Beck was already shoving all his weight into Jones to pin the bastard down when the gun went off a second time. Lucky him, he caught the bullet in his shoulder.

A fiery sensation ripped through his upper arm where it grazed his skin, but Jackie was okay, and that was all that mattered. He could still make a fist and, with it, he punched Jones in the face and then ripped the gun from the man’s hand.

Jones’ eyes rolled up in his head and he went limp.

Ears ringing with the echo of the gun’s report, Beck sat back on his heels. He slammed the safety on the gun and tossed it over to the couch. “Are you okay?” he asked as Jackie fell to her knees beside him.

She touched his bleeding shoulder. “Oh my God, you've been shot.”

“Not the first time.” He looked her over from head to toe, taking her hand and pulling her up off the floor. “That’s a killer fastball you’ve got there, Ms. DelRay.”

Her brow knit with worry. “I definitely need to get better security around here.”

“Call the police. I'll call Taylor. She can be in on the interrogation of this weasel down at the station. She’ll get him to confess and expose Dikko.”

“You need an ambulance.” Jackie went for her phone.

“Meh. It’s nothing but a graze. Some peroxide and a bandage, and I'll be good to go.”

She punched numbers, and at first, he thought the muted beeping noise was from her phone. But the sound wasn’t matching her finger movements and it was too rhythmic.

Beep…beep…beep.

Tugging on his earlobe to clear the gunshot echoes, his eyes strayed to the sofa where a black bag sat.

Beep…beep…beep.

“What is that?”

The phone to her ear as the call connected, she shook her head, eyes wide. “Jones brought it with him.”

Fuck. He prayed it wasn't what he thought.

Carefully unzipping the top, Beck peered in. Red numbers winked back at him.

Numbers counting down from thirty.

His stomach dropped. The bastard had brought a bomb.

God, I hate bombs.

29

28

27

Of all the things he'd studied, he knew little about explosive devices. What he remembered from his training was sufficient to know this device was stable enough for Jones to transport in a bag.

But there was no way Beck had the expertise to disarm it.

25

24

23

He glanced back at Jones, still out for the count. No help there.

The man’s coat had been ripped open, a small cream-colored box that looked like a pager was hooked on his belt. Beck bet anything that pager had gotten jammed during their fight and had triggered the bomb.

Someone on the other end of Jackie's call had answered, and he heard a sharp, tinny voice. “Is anyone there? Hello? What is the nature of your call?”

19

18

17

Beck zipped up the backpack, considering his options.

Not a fucking one of them did he like. “Put an order in for the bomb squad, Jackie.”

Snatching up the bag, he ran.

Get outside.

Get away from Jackie.

As he hit the front stoop, he ran on full instinct, adrenaline pumping hard. The construction across the street had halted for the weekend. Street lights glinted off the machines. Scaffolding rose high in the air against the building being revamped.

Dumpster.

The dark green dumpster was filled with broken concrete slabs from the parking lot that was also getting a makeover. The dumpster sat next to a big, hulking bulldozer.

Beep…beep…beep.

Heavy, dense. Concrete and metal. It was the best—and only—solution he could see. Otherwise the bomb could take out Jackie’s office building or the one next to it. Quite possibly, the entire block.

Vaulting over the concrete barricade, Beck skirted a backhoe and hurdled a set of pylons. The entire site was a giant obstacle course, reminding him of the Academy. Skidding to the dumpster, he tossed the bag inside, burying it deep between the broken slabs of concrete.

“Beck!” Jackie screamed from the steps of her office building.

Sprinting all out, he waved his good arm at her. “Get the fuck back inside!”

Instead, she ran toward him, right down to the sidewalk.

Clearing the concrete barricade once more, he ran across the road, the timer in his brain still beep-beep-beeping at him.

He hit the sidewalk and tackled Jackie, taking them both to the ground.

A heartbeat before they hit, the explosion rocked the night.

---

Lights flashed off and on over the front of Jackie’s office building as police cars, ambulances, and the bomb squad blocked the street and parking lot.

Over the noise, Beck heard bits and pieces of Jackie arguing with a cop while an EMT bandaged his arm and checked his pupils.

“You should let us take you to the ER,” the guy said. “You might have a concussion on top of the GSW.”

Although Beck was pissed at Jones for trying to kill Jackie a second time, he couldn’t take his anger out on the paramedic. “Nah.” Beck patted the man’s arm and stood from his seat on the edge of the ambulance. “I’m good, and I appreciate you bandaging me up.”

The EMT ran through the concussion protocol and Beck just nodded. No frickin’ way he was going to the hospital, and the bump on his head would be gone before morning. “We done here?”

He’d already given his statement to the police and Jackie had done the same. Taylor was on her way to the station to meet Jones—he had a broken nose and a few bruises, but had been conscious when the cops put him in their cruiser.

“I need to check your blood pressure again.”

Don’t have time for this, but since Jackie was still speaking to the police officer on the steps of her building, he offered up his good arm for the cuff. It could be another hour or more before the cops would have what they wanted and clear out. After what had happened only the previous day, the police were antsy about him being on the scene of both crimes. Thank God, Jones was in custody—at least the cops weren’t looking at Beck like he was a prime suspect anymore.

