Personal Target: An Elite Ops Novel (13 page)

Heat from the force of the blast caught him and Jenny both, shoving them violently through the air. The power was much greater than he’d calculated in those milliseconds before the explosion when he’d vaulted from the porch. He held on to her arm throughout their crazy flight off the stoop, fighting to wrap his body around hers and cushion her fall before they hit the hard ground.

Umph
.

Sprawled near the sidewalk with Jenny in his arms and her massive purse smushed between them, his right shoulder was in agony. The bullet wound from less than a month ago wasn’t anywhere near ready for this kind of abuse. He wasn’t breathing well, but he assumed that had more to do with the bumpy landing and having Jenny sprawled across his chest than anything else.

Other than his shoulder and some inevitable scrapes, he felt okay. But he suspected that shock adrenaline wasn’t going to last long. There was a worrying tingle down his side and a dampness from what could only be blood underneath him.

“You alright?” He couldn’t hear himself talk and guessed that was a residual effect of the blast force on his eardrums.

How long would he be half deaf?

Everything was unnaturally quiet, but he could smell the smoke and see flames behind them as the house became completely engulfed. Jenny’s head was on his shoulder facing him and he glanced down into her eyes. She wasn’t answering, but she was conscious, and her expression held that horrifyingly shocked air he’d already seen enough of in the past twelve hours to last a lifetime. Her face was dirty and soot-colored, as if she’d been cleaning a chimney.

She shook her head a couple of times, trying to clear the effects of the blast. Then she was nodding and saying
yes, I’m alright
. At least that’s what he guessed she was saying. Her mouth was moving and he was lip-reading.

She pulled her arms from underneath her belly, accidently elbowing him in the process of sitting up. She was still grasping her keychain in one hand as she helped him sit upright, too. Her purse crashed into his hip as he pulled her along with him and crawled away from the house, moving them closer to the sidewalk.

She was talking the whole time, or he assumed she was as he watched her lips continuously moving. Still, he couldn’t understand a word she was saying. But some response was called for. So he said, “You’re okay. We’re alright.”

She quit talking then and flung her arms around his waist, holding him in a death grip. Her body shook, and he felt moisture on his shoulder from her tears. Her “silent” crying left him feeling no less helpless than if he could actually hear her gulps and hiccups as she fought to control the evident storm of emotion.

Apparently, she’d been saying more than he’d realized, and he was sorry he’d missed it. He wrapped her in his arms, continuing to murmur soothing words he couldn’t hear himself.

After a moment she nodded her head like maybe she believed him anyway. One of her hands rested against his uninjured shoulder, and he was encouraged when he finally heard the faint jangle of those keys next to his ear. Maybe he wasn’t going to be deaf after all.

He glanced up. A couple of folks were out of their houses and in the street, making their way toward them. He thought he could hear a siren in the distance and was relieved to know the initial effects of the blast were indeed wearing off, although his ears would most likely be ringing for hours.

Things were about to get completely crazy with cops, firemen and—he winced as he moved to stand—most likely, paramedics, too. He needed to call either Gavin or Bryan and let them know what was happening, but that lack of hearing thing was an issue. He should text instead.

He reached for his phone, even as he continued to hold Jenny with his other arm. She pulled away with a puzzled expression. “Gotta call Gavin or Bryan.” His voice still sounded like he was underwater, but she seemed to understand.

God, she could have died if he hadn’t been here. Hell, he’d been here, and she’d still almost died. His deepest fears were coming true: not being able to keep the people most important to him safe, or worse, his work putting the people he cared about in danger.

But why? Was this incident related to his involvement with Leland and Anna last month in Mexico? Or was Ernesto Vega exacting some kind of revenge for Nick not getting him the information about Cesar and Carlita’s deaths? Neither scenario felt right.

Nick glanced back to the street as a fire truck made its way toward them. He shot a text to Bryan and Gavin both, then waited on reinforcements.

What had just happened? Why would someone be targeting Jennifer? He’d already established that the people who’d planted the bomb knew she wasn’t Angela because they’d found this house. And no matter how paranoid he was, no one knew the extent of his and Jenny’s former relationship. He’d had zero contact with her for ten years until he’d seen her yesterday at Tomas’s brothel.

