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“What the hell was that, ’Bastian?” she demanded as Shane eased away from them, moving slowly toward the edge of the courtyard.
“We’ll know what it was soon,” he promised.
“Someone put an explosive in my office. Are they fucking crazed?” An amazed laugh escaped her. She couldn’t believe it. Someone had put an explosive in her office, for what? Because Sebastian and Shane intended to share her bed?
“We don’t know that yet, sweets,” he assured her, his voice low. “Let’s wait and see what we find before we jump to conclusions.”
Shane had completely disappeared now. Looking around, she didn’t catch sight of him, but paramedics were rushing into the courtyard, along with Detective Allen. The suspicion on his face wasn’t subtle. It locked on her, his gaze narrowing as he moved directly toward her.
“Ms. Stanhope,” he greeted, pushing the lightweight jacket he wore back as he propped his fists at his hips. “Sure you don’t know who’s trying to hurt you?” he asked, a reminder of the same question he’d asked when he’d interviewed her after the attempted hit-and-run.
“Only one person would have wanted to hurt me, Carl,” she sighed as his gaze sharpened on her. “And he’s dead. Last I heard, ghosts have a hard time with some of the things going on around me.”
“Ghosts might.” He nodded slowly. “But some people get fixated on stuff. Maybe someone they were close to? Someone that loved them?”
“Then your guess is as good as mine.” She laughed bitterly. “If you find anyone willing to admit to loving that bastard, even his parents, then please let me know. I’ll say a prayer for them.”
Shooting the detective a look, Sebastian gave a little shake of his head. He’d talk to Carl himself. He wanted Alyssa out of sight and safe. Now.
“Here’s Landra and her bodyguards, Alyssa. I want you to go upstairs with them while I find Shane and see what’s going on. Can you walk?” Sebastian’s hand ran comfortingly up her back.
“I can walk.” Pushing at his hands, she rose from his lap, though he could have sworn she swayed just a bit as she stood.
“Mr. De Loren.” The lead security personnel nodded as Landra stopped in front of Alyssa, her voice low as she talked to the younger girl. “Mr. Collier said to follow your directions until we heard from him. What do you need?”
Sebastian nodded to where Landra actually managed to draw a low, shaky laugh from Alyssa. “Get them to one of the more secure suites upstairs until we have this taken care of. I don’t want anyone but myself, Shane, the senator, or your boss in those rooms,” he ordered them, his voice tight.
“Yes, sir,” the agent responded soberly. “We’ll make sure they stay safe.”
Sebastian met Landra’s gaze, then and nodded to the bodyguards, indicating she should take Alyssa and go with them.
“Come on, dear, let’s get out of here so the boys can take care of this,” Landra urged her, one arm wrapped around Alyssa’s waist. “They’ll work so much better without us breathing down their necks.”
Whatever Alyssa said, Landra gave a little laugh, filled with amusement. “Yeah, well, we like to let them believe they do, sweetie. It makes them happy; then we’re happy.”
Evidently Alyssa thought little of not being able to breathe down their necks.
“Sebastian.” The detective stared around the courtyard, watching, taking everything in. “We have a problem here?”
A member of the Sinclair Men’s Club and a personal friend of Ian’s, the detective knew his main concern was protecting the club and its members.
“We have a problem here,” Sebastian affirmed. “But it’s not a club problem.”
Carl snorted. “Doesn’t mean much, according to Ian,” he murmured. “We talking here or at your office?”
“Here. After they’ve all left.” Sebastian nodded to the staff milling around. “The senator and Jeb will want to be there, so let’s just do this once.”
“I hear ya,” Carl agreed. “I’ll check things out inside then. We’ll talk before I leave.”
Sebastian nodded, catching sight of Shane as he eased from the doors leading into the back office and moved easily to where Sebastian stood.
“Anything?” Sebastian asked him.
“Low-grade explosive. I’ll have to wait on analysis before I know the intent behind it. My opinion, though, if it wasn’t meant to kill her, then it was meant to put her in a wheelchair. The text triggered it, but she didn’t wait when she got the damned thing. She was at the door when it went off or she would have been wearing the chair leg like a stake.”
“God, Shane,” he bit out, the image far more graphic than he wanted to deal with.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Shane stared around the area again. “I’ll contact Falcone, tell him to put a rush on it. We need him here as soon as possible.”
