was scared.
And alone.
That thought had kept him company since his race across town and his discovery of the lone woman tending her garden. She didn’t appear to have a support system, as she’d not mentioned anyone since he discovered her yesterday, huddled in the LSP parking lot staring at her car.
Was it really possible she was that alone?
He’d given her space the night before, even as his instincts kept suggesting she was into something they didn’t fully understand.
But was it possible she’d been targeted specifically because she didn’t have a support system? Or someone nearby paying close enough attention?
He wasn’t exactly the poster child for familial happiness, but he could always count on his parents and siblings if he needed something.
But would you go to them?
The mental intrusion had him fumbling his hold on his helmet and he fought to put it out of his mind as he righted his grip on the face cover.
This wasn’t about him and he’d do well to keep his damn head in the damn game.
“So what do you say, Chief? Ready to open this one up?”
“I’d say. That sub’s not going to eat itself.”
Donovan hollered a few instructions to the assembled team, then reached for the shed door. Like a shiny present sitting under the Christmas tree, a small pressure cooker sat in the far corner of Bellamy’s shed, easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention.
Which she hadn’t because she’d stomped in here, still mad at him and Archer.
A chill ran the length of his spine as he imagined what could have happened if the bomb was attached to the door, but forced it out of his mind. He could worry himself into a cold sweat later.
Right now he needed to get it handled.
The bomb was crude, reinforcing his impression that an amateur had made it. It had the same look and feel as the bombs that had littered news stories over the past decade, especially acts tied to homegrown terrorism. More than that, it was a device someone could easily discover how to build online and hastily put together, with the intention of doing localized harm.
Donovan moved closer, quickly cataloging the device before scanning the detonation mechanism. A small burner cell was wired to the device, its face dimly reflecting the fact that it was on and charged.
“You see the detonator?” Archer’s voice was thick behind his mask but Donovan heard him and nodded.
“Yep. Burner cell.”
“You know how to manage it?”
“Yep.”
“Then let’s get to work.”
* * *
BELLAMY STOOD AT the end of her driveway, a crowd of EMS professionals surrounding her, and had never felt so alone or scared in all her life. Even with her parents—even at the very end—she hadn’t felt this absolute sense of emptiness.
What had happened to her life?
Had she somehow brought this on herself? Pissed someone off at work so badly that they’d decided to make her pay?
Because whatever this was, it was highly personal. First her car and then her home. Which meant whoever was doing this knew what she drove and where she
lived.
Unbidden, an image of Sally Borne’s hard face popped into her mind. HR would have access to her personnel files, including her home address. They also knew her license plate because it was needed as part of the documentation to receive a badge to the LSP property.
Alex leaned against her leg, the heavy weight of his body a reassuring comfort as she stood there, puzzling through all the implications. She laid a hand on this head and stroked the soft fur that grew even softer where it ran down the backs of his ears. He seemed to understand what she needed, pressing his head into her hand when she stilled, insisting she keep up with the soothing, steady strokes.
The dog was a marvel. She’d always loved pets but had never found time to own one. In the years before her father’s accident she’d been busy with work and never felt she could give an animal the proper attention. And after, once there were pills and wheelchairs and a constant focus on keeping him well, it didn’t seem like the right time.
Perhaps that had been more shortsighted than she realized. Her father would have responded well to a pet, a gentle friend to keep him company each day. And for herself, it would be nice to have a companion to come home to now. A warm, furry body who was happy to see her.
Maybe if she had a dog they’d have warned her of whatever was lurking around the house and putting bombs in her shed.
Alex laid his head against her thigh and let out a soft sigh. He was a funny creature, she thought as she took comfort in his large body, with a fierce devotion and gentle personality. It was easy to see what he was thinking and she had no doubt he was thinking. It might be veiled through the lens of canine understanding, but there was something going on behind those dark brown eyes.
More, there was a fierce protection there that promised the dog knew his purpose in life and would carry it out without fail.
Purpose.
Understanding settled over her, a soothing balm in the midst of the chaos that surrounded her. She’d had purpose once. A focus on the life that stretched before her and the goals she’d set for herself.