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At his Jeep, Bella still sat in the backseat in wide-eyed shock, her arms tightly around Spirit’s neck. “Almost done,” he assured her.
She nodded, but he could tell she hadn’t actually heard him. She was miles away.
He returned to Sasha with his toolbox and slid a headlamp onto his forehead as he knelt beside the driver’s seat. “I’m going to pry the cover off this side panel. I’ll have to get in real close to see what I’m doing, and it’s going to be awkward, but don’t move. No matter what, don’t move.”
Again, she gave the tiny, jerky nod that was more with her eyes than her head.
He made short work of the panel and easily found the detonator—a small device about the size of a cell phone, with a series of buttons and switches on the front, nestled deep in the wiring of the car. But, thankfully, not wired into the car. It was one of the most sophisticated detonators he’d ever seen, with multiple fail-safes built in to prevent tampering. It was a testament to the skill of whoever had built it.
One wrong move and he’d lose Sasha forever.
He reached in and gently removed the detonator from its hiding spot. A light started flashing rapidly.
Okay. It didn’t like that.
And he had zero interest in waiting around to see what that light meant.
He had to move fast.
He could feel Sasha’s eyes on him, watching his every move as he examined the wiring it. He could hear the sound of his own breathing, ragged and uneven. He was sweating profusely, but he didn’t dare wipe his brow.
This was sophisticated work—master-level bomb-making—but it had been installed fast, because Sasha was only down at the park for ten, fifteen minutes, tops. Which meant the master bomb maker hadn’t bothered with all of the fail-safes.
Lucky for him.
Using his wire cutters, he snipped the wires he could tell were the least threatening. Then he moved on to the more dangerous ones, and each snap of a wire breaking sent a thrill of fear through his body. He flashed back to Afghanistan, to the one time he hadn’t been the best at his job, and his hand faltered.
No.
Fuck.
He couldn’t let his mind wander. He had to focus. Had to breathe. One mistake could cost him his life and the lives of Sasha, Bella, and Spirit. It could damage the high school he graduated from and possibly hurt teachers and students inside.
He could not let that happen. He reached in with his free hand to support his wrist and kept working.
Finally, the last wire fell away, and the detonator stopped flashing just as the first wail of a police siren tore through the air.
Donovan let out a deep sigh of relief, checked to make sure there were no other triggers he may have missed, and then pulled himself out from under the dashboard. He turned to Sasha, who was still sitting rigidly in her seat, weeping in silent, shuddering gasps.
He reached out and took her hand in his. “It’s over, angel. You’re safe now.” He helped her from the seat and caught her when her legs gave out.
Sasha leaned into him and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. He felt each tremble that jolted through her and each frantic beat of her heart. He ran a hand down her spine. “Shh. You’re okay.”
“You saved me.” Her eyes lifted to his, full of equal parts terror and wonder. “I-I can’t believe that just happened. Why would someone want to kill me?”
Donovan’s jaw clenched as anger sparked hot inside him. “To hurt me.”
Over her head, he watched as Ash’s Tahoe slammed to a halt, blocking all other cars from entering the parking lot. More deputy vehicles filed in behind the sheriff, clogging the street and setting up barricades around the school.
It was going to be absolute chaos soon, with parents showing up, demanding to see their kids. Not that Donovan could blame them. If he had kids, he would chew through the police barricades and tear down walls with his bare hands if he thought they were trapped and in danger.
Jesus. First, this fucker attacked a dog rescue, and now he put a bomb near innocent kids.
Whoever did this was going to pay.
Ash ran over to them, and he looked even more frazzled than he had during the interrogation days before. He had a coffee stain on his button-up shirt, his hair and beard were both a wild mess, and his eyes were crazed with fear. “Bella?” he demanded.
Donovan lifted his chin toward his Jeep. “Spirit’s with her.”