It made no sense. Cartels targeted family members of people they wanted to coerce all the time, but this was way over the top. To go after an innocent U.S. citizen on U.S. soil called down too much wrath by the authorities. Whoever set the bomb knew Jenny wasn’t a member of his family, as evidenced by the fact that they’d struck at her house.

Was she being targeted for another reason?

And just like that, he understood or thought he did. Maybe this had nothing to do with cartel revenge on him for what had happened last month in Mexico. Perhaps Jenny had seen or heard something in Tenancingo that she wasn’t supposed to, or someone in that brothel had. Given what he knew now, it was the only thing that made sense.

Was that why all those people had been killed? Why Jenny had been targeted here in the U.S.?

But what had she seen or heard? Chances were she didn’t even realize it herself. But he knew one thing for certain. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight until he figured this out. He might not be able to protect her on his own without driving both of them crazy, but she now had him “in her life,” whether she wanted him or not.

She might be going to Africa, but she wasn’t going without him. He’d take Marissa or Bryan with him if necessary, but he was no longer willing to delegate the responsibility of Jenny’s safety to someone else. Until the threat was eliminated, she wasn’t going
anywhere
without him.

J
ENNIFER WAS BEYOND
exhaustion by the time they got out of the Emergency Room. It was half past ten in the evening, she smelled like a campfire gone wrong, plus she was starving. Too tired to try and figure out why someone had blown up her house, she just wanted to get cleaned up and get some sleep.

While the ER doctor had examined her, Bryan had retrieved Nick’s car from what was left of her house and took the vehicle back to AEGIS. Hollywood planned to give them both a ride back to the office in his SUV.

Nick had refused the standard protocol of being rolled out of the hospital in a wheelchair, and he was quiet—too quiet. The orderly had taken one look at his murderous expression and backed way off. Since Nick was too surly to talk, Jennifer focused on Bryan.

“Do you want me to take you to Walmart to get some clothes? A toothbrush?” Bryan asked as they all walked to his car. “We can take Nick to the office, and I’ll run you by the store.”

Jennifer smiled sadly. “I’d like to say
no
, but I’m afraid Walmart, or its equivalent, will be supplying my entire wardrobe. My budget can’t handle much else.” Everything she owned had gone up in flames in the explosion, except the contents of her storage unit and her purse.

She was ruminating on that bleak fact when she realized a possible bright spot. “Hey, is my car still at Angela and Drew’s house?”

Nick nodded. “It was when I was there yesterday morning.”

His left hand was bandaged. He had bruised ribs with abrasions and a couple of stitches on his forehead at his hairline. Jennifer suspected he felt like hell about now. She certainly did, and she hadn’t landed on a piece of the roof with someone else on top of her.

“Then I have a suitcase, or I should have. On my way into Drew and Angela’s house, I was carrying groceries, so I left my overnight bag in the car. My computer is in the trunk, too!”

Not even remembering how the luggage had come to be left at the Donovan home could dim her enthusiasm. She was giddy at the prospect of having some of her things intact. Life might not be as grim as she’d originally thought.

“Excellent,” said Bryan. “We can swing by to pick up your bag and your car on our way back to the office.”

“Can’t you just drop me at Angela’s?” She wasn’t squeamish about staying in the place she’d been taken from. The idea of soaking in her friend’s garden tub overrode every other consideration. “I’d rather stay there, since I was house-sitting anyway.”

She was so delighted over the possibility of having her own makeup and knowing that her favorite yoga pants hadn’t gone up in flames, she didn’t see the problem.

Bryan stopped beside a late model SUV and unlocked the doors. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” he said quietly.

She turned back to ask why, and that’s when she saw the thundering scowl on Nick’s face. “No way in fucking hell,” he muttered. The chill in his tone was arctic. “Are you out of your mind or just trying to get yourself killed?”

