Читать книгу Copy That - ХеленКей Даймон, HelenKay Dimon - Страница 7

For the most part, Jeremy Hill thought the woman took both pieces of information pretty well. Didn’t balk or ask questions as he steered her to the front door and onto the porch, which was good since he had only a few minutes to get her calm and out of there.

Not many people could face down a trained killer, handle some scary and unexpected information and stay on their feet. Add in a nasty bout of manhandling and she should be screaming by now. But her facial expression didn’t even change.

He was impressed.

He had no idea who she was or why she was here. If he had more time, he’d appreciate the sweet pair of legs sticking out from under those shorts. He almost swore when a double kick of attraction and envy hit him. Garrett had kept quiet about this woman. Part of Jeremy understood why.

Of course, Garrett shouldn’t be with any woman except his fiancée…or was it former fiancée? Jeremy wasn’t sure where that relationship stood, but Garrett’s last message had suggested trouble. Not that Jeremy had time to worry about that now.

The woman in front of him started blinking. “Did you hit your head?”

From the look on her face he wondered if she had. “Uh, no.”

“Fall down?”

He held up both hands, including the one with the loaded gun. “Okay, let me just stop you before you run through every possible injury scenario. I’m fine.”

She snorted. “You sure sound like Garrett.”

Not the first time he’d heard that. “Probably because I’m his brother.”

“Brother?”

“Yes.” The confusion hadn’t left her eyes, so he nodded to emphasize his answer. “He didn’t tell you he had an identical twin?”

Her chest rose and fell on a hard breath. “No, but I guess that would explain it.”

“Not a surprise. He tends to be private.”

She snorted. “There’s an understatement.”

Seemed she did know Garrett. In their respective lines of work, the brothers kept their personal lives secret. It was an unspoken way of protecting each other. Their bond could transcend weeks, months even, without communication. They didn’t need to announce it in every conversation.

Jeremy had been in the field in Arizona as a Border Patrol agent. He’d come in for a mandatory break. His agenda included nothing more than a few beers and maybe a Padres game. He’d earned some rest and relaxation time. With nothing but miles of desolate desert and days spent chasing drug runners for miles on end, walking into San Diego had been like stepping into a cleansing shower.

Now this. Jeremy didn’t know what Garrett had done or whom he’d ticked off, but something big was happening here and Jeremy had managed to jump right into the middle of it by accident.

So much for the idea of a thirty-day recuperation period while hanging out with his brother by the beach.

Jeremy slipped his cell out of his back pocket and hit a button for the preprogrammed number. He knew the person on the other end would have his identity and location in less than fifteen seconds, with or without the code word. He said it anyway. “Roman five.”

The woman in front of him just stared. “What does that—”

“Hill residence.” He held up a finger as he talked into the silence on the other end of the phone. Someone somewhere would be taping the distress call and he didn’t want her voice being overheard. “Need immediate assistance.” He hung up.

She found her first smile; it was shaky but there. “Roman? I’m guessing that’s a password?”

He shrugged. “Dramatic but I didn’t pick it.”

“That was sort of a one-sided conversation.”

“All it takes is one call.”

“You have a special ‘in’ with law enforcement the rest of us aren’t privy to?”

Clearly the woman had no idea what Garrett did for a living. “My brother has friends in the right places.”

“I wouldn’t know. He’s not exactly the sharing type.”

“True. Garrett can keep a secret forever if he needs to.” He took his oath seriously. They both did.

Funny how Garrett had even forgotten to mention his pretty neighbor. But Jeremy sure noticed her. Straight shoulder-length blondish-brown hair and big brown eyes. The shirt hinted at a comfortable curviness that trumped the stick-figure California type every time in his book.

He loved the softness of women. Their smell and inviting smiles. Mix that with a wariness of someone who had seen the rougher parts of life and you had his attention.

And how she’d gone after the attacker, waiting for the right moment to strike, was pure magic.

“May as well make this official.” He held out his hand. “Jeremy Hill. Younger brother by thirty-four minutes.”

She slid her hand into his. “Meredith Samms. Kindergarten teacher and woman right on the edge of vomiting.”

“Please don’t. I’d honestly rather you shoot me.” He’d take a firefight over dry heaving any day.

“Believe it or not, I’m trying not to be sick.”

