Clean Lines (Cedar Tree #4) (27 page)

The devastation in the hallway is terrifying, the blast having blown out the front windows and the door right off its hinges and flung it toward the stairwell in the back, where it has partially pierced and pushed in the washroom door. Where my girl is.

"Naomi, babe, can you hear me?"

Nothing. I fucking hear dick-all. My heart is in my throat and I force myself not to give in to the panic I'm feeling.

"Help me try and get this door," I snarl at Caleb who comes up behind me and starts yanking on the front door with me.

"Hold up. Let me climb to the other side." Gus, who has blood running down his face, sets his boot on the handle of the door and clutters over. "Step back, gonna try and move it from this side. Same direction it got wedged in." 

Caleb and I take a step back, and Gus hauls out with his boot, kicking the door right where it's caught on the wall. Again he slams into the door, and this time it shifts. Two more massive kicks and Caleb and I grab hold of the bottom of the door and manage to pull it back into the hallway, cracking it loose from the washroom door. Leaving the guys to deal with the door, I slip through the opening and find my heart bleeding on the floor behind the toilet.

Please God.

"Joe. How is she?"

Caleb's question stirs me into action, and my hands start moving to clear her body, covered in dust and shards, and a deep moan leaves my chest when I feel the flutter of breath under my hands.

"Baby? Can you hear me?"

A soft whimpering comes from her pale lips as her body starts to shiver.

"She's going into shock. I have to get her out of here." The moment I lift her up into my arms, I realize my mistake, but it's too late to do anything about it. All I can do now is get her to help. I can feel hands helping me climb over the scattered rubble in the hallway and leading me outside where I find burning chunks of what may have been my truck scattered around. Emergency vehicles start pulling around the feed store and I start walking toward the ambulance as soon as it stops. The EMT opens the bay doors and I climb in, but when I try to put Naomi down, her body suddenly comes to life and clings to me so hard her nails are digging into my skin.

"Sir, you need to put her down so we can examine her." The young EMT gestures to the gurney.

"She's not letting go. Fuck it
, I'm
not letting go," I tell him, sitting down on the gurney myself with Naomi still in my arms. "You'll have to examine her like this."

The kid tries to object, but one look has him changing his mind. Smart move. This is one battle he wouldn't have won.

"Joe..."

I wake up to a hand shaking my shoulder. I'm a little disoriented finding myself squeezed into a hospital bed with Naomi still attached to me; Dooley standing over me. In a flash it all comes back, the message, the explosion.
Jesus
. Naomi hadn't let go of me the entire way to Cortez and even here at the hospital, she fought every time they tried to lift her away from me. Finally they administered some kind of sedative after I told them she was prone to panic attacks and I was able to put her down so they could tend to her injuries. Thank fuck those turned out to be relatively minor. She has cuts on the back of her head and back, a few of which needed some stitches. Other than that, only bumps and bruises that were starting to pop up all over her body, but will fade with time. I have a few of those myself, but nothing that needs looking at. I crawled into bed with Naomi right after the doctor left, saying they'd keep an eye on her for a few hours; at least until the sedatives wear off, to make sure she's okay.

"You got anything?" I ask Dooley, slowly sliding my arm from underneath Naomi and slipping off the bed.

"Not much, I'm afraid. For the last four hours we've come up with some possible tire tracks, but given that that parking lot is used for making U-turns all the time on that stretch of road, I'm not holding my breath on it. Phoenix PD is stepping up on their end, pulling in Felipe Rivas' older brother to see what he knows. They owe me one since sending those two yo-yos down here, throwing their weight around. For your information, they're both being investigated by IA. The pair was tightly wrapped into the Heffler murder case too. The older one? Libretti? He's turned up on a lot of cases where Bancroft, Leeds, Miller and Associates were representing the defendant."

"No shit? Naomi's douchebag ex's firm?" And suddenly I remember the call I never returned. An out of the blue call from someone who for all intents and purposes shouldn't know who I am.
Fucking hell
.

"Frank fucking Bancroft," I say, remembering how odd Naomi said he had been on the phone with her when she was still trying to find out where her ex had gone. How surprised I'd been he'd even know to call me, wondering where he would've gotten the intel to come looking in Cortez of all places when Naomi hadn't said a word.

"Dammit Dooley, he's the key. It's been out there the whole fucking time, and I've been too blind to see it."

I tell him what I know about Bancroft from Doc, about the phone call I never returned, and how things went to shit in a hand basket right after. I'd thought it had been coincidence, that he'd somehow found out about the request for the Heffler trial transcripts and was calling about that, but that never really made much sense. I'm thinking very differently now.

"Check him out. I bet you he's neck-deep in this. See if there are connections to be found between him and Heffler; we've been staring blind on the connection between Miller and Heffler, and never considered looking deeper into Miller's associates."

A rustle from the bed has me look over from the far side of the room where we've moved not to disturb Naomi, but she seems to be waking up.

"Joe?"

"Right here, babe."

I walk over to the bed and find her eyes trained on me before flicking to the doorway, taking in Dooley.

"Detective," she says, trying to sit up in the bed. "Can anybody tell me what happened?"

"Sure thing, Doc," Dooley answers, moving into the room and taking a seat against the wall. "Looks like someone rigged Joe's truck to blow. Now whether it was intended to go off right when it did, I don't know, but when Gus and Caleb went around to check, Caleb noticed the seatbelt on the driver's side stuck in the door. When he opened the door to slip it back in place he could smell the distinct odor of motor oil. It made him suspicious and when he checked the chassis, he found a brick of C-4 explosive stuck behind the rear axle with a timer already counting down. That's when he warned Gus and they took off for the house. We're thinking the opening of the door somehow triggered the timing device. There was less than a minute left, not enough time to try and dismantle the bomb. The good news is that although the truck is toast," he throws me a regretful look, "the house is still standing minus a bunch of windows, some busted doors and a bit of fire damage on the outside, but other than that, there is no structural damage."

