“What kind of game is this, Marshall?” Senator Jackson strode onto the stage. “You ruin my event—”
“Get out.” Tate rounded on her. “Get out of here right now.”
Oh. Ford knew that voice. Tate had used it a few times on him in his youth when he’d found Ford in his room.
Ford raised an eyebrow as the senator recoiled. “Fine. C’mon, Gloria.”
“I’m not going, Mother.” She slipped her hand into Tate’s. Ford noticed Tate didn’t close his hand around hers.
“Glo—” Tate started.
“No. Listen, bossy pants, I should have never let you walk away, and I’m not leaving you now. Or ever.”
Tate blinked at her, and Ford sort of wanted to high-five her.
Except, well, Tate was right.
Ford walked up to Glo. “Sweetheart. I know you’re crazy about my brother. And it’s about time, but the fact is, you need to leave. For his sake. Because he won’t be able to think with you here. Trust me on this.”
She stared at him, then Tate, who nodded.
“Fine.” But then she reached up and pulled Tate’s head down.
And gave Sloan his definitive answer to his proposal, right there on the stage. Hel-lo. Ford averted his eyes and headed over to a table with the microphone. But kept an eye on Sloan just in case the man didn’t take No way, I love another man for an answer.
As it were, Sloan’s mouth tightened, and he shook his head.
Glo let Tate go. “Promise me you’ll stay safe.”
He took her face in his hands. “I promise to do everything I can to come back to you.”
“You’d better, Captain America. Because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life pining for you.” She kissed him again, hard. Then turned and left the room.
Ford’s chest tightened as he watched her go. He pulled out the battery and noticed another set of electrodes attached to the battery.
He eased the assembly out onto the table.
Two wires attached to a tiny timer, the count at two minutes, forty-eight seconds.
His entire body went still, only his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
“No time for EOD,” Tate said.
“Tell me what’s going on,” Scarlett said, her voice soft, solid in his earpiece. He looked up and spied her standing at the door, watching him through the glass. She had a cell phone pressed to her ear, probably talking to Nez.
“There’s a timer,” Ford said. “It’s attached to a battery, counting down. My guess is that it’s on a frequency, and when the count gets to zero—”
“Boom,” whispered Tate.
“You should leave, too, bro,” Ford said.
He got a look that might as well have been sign language.
Scarlett was relaying the information. “Nez is on the line. Says to describe the timer.”
Ford knelt and used a fork to turn the mechanism. “It’s a simple digital timer with a chip on the back. It has a number on it.”
“Read it.”
Scarlett repeated it to Nez.
Ford looked up. “Tate, really—”
“This is my gig. If anyone is leaving, it’s you. I should’ve never gotten you into this in the first place.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve wanted to do superhero stuff with you ever since Dad told me about that time you fell off your horse and walked around the house for two days like you might be invincible. He said you had a hero streak a mile wide.”
Tate frowned. “He did?”
“Yeah. Dad told me that out of all his boys, you were too much like him. Stubborn and tough and didn’t know when to quit. Which was probably why he was so hard on you, I’d guess. But I got it in my head that I wanted to be like you—well, without some of the trouble.”
Tate smiled, still the frown in his eyes.
“Ford, I have an answer for you,” Scarlett said.
“Go ahead, Red.”
“That’s a common control system switch. It’s used for things like temperature control circuits to turn off or on an engine. When the clock reaches zero, the chip will send a signal to the remote detonator.”
Boom.
“So, we just have to cut power to the clock to deactivate the chip.”
Tate was crouching next to him.
“No, you have to cut the power to the chip. Because if you cut the power to the watch, the chip will think the timer is at zero—”
“And boom,” Tate said, listening in with his earpiece.
“I’ve got two cords. One is blue, one is white. Can’t I cut them both?”
“Not precisely. They would have to be cut at the same time down to the ten-thousandth of a second. Even if you put them in the cutter at the same time, one will be cut just prior to the other. There’s no physical way to make it happen at the exact same time.”
“Okay, so, which one is the power to the chip? Blue cord or white cord? Yes, we’re playing that game.”
Silence.
“Red, you got anything for me?”
“Don’t know, Ford. And neither does Nez.”
Perfect.
He picked up a steak knife from an uncleared table. Looked at Tate.
Then to Scarlett. She had her hand on the window, her eyes wide in his. And he heard her words. I want this. Just this, right now.
Him too. Maybe he didn’t have to be the guy who always had to figure out everything. And no, he wasn’t going to suddenly abandon everything he believed in, all his promises to himself, but maybe he could follow his gut a little.
Let go and live.
That worked out sometimes too.
“Which one, Red?” he whispered. “Tell me which one.”
She drew in a breath. “The white one. For hope.”
He nodded and slid the knife under the wire.
Beside him, Tate tensed.
Then he cut and waited for the world to explode.
Glo had been set up—maybe not by Tate but definitely by Sloan.
As soon as she walked outside the ballroom, Sloan directed Rags to grab her and drag her away from the trauma inside, leaving Scarlett to crouch beside the door, watching and relaying the events to whomever she talked to on the phone.