Way he figured it, help was still two minutes away. He’d hoped to take her mind off the horror then get her down the steps and out without incident, but his time was up. They had to go.

“You teach your students those kicking moves?”

“I might now.” She inhaled and let her breath out nice and slow as she stared at a fixed point across the street. “I like to think I’m pretty smart, but I’m totally confused about what’s going on here.”

“Understandable.”

“My hands won’t stop shaking.” She turned her palms up.

He slid his hands under hers and felt her nerves jump around. When he realized his did, too, and not from fear, he dropped his arms to his sides. “Adrenaline. It will pass.”

“Will the urge to throw up?”

He sure hoped so. “That takes a bit more practice.”

He glanced through the window into the ransacked family room, seeing if there was anything he could salvage before they booked out of there. Guy still knocked out on the floor. Good. Nothing else looked much like it was worth keeping. Jeremy knew without a full house inspection the only thing that mattered, or had any value, stood in front of him with eyes the size of basketballs.

“Anyone else in the house, to your knowledge?” he asked as he eased away from the door and down the stairs, taking her with him toward the sidewalk without even touching her.

“No.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms as she took turns peeking at the door and watching her step.

“You haven’t seen Sara?”

Meredith stopped moving. “Who’s Sara?”

Well, that answered the question about the current state of Garrett’s love life. “That sounds like a ‘no’ on Sara.”

The questions kept piling up. Jeremy planned to track down his brother the second they got out of there and start asking a few.

“I thought Garrett was home, but I guess not,” Meredith said.

“Just me, and I walked in on that guy. Watched him for about fifteen minutes to see what he was looking for.” Jeremy cleared his throat as he tried to block the guilt kicking his gut. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner. I had a problem by the back door and had to find a way around it.”

“I’m fine.” Meredith shook her head, as if trying to block out his words. “Are the police on the way?”

“I hope not.”

She finally landed on the last step. “Excuse me?”

“We don’t need them.”

She backed away. The move wasn’t huge, more like inches, but she shifted into a clear path for a run down the front walk to the street. “Now I’m really confused.”

Jeremy chose his words carefully. No need to spook her even more. With his luck today, she’d panic and accidentally jump in front of a car. “We need a certain level of expertise here.”

“I don’t know what that means.” Her words came out slow and measured.

Yeah, she was right on the edge of bolting. He could see it in every line of her body and in the tension stretching across her lips.

“Remember how it took me a few extra minutes to get to you and how I told you we had to get out of the house as fast as possible?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Here’s the other thing I said was important.” He hesitated until her face paled. “It’s under control now, but—”

“Jeremy, just tell me.”

“The back door is rigged with explosives.”

A NEW WAVE of panic crashed over Meredith. Her knees buckled and she would have gone right down except for the sudden touch of Jeremy’s hands under her elbows.

“Whoa.” He ducked his head until his gaze met hers. “You okay?”

“We have to get out of here.” She looked up and down the street, her movements frantic and out of control now, every cell in her body exploding into action. “Clear the neighborhood so no one gets hurt.”

“It’s fine.”

She dug her fingernails into the bare skin of his forearms. “How can you say that?”

“The trigger is hooked to the door. Well, was. I detached it.”

“So it’s safe.”

“I’m not an explosives expert, but it can’t blow unless someone rigs it again.” He let go of her and grabbed keys out of his front jeans pocket. “You’re going to get in my car and drive away from here—”

“But you said—”

“Just as a precaution.” He held up his hands as if surrendering to her. “And I’m going to wait for the team to arrive.”

She could barely hear him over the buzzing in her ears. “What team?”

“Garrett’s people.” Jeremy put the keys in her palm and closed her fingers over them.

Her mind spun and the first stupid thought in her head ran right to her mouth. “I don’t have my wallet or my license.”

The corner of Jeremy’s mouth kicked up in a smile but his eyes stayed steely cold. “Not your biggest problem at the moment.”

“I guess not.” Reality settled over her. “Tell me the truth. Are you staying calm so I don’t panic?”

His mouth opened and closed before answering. “Yes.”

“But this is bad, right?”

“Very.”

For some reason, the honesty eased the spinning ball of terror inside her. “Okay. This doesn’t have anything to do with the package, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Someone dropped off a package for Garrett. It was wrapped in brown paper and this big.” She made a square with her hands. “It stuck with me because it was so odd. Maybe that’s what the guy was looking for.”

