Protecting Cheyenne (SEAL of Protection Book 5) (4 page)

The woman was as pale as the tiles under their feet, and her dark hair, which had been in some sort of ponytail or braid at one point, had mostly come loose and was hanging limply around her face. She had blood sprayed on her face and right side and she was stumbling a bit as she backed away. Dude couldn’t stay quiet anymore.

“All of you halt,” he ordered in his best Alpha voice. The officers stopped at once, guns still drawn and mostly pointed at the ground instead of at the bound woman, but she kept backing away from them all, ignoring the command in his voice.

“Let me through,” Dude urged as he elbowed himself to the front of the line of officers. He turned his back on the woman and spoke to the twitchy men in front of him, “If that
is
a bomb she has strapped to her under all that tape, I need to get to it. I can’t do that if she keeps backing away. Give me a moment.”

The officer in charge nodded, knowing exactly who Dude was and why he was there. “You have two minutes, she might be in on it with them. We won’t put our guns down. We’ve got your back.”

Dude nodded, not agreeing with the officer about the terrified woman being in cahoots with the gunmen, but knowing he had to work quickly to get to the bottom of whatever was going on. He knew the local cops were used to working with the military, but they were on edge and their adrenaline levels were sky-high. He’d learned to control his adrenaline high through his training. “Just let me talk to her,” Dude told the officer curtly and turned back toward the woman.

She’d steadily backed herself halfway down the snack aisle and hadn’t stopped while he’d momentarily stopped to talk to the officers. Dude stepped toward her, leaving the line of officers behind him without a second thought. He knew they’d split up and were coming in behind him and probably around the next aisle to cut off her retreat. It’s what he and his team would do if they were in this situation. Dude knew he had to figure out what was going on before that bomb went off and they were all killed.

“Why don’t you stop and talk to me, it’s okay, it’s over, the men are dead, you’re okay.” Dude kept his voice low and soothing, but put just a hint of the man he was behind his words with the hopes she’d respond to the subtle command.

Cheyenne just shook her head, didn’t they understand? She
was
the bomb for crying out loud. What was he doing? Why was this man coming toward her? She didn’t listen to his words, she just wanted to get away from him and hide somewhere in the back of the store. She figured she could find a place to hole up so when the bomb exploded it didn’t kill anyone…well, anyone but her. But holy cow, from what she could see through the tears in her eyes, the man in front of her was gorgeous. She didn’t want to be responsible for killing him. Hell, he probably had a family, a wife, kids…she couldn’t kill him.

She kept backing up. Cheyenne could barely see through her unshed tears. She would not cry, she would not cry, she had to get these people out of here. Through her panic, Cheyenne heard something behind her, she turned and was horrified to see two police officers at the end of the aisle. They’d cut her off. Shit, they were all going to die after all she’d tried to do. She turned sideways, so her back was to the shelves and shut her eyes tightly. A couple of boxes of something fell off the shelf behind her, but she didn’t bother opening her eyes to see what it was. At this point, making a mess was the least of her worries.

“Ma’am,” Dude said again, seeing her stop after spying the officers at the end of the aisle. “Can you hear me? Look at me and talk to me, tell me what’s going on.”

Cheyenne opened her eyes and looked more closely at the man who’d followed her down the aisle for the first time. He didn’t have a weapon, but was standing about ten feet from her. His hands were at his sides, palms out, showing her he was no threat. But Cheyenne knew he was close, too close. If she could just get him to back off, maybe he’d somehow survive when the bomb went off.

“Please,” she croaked, then cleared her throat and tried again. “Please, you have to get out of here….just go…”

Dude saw her trying to hold her composure together, and his impression of her rose. “You know we can’t do that, these police officers have to make sure you’re all right and that you aren’t an accomplice.” Dude saw her eyes widen in surprise. He’d purposely tried to shock her, so she’d stop and listen to him. “Yeah, I know, seems unlikely to me, but they’re just doing their job, no matter what you or I say to them. Why don’t you help us and we’ll all get out of here and have some lunch.” Dude tried to get her to smile just a bit.

It was obvious his attempt at humor fell flat, when she flung her words at him. “No, you have to go, all of you. I’m not ‘in’ on anything.” Cheyenne gestured to her chest with her chin. “This bomb is going to blow up and kill everyone.” Her voice dropped and she changed tactics, begging now, “Please, just go, I don’t want anyone to die.”

Dude suddenly understood and his stomach clenched with respect. She wasn’t trying to get away; she was trying to
protect
them. He hadn’t been sure there even
was
a bomb, but now that he was closer to her, Dude could see a lump in front of her body that could be anything, but with the way she was acting, it probably was exactly what the bad guys had said it was. If that bomb
did
go off, there was a good chance many of them
would
die, or at least be badly hurt.

Dude abruptly turned away from the woman who was obviously scared to death, and to the officer in charge who’d followed at a close distance behind him down the aisle.

“Get your men out of here,
now
!” Dude bellowed. “That bomb strapped to her chest could go off and we need to clear the area. I’ve got this.”

The officer took one look at Dude’s serious face, and ordered his men back.

Dude turned back to the woman as the officers backed away from the aisle on each end, and made their way toward the front of the store. “Okay, they’re leaving, now will you let me help you?”

The woman resumed her relentless retreat away from the front of the store now that the officers weren’t blocking her way.

“No, you have to leave too, don’t
do
this to me.” Cheyenne looked at the man in horror, suddenly recognizing him as “Cooper,” the military guy she’d semi-stalked in this exact grocery store. Oh my God. It was even more important he just let her go.
He
couldn’t die. Not him.

