The Blind (28 page)

Hiking her skirts, she ran toward the door. Freddy, Ricci, and the team had already dived into the stairwell.

Carter Vandemere stirred. One eye opened. Her feet slowed. He was a macabre sight. Paint matted his hair. Blood trickled from his shattered nose. A thick, clear liquid leaked from his swollen right eye.

Jack yanked her toward the door.

“Twenty seconds!” Ricci called out from the door.

Vandemere lifted his hand. He clutched the hem of her skirt with bony, bloody fingers. His mouth twisted in a scream she couldn't hear. No noise. Absolute silence. The moment before a bomb goes off.

Jack kicked off the hand.

“Fifteen seconds!” Ricci.

She pushed Jack in the back. He stumbled toward the stairwell.

“Go!” she screamed. She lunged at Carter and jammed her hands under his shoulders, her injured arm crying out in pain.

“Ten seconds!”

Evie pulled, dragging Vandemere over tarps and spilled paint. Over Freddy's blood and Sabrina's blood.

“Dammit, Evie, leave him there!” Ricci called.

She heaved again.

Two hands—Jack's—grabbed Vandemere and yanked. They jerked him toward the door. Carter moaned.

Pop. Hissssss. Boom!

Smoke and flames and shrapnel tore through the air. The sky fell. Jack threw his body over her and Carter Vandemere. She knew his intent.

Preserve life, all life.

Friday, November 6
9:59 p.m.

E
vie still wore the red silk dress, now sporting a few burn marks, torn hem, paint splatters, and two bloody handprints. Carter Vandemere's latest work of art, and it could very well be his last.

The ambulance took off down the street, lights flashing, siren wailing. Inside was bomber Douglas Woltz, the artist formerly known as Carter Vandemere, and he was being rushed to the hospital where his life would now be in the hands of a surgeon or two. If he lived, his life would be in the hands of a jury of his peers, and Evie had a feeling that would end up very ugly.

“Have a seat, Evie,” Jack said. “I want the paramedic to take a look at that arm.”

“Do you always get what you want?” Evie asked as she looked up at Jack, still looking like a million bucks, despite the streaks of paint and dirt on his suit and face.

He placed both hands on her shoulders, pushed her to the back bumper of the squad car, and kissed her soundly on the lips. “Always.”

In this case, she had no complaints. She cradled her hands on either side of his face and returned the bone-melting kiss with a fire of her own.

“Ah-hem.”

Evie tore herself from Jack and nodded to the paramedic standing behind them. “Don't cut the dress,” she warned.

Jack raised an eyebrow as he took a seat next to her.

“The dress has kind of grown on me,” she said. “I'm going to wear it next year for Halloween when I take my nephews trick-or-treating.”

Ricci, now out of his gear and soaked with sweat, joined them at the car.

“Everyone out of the tower?” Evie asked.

“Safe and sound. We've evacuated the area, and tomorrow morning the structure guys are going in for a look.”

Evie rested her hand on Jack's knee and squeezed. “Sorry about your building.”

“It'll be fine,” Jack said with a confidence that would never be shaken. “Plans far exceeded earthquake code.”

“Of course. Only the best for you.”

“Only the best.” He put his hand over hers.

“What about Vandemere's mother?” Evie asked Ricci. “Did you find her?”

Ricci nodded. “In the parking lot of an office complex two blocks away, and she was ready to fight for him, too. She took a swing at the arresting officer.”

When it came to their children, mothers of all ages and shapes and sizes showed formidable strength. Evie had already received word that Sabrina was in surgery and Vandemere's bullet had missed all major organs. Little Angela had downed two bottles and was fast asleep in her grandmother's arms.

Under her narrowed gaze, the paramedic inched up Evie's sleeve. The wound on her arm needed a good cleaning but no stitches. It might leave a scar, but that was nothing new. She pushed the hair from her face and looked at Jack. He'd taken on a serial bomber and came away without a scratch. He looked perfect. On the street and in her world.

A flash exploded in her face.

Evie tried to blink away the blind spots. “Dammit, Freddy. No pictures.” She shook her head. No, it couldn't be Freddy. He'd already been whisked away by an ambulance. When she could see again, she spotted a young girl with long dark hair.

