was a bit of a stretch but somehow, saying he had to visit his mother or risk her wrath didn’t seem like the most comforting comment.
“I’m fine. Gus looked at me quickly and I don’t feel hurt other than the scrapes. Shaken and sort of wobbly, but nothing hurts too bad or feels broken.”
“How close were you to the car?”
“I’d gotten in and realized I hadn’t closed the trunk. I was behind the car when it just—” She broke off, the disbelief still clear in her eyes. “When it just exploded.”
“We’re going to take a look at it but first I need Alex to sniff the rest of the cars that are still here so we can get these people out of here. Can you wait for me?”
“Where else am I going to go?”
For reasons Donovan couldn’t explain, he sensed there was something more in her comment. Something that went well beyond a car bomb or the shaky aftereffects of surviving a crime.
Something terrible had taken the light out of her beautiful gray eyes.
And he was determined to find out why.
Bellamy stood to the side and watched the chaos that had overtaken the parking lot. Several cop cars had arrived shortly after Donovan and Alex as well as two fire trucks and the EMTs. At one point she’d estimated half of Whisperwood’s law enforcement had found its way to LSP. The scene was well controlled and she’d been happy to see how the local police handled the press who were already sniffing around for a story. They were currently corralled on the far edge of the property, clamoring for whatever scraps they could get.
She’d ignored them, even as one had somehow secured her cell phone number and had already dialed her three times. It was probably only the start and she’d finally turned off the ringer. There would be time enough to deal with the fallout once she knew what she was actually dealing with.
And it might be to her advantage to have a working relationship with someone from the press if she needed to tell her side of the story.
If? Or when? a small voice inside prompted.
Sighing, she let her gaze wander back over the assembled crowd of law enforcement. Would they help her if she truly needed it? Or would they bow to whatever pressure LSP might put on them?
Like a bucket of errant Ping-Pong balls, the thoughts winged around in her mind, volleying for position and prominence.
She’d already taken the proffered water and over-the-counter pain meds from the EMT attendant and had finally begun to feel their effect. The pain in her arm had subsided to a dull throb and the headache that had accompanied her since the accident had begun to fade, as well. But the endless questions in her mind continued.
The EMTs had pressed repeatedly to take her to the hospital for additional observation but she’d finally managed to push them off after submitting to several rounds of “follow the light” as they looked into her eyes, searching for a possible concussion. It had only been Donovan’s input—and assurances that he’d keep a watch on her—that had finally quelled the discussion about removing her from the premises.
Not that she exactly wanted to stand around and watch her car smolder in a pile of burned-out metal. Or question who might have wanted to harm her enough to put it in that condition.
It had taken her quite a while to come up with that conclusion, but once she did the sentiment wouldn’t shake.
Someone had done this.
Cars didn’t just explode when the ignition turned over. And innocent people didn’t just get fired from jobs they were good at and loyal to.
So what was going on and what mess had she fallen into? And had she really left her home that very morning thinking it was just another day?
And how was it that Donovan Colton was the one who arrived to rescue her?
She’d thought of him intermittently over the past five years. Most of the time it was a good memory—a sweet, flirty interlude with an attractive man. But there were other moments—when the memory stung and instead of leaving her with a smile it left her with a strange ache. The painful reminder of what she’d lost that night that went beyond a lost date.
Could things have been different?
In the end it hadn’t mattered. If she were honest with herself, it still didn’t. Her father was horribly injured that night and her life—all their lives—had irrevocably changed.
“Bellamy?” Gus shuffled up to her, his bright blue eyes hazed with concern. “You’ve been awfully quiet standing here all by yourself. Are you sure you don’t need to go to the emergency room?”
“I’m sure. I’m made of sturdier stuff.”
“If you’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” She glanced at the dissipating crowd. “Did they find any other bombs?”
“It doesn’t appear so. The damage from this hooligan seems confined to your car.”
Hooligan?
While she had no wish to alarm an old man—and she suspected his use of the word was meant to comfort—the casual term wasn’t nearly the correct one for what had happened to her. This wasn’t a prank. Or a sick joke. Someone had attempted to kill her. And the sooner she got off of LSP property, the better she’d feel.
“Will I be allowed to go home soon?”
“I overheard Officer Colton talking with the chief. You should be able to get out of here right soon.”
“Thanks.”
Since her purse had been on her arm when she’d gotten out of the car to close the trunk, she still had many of her personal items. Best of all, she’d been pleased to find her cell phone undamaged where she’d had it zipped in a side pocket. The purse was ripped and headed for the trash but the fact it protected the rest of her personal items was the only saving grace of the evening. Especially seeing as how the car and her small box of memories were destroyed.
“Ms. Reeves?”
Donovan Colton took a commanding spot beside her and Gus, Alex immediately sitting at his side. There was something comforting about the presence of both of them and Bellamy felt a small bit of the stress and strain of the day ebb. “Yes.”
“I’d like to ask you a few questions but perhaps you’d prefer to answer them after you’ve had a chance to clean up. Or maybe eat?”
“You can decide that? I mean, I can leave here.”
The edges of his eyes crinkled in a small smile before he nodded. “I think I’m allowed to take you to a more comfortable place and out of the increasing cold. It may be Texas, but it’s still December.”
She had gotten chilled, the air growing cool once the sun set. “I didn’t have lunch and now that you mention it, I am hungry.”
