The thought hadn’t even occurred to Sophia that the SUV could be rigged. She sucked in a long deep breath, held it while the oxygen fed her brain, then released it slowly. She repeated the action before turning in her seat to face Blayze.
He was already scratching at his notepad. Hurried scribbles that made sense to him and no one else. It deepened the mystery where he was concerned. So quiet one moment. Holding on to his past and his hurt like honored battle wounds.
And then… the moment he’d opened up to her on the couch. Blayze Brockton might be muscled, toned, and ruggedly handsome on the outside, but in that precious time they’d shared, Sophia caught a glimpse into the beauty he carried in his soul. Something she’d dare say very few had come to see.
“There was money in that package,” Blayze mumbled. “Which makes me think this guy wants revenge over lost funds. Theft. Embezzlement. Something along those lines.” He glanced over at her. “Your father, as District Attorney, can he determine what the sentences are?”
Sophia shook her head. “No. But he does decide which cases go to trial. He has the power to dismiss a case or see that it’s pursued.”
He made a few more marks on his page, drawing a solid line from the center of the page to the top left corner. He made a circle there, then drew a dollar bill sign inside. “I’m going to have them narrow their search to cases related to money. Starting with every case he passed on to trial during his time as DA before your mother’s death. If nothing lines up with names at the motel around that time, we’ll go further back.”
She nodded, eyeing the darkened view beyond the window. They were getting on the freeway now, which caused that stubborn irritation to flare up once more. “So, we’re heading to your cabin, even though I’m against the idea?”
“No,” Blayze assured. “We’re going to drive until we can come to an agreement.”
Roman eyed her from the rearview. “Your father wants me to ring him in for a conference call,” he said.
“In a minute,” Blayze growled. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. There’s more defiance when parental figures are involved, and I’d like to eliminate that element for now and talk with her, just the two of us first.”
Sophia’s face scrunched up. “You think I’ll be more defiant if my father’s involved? You can’t just decide that.”
Blayze tilted his head, studying her for a moment. “Some of us are more likely to fold under parental pressure. Others tend to dig in their heels, for lack of a better word. You’re the latter. And I didn’t just decide that. I can tell.”
Sophia felt her eyes widen in irritation. “Well, that’srich.”She could hardly believe the nerve of him.
“For what it’s worth, I agree,” Roman piped from the front seat.
“You know, I can’t wait to turn the tables on you guys. Start spitting out a bunch of psychobabble that stuffs you into some… neatly labeled box.”
“Your father alerted the university about the threat,” Roman said. “The staff and security team will meet in about five hours to discuss the best course of action. But the representative he spoke with said they probably won’t tell younotto come.”
Sophia’s shoulders lifted a notch.
“They will, however,” Roman continued, “likely ask that you reconsider. They may suggest you explore replacement options. Not only for your safety but for that of the other attendees.”
Sophia’s shoulders drooped. “Now the press is going to get hold of it.”
Blayze nodded. “Yes. There’s no avoiding it. A bomb poses a very wide threat, and that can’t be taken lightly by anyone who catches wind of it. Especially when we consider the damage this guy’s proven to be capable of.”
Sophia’s shoulders tensed up so tight it hurt. The rigid clench of her jaw was an ache all its own, but she held firm, willing her bottom lip to stop trembling. “Ihatethis,” she spat, wanting to punch an angry fist through the glass. “Ihatethis so bad.” Her chin began to tremble. Every detail of this moment had her feeling like an angry tiger she’d seen once at the zoo. Roaring and raging, clawing at bark and leaves and air.
“Here.” Blayze ripped the page from his battered notebook and handed it over with the pen.
Sophia looked at it, distracted before glancing up at him.
“Put your thoughts on it. Take your anger out on it. Tear it into shreds. Whatever you’d like.”
She shook her head.
“I mean it,” he urged. “Try.”
“It won’t help.”
“What would you like to say to the guy right now? If he was standing right in front of you?”
Sophia glared down at the paper, imagining she could deliver a message right to his face. She snatched the pen from him first, then the notebook. “You don’t care if I ruin this?”
“Plenty more where that came from,” was all he said.