“Let me go!” Glo had kicked Rags in the shin, but he’d simply pulled her up into his arms and held her in his Hulkish embrace as she battered him. “This is kidnapping!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Rags said as she pushed against him.
She wouldn’t slap him—that wasn’t fair—but when they reached the escalator, she said, “Fine—fine. Put me down. If people see you dragging me away, they’ll panic.”
Still, it took a look from Sloan, the betrayer, before Rags would set her down. He steadied her with his hand on her arm as they rode to the main floor.
The security had led everyone outside, to the grassy park area beyond the hotel. A few of the women had taken off their shoes. Servers walked around with desserts on trays. The sun had just started to sink into the ocean, a bloody red upon the water. The chamber orchestra had reset up, Nicole at the helm of the disaster, as usual.
The whole thing felt a little like the sinking of the Titanic. Ford and Tate were inside disassembling a bomb, and—
“Are those sirens?” her mother snapped and turned to Sloan. “Make them go away.”
“Mother. There is a bomb in the building. Of course we need police and sirens!”
Reba turned to her, swallowed hard. Then blew out a breath. “Yes, of course.” She reached up to her neckline and unclipped her mic. “Come with me. I need your help to get this off me. I don’t know why the sound guy mic’d me up if he was going to use the stand mic.”
Glo followed her mother back into the lobby and down to the bathroom, Rags and Sly on their tail. She turned to them at the door of the bathroom and held up her hand. “Really. I got this.”
Her mother was washing her hands, muttering. Blowing out controlled breaths.
“Mother.” Glo stepped up and unzipped her t
o where the mic pack hung on her camisole. “It was a great night. Every single one of these people are here to see you. Because you…you’re amazing. You fight for the underdog, and you give the voiceless a voice. That matters.” She unclipped the mic pack and wound up the wire around it, setting it on the counter. “That’s why people vote for you. Because of your character. Not because you throw them a great party.”
Her mother looked up, drew in a breath. “How did I get so lucky as to have two such brilliant daughters?”
Glo looked down and zipped her mother back up.
Reached for the mic pack.
But her mother grabbed her hand, stopping her, and turned, her back to the mirror. “I mean it, Gloria. After Joy died, a part of me died too. And I threw myself into public service, thinking it would fill that empty place inside. And it did, it does. But not enough. Not like having you around does.”
Glo’s eyes burned.
“But you carry that same light Joy had inside you. It shows when you sing. And it shows…well, when you love other people. Like your band. And your father. And…Tate.”
She looked up at her mother.
“I was wrong about Tate. He might be trouble, but he is also a hero.” She touched Glo’s cheek. “And he came all the way to San Diego. For you.”
Even after she’d rejected him.
Glo’s breath caught. What if you let God show up for you? Show you that you don’t have to do anything for Him to love you.
“In fact, he never left Nashville. I know, because Sly was watching him.”
Glo frowned. “Did you assign Sly to him?”
“Of course I did—”
“I mean, in Vegas too?”
“Yes. Because, well, I had heard about his reputation. I wasn’t sure…”
“Where was Sly the night he was attacked?”
“I don’t know. I was on a flight from Pennsylvania that night. Sloan came in and told me about the attack. So I re-routed us.”
“Sloan was on the plane?”
Her mother sighed. “Yes. I didn’t want to…well, I wanted everything to progress between you two naturally…”
“When did Sloan find out about the attack?”
“Oh, let’s see. It was after eleven, I think.”
“11:00 East Coast time is only 8:00 p.m. in Vegas.”
Her mother just stared at her.
“Mother—we didn’t get attacked until nearly midnight. And you were there by morning.”
“Maybe I’m wrong about the time—”
But something Tate had said…about Sloan and the Bratva… “Oh no!”
Glo scooped up the mic and headed out of the bathroom. Rags and Sly stood at the door.
She looked at Rags, then Sly, and took a chance. “Sly, where were you the night Tate and I were attacked in Vegas?”
Sly glanced at her mother, now following her from the bathroom, then back to her. “I’m sorry ma’am…I was—” He shook his head. “I was gambling. The show was over, and I thought you were tucked in for the night.” He appeared distraught. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I should have been there. I checked in with Sloan, and he asked me where you were staying. I told him I thought you were safe—the Bellagio has top-notch security. He agreed and gave me the night off. If I’d known…” He wore a tight ball of agony on his face.
Glo looked at her mother.
“Gloria—”
“I have to apologize, Mother. I thought it was you.”
Her mother frowned.
“I couldn’t figure out how the Bratva might have found Tate—and I…I suspected you. But I didn’t want to.”
Her mother’s mouth tightened. “It was Sloan. He had the connections and your location.” She had gone white. “He knew I didn’t like Tate, but I never thought…oh my…”
“I’ll find him, ma’am,” Rags said, and his expression looked very much like Tate’s when he’d told her he’d come back to her.
Promises. Unspoken, but just as binding.
Tate. The bomb. She probably wore questions in her eyes because her mother said, “What’s happening, Sly?”