The girl blew a pink, shiny bubble. “I'm not Freddy.”

Evie waved a finger at her. She'd seen that face before. “You're…”

“Lilliana. His niece. Uncle Freddy told me he'd pay me fifty bucks for any good shots I got down here.”

Evie shook her head. “Why am I not surprised?”

Lilliana blew another neon pink bubble.

“How's he doing?” Jack asked.

“Good. The bullet didn't hit anything too important, but the doctor said Uncle Freddy would have to stay in the hospital a few days. Now let me get one more.” She lifted her camera.

Click.

As they walked to the sports car one of Jack's people must have delivered, he pulled her close, tucking her into his side.

Once at the car, he bowed. “Where to, my lady?”

And dammit, not a single hair moved. She laughed and nudged him upright with her fingertips. “Your chauffeur days are over.”

“Or maybe they're just beginning.” He opened the door. “So where do you want to go?”

She sank into the lush leather seat. Really, she could get used to having Jack Elliott in her life. “Someplace with cake.”

Saturday, November 7
8:22 a.m.

Evie placed one hand on the desk in Jack's Ojai home office.

“I'm afraid not, Alexi,” Jack was saying into his Bluetooth.

She placed the other hand on his desk.

“Six point five won't work on this end.”

She brought her knee up and crawled across the expanse of wood the color of browned butter. She spun him from his computer.

“But if you can get your people in Moscow to five and three-quarters, we can open up a dialogue.”

She planted a boot on each side of his hips and slipped her hands around his neck.

“Um, Alexi,” Jack said, “contact Brady when you get the new numbers.”

Jack switched off his computer and tore the Bluetooth from his ear.

“Taking over Russia this morning?” Evie asked as he slid his hands along her thighs.

“Not right now. I have other things on my mind.”

“Those will have to wait.” She pushed back his chair. “Because you have to see something.”

She dragged him outside, and they strolled through sunshine and citrus groves to the pasture. “Look,” she said. “Miss Alfalfa spent the past hour herding Sugar Run along the fence. She's showing him where it's safe to go.”

“Pretty amazing.” Jack nuzzled the top of her head.

And so was Jack, a man who could deal with serial killers and blind horses. A laugh bubbled up her throat. And her. She thought she'd never find a man who could accept the dangers and destruction associated with her job. But then again, she never thought she'd let such a man into her life.

She climbed onto the bottom rung of the fence and rested her elbows on the top rung. Jack slipped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck, much like Miss Alfalfa, who was nudging Sugar Run toward the water trough. “Are you going to collect any more?” Evie asked.

“I think one goat's enough.”

She elbowed him in the ribs. “I meant racehorses.”

“Do you want me to collect more racehorses?”

“I like horses.” She turned. She wanted to see him and him to see her. “Jack, there's something else you should know.”

“Full disclosure is fine with me.” He slipped his hands beneath her denim jacket.

“I also like kids. I want kids.”

His fingers slipped under her tank. “I know that.”

“Not just one or two. I'm thinking a few more.”

He flattened his hands on her skin, ran his palms along her sides, then dipped his fingers into the waistband of her jeans. “It'll be my favorite collection.”

She took his hands in hers, hands that knew exactly what they wanted and weren't afraid to take on anyone and anything. “And I don't plan on giving up my job. I love disrupting bombs and carrying a gun. I love stopping bad guys and making this world a little bit safer for good people.”

“I am thankful for that.”

“But can you live with that?”

He brought their clasped hands to the center of his chest and pressed her palm against the strong, steady ticking of his heart. She loved the feel, the sound, and the promise of a lifetime with him.

“The bottom line, Evie, is I can't live without you.”

Sunday, November 8
7:47 a.m.

E
vie sat on the porch of Jack's Ojai ranch house, her dusty cowboy boots propped on an overturned orange crate. “Here you go.” She tossed an orange at her teammate Hayden Reed. “For Smokey Joe. Maybe it'll sweeten him up.”

Hayden caught the orange. “At this point I don't think anything will help.”

Even with her less than perfect hearing, Evie could hear Smokey Joe and Kate going at it in Jack's kitchen. Hayden, Kate, and Smokey were leaving Southern California today, and Smokey was not one bit happy about where he was headed: his cousin Franny's house in Florida. For his own safety, he couldn't live alone, and he refused to move in with Hayden and Kate.