"Is everyone alright? No one hurt?" She looks at me, the concern all over her face.

"Other than you? I think Gus may have had a cut somewhere. I noticed blood on him, but no one was down."

"He was checked out by the EMT's on scene. He was gonna stay until some contractor showed up to help him board the place up. The alarms were going off all over the house too. Sounded like someone breached the White House." Dooley face scrunches up at the memory.

Go figure. I hadn't even noticed it. Mind you, my ears were still ringing from the impact of the explosion. Good to know something worked. Neil was going to have to fix some of that.

Dooley gets up and wipes his hands on his pants. "Well, I'm gonna head back to the station. Have some leads to work on, but I'll leave a uniform here for now. Let me know where you'll be going when you leave here. We'll coordinate with GFI to make sure things stay buttoned up." He turns to leave but stops at the door. "Oh, and Joe? I'm thinking I'll be calling the feds from the office, just so you know."

"Sounds like a plan to me." I give him a chin lift.

"FBI?"

"Slide over, beautiful," I tell her, crawling back in beside her. "Couple of things are popping up that might indicate this case is a bit too entangled for simple interdepartmental cooperation. There's a state line running right through this investigation and it is becoming a bit difficult to be sure on where everyone stands. Safer to let the feds take charge."

Her head is on my shoulder and her hand is laying over my heart. She feels fucking perfect there.

"Okay. I'm gonna need more when my head is clearer, because you're not gonna brush me off with an obvious evasion like that, but for now I'm happy to let you take charge."

I chuckle at her words, glad to have her 'bite' back.

"Only because I have to apologize first," she continues.

"The fuck? Apologize for what?" I roll over so Naomi is on her back and I'm leaning over her. "Explain."

"Holy shit, Joe. Calm your tits," she says her hands bracing against my chest.

"Did you just tell me to calm my tits?" I can't believe that just came out of her mouth and my voice drops a few octaves. Just to prove a point. Apparently this is amusing, ‘cause suddenly Naomi is limp with giggles underneath me.

"Should've seen your face," she hiccups. I try, but the snort will not be held back any longer.

"You're crazy, you know that?" I snuggle in her neck and feel her body still.

"I know...and that's what I'm so sorry about," suddenly serious, her voice is quiet. Too quiet. "The messages upset me, I just needed to process it. I know you wouldn't do anything...you know? But what she sent is so intimate; it took my breath for a minute. I mean—you do seem to have a penchant for crazy chicks, you know? Your ex, then Jenna and now me."

I'm not liking where this is heading. "Do not compare yourself to those two. You shouldn't even be mentioned in the same sentence. Jenna was nothing but a fucking mistake from the get-go, she was never anything else. In fact, that’s the last time I want to waste words on her. Those messages from Brenda came in just the other day. I barely pay them any attention. She does this every so often when she feels low or has some kind of setback. They make me sick. I've thought about blocking her ass so many times, but part of me feels responsible. Not because of any feelings I have—whatever I may felt at one time has died a thousand deaths—but because she has no siblings or living relatives and is sick. I don't like the idea of completely cutting her off. Don't like what it says about me. And finally, most importantly, you suffer from panic attacks. What's the big fucking deal? You think that even dings on my radar when it comes to you? With everything that you are? Now
that
is nuts. Yes, I want to make sure you feel safe and secure and not stressed to the gills, so that you won't get them all the time, but that's for your sake.  If taking pills is gonna help you—great. If talking to a therapist is gonna do something—wonderful. But don't fucking do it for my sake. Do it for you. I love you with or without...makes no difference to me. I just want you to feel good, to be happy and show me that beauty all day, every day."

"Okay," she smiles, her eyes moist but no tears. Not this time.

"Okay?" I smile back.

"Yeah. Joe?"

"Mmmm"

"Love you too."

"I know, beautiful. I'm a lucky bastard."

"W
hat time is it?"

I can see sunlight filtering through the blinds in the bedroom of the guesthouse. Gus drove us back here from the hospital last night—or I should say early this morning—after I was finally discharged at about two o'clock. Thank God I had a solid sleep, even if it looks like it may just have been a couple of hours. After last night's events, it wouldn't have surprised me at all to have woken up to another panic attack, but instead I slept like a baby. I'm sure it helped that Joe insisted on carrying me right from the car all the way to the guesthouse and into the bedroom, where he stripped me completely naked before tucking me in bed.

"Just saying goodnight to Gus, babe. Be right back."

And the next thing I knew I felt his arms come around me from behind and pull me tight against his naked chest. It was lights out after that. Everywhere.

This morning when I crack my first eye, squinting against the light of day, I find myself draped over him, my cheek on his chest with a small wet spot at the corner of my mouth. Lovely. I'm literally drooling all over him. I lift my head and notice the tattoo on his chest. The one Brenda mentioned licking. An involuntary shiver runs down my spine as I wonder why he still has her initials so prominently displayed on his chest.

"What are you doing?" his voice rumbles from his chest, as I surreptitiously try to wipe his skin and my mouth with a corner of the sheet. Hoping for distraction, I wipe while pushing myself up at the same time.

"Gonna make some coffee," I announce, but he tugs my arm and I tumble back down on top of him.

"Did you just drool on me?" he chuckles.

"Who? Me? Nah. Just let me go. Need to pee." Again I start pushing off, when he uses one finger to wipe at my chin.