Chapter 5 #2
Captain Nelson arrives, his usual calm replaced by barely controlled anger. Security vehicles follow, and suddenly the diner parking lot looks like a crime scene. Because it is.
"Miss O'Rourke." Nelson approaches with his tablet. "I need you to tell me everyone who knew you'd be working tonight."
"Mom, obviously. I mentioned it to Sergeant Ellis during my morning survey. Anyone who looked at the diner schedule on the wall inside." My voice is steadier than I feel. "But anyone watching me would know I work most evenings. It's not exactly a secret."
Nelson makes notes, then turns to Devlin. "Your dog just saved her life."
"That's his job." Devlin's hand tightens on my waist. "And mine is keeping her safe enough for him to do it."
"We're pulling security footage, processing the device for prints and trace evidence.
" Nelson's jaw is tight. "But this escalates everything.
We're not dealing with harassment anymore.
This is attempted murder with military-grade explosives.
Master Sergeant Brad Hutchins is being brought in for questioning first thing tomorrow morning. "
Hutchins—that fits. The logistics coordinator with access to supplies, mechanical knowledge, and clear resentment of my presence. If someone at Ridgeway wants me dead badly enough to build a bomb, he'd be my first guess too.
"In the meantime," Nelson continues, "Andi needs secure housing. Given this escalation, I want her somewhere with maximum protection."
"She's staying with me." Devlin says it like it's already decided, like there's no other option. "My quarters have base security, Duke provides explosive detection and protection, and I'm not letting her out of my sight until this is resolved."
Nelson looks at me, waiting for my consent. The professional thing would be to insist on the hotel, to maintain boundaries between protector and protected. The smart thing is to accept that Devlin's place is safer and I trust him completely.
"I'll stay with Devlin and Duke," I say, and relief flickers across Devlin's features so quickly I almost miss it.
"Understood." Nelson makes a note. "I'll need daily check-ins until we have the perpetrator in custody. Master Sergeant, you're authorized for armed protection and have full discretion on security measures."
After Nelson and his team finish processing the scene, after Mom extracts promises that I'll call her daily, after my truck is loaded onto a flatbed as evidence, I find myself in Devlin's truck heading toward base housing.
Duke rides in the back seat, and I ride in the passenger seat, and exhaustion threatens to pull me under.
"Thank you," I say quietly. "For Duke catching it. For keeping me safe. For all of this."
"You don't need to thank me for keeping you alive." His hands are tight on the steering wheel, tension visible in every line of his body. "When I think about what would have happened if Duke hadn't alerted, if you'd gotten in that truck..."
"But I didn't. I'm here because Duke is trained and brilliant and you take this seriously." I reach over, covering one of his hands with mine. The contact is brief, but his fingers flex under my palm before I pull away. "I trust you, Devlin. Completely."
When he looks at me, his expression is raw and unguarded in a way I haven't seen before. "You shouldn't. I've lost people I was supposed to protect before."
"You didn't fail Ryan. An IED killed him, not you." I turn in my seat to face him fully. "And you're not failing me. You're the only reason I'm still alive. The only reason I feel safe enough to keep fighting instead of running away."
He doesn't respond, but his jaw works like he's processing words he wants to say but can't quite manage. When we pull into base housing, he parks in front of a duplex unit that looks like every other military quarters I've ever seen. Functional, plain, temporary.
But when we walk inside, how much it feels like him surprises me. Organized but comfortable. Books on military history and K9 training mixed with fiction thrillers. Photos of Duke and what must be his K9 unit team. A lived-in space that's more home than I expected.
Duke immediately heads to his bed in the corner, circling twice before settling with a contented sigh. He deserves the rest after saving my life tonight.
Devlin shows me the guest room, the bathroom, where everything is located. Professional host showing a guest around.
"There's food in the fridge if you're hungry," he says, standing in the doorway like he's not sure whether to leave or stay. "Towels in the bathroom closet. If you need anything, anything at all, I'm right down the hall."
"Devlin." I step closer, tired of the careful distance we're both maintaining despite everything that's happened. "I know this is complicated. I know we're supposed to keep this professional. But I'm grateful you're here. That I'm here. That whoever is doing this hasn't won."
"They won't win." The promise in his voice is absolute. "Not while I'm breathing."
The intensity of it, the fierce protectiveness, the barely controlled rage at whoever tried to kill me tonight—all of it crashes into the attraction and trust and connection we've been building.
We stand there in the hallway, close enough that heat radiates from his body, far enough that we're still maintaining the last threadbare pretense of professional boundaries.
Devlin's jaw tightens, and he takes a deliberate step back, clearing his throat. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we catch whoever did this."
I watch him walk away, then close the guest room door and lean against it. My heart is pounding and my mind is spinning with everything that's happened.
Tonight someone tried to kill me with a bomb. Tomorrow they're bringing Brad Hutchins in for questioning. And somewhere in Devlin's guest room, surrounded by the scent of his laundry detergent on the sheets and the distant sound of him moving in the other room, I'm more awake than asleep.
One thought keeps circling: what if they're wrong? What if it's not Brad? What if whoever planted that device is still out there, watching, waiting for their next chance?
And what if next time, even Duke and Devlin can't stop them?