“You know what he needs?” Jack asked as he slipped his arm around Evie's shoulder.

“A new attitude?” Hayden asked without a trace of humor.

“A new pasture buddy.”

Evie laughed while Hayden's brow wrinkled.

“I'm serious,” Jack said. “Smokey needs another horse that has the patience and disposition to put up with him. Goats work, too, if you're in a pinch.”

Hayden frowned at the orange in his hand. “Smokey Joe is an old goat, and that's the problem. He's so disagreeable no one wants to deal with him.”

Evie peeled the last of her orange before adding, “Kate did.”

“She still would, but he refuses to move in with us.”

“I don't blame him. You two are madly in love, and he's the third wheel.” She pressed her shoulder into Jack's side.

Hayden set the orange on the porch railing. “I don't know what to do.”

“Do what you do best, Hayden,” Evie said. “Use your eyes. You saw Kate and Smokey together, why did they work?”

Hayden slid his hand along his tie, and she could see the pictures whirring through his head. “For one, she didn't let Smokey push her around. The minute he pulled any crap, like
accidentally
leaving the water on in the upstairs bathroom, she hauled him on the carpet for it. She was tough, but fair. He respected her, and she respected him.”

“And…” Evie prompted.

“Kate needed him, and Smokey knew that. Of course Kate never came out and said it, but she did. She needed his isolated place in the mountains. She needed his gumption and passion to start an online jewelry store. She needed his wit and mental acumen. Most of all, she needed his acceptance of her, scars and all. They both considered themselves a little broken. But together, they were whole.”

Jack, the consummate deal maker, nodded. “Smokey Joe needs someone not in the mainstream world. Someone with patience, honesty, and toughness. Someone Smokey can respect. Someone a little broken. Do you know anyone like that?”

A slow smile slid over Evie's face. “I do.”

4:31 p.m.

“Does Kate know about your harebrained idea, Evie-girl?” Smokey Joe asked as he groped the air until he found the rail on the stairway leading down from Jack's jet.

“No.” Evie grabbed his elbow and started down the stairs with him.

“What about Hayden? Does he know?”

“Nope. Jack and I are the brokers behind this deal.” She winked at Jack, who was waiting on the tarmac.

“So you're putting your ass on the line here, aren't you?”

“I like to play with things that go boom.”

Smokey scratched at a sprig of hair on the side of his head. “Why?”

“Because time's running out.”

“What the he-ell are you talking about?”

“Kate's pregnant,” Evie said.

Smokey stopped, his shaky old foot hovering over a metal step.

Evie put her hand on his thigh and pushed his boot onto the step. “The news surprised Kate and Hayden since the doctors told Kate she'd never have kids after the Broadcaster Butcher took all those swipes at her.” Evie nudged him forward. “Apparently that's not the case. Hayden finally spilled that she's two months along but hasn't told anyone because she wants to get past the first trimester.”

A twinkle lit up the old man's watery eyes. “Katy-lady, she's a tough gal. She'll do right fine.”

“Agreed, but with the baby clock now ticking, she can't come running every time you find yourself at the bottom of a canyon after driving off the side of a mountain. The choice is yours. You can make this work, or you can go live with your cousin Franny in Florida.”

They'd reached the bottom of the stairs, where Jack handed Smokey his cane. Smokey took a deep breath. “Doesn't smell too bad here. Sea and pines. I like pines.”

Evie released Smokey's arm and took Jack's.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Bernard,” a voice said.

Smokey cleared his throat and held out his hand. “Folks call me Smokey Joe.”

“Excellent, folks call me God, but you can call me Parker.” Parker took the old man's hand and shook.

Evie and Jack held back as Parker and Smokey Joe made their way to a black SUV.

“You think this is really going to work?” Jack asked.

“I have no idea,” Evie said. “They're both strong-willed and set in their ways.”

“Could get explosive,” Jack said.

“It probably will.” She looked up at him, puffing the hair out of her face. “But there's nothing wrong with a little smoke and fire in a relationship, is there?”

Jack pulled her into his arms. “Definitely not.” His lips touched hers, igniting a fire that warmed her to the tips of her red cowboy boots.