For the briefest of seconds, she looked sweet. Even vulnerable.
“But I’m still going to hurt you.” He threw her toward the bed, not surprised when she laughed.
Definite issues.
Chapter Thirty-One
Dana glanced at her bag in the back seat of Wolfe’s truck and then waved as her parents drove by, heading home. The breeze of the day before had disappeared, leaving a sweltering heat laden