by Bianca James
It was later that night as the irritating memory clawed at his efforts to sleep that it came to him. He sat bolt upright in his bed.
It was impossible.
It made no sense.
He knew exactly what the source of the tar like aroma was. Jack’s face darkened with anger. He mentally kicked himself in the ass for not being able to identify the smell earlier. He blamed his injury. Or maybe too much country living had robbed him of his edge.
Cassie!
Chapter 9
Cassie remembered the old Colt revolver as she was tidying up the mess left by the intruders. She made a mental note to file a report with the sheriff tomorrow, in case she needed it to claim the insurance. That thought caused her to pause. Then she released a breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. A lump filled her throat as she thought of the big buffoon covered in mud, all for the sake of the stranded colt.
She’d been hard on him. That’s what she did. Offense is the best defense and she saw the way he looked at her. That attitude had to be nipped in the bud right away. Not only was unwanted attention going to interfere with her investigation, but it would also end up with her getting hurt. She knew that all too well and was determined to see that didn’t happen. Not again. She’d honed her skills over the years and had become quite adept at keeping men at a distance.
A cursory Google search on her phone revealed that some old Colt handguns, if they were in decent condition, might be worth many thousands of dollars. Some even many tens of thousands of dollars. Grandma would always tell anyone who’d listen about her collection, so it was no secret. The ransacking of the cabin started to make sense, although the extent of the destruction made it seem like they didn’t find what they were looking for.
Exhausted from the long drive, the unscheduled rescue mission, the trail of ruin she found in the cabin and her further run in with Sheriff Raven, Cassie dragged a sleeping bag from the trunk of her Cutlass and made herself comfortable on the sofa. The bedroom was a wreck and the mattress had been slashed to ribbons, so the sofa was her bed for the night. She doubted she’d get much sleep on the lumpy sofa.
Thumbing the safety on, she tucked the robust CZ-75 under her pillow and flicked off the table lamp, leaving the cabin lit only by the moonlight. Her anxiety at the recent invasion of her new, although temporary, home was offset by the stopping power that nestled beneath her head. She was asleep within minutes.
In her dream, the gang in the black Chevy truck kicked and pounded the door relentlessly, determined to break through the solid oak door and turn it into firewood. She fumbled for her weapon, but it was gone. She screamed as they splintered the century old door like it was made of matchsticks and tore the remnants from the hinges before bursting into her cabin.
She woke in a cold sweat, felt the comforting bulge of the 9mm under her pillow and allowed her eyes to adjust to the dimly moonlight cabin. As her head cleared, she remembered where she was and the visions from the horrifying nightmare began to fade.
Her hand subconsciously rose to her neck, fingers seeking the security of silver key she wore around her neck. It had become a habit. Whenever she was nervous or unsure, she’d seek reassurance by touching grandma’s key.
But the incessant pounding on the door didn’t stop.
That wasn’t a dream.
Cassie ran her fingers through her ‘bed hair’ to bring some order to the chaos wrought by the sleeping bag hood, grabbed her gun and padded across the cold stone floor to open the door.
Sheriff Raven took in the sight of the trashed abode as soon as the door swung open and feared the worst. His fears were confirmed when he saw the state of the woman’s hair. He was too late. She’d been in one hell of a fight. He failed to notice the gun in her hand.
“Are they still here?” he snapped as he drew his department issued Glock.
“Is who still here? And why are you even here?” She glanced at her watch. “It’s two o’clock. In the morning.”
“I need to look around. I haven’t got time to explain, but there’s a bomb here.”
“I don’t know what you mountain men smoke for recreation, but there’s no bomb here.” She looked around at the devastation in the room. “Yeah, I know, right? It looks like a bomb’s gone off, but it’s just a break-in. Probably just local kids looking for something to steal, for kicks.”
Neither looked convinced. They were both professionals and knew a thorough search when they saw one.
His grey-blue eyes scanned the room anxiously. “I really need to look around.” He shouldered his way past her and into the debris strewn room.
“What made you think someone was here?” she asked, closing the door behind her.
“You look like you’ve been in a fight and with all this…” His hand swept the room to make his point.
A smile danced across her lips as she pulled her shoulder length, strawberry blonde hair into some semblance of a pony tail and coiled an elastic tie around it to hold it in place. “Is that better?” she asked.
Was that actually a smile? He couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure about anything when it came to this woman.
He continued to survey the room as he nodded. “Seriously, I need to look around. Do you mind?”
“Knock yourself out cowboy but I can assure you, there’s no bomb here.” She rolled her eyes. He was wasting his time and her sleep. She was about to tell him she knew a little about conducting a search when she remembered that she had to keep her profession a secret.
“With respect, how about you let the professionals be the judge of that. I don’t think you city girls get much explosive ordinance exposure, if I’m not mistaken.”
Frustration boiled inside her, threatening to burst. She itched to tell him she’d been a PI long enough to have learned a thing or two about explosives and firearms. But she couldn’t. Not yet, anyway.
