by Addison Fox
Somewhere along the way, she’d lost that. Yes, her parents had needed care and attention. At times, that had taken precedence over other choices in her life.
But she’d been solely responsible for losing her sense of self. For allowing what was happening around her to take possession of her dreams instead of keeping them firmly in her sights.
Whatever her future held or however long she had, it was time to make a change.
Alex let out a large bark at her side, a funny punctuation mark to the definitiveness of her thoughts. But it was the quivering beneath her hand and the immediate thump of his tail that had her smiling just as Donovan came around the corner of the house.
He held a small silver bowl in his hands that took shape as he got closer. A pressure cooker? She had one herself, buried in the back of the cabinet on the rare occasions she decided to cook rice for a week of meals. What was one doing in her shed?
It was only as she saw the wires dangling from beneath his gloved hands that she understood. That was the bomb. Positioned in her shed and ready to cause irreparable damage.
Ready to kill her.
A wave of nausea flooded her stomach as she took in the innocuous kitchen appliance turned into a device that could end her life.
With a gentle push, she urged Alex forward. “Go see him.” The dog seemed to waver only a moment before she patted his back and pressed him forward. “Go!”
He ran to Donovan, his focus on the device in his partner’s hands. Donovan bent over, allowing the dog to sniff the contents, praising him for his understanding of the threat. His tail wagged at the praise, and again, Bellamy was amazed at all the animal communicated without words.
Where his tail had thumped with the excitement of seeing his master, now it wagged with the determined understanding of the job they did and the risk to the people around them.
The dog knew. He understood on a base level that was fascinating to watch.
But it was the body language of his master that had Bellamy taking a step back. Even encased in the heavy protection gear, she could see the purpose and determination as he walked across her yard. He innately understood the danger in the device in his hands—more, he knew the danger it posed to her—and with that knowledge he carried the responsibility for fixing it.
* * *
SALLY BORNE SCANNED the email on her phone before tossing the device onto her desk. “Merry freaking Christmas to me.”
What had she gotten herself into? Worse, what sort of ridiculous sweet nothings had Jensen Taylor managed to put into her ear that had made her think any of this was a good idea?
She was smarter than this. Had always been smarter than this.
So why had she listened to the little slimeball?
Especially since it had become increasingly obvious his father was neither on the verge of turning over the company nor getting ready to enter into his dotage. Hell, she’d have been better off seducing Sutton Taylor. If she was fifteen years younger, she might have tried, but those rheumy old eyes could still pick out a stacked twenty-five-year old at fifty yards. She had a complaint file from several sales reps in her top drawer to prove it.
Unable to hold back the sneer, she thought of the last one who’d pranced in and complained about Sutton’s less-than-subtle attentions.
Ridiculous.
When you had assets, you used them. Those same reps weren’t above using a little T & A when they visited doctors, selling in LSP’s latest offerings. You’d think they’d be more appreciative when the head of the company appreciated the same thing they were flaunting to fill their pockets.
Brushing it off, she picked up her phone and read the email from the police one more time. The friendships she’d cultivated at the Whisperwood PD had paid off and the update on Bellamy Reeves’s visit to the station that morning was detailed and thorough. The little bitch had a copy of the email and had freely handed it off to the chief.
Sally reread the last line of the message, heartened that the ploy might end up working in their favor. The lack of sender and the strange nature of the missive had put some doubt in the chief’s mind, suggesting that poor little Bellamy Reeves had gone around the bend and was setting this all up for her own benefit as a way to defraud and manipulate the company.
Curious, Sally sat down and pulled out the Reeves file. She flipped through the personnel records, the praise for Bellamy clear on every review and evaluation as well as the input sheets tied to her past promotions.
The woman had a stellar reputation. She was well liked, kept to herself and avoided causing any drama at work. A model employee.
Of course, there was the matter of her family. A loss like that was something that changed a person. It erupted in the middle of life, taking everything you once knew and turning it upside down.
There was power in that. A story she could weave, tightening the threads until they were impossible to unravel.
Shifting to her laptop, Sally began her reply to the Whisperwood PD. No reason not to seed a bit more doubt about poor, sad Bellamy Reeves, preparing to enter the holiday season all alone.
* * *
DONOVAN STRIPPED OFF the protective gear and laid it in the back of his SUV. He’d already turned the evidence over to Archer, tagging it with the necessary markers from his side and calling it in to his own chief to keep the man updated. He’d been given the order to stay in Whisperwood until this was handled, the focus on Lone Star Pharmaceutical ensuring his chief didn’t want any blowback from the investigation.
If he hadn’t been given the go-ahead to stay, he’d have asked anyway, the risks to Bellamy too concerning to leave her alone. But now that he was here, he needed to figure out how to get her to agree to his plan.
Not only was he not going to leave her alone, but he and Alex would stay to guard her. He’d nearly made up his mind on the drive over, but now it was a done deal, especially when it was more than obvious that whoever had targeted her wasn’t above escalating their tactics to her home.