The bomb squad was taking care of the aftermath and trying to decipher the explosive’s components. The head of the construction company had also arrived, bitching his ass off about the damage done to his bulldozer and dumpster.

Better that than Jackie.

Her hair was matted on one side and sticking out on the other. Mud stained her pants from hip to knee, thanks to Beck taking her on a home run slide through the little piece of yard in front of her office building. She’d thrown a jacket over her destroyed blouse and had her shaky hands buried in the pockets.

He saw her look down and draw her cell phone out of the right pocket, eyeing the screen. She said one more final thing to the cop, then waved him off as she answered a call.

Her body stiffened and her gaze swung to Beck’s.

Just like when he’d seen the bomb, his stomach sank. He ran.

---

Jackie didn’t put much stock in coincidences. She liked to think of them as the result of various events set into motion.

Like Rachael Travathian calling her right after DTC’s employee tried to blow. Her. Up.

Jackie bolted inside the office building as Beck bounded up the steps, waving him in before she took the call. Because, holy hell, this should be good.

She tapped the screen just as Beck ripped the blood pressure cuff from his arm.

“Rachael,” she said, loud enough for Beck to hear. “Hello.”

Beck drew up close. “No way,” he mouthed.

Jackie nodded, turning the phone so they could both hear.

“Oh, my God,” Rachael said, her voice lit with panic. “What’s going on. The police just called me and said Jones attacked you.”

“He did more than that. He brought a bomb in here and shot Beck Pearson.”

“No! The police didn’t tell me that. Did he…”

This woman. Such a damned flake. Jackie rolled her eyes. “Kill him? No. Beck is alive and well. Jones has a shattered nose and, as we speak, is on his way to an interrogation room. Rachael, I’m not your attorney, but I’m telling you, you are knee deep in whatever is going on here. I know how these detectives work. They’ll leverage everything they have, they’ll promise reduced sentences, better cells, whatever it takes to get Jones to talk. Because right now, with all the evidence we’ve collected about DTC’s shady accounting and Annabelle’s refusal to take part in financial fraud, he looks damned good for her murder. Natalie’s too.”

The phone line went silent and Jackie checked the screen. Still connected. Beck held up a finger, the universal wait sign. No problem there. The one who spoke first usually lost and Jackie was in no mood for losing.

Not with Beck’s freedom on the line.

“I can’t believe it,” Rachael said.

“Well, honey, you’d better start. And worse, I’m pissed. Before I’m done with Jones, he’ll be squealing like the pig he is. If you were smart, you’d take my advice and hire a lawyer. By making you an officer of the company, your husband, at the very least, has you on the hook for not only financial fraud, but possibly insider trading as well.”

“What are you talking about?”

The woman could not be this naive. Then again, people in love did stupid things. Jackie pinched the bridge of her nose, praying for patience. She needed to flip Rachael. Spousal privilege only went so far in criminal cases. Given the situation Dikko had put his wife in, Rachael could easily testify against him to save herself.

“Rachael, your husband made you the Chief Executive Officer of DTC. He then, without your knowledge, manipulated your company’s accounting reports to make it look like you were profitable. Then he sold his stock when it reached its high-point. He did all this knowing the reporting was bogus. Right off the top of my head, he’s violated the Securities Act, the Securities Exchange Act, and a slew of rules related to those acts. And you, as the CEO, by signing the tax forms, are a co-conspirator.”

Beside her, Beck flashed a smile and gave her a double thumbs-up. If nothing else, she was damned good at her job.

“Look,” Rachael said, “if what you say is true and Dikko screwed up on the financials, that’s one thing. Jones killing Annabelle has nothing to do with us.”

“Oh, please, Rachael!”

“Don’t yell at me! I hate yelling!”

The cop Jackie had been speaking to was in the doorway finishing his notes. He glanced over at her. Okay, so maybe she got a little loud. She moved down the hall to Josh’s office, signaling Beck to follow. He shut the door behind them and reclaimed his spot next to her so he could eavesdrop.

“Rachael,” Jackie said. “I’m sorry I raised my voice, but honestly. You need to take a second here and follow the logic. Jones is an employee of DTC. According to what we’ve uncovered, he helped design the helmet that put your company on the map. Based on that, I’m assuming he has a financial stake in the success of your company. Now, if I’m the prosecutor, which I was in this town, here’s what I’d do. I’d look at all the players involved. I’d see that Annabelle resigned the DTC account because of shady financial reporting. I’d also search her files and talk to everyone she worked with. In this case, I’d find out Annabelle threatened to turn Dikko in for fraud.” It was a stretch, but worth the lie. “She ends up dead and then her business partner, the one who knew Annabelle made threats against Dikko, winds up murdered. By a high-powered rifle shot from a distance. Which means the shooter was damned good with a weapon. And, oh, gee, Jones Ashley, who works for DTC and has just as much to lose as Dikko, happens to be former military.” Jackie held out a hand. “Rachael, are you picking up what I’m putting down, here?”

Again Beck smiled. Step aside, big boy, and let me work.

“He couldn’t have,” Rachael said, her voice hitching with desperation.

“Rachael, I don’t know your husband, but you do. Ask yourself if he’s capable of sending Jones after Annabelle and her partner. If your answer is yes, then you’d better get a lawyer because your world is about to collapse.”