Chapter 29
Daisy’s teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. The local police department’s bomb squad, alongside Harry Marcus, were called in when Jordan found another device under her car.
The thought of surviving that horrific fire only to be blown up when driving away was sickening.
Whoever planned that was evil. Pure evil.
She watched the cops clear everyone back and bomb techs approach wearing bulky blast suits, carrying shields.
Jordan hadn’t had any protective gear when he’d disarmed the bomb under the van earlier, she realized—and she’d encouraged him to do it.
What the hell had she been thinking? That he was some superhero?
He could so easily have died.
They could all so easily have died tonight.
“Tell them to blow up my car,” she insisted. “It’s not worth anyone dying over.”
“They’ll want to retrieve the device intact if they can.
Plus, the TacOps van could be damaged in the blast.” Florence sat beside her on the back fender of one of the Suburbans HRT had roared in on.
The cargo door was open. “We need to collect evidence. We need to build a case for when we catch these bastards.”
The bomb tech in charge had refused for anyone to move the TacOps van farther away in case it inadvertently set off the car bomb, but considering fire trucks and ambulances and squad cars had rumbled up and down the street all morning, Daisy felt it was misplaced caution.
But who was she to argue with the professionals?
A crowd of people who lived close by had formed behind a police line at the end of the street. Another behind them. HRT were systematically searching each house, looking for the bad guys who might have holed up to avoid authorities.
It was a smart play.
Though the fire had largely been put out, timbers still smoldered, and the acrid smell of smoke saturated the air and made her stomach clench in reaction.
A cough racked her lungs. The extra oxygen had helped.
Didn’t hurt that the medic had been gorgeous.
She’d spent most of her time talking up Florence because the woman sure looked like she could do with a pick-me-up.
“Any word on Regan?”
Florence’s expression was pure misery. “Last I heard, he was getting an MRI.”
“Having his head examined. It was only a matter of time,” Daisy joked.
Florence smiled weakly.
“Have you figured out what happened?”
“From what I was able to piece together, it looks like Regan went down to check something in the van. Not sure why. His cells are missing, and we’re trying to track them and get the data off of them.
Best guess is he heard something and came down to investigate, or he got a call.
He was surprised from behind, beaten unconscious.
Dragged into the van. They took his creds and his service weapon too. ”
“He’s gonna be so mad.”
Florence nodded. “He’s going to blame himself for everything.”
Daisy bumped her shoulder into Florence’s. “Who does that sound like?”
The other woman hung her head even as she nodded. “Yeah, and it’s bullshit. I almost slept through everything. If you hadn’t woken me by confronting Bocharov, I’d probably never known there was a fire. I’d be dead right now and wouldn’t even know it.”
Daisy shuddered at the thought. “The smoke alarms would have woken us both.”
“Maybe.” Florence looked at her then, and the self-loathing in her gaze was hard to bear. “I’m going to quit. I’m obviously a shit FBI agent. I don’t know why I ever thought I’d be good at this.”
Daisy stared at the woman in shock. “Florence, you might not strut around swinging dick, but you returned fire on a Russian arms dealer who has evaded detection for more than a decade. You were shot at but continued to perform your duties, and you jumped off a burning roof onto a freaking helicopter. On top of that, you can do things with electronics and computers that make these guys look like kindergarteners.”
Florence’s lips tightened. “My superior is in the hospital.”
“Your partner should have told you he was stepping outside.”
Florence straightened her spine. “Damned right he should’ve.”
“And I should have told you too. I’m sorry.”
Florence held her gaze and nodded. “Forgiven.” Then she grinned. “We did some bad-ass shit today, and it isn’t even nine a.m.”
“I need coffee.”
Meow.
“Aw, poor baby is probably hungry.” Florence glanced at Renfield who was now curled up inside a travel carrier one of the firefighters had pulled from a truck.
It had taken three people to get the cat safely in there, and they all sported fresh battle wounds.
“I need to see if the Pagets’ daughter wants him.
I spoke to Mac, and he said FBI agents were going to inform her about the murder of her parents in person…
” Daisy’s voice trailed off. It could so easily have been her parents receiving that news today.
Her loved ones being devastated. She didn’t want to even think how badly it would have affected Jordan.
“I’ll take him if the daughter doesn’t want him,” Florence volunteered.
“Really?” Daisy tilted her head. “I didn’t think single FBI agents had pets.”
“I live with my sister, so Renfield won’t be lonely if I get involved in a case. She’s a sucker for kitties and lost hers last year.”
Daisy stared at poor Renfield, who watched her with accusing amber eyes.
His owners had been such gentle people. “I think Ron and Alma would be pleased to know that whatever happens, Renfield will be cared for in a loving home, but”—she held up her hands and turned her wrists over to examine three long, thin scratches—“I don’t envy your furniture. ”
The medic had treated the bites and scratches with salve, but they still stung.
In the distance, the bomb tech stood and signaled the all-clear. A tow truck was immediately waved through.
“Well, looks like my car survived the ordeal.”
Florence nodded. “Hope you get it back before the holidays.”
She huffed out a resigned breath. “I guess I’m going to get a lot of exercise in the meantime.”
Jordan came out of a house and started walking toward them with a purposeful stride. Her mouth watered at the sight of him.