Once again, the crudeness of the bomb struck him as he nestled his gear into its proper place. A pressure cooker bomb? It was far from elegant and the fact that they’d been in the news as incendiary devices gave further credence to an amateur picking up on something and running with it. Easy to purchase and easy to build, it made the perfect device for limited range, deliberate hits.
He and his fellow K-9 team members had seen an increase in the devices and the lunatics who thought a homemade bomb made a nice, clean, easy way to deal with a problem. It was a coward’s way to kill, far removed from the point of impact, the perpetrator safe at a distance.
And it was easy because no one had to stick around and face the damage.
Just like your mother, dropping you off in the Colton barn, abandoned on Christmas morning.
His hand shook as he laid his headgear on top of his flak suit, the connection between his own birth and a bomb was one that hit way too close to home. Yet even as he rejected the maudlin thoughts, something about them stuck.
It was easy to do the wrong thing when you didn’t have to stick around and face the consequences.
“Donovan? Are you all right?”
He turned to see Bellamy, her hands still against her sides as she took him in. The moment struck him, her slender form clad in a simple T-shirt and yoga pants backlit by the afternoon sun. That same breeze that had tipped Alex off to the bomb in the shed whispered around them once more, a bit cooler as the afternoon edged toward evening, a bit wilder as it blew her hair against her face.
“I’m good.”
“How do you do that? You walked in, not knowing what you were going to find.”
“It’s part of the job description.”
“Yes, but it’s—” She broke off, her beautiful mouth dropping down into a frown. “But you didn’t know wh
at was behind the door.”
“Believe it or not, you inadvertently helped there.”
“How?”
“While it gives me the chills to say this, you’d already gone through the door. And even though that wasn’t a foolproof method, it did indicate the bomb wasn’t pressure sensitive to the opening of the door.”
She seemed to shrink in on herself at that and he reached out to take a hand, squeezing the slim fingers. “Thanks for the assist. Try not to do that again, please.”
“Okay.”
Her hand was cold in his and it dragged at him, twisting him up even further about the fact that something could have happened to her. Without checking the impulse, he tugged on her hand, pulling her forward so she was flush against him. In one long move, he seated himself on the back bumper of the SUV, pulling her between his legs as he dragged her mouth down to his.
His seated position gave her the height advantage, but he had the benefit of surprise. When she’d kissed him in front of the shed earlier, she’d surprised him with the power of the simple gesture.
Something inside of him—something hungry and raw and the slightest bit scared—wanted to feel that again. Wanted to feel the heat and the life and the sheer beauty of her pressed against him.
It was with a hunger for all those things and something even more—something distinctly Bellamy—that had his tongue pressing into her mouth, satisfied as she granted him ready access. If this kiss had surprised her, she’d quickly caught up, her tongue meeting his stroke for luscious stroke.
And then she turned the tables on him, her hands wrapping around his shoulders and neck, her fingers lingering at the base of his neck. What had been cool to the touch heated quickly, those exploring fingers also pressing his head to hers, fusing their mouths as each plundered the other.
His hands moved over her hips, tracing the length of her tantalizing curves as the kiss continued to spin out, a sensual web of feeling. It was erotic, the meeting of tongues, the light winter breeze over their skin and the simple touch of their hands on each other.
Donovan knew he should pull away. Knew even better that this was not only ill-advised, but a massive conflict of interest.
Yet, even with the sense of duty that drummed beneath his skin, he couldn’t walk away. Couldn’t tear himself back or pull away from something so lovely and tantalizing and real.
It was the last that gripped him in tight fists.
She was real. Yes, she was beautiful and sensual and appealing as a woman, but she was so much more. He respected her bravery and her determination. Even more, he valued her belief in her truth and her refusal to back down or be cowed by what was happening around her.
“Donovan.” Her whisper against his mouth broke the kiss and he tried to nip her bottom lip once more, unwilling to end the sweetly sensual moment.
“Donovan.” She whispered it again, even as her lips curved into a smile.
“What?”
“The chief is still here.”
He surfaced quickly at that news, combined with Archer’s hard cough as Bellamy slipped out of his arms and moved to stand a few feet away from the SUV.
“Archer.”
“Donovan.”
Donovan knew the man’s blue eyes were twinkling, even though he couldn’t see them behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses.
“I think we’re wrapped up here,” Archer said.
“I thought we already were.”
“I’m going to need another statement, but seeing as how I was here as it all unfolded, I think I can write up the majority of what we need for the report. Perhaps you could escort Ms. Reeves to the station tomorrow to provide any needed details.”
“That will be fine,” Bellamy quickly added from where she stood beside Alex.
Archer obviously sensed his presence was no longer welcome and he made a hasty retreat, a tip of his hat before he took off.
A light flush covered Bellamy’s face before following a lovely path down her neck and over her collarbone. “He certainly got here quick.”
