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“No!” Donovan’s voice boomed across the lot.
And, too late, as Bella jumped out of the car, Sasha realized what he’d actually been shouting…
Don’t get out of the car.
chapter twenty-three
Donovan’s heart stopped when he saw Bella dive out of the car. He held his breath, waiting for the explosion…
Nothing.
Okay. Bella’s seat wasn’t rigged.
He grabbed the girl and ushered her over to his Jeep, parked at the far side of the lot. She was gray-faced and shivering so hard her teeth clacked together. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “Is Sasha—did I hurt Sasha? I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay. Sasha’s okay.”
“I thought you said to get out. Sasha said to get out.” She dissolved into sobs, and he didn’t have time to comfort her.
He grabbed his bomb kit—you could take the Marine out of EOD, but you could never take EOD out of the man. He’d carried this damn kit with him everywhere since his discharge, and for once, he was grateful for his paranoia.
He still couldn’t believe Spirit had caught the scent of the explosives from so far away. The wind had shifted, and she’d stiffened, raising her nose to the air, going from ball-obsessed pet to explosive detection K9 in a heartbeat. She’d cleared the dog park fence in a single bound and raced up the hill toward the parking lot. As he chased her, he saw his Darcy hallucination standing by Sasha’s car, smirking at him, and he’d known what was happening even before Spirit signaled on the car.
“I’ll get her out,” he told Bella. “Keep Spirit here with you and call 911.”
The girl was still sobbing, but she nodded and wrapped her arms around Spirit.
Bomb kit in hand, he raced back to Sasha. “You okay, angel?”
“I-I don’t know. Am I sitting on a bomb?”
He peered through the window. He could see the pressure plate rigged under the driver’s seat and wires leading to something beneath the dash. “Sasha, sweetheart, I need you to stay calm and keep your hands where I can see them. Don’t put them on the wheel. We don’t want to risk triggering anything. Cross them over your chest and stay as still as possible.”
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “I am. I’m sitting on a bomb.”
“Yes, but I’m going to get you out of there. This was my job for over a decade, remember? And I was damn good at it. The best. You couldn’t be in better hands.” Except his hands were currently shaking. He closed his fingers into fists at his sides so she wouldn’t see.
She nodded, wide-eyed, and he got to work. He spread his tools out on the pavement and carefully opened the door, kneeling to get a better look at the pressure plate. It hadn’t detonated when Sasha sat on it, so it must have been rigged to blow when she got up, meaning there had to be a trigger switch somewhere. He had to find that switch first and disable it without jostling the bomb.
Sweat stung his eyes, but his hands were thankfully steady again as he traced his fingers along the wires from the pressure plate. He found the switch on the floor by Sasha’s seat near the lever that worked her gas cap—a small button disguised to look like a harmless piece of plastic, but to anyone who knew what they were looking for, it was an unmistakable red flag. When she sat down, the button completed a circuit that sent a signal to arm the detonator. As soon as she tried to leave the seat—boom. It was a simple but effective design.
“Stay still a little longer,” he said softly. “Almost done.” He exhaled a long and slow breath to calm his hammering heart, then snipped the wires leading to the button. “Okay. Got the trigger. Now for the detonator.” He followed the wires from the plate along the edge of the door. They disappeared into the dashboard. “Fuck.”
“What?” Sasha said, her face draining of color. “I didn’t like the sound of that fuck.”
“I thought the detonator was under the dash, but it’s inside. I’ll have to dismantle the dashboard to get to it.”
“Oh.” The word left her in a terrified squeak. Tears fell from her eyes with every blink. “Okay. Insurance should cover that, right?”
Goddammit, she was in shock. He wanted to touch her, comfort her, but knew better. “Hey.” He waited until her gaze slid toward him. Her eyes were glassy and showed too much white. “I won’t let anything happen to you, angel. Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” Her answer came without hesitation.
“Okay. I’m going to walk over to my Jeep, check on Bella, and get my bigger toolbox.”
She nodded in a tiny, jerky up-down motion. “Hurry.”