“He’s been through a lot.” Florence stared at him with her mouth turned down at the edges.
Daisy nodded.
Florence shot her a look. “Don’t hurt him.”
Her eyes welled with sudden tears. “To be honest, I think it’s much more a question of him hurting me.”
Florence touched her arm. “At least give him a chance.”
The idea terrified Daisy, but she was worried about something else too. “Do you have feelings for him?”
Florence blinked at her in confusion. “Like sexual feelings?”
She nodded.
“Dude, I’m gay. I thought you knew that.” There was a guardedness in her gaze now as if unsure of Daisy’s reaction.
“Well, that’s a relief.” Daisy laughed. “I worried seeing us together might somehow be an issue for you.”
“He’s not my type.” Florence cocked her head. “Neither are you, in case you’re wondering.”
“I wasn’t.” Daisy carefully took the other woman’s hand and squeezed her palm, avoiding her blistered fingers. “I am hoping this might be the start of a beautiful friendship.”
“I hope so too. I don’t have many girlfriends—who even has time to socialize? And I’m going to make myself scarce.” Florence gave her another quick hug and then headed over to talk to Payne Novak, Gold Team leader.
Jordan took Florence’s place on the fender.
“All done?” she asked with forced brightness as if Jordan had been outside mowing the lawn or something equally mundane rather than hunting armed and dangerous killers.
“Street’s clear.” He dragged his hand through his hair, making it stick straight up on end. “Feds found more bomb-making instructions and material in Amed’s apartment building, hidden in a basement storage cupboard. He’s denying everything.”
Her fingers went to her sore throat. “I can’t believe it was him. He was so nice. He helped me so much.”
“The best terrorists are those we don’t suspect until it’s too late.”
Her eyes held his. The shadows were still there, but they held a gleam of hope now too.
“What about Bocharov?”
“We have every lawman in the country on the lookout, and he was added as number one on our Most Wanted list. He won’t get far.” He spoke with confidence, but she knew it was a lie. He didn’t want her to worry.
“When are you headed back to Quantico? Today?” She needed to remind them both he’d be gone soon.
He cleared his throat. “Task force is moving down here to make sure the terrorist plot is really foiled. I’ll be here to make sure that Bocharov doesn’t try for you again in the next couple of days.”
After everything that had happened, she didn’t mind the idea of a bodyguard, but it couldn’t last forever.
She knew how the federal government worked.
Thankfully, she still had her gun in her purse for when she was on her own.
“I’d say you could stay at my place, but it looks as if I’m going to need a new apartment.
” Tears bubbled up all of a sudden—for the Pagets, for the wanton destruction of their beautiful historic home, and for all the personal things she’d collected over the years—paintings from a friend, her beloved books, her most perfect mug. Her clothes.
“Crap. I’m crying about things when people lost their lives.”
He wrapped his arm around her, and she let herself sink against him as hot tears streamed down her face.
“Sorry.” She sniffed. “I’m not usually a crier.”
“You earned a few tears.”
She saw some of the guys from Gold Team out of the corner of her eye and tried to wipe her eyes and pull away, but he pressed her filthy face against his chest.
He smelled almost as bad as she did, so she took advantage of the moment and burrowed closer, as close as she could get.
“I know what it’s like to lose all those connections to the past, Daze.
I don’t have many family photographs left except for a few I downloaded off their website before we shut it down and a couple I had on my phone.
I was careless. I assumed they’d always be around.
It’s another wound. A hollow ache as memories of them gradually fade away. ”
She gripped his shirt. “At least I still have my family.” Her fingers tightened. “You warned my mom and dad, right? You told Boulder Police to put someone on my mom because she won’t listen to reason. I shot him, and then I survived his efforts to kill me. He’s going to add me to his hate list.”
Jordan’s hand splayed over the back of her skull, and she found it frighteningly lovely.
“The local Field Office has been informed and will surveil both your parents whether they like it or not.” His stomach gurgled audibly, and she pulled away, amused.
“Sorry.” He laughed, sounding a little embarrassed. “I skipped dinner last night when my date tried to kill me.”
She met his amused gaze. “There’s a lot to unpack in that statement.”
His lips twitched. “How about I tell you all about it over something to eat with the guys?”
She glanced over at the mob of Gold Team who all looked ridiculously handsome in their tactical gear and square-jawed seriousness.
She looked back at Jordan who was staring at her with an intensity that was hard to mistake. He wanted to take this thing public. Not just the lies told to get her out of Mexico, but the reality of them.
She gripped her hands together. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s take it a day at a time, okay? You have to eat, right? Then we can go see Regan, get a proper statement, and kick his ass for breaking protocol. Head into your workplace and see if the evidence techs have finished up there.”
She groaned and covered her face. “My colleagues are all going to blame me.”
“They should be thanking you. Without you, someone would still be planning to kill them this week, and they wouldn’t have found out until it was too late.”
She sucked in a breath. “It does sound better when you phrase it that way. I still can’t believe Amed would… I thought I was a better judge of character than that,” she admitted. She didn’t want to think about death anymore. She wanted to think about anything else.
“Let’s go. I don’t know if I can eat, but I do need coffee.”
Jordan slid his arm over her shoulder and hugged her close, easing her into the melee of testosterone and madness.