“Shame he couldn’t leave as quickly.” Donovan’s hands still itched and he heard the hoarse, husky notes in his voice. He’d forgotten where he was. Utterly and completely, as he’d fallen into that kiss.
And Chief Thompson had known it, his eyes twinkling as he’d said his goodbyes.
Twinkling, for Pete’s sake.
Donovan glanced at Alex, unsurprised to see a large grin painting his furry face as he panted into the breeze beside Bellamy.
The entire situation would have been funny if he hadn’t diffused a bomb in Bellamy’s shed. A point only reinforced by the high-pitched cry of a woman who peeled to a stop in front of the driveway, running toward Bellamy as the car still idled in her wake.
“Are you okay? I just heard the news.” The woman was attractive, a tall, thin blonde dressed in needle-sharp heels, elegant black slacks and a silk blouse that likely would cost him a week’s salary. It was all set off by flashy jewelry that seemed to drip from her, including a large diamond that lay against her collarbone.
Donovan gave the woman credit—she moved in the heels—and watched as she flung her arms around Bellamy’s shoulders, pulling her close. He wouldn’t have believed it if he wasn’t standing there watching, but Bellamy stiffened up so much she could have been a poker standing beside the small fireplace in her living room.
But it was the ice that dripped from her tone that truly caught him off guard.
“Hi, Maggie. What are you doing here?”
The woman pulled back, her shoulders slumping at the greeting. “I’m your sister. Of course I came. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t call me right away.”
“Because I’m fine.”
Fine?
The diffused bomb even now being driven to the Whisperwood police station suggested otherwise, but it was the distinct sense of unease and anger telegraphing from Bellamy’s rigid frame that truly pulled him up short.
What was going on here?
And what sort of issue could Bellamy Reeves possibly have with her sister?
Chapter Seven
“I’m fine, Maggie. Really. How many times do I have to say it?”
Bellamy heard the coarse, stilted words that spilled from her lips and wanted to pull them back. She wished that she could find a way to get past the anger and the confusion that marked her relationship with her sister.
It hadn’t always been like this. No one had been happier to have a baby sister than her. She’d welcomed sweet little Maggie along with her parents and the two of them had been inseparable as kids, even with a five-year age difference.
Maggie had always seemed so fragile and waifish, and Bellamy had developed a mix of protectiveness and encouragement for her sister that she gave to no one else. That gentle, fragile nature had changed over the years and by the time Bellamy graduated from high school, Maggie was getting ready to enter, already the belle of Whisperwood. People spoke of her beauty and their parents doted on her, willing to give their precious baby anything she wanted.
The sweet little soul Bellamy had cared for and protected suddenly didn’t need her any longer and it had hurt to realize, as she went off to college, that she wasn’t the center of her sister’s world anymore.
It had taken several years and making of new friends with fresh perspectives while she was away at school for Bellamy to realize her sister didn’t need a second mother, but a friend. But by the time she’d returned to Whisperwood, Maggie’s life had shifted in new directions, including spending time with the popular crowd, riding around town in her convertible and winning the heart of half the boys in school.
She’d been happy for Maggie, even if she was forced to accept that her own life had turned out very differently. The job at LSP had provided anoth
er fresh perspective and after immersing herself in work and a new group of friends and colleagues, the distance with Maggie didn’t seem to matter so much.
Or maybe she’d just stopped caring any longer if it hurt.
She’d had a life and a job she loved and a future to look forward to. Life was good and if she didn’t have a strong relationship with her sister, then it was something she’d live with.
“Bellamy, did you hear me? What is going on around here? First I hear about a bomb that blows up your car and now I hear there’s one in the shed, too?” Maggie settled three glasses of iced tea on the small drop leaf table Bellamy kept in the corner of her kitchen, handing one over. “And hurry up and tell me before the always attractive Donovan Colton comes back inside. Goodness, I remember him from high school. He was a year ahead of me but what a looker.”
Something in the casual assessment of Donovan spiked her ire once more and Bellamy fought to hold her tongue. Whatever her relationship with Maggie, spitting at her like a she-cat—a jealous she-cat—wasn’t the way to handle things.
“He’s part of the K-9 team out of Austin. He’s been assigned to my case.”
“He’s done well for himself. I’d heard he was getting into K-9 a few years after joining the Austin PD.”
“How’d you hear that?”
Maggie shrugged, her perfect blond hair rising and falling with the motion. “The Coltons are always the subject of local gossip. People talk, Bell, you know that.”
“Is that all people in this town are to you? Gossip? Is that why you rushed over here? So you’d be in the know.”
Maggie’s glass stopped halfway to her lips, her mouth drawing down in a frown. Carefully, she set the glass back on the table before shifting her cool blue gaze fully to Bellamy’s. “I realize you and I have had our differences, but I don’t understand how you could think I don’t care about you.”
“You’ve never seemed all that interested in taking part in my life.”
“You shut me out! Just because I saw how we should be caring for Mom and Dad differently than you did, doesn’t mean I’m some horrible person.”