“The sex is amazing.” Gary’s eyes gleamed. “You should also be aware that you didn’t feel me here last night. That was quite a spectacle with your dog, who is sneaking up behind me, by the way. Might want to stop him before I let go of this handy detonator.”
Wolfe whistled, and Roscoe emerged from the bushes behind Gary. “Here, boy. Leave the psycho alone.”
The fur stood up across Roscoe’s back, and he growled low, moving past Gary to sit slightly in front of Wolfe, facing the enemy. “Good dog.” Wolfe reached out and set a reassuring hand on the canine’s head, rubbing his fur. Roscoe apparently had great instincts with people. His fur and muscles quivered as he kept himself from attacking.
“What else have you figured out?” Gary asked, his gaze on the dog.
“Nothing yet, but I’ll get it all. I’m assuming you traveled from Afghanistan via the southern route?” Wolfe didn’t really care how, but he wanted to know where.
“Maybe, but I’m a long-term thinker, you know.” Gary tilted his head and looked past Wolfe. “Your blonde is looking out the window.”
“She’s not mine,” Wolfe retorted.
Gary jerked his chin. “She is now.” He smiled, his gaze lightening, giving away his intention. He couldn’t help himself. The bastard was going to blow up the entire building, even if it meant Theresa died as well.
Shit. There wasn’t a choice here. God, Wolfe hoped he was as fast as he used to be. He plastered a bored expression on his face and tugged on Roscoe’s ear while standing, his leg muscles bunching. “I’m done with this.”
Gary started to push from the chair, anticipation dancing across his broad face.
“Now,” Wolfe ordered, leaping for Gary along with Roscoe.
They impacted, and Wolfe grabbed the detonator, uncoiling the wires, sliding his finger beneath Gary’s and then elbowing him in the eye. Roscoe went for the legs. Gary bellowed, punched Wolfe in the neck and turned to kick Roscoe in the face. The dog yelped and rolled toward the bushes, springing up quickly and charging.
Wolfe rolled to the side, holding his finger over the button so it couldn’t be depressed. Adrenaline flooded him.
Roscoe hit Gary mid-center, throwing them both over the bushes.
Wolfe jumped to his feet, his heart thundering, the detonator safe in his hands.
The dog yelped again, and Gary ran several feet to a ball washer, grabbing the attending kid and putting a knife to his neck.
Wolfe paused. “Roscoe. Come.”
The dog instantly jumped his way, growling and snarling.
The kid’s eyes were a wide, terrified blue, but he didn’t make a sound. He looked about seventeen, and his skinny arms hung by his sides.
Gary kept the knife in place and started to back up, taking the kid with him.
Dana came into view through Wolfe’s peripheral vision. “Wolfe? What’s going on?”
Gary smiled and kept backing up, dragging the kid to the parking lot.
Wolfe had to let him go for now. “Tell everyone to get out of the building and call the bomb squad. Now.”
She gasped and turned to run back to the building.
Gary finally reached the parking lot and threw the kid into the side of the nearest truck. “We’re just getting started, Wolfe.” He jumped into a souped-up coup and zipped out of the parking lot, while the kid stood, rubbing his temple.
“You bet we are,” Wolfe muttered, looking down at the innocuous detonator as people streamed from the restaurant. He needed to call Force. Now.
Chapter Thirty
Gary Rockcliff threw the keys across the luxurious living room, watching impassively as they crashed into the sliding glass door leading to the sprawling deck and down to the lake. It had taken him several hours to drive to the remote and very private estate in North Carolina, and his anger had grown with each passing mile.
“Problem?” Theresa Rhodes stepped out of the perfectly decorated kitchen, wiping her manicured hands on a hand towel. Not that she’d been cooking. The princess never cooked.
“No.” He quickly banked all emotion and set his shoulders back. “Everything is going according to plan.”