Despite his anger, Nick stood by the passenger door prepared to help her inside. She found it stunning that he could demonstrate such flawless cotillion manners while cursing a blue streak and obviously feeling anything but civilized. She tried to ignore his outburst, but a furious Nick was hard to overlook.

Bryan stepped in, attempting to defuse the situation. “Jennifer, I’ll give you a ride anywhere you want to go to get clothes and stuff. I’ll even pick up your car, but I think you need to stay at the AEGIS office tonight.” No doubt he’d dealt with a livid Nick before.

She knew both men were right. She had no business staying at Angela’s house alone this evening, but she was itching for an argument, and she loathed being managed. Tired, dirty, and hungry—she was sporting the trifecta for picking a fight.

She ignored Bryan’s well-meaning suggestion and turned on Nick. “You don’t have to be so nasty. I’d just like to have some of my own things and a place where I feel comfortable. It’s not like your house got blown to hell today!”

Nick took a deep breath and said the one thing she wasn’t expecting. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Let’s go get the clothes from your car.”

Seemingly unwilling to argue with her after his initial outburst, he put out a hand to help her into the SUV. His sudden bout of reason took the wind completely out of her sails, but she was in no mood to accept an apology or help.

“I can do it myself.” Too late she realized that she sounded like a spoiled child as she climbed into the backseat on her own and silently seethed.

Nick waited until she was settled before shutting the door and climbing into the front passenger seat. No one spoke as Bryan drove them to Angela and Drew’s house. Jennifer’s car was still where she’d parked it in the driveway three nights ago. She hopped out before Nick could open her door.

“I’ll ride with you, so Bryan doesn’t have to drive back to the office before he goes home,” he said.

She didn’t want to spend any more time with Nick than she had to but realized how bitchy that would sound if she said it out loud. Bryan had to be exhausted, too. It was time for her to pull up her big-girl panties. “Thank you for coming to get us, Bryan. I’m sorry it’s been so much trouble.”

“No problem. Just glad you’re both okay.”

She nodded her thanks again and stood in the cool night air, glancing up at the waning moon.

Nick stood beside her a moment. “Want to see if that suitcase is still here?” he asked.

The evening air cooled her temper. She swallowed the last of her exasperation along with her chagrin and slid her hand in her pocket to pop the car’s trunk with the key fob. Sure enough, her suitcase and computer were right where she’d left them. Feeling calmer, she was now thoroughly embarrassed by her earlier outburst.

Nick might not want her going to Africa, but she wasn’t listening to any more arguments from him. It made her too crazy, and spending any more time with him had the potential to devastate her life just as much as that bomb blast could have. She was going to the Jobaria dig site.

Why would anyone follow her to the middle of the Sahara? Besides, the danger wasn’t about her. It was about Nick and what he did. Tomas had as much as said so in Mexico. She assumed the bombing was connected to Nick as well. If she got away from Nick, she should be safe.

All she needed for the trip was her backpack from her storage unit. She was starting over, just like erasing a chalkboard. She would leave and not think about what had happened to her house and her life until she wanted to think about it, maybe four months from now when the Paleo-Niger Project was over. If she was running away from home, she was running away from everything.

“Ready to go?” She pulled the resilient key ring from her pocket, feeling as if she and Nick had called an informal truce.

“Yeah,” Nick muttered.

“Want to drive?”

He shook his head.

Okay, so he was still pissed. He’d have to get over it—or not. She wasn’t going to be in town for much longer. She popped the locks on her door and slid behind the wheel.

Bryan waited until she’d started her car before backing his SUV out of the driveway.

Obviously exhausted, Nick leaned his head against the passenger seat headrest. She felt a moment of guilt that he was not already in bed. He had to be beyond pain. She’d seen the barely healed scars when the paramedics cut his shirt off in her front yard. Yet he’d stubbornly refused painkillers at the hospital, even ibuprofen. She shook her head. You could lead a man to Advil, but you couldn’t make him swallow it.

Since Nick wasn’t talking, Jennifer focused on something else. Her earthly possessions were precious few. Tonight she was beyond grateful that when she’d thought her trip to Africa was cancelled, she’d packed up all her work and camping gear and put those supplies back in long-term storage.