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He let out a growl. “He’s probably busy questioning the guy you picked up the box from.”
“Wouldn’t he notify you if he already had said person in custody?” she cut in again.
Nutmeg cinnamon toasted marshmallow brown eyes hit hers. A tendon in the crease of Clay’s jaw fluttered, giving away his lack of patience. Funny that every man seemed to have his own tell when he was trying to hide how upset he was. With her brother, it was a long, hard swallow. The minute she saw that, she knew whoever was on the receiving end of his frustration was in deep trouble. More often than not, it washergiving Andrew a run for his money.
Clay rolled his shoulders. Then he stretched his neck to the right and left. It popped.
“It’s been well over two hours, Clay.”
His chest inflated, ballooning its size even bigger. “He must be detained. But we can’t stick around here with a bomb in the back of my truck. Get in.”
“Okie-doke.” She bounced to the door and jumped into the passenger seat.
He didn’t immediately get in. She saw him in the side mirror on his phone, his expression unreadable.
When he settled beside her and wrapped his fingers around the wheel, she couldn’t help but recall—in vivid detail—how those long fingers fit around her thigh.
“You have a new plan, I assume,” she said to distract herself from the warmth suddenly pooling low in her belly.
“That was my contact on the phone. We’re not getting rid of the bomb today.”
“So it’s a bomb…but not a dangerous one?”
He locked his gaze on her. For a moment, he didn’t speak, only stared at her. Then he scrubbed a fingertip between his brows. When he dropped his hand, a crinkle joined his brows over the bridge of his perfectly straight nose as if rubbing it had only pressed it more firmly in place.
“It’s dangerous as hell—if it goes off. We have to make sure that doesn’t happen by getting it to the people who can disarm it before that timer runs out.”
“Got it.”
“And we don’t have time to go back to East Canon either.” That tendon in his jaw pulled with tension again. He really wasso hotwhen he got fired up, even if his anger was only a low simmer.
She folded her hands in her lap. “I guess that means we’re stuck together.”
ChapterFour
With the picnic area miles behind them, Clay worked through a couple different plans. First order of business, get rid of this goddamn bomb in the back of his truck.
Or maybe it was to get rid of the sexy redhead who was driving him to distraction?
No matter. Unload one and the other would be out of his life too.
Usually driving relaxed him, but having an explosive and a woman tempting him with every twitch she made were having the opposite effect. In fact, both keyed him up far more than his energy drink/speed cocktail of the previous night.
Was that only yesterday? Shit went sideways a lot in his line of work, but he had to admit he was thrown a little off balance by this.
Where was the bomb unit when a guy needed one? Not in rural Colorado, that was for sure. By now, he’d hoped to have much better backup from the FBI.
Like a guy trained in disarming explosives. Or taking Lark off his hands. Having no one on his six was going to be his breaking point, and Clay didn’t do breaking points.
Nothing broke him down. He had answers for everything at all times.
He cast a sidelong look at the stunning redhead in the seat beside him. She’d slipped off her sandals and propped her feet on the dashboard, and dammit, her tiny toes were driving him crazy. It didn’t help that the nails were painted sky fucking blue.
Or that her legs were toned and curvy and all he could think about was spreading them.
“Your polish is chipped,” he muttered.
She’d been zoned out and strangely silent for a good half hour. He probably should be more worried about that.