Dude ignored her words and strolled steadily toward her and said again in the low commanding voice that, in the past, women had a hard time disobeying. “Look, you’re wasting my time. I’m a bomb ordnance technician, if anyone is going to prevent that bomb from going off and killing you, me, and anyone else nearby, it’s going to be me, so for God’s sake stop backing away from me and let me help.”

Cheyenne stopped, surprised by his words and the tone of his voice, and let the man get closer to her. As he came up toward her, she whispered, “I don’t want you to die.”

“I’m not going to die if you let me take a look at that bomb. If you don’t, then we’ll both
definitely
die because I’m
not
leaving you.” Dude was slightly surprised at the words that left his mouth. It wasn’t like him to be reckless, or to let himself be swayed by a woman, but there was something about the bravery and self-sacrifice of
this
woman that touched him deep inside. She had been one hundred percent honest with him, he could tell. She’d honestly rather just lock herself away in a back room and let herself be blown up, then allow anyone the chance to help her, just in case she couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t acceptable in Dude’s eyes.

Dude reached out and took her arm, or what he thought was her arm…it was hard to tell since it was under miles of duct tape, and steered her toward the back of the store. “You’re right though, we have to get away from the windows up front, come on.”

Cheyenne let herself be led away from the front of the store and the officers and onlookers that had congregated there.

Dude led the woman into the small room behind the meat counter. He helped her lean against one of the butcher tables where the meat was packaged and stared at the tape around her body, trying to work it all out in his head before he tackled it physically.

“Talk to me,” Dude said to the trembling woman now standing in front of him. “Tell me what they said as they put this on you and how it’s attached.”

Cheyenne didn’t like the fact this man was here with her and in such horrible danger, but she didn’t know what else to do. She really didn’t have a choice. He seemed to know what he was doing. She couldn’t get the tape off herself, and she certainly couldn’t disarm the bomb. She took a deep breath and did as he ordered. Maybe, just maybe, she could give him something that would help get the damn bomb off of her.

“He didn’t say much. He asked me to hold it in my hands, which I’m still doing, and they started with the tape. Once I was mostly taped up, he flicked a switch near the bottom, and then taped me up some more. I can feel it ticking against my body.”

The man hadn’t looked her in the eyes since they were in the aisle; he was wholly focused on the contraption and her mummified body, as if he had x-ray vision and could see under the tape.

“I’m afraid I might hurt you trying to get some of this tape off,” Dude started to tell her, looking up in surprise when the woman let out a sharp laugh.

“I think the tape will hurt less than the damn bomb going off…go ahead, do your worst.”

Dude looked up at her for the first time. She was splattered with blood, a tear had escaped from her right eye, and she had what looked like the beginning of a black eye, but she was still standing there in front of him, with a bomb strapped to her chest, and making a smart ass comment. Amazing.

“By the way, my name is Dude.”

Cheyenne sighed, did it matter? Yes, she thought it
did
matter. “Dude?”

Knowing she’d probably ask, Dude had purposely given her his nickname. “Yeah, it’s a nickname. When my buddies in boot camp heard I’d spent most of my time in high school surfing, instead of studying, the name stuck.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Faulkner. Faulkner Cooper. What’s your name, hon?”

“Cheyenne Cotton,” she told him softly.

“Well, Cheyenne, let’s get this thing off of you.” Dude pulled a chair over toward her and sat down to work.

After ten minutes of Dude trying to get the tape removed, without either hurting her, or prematurely triggering the bomb, Cheyenne said urgently, “Promise me something.”

Dude didn’t look up but replied immediately and honestly, “Anything.”

“If you can’t get this thing off, you’ll get the hell out of here.”

Dude
did
look up at that. “Sorry, Shy, I can’t promise that, anything but that. Ask me to take you out for dinner, ask me to come to your house and rake up your leaves in the fall, hell, ask me to kiss you, I’ll agree with no complaints. But leave you? Not gonna happen.”

Cheyenne started a bit at the nickname he’d used. No one had ever shortened her name before. It felt intimate. She liked it, but now wasn’t the time or the place to acknowledge it. She ignored his other words, figuring they were said to make a point in the heat of the moment. “You don’t know me,” Cheyenne continued desperately. “You don’t owe me anything, I’m a nobody. Look at you, you’re gorgeous, and you’re an honest-to-God hero, I know you are, you should
not
give up your life for mine. I’m just not worth it.”

Cheyenne took a deep breath and babbled on, not giving Faulkner a chance to say anything. “I don’t have any close family, I’m not married, no one will miss me. I just
know
that you have loved ones who’d be mad as hell if you got killed. Look at you, you survived one bomb already, don’t let this one kill you, I couldn’t stand it.” Cheyenne’s voice trailed off.

Dude didn’t stop fiddling with the tape or with the bomb after her passionate speech, he just kept his head down and continued with what he’d been doing. Cheyenne shifted nervously, if he was pissed she’d mentioned his hand, too bad, maybe it would make him leave.

“How do you figure I’ve survived one bomb already?” Dude asked, not addressing her other points. They weren’t worth him giving them the light of day. But he was honestly curious as to her train of thought and how she’d figured out he’d survived an explosion in the past. Dude also figured it’d distract her and let him keep working. She was pretty persistent, something he usually admired, but right now he wanted her concentrated on something else. 

“Well, um, your hand…I figured since you’re here now trying to get this damn bomb off of me and you said you were a bomb…order…whatever…and well…I just thought…” Cheyenne trailed off, not sure what she even really wanted to say.

“Well, you’re right. I
do
do this for a living. I’m a bomb ordnance technician in the Navy, among other things. I can’t say I’m a hero, but I have a whole team of men that depend on me being good at my job. And, hon, I
am
good at my job. Damn good. The bomb that took three of my fingers notwithstanding, I know what I’m doing. I’ll be damned if those yahoos get the best of me.”