“I think he wanted Garrett.”

She had no idea what to say to that. “Oh.”

“I’ll do a quick check.” Jeremy put his hand on the small of her back and edged her in the direction of the car. “It’s the blue Mustang. You go.”

She looked over her shoulder, about to make a comment on his car choice being the same as Garrett’s except in color, when she saw a flash in the front-door window.

Jeremy took one look at her expression and his face went blank. He spun around and raced up the porch steps. He yanked the door open then slammed it shut just as fast.

Before she could blink, he shot back down the steps, his feet barely touching as he reached for her. His hands landed on her shoulders as he half pushed, half shoved her toward the street.

Her sneakers skidded across the sidewalk at the end of the small front yard before a surge of hot air swept underneath her body, sending it airborne. Her muscles went weightless as a clap of thunder exploded behind her.

As she flew, the air stopped as if sucked up into a vacuum, then rolled back out in a rush. Burning heat licked at her from every direction. Her skin itched, feeling all prickly and singed, but all she could see was the ground rushing up to meet her face.

She would have crashed headfirst into the street but Jeremy twisted, his arms coming around her, as his back knocked against the hard cement and she slammed into his chest. Their bodies bounced and her vision blurred, then focused long enough for her to see him grimace.

With his face right next to hers, she heard his sharp inhale over what sounded like a thundering drumroll. She struggled to sit up, but he dragged her back down, pulling her under him and covering every inch of her body with his. He probably outweighed her by a good seventy pounds, and the added heat from his skin nearly suffocated her.

She peeked through the small space between his arm and the ground and saw shoes and the tires of a car stopped in the middle of the street. When she swallowed, her ears popped and the muffled echoes gave way to screaming reality. She could hear sirens and talking and someone calling her name.

Jeremy lifted his body off hers and tugged on her shoulder until she flipped to her back. The burning smell hit her, like the scent of fireplaces during the few cold days of the year, but that couldn’t be right. It was summer.

“Meredith, open your eyes.”

The command came to her in a raspy voice and she obeyed without thinking. A man loomed over her, his face dark with soot and eyes filled with concern. It took her a second to put the pieces together. “Jeremy?”

He nodded. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not sure.” She struggled to sit up.

He turned to talk to a group of people gathered around them. “Everybody step back.”

She could hear questions and bits of conversation all around her. And the crackling—it was as if someone was breaking bunches of twigs right next to her ear.

This time she grabbed on to Jeremy’s muscled arms and used him to help her crawl off the ground. He sat back on his heels, taking her with him to a sitting position.

Her heart sputtered to a stop as she sat on the sidewalk and watched the flames devour her house. The lower floor was nothing more than a mass of bright red and orange. Sparks rose into the air as the fire tore through the trees, walls, furniture—all gone.

Glass covered the grass. Upstairs, the only thing she recognized was the tattered remains of her once pretty off-white eyelet curtain blowing through the opening of what remained of her bedroom window.

“It’s just stuff,” he whispered, but his voice rose above the sirens, squealing tires and the older woman who stood in the street and wailed in horror about “the devil’s heat”…whatever that meant.

Through it all Meredith felt the heat of Jeremy’s stare and finally faced him. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” He glanced down to where she had his shirt in a stranglehold.

“Sorry.” She forced her fingers to unclench.

“No problem.”

“Everything is gone.” She didn’t know she’d said the words out loud until Jeremy grunted. She looked at him again, watching him scan the crowd. Tension radiated off him as every muscle pulled taut. “Are you okay?”

“We need to get out of here.” He glanced at a point over her shoulder and gave a small nod.

“What are you—”

He stood, stopping about halfway up as his lips turned white and he swore.

“Jeremy.” Seeing him in pain, she jumped to her feet and slipped her shoulder under his arm to help him the rest of the way up. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said through clenched teeth, as he signaled to someone behind her. “At least we know what was probably in that mystery package.”

“A bomb.”

“I saw a guy hold up a cell phone, likely a secondary trigger, right before I bolted down the steps.”

Her mind rebelled. Rather than dealing with what he was saying, she shifted to nurse mode. “You need medical attention.”

“Later. We’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?” She struggled under his weight. “And please say ‘to the hospital.’”

“Somewhere safe.”

When the black SUV stopped in front of them and the back door opened, she wondered if his idea of safe looked anything like hers.