“Apparently, they’ve diffused the timer, ma’am, and security is searching the building.”
Glo had already turned and headed up the escalator.
“Gloria!”
Tate was standing outside the ballroom with Scarlett and Ford, and she took off running.
Tate looked up just in time to catch her up. “Babe.”
“Not one more second,” she said, pulling him tight against her. “Not one more second without you.”
“I agree,” he said. “I agree.” He set her down, catching her face in his hands, those devastating blue eyes holding her. “I completely panicked when Sloan… Scarlett said he proposed?”
“Yeah. And for a second, I thought…this is all I could hope for. A pseudo-happy ending doing what I should, but not what I wanted. And I stood there, and I thought…no. I wanted to wait for the song. For—”
“One True Heart.”
She nodded. “And then I saw you standing there and…I knew I didn’t want anything but the real thing.”
“It is the real thing, Glo. I love you so much…I’d—”
“Die for me. I know.”
“Or live. Whatever it takes to keep my promises.”
His promises. “I don’t know why you love me, Tate. But it’s enough that you do.”
“I do love you. And I know you’re destined for amazing things. In and out of the limelight—whatever. I just want to be there, on the sidelines. Being the one who keeps you alive.”
In spirit and body. Lighting her fire.
Yes.
“Forgive me for walking away from you, Glo. It was impulsive and prideful, and I should have told your mother that I was staying—”
“No. I should have gone with you. You’re not trouble, Tate. You’re…brave. And you’ve got such an amazing heart and frankly, I need a guy who isn’t afraid of a little trouble.”
He drew his thumb down her cheek and was bending to kiss her—yes, please—when Ford came up.
“You guys ready to go?”
“In a minute. I need to put my mother’s mic away and grab my bag.” She met Tate’s eyes. “Want to come with me?”
He glanced at Ford. “Yes. Alone.”
Ford rolled his eyes.
“Nez just arrived,” Scarlett said. “And the San Diego bomb squad is coming in to sweep the building.”
“The police are evacuating the building so don’t take your time,” Ford said to Tate, but he winked at Glo.
Yeah, she could get used to being part of the Marshall family.
She led the way to the greenroom/VIP suite where the campaign team had gathered before the event, not sure how much she should tell Tate about Sloan.
She’d seen enough violence for today.
“Who did you say put that mic on your mother?”
Glo pulled out her access card as they reached the door.
“The sound guy. The one who fixed the mic on stage.”
She opened the door and stepped inside.
Tate grabbed her hand and took off in a run.
She screamed, mostly in surprise, but with a little horror as he hit the glass door to the balcony without slowing. It shattered as it opened, and then he had his arms around her.
“Take a breath!” He clutched her to himself as he launched them off the balcony.
Behind them, the room exploded in a flash of fire and glass and timber.
They hit the pool, Tate’s arms tight around her.
She’d forgotten to breathe, the water sucking her under, closing around her.
But Tate was right there, letting her go, pulling her to the surface.
She gulped air, a fish gasping. “What—?”
Tate was already dragging her away from the falling debris, toward the edge of the pool. He hooked his arm around her waist and practically carried her out and away from the destruction.
“A
re you okay?” He put her down then, and turned her, his hands running over her arms, her body, then meeting her eyes. “Tell me you’re not hurt.”
She managed to get a shake of her head in before he pulled her into his arms, so tight she couldn’t get her head around it all.
“What happened?”
Not her voice, but her thoughts, definitely. Ford was sprinting up the boardwalk from the park.
“The senator’s mic—that was a transmitter.” Tate wasn’t letting her go, so she pushed against him. His entire body started to tremble, clearly an adrenaline rush. “It didn’t make sense—our fifty-fifty odds were just too…easy. And the second mic—”
Scarlett had run up behind them, barefoot, and behind her, a tall Native American man, along with a couple more men.
“That’s what the switch was for—it activated the transmitter in the senator’s mic.”
“I don’t understand,” Glo said. “Mother was mic’d in the greenroom, before the event.”
“Which was why they needed a second transmitter to activate the first. When Plunkett brought out the second mic and turned it on, it activated your mother’s unit. She was supposed to wear it until after her speech.”
“And since it was under her dress, she’d return to the suite to remove it,” Glo said.
“Which would then activate the bomb, in her room, as soon as she entered. They didn’t want to take out the crowd. Just your mother,” said Scarlett.
“And Glo, maybe,” Ford said.
“Collateral damage.” Tate looked a little pale. “I don’t know why I knew to run—it was just…something inside me said get out of there.” He turned to Glo again and pulled her against himself.
And she wasn’t going anywhere, thank you very much.
Not without her bodyguard.
13
Which one, Red? Tell me which one.
Ford’s words from last night burned through her, a torch that ignited Scarlett to her core as she stroked through the water. Her shoulders burned, her legs fighting a cramp against the cool water.
Jerk.
He shouldn’t have put her in that position. Shouldn’t have looked up, their lives in his hands, and asked her to save the day.
Like he trusted her. Like he respected her.
Tate Page 27