Discreetly, she palmed her gun and slipped it under her pillow as Jack searching for the source of the C4 odor he’d detected earlier. There was no need to give him cause to start asking about carry permits and other awkward questions. She had to maintain her cover.
Jack sensed that the explosive charge wasn’t actually inside the cabin, but somewhere nearby, outside close to where he’d been drinking from the spring.
“Lock the door and wait here, I’m going to look around outside.” His tone didn’t invite discussion on the matter which only caused Cassie to seethe even more. It was her home, after all. Who did he think he was telling her what to do?
Jack clicked his Maglite into life and began a systematic sweep of the grounds surrounding the cabin, ending up at the spring where he’d first become aware of the scent. He closed his eyes and recalled the memory of that pivotal moment.
Then his flashlight beam fell on an old oil can. He looked more closely and spotted it. Wrapped in brown, greasy paper and it was a big mother, too!
Chapter 10
Jack entered the cabin slowly as Cassie held the door open. He moved smoothly and carefully, like a cat on the prowl, his arms extended forward. An unwrapped brown package rested on his upturned palms. Blocks of explosive with a rats nest of wires and a timing device were all clearly visible.
“You’re not bringing that in here!” Cassie insisted, as if he were carrying a dead rodent instead of enough C4 to blow up half the forest.
“You seem very calm about this for a city girl. Shouldn’t you be asking what it is or what it’s doing hidden near the spring in your yard?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Or do you have people trying to blow you up wherever you go? Come to think of it, you probably…” He didn’t finish that sentence. He didn’t need to.
“I’ve seen enough CSI and Homeland to know what a bomb looks like, thanks Sheriff Smart-Ass. Big blocks of stuff with ‘C4’ stamped all over it, wires and detonators all over the place and a digital timer counting down. You’re surprised I know what that is? Really?” Once again, her hands went to her hips. She thought she was looking a
ll strong willed and dominant. All Jack could see was the way it made her gorgeous breasts jut out.
“Wait…did you say counting down?” He wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. Her heaving breasts really were a distraction.
“Yeah, it’s got 10 minutes on the countdown…no wait…9 minutes and 59 seconds.”
“Shit!”
“I’d make you put a dime in the swear jar, but I think Mr. Unabomber probably broke it when he searched the place.”
“This isn’t funny. I thought I could diffuse it or at least have enough time to find a way to detonate it safely while we got out of blast radius. We’re not going to do that in 10 minutes.”
“Well, you’re the one with the badge, carrying around a handful of explosive, what’s your plan, now?”
He looked carefully at the bomb and placed it on a nearby table, taking note of the time remaining on the timer. He’d seen devices like this before. This one was built by a real pro.
Cassie watched his eyes fix keenly on the wiring and the detonators. His fingers moved efficiently and deftly as he turned the bomb over and examined it from all angles. She wondered, briefly, what those fingers would feel like against her skin, cupping her breasts. If she was going be vaporized into oblivion, she wanted to at least go out with some happy thoughts.
“It’s black wired, so there’s no way to know which wires are active and which are decoys. It’s tamperproof. If I pull out the detonators, it blows. If I cut the wrong wires, it blows.”
5:20
Beads of sweat began to form on his brow. His fingers trembled slightly as the adrenaline surge he’d felt when he first found the bomb began to recede.
“I need something to cut the wires,” he demanded, all his attention was on the device and the timer.
4:59
Rummaging through a nearby cosmetic case, Cassie pulled out a large pair of toenail clippers and offered them to Jack.
“Seriously?” He wasn’t sure if she was still fooling around or not.
“It’s all I’ve got. I don’t know where anything is around here and good luck finding anything in all this mess.” She continued to hold the clippers out for him to take.
Reluctantly, Jack took them and began to trace the wiring once again, making sure he had the schematic firmly committed to memory before trying to figure out which wire to cut.
“If I get it right, the timer will stop counting down.”
2:30
“And if you don’t?”
“We’re right royally fucked,” he stated with certainty.
“Swear jar,” she quipped softly.
There was no more time for decision making. It was now or …
He pulled a single strand of wire from the nest of wires surrounding the timer.
He cut it with the clippers.
The timer continued to count down …
01:59
01:58
01:57
Chapter 11
Hurling back her chair, Cassie dashed to the chaos of the kitchen and began rummaging through the flotsam on the floor. She picked up a flour bag. It was torn. She found another that apparently passed her scrutiny as she stopped searching and grabbed the CO2 fire extinguisher from its bracket and scurried back to the dining table.
Jack stared at her uncomprehendingly. “We haven’t got time for that. We need to get away from here. Fast.” He stood and moved toward the door.
“We’d never get far enough away by the time it detonates, even in daylight.” She looked out the window. “It’s too dark to go running through that forest.”
Jack was about to argue with her, but before he could form the words, she’d snatched the bomb from his hands and shoved it into the empty flour sack.
01:23
“That’s not going to help. You realize that, don’t you?” Jack wasn’t trying to be condescending, but Cassie seemed to take it that way.
“You idiot. If you’re not going to do something useful, then shut the hell up. I’m working here,” she snarled as she jammed the large black nozzle of the fire extinguisher into the bag and proceeded to wrap the top of the bag tightly around it.
“What do you want me to do?” Jack asked, trying to placate the obviously stressed woman.
“I’ll hold the bag around the nozzle. You pull the locking pin and press the lever and keep it down until the extinguisher is empty. Got it?”
“Yes, boss.” Jack gave a mock salute before proceeding to pull the locking pin from the apparatus. “I think I can see where this is going.” He paused for a moment. “Damn. This might just work.”
And with that, he depressed the lever and the flour sack ballooned as it filled with carbon dioxide, forming chunks of -108F dry ice around the explosive. As soon as the extinguisher had run dry, Cassie pulled the sack from the horn and tied it firmly before racing to the door and hurling it into the darkness.
Within a few seconds, they heard the impotent boomf as the small detonators exploded, failing to set off the frozen blocks of C4.
Jack’s face beamed with admiration for the beautiful, practical woman who had just saved their lives. A wry smile twisted his lips. “You’re not your average city girl, are you?”
“You’re not your average hick sheriff.” She stated flatly, yet her eyes sparkled as they met his. “And you’re sure as hell no MacGyver. I’ve seen him disarm thermonuclear weapons with a lot less than a set of toenail clippers.”
Chapter 12
Suddenly the reality of what they’d experienced took hold and Cassie felt her knees turn to melted butter. Her mouth went dry and her hands began to tremble. As she wavered, Jack’s strong hands took hold of her shoulders and guided her firmly to a nearby chair. She was surprised at how reassuring his hands felt against her skin.
“You’re feeling the effects of the adrenaline rush. I’ve felt it plenty of times myself. It’ll pass, just relax until it does and don’t stress. That only makes it worse.”
“So you see a lot cases of post adrenaline rush around here?” she asked, knowing full well he didn’t.
“I’m ex-military. Seen my fair share of it in others and felt it plenty myself. Don’t see it much in these parts, not in this job, anyway. But you knew that already, didn’t you?”
She nodded.
“And you’re not just here to sort out your grandma’s estate, are you? You don’t need to be staying here to do that. You hold a gun like total badass and you can neutralize a professionally assembled bomb like I’ve never seen before. So, do you want to share anything about that?”
She shook her head. The less she said to this astute stranger, the better. She had underestimated him. Not something she did very often. His disarming charm and mysterious storm blue eyes were having an effect on her. Not the effect she wanted, either. The warmth pooling between her trembling legs testified to that.
His hands moved from her shoulders as he took a seat opposite her. She immediately felt a sense of loss as he broke the intimate connection between them.
“So, how about we tell each other what we aren’t telling each other? Whatever’s going on here is clearly dangerous and it’s no coincidence that someone has tried to blow up your spring—”
“Wait…my what?”
“That’s where I found the bomb. It was stuffed inside an old oil can and hidden down in the spring. Why would someone do that?”
“I have no idea.” She thought for a moment. “As I was turning off the main road today, a black truck came hightailing out of here. Surely there can’t be that many black pickup trucks in these parts?”
“Are you serious?”
She shrugged. “What?”
“There’s nothing but black pickups around here.” He paused and looked out the window at her classic old Cutlass gleaming in the moonlight. “Until now, that is. Nice piece of Detroit muscle, by the way,” he added.
“Thanks.” She nodded and followed his gaze to the car her dad never finished restoring before he died. “So how do we wor
k out who did this?”
“We don’t. We figure out the why, that’ll lead us to the who.”
Smart idea, she thought. He’s quite the detective, for a small town sheriff.
She missed the comfort of his hands on her shoulders. Their brief contact still heated her skin, as if his touch had ignited something within her. Again she became aware of the aching need building in the pit of her stomach, spreading liquid warmth to her awakened pussy.
She finally summoned the courage to reach across the table and lay her hand over his when he jumped out of his chair and sprinted around the table to where Cassie was sitting. He wrapped his long, muscular arms around her and hoisted her possessively from her chair, crushing her against his broad, thickly muscled chest.
Her eyes were closed, her face turned up, waiting for him to press his perfectly shaped lips against hers.
Instead, he crash tackled her to the floor and rolled on top of her.
“I would have preferred to start with dinner and a movie, but this could work, too,” she giggled into the nape of his musk scented neck.
She hadn’t heard the crack as the bullet passed through the window, but a split second later, she saw the bullet strike the chair in which sat only seconds ago, blasting a fist sized hole through it.
Chapter 13
“How did you know?” she whispered into his ear, her voice a pitch higher from the stress.
“Laser sight. I saw him lighting you up with it. At least we know he’s not a professional. A pro sniper wouldn’t use a laser sight,” he said convincingly.
“What exactly did you do in the military?” she quizzed.
He ignored her question, rolling over and cautiously looking over the table and through the bullet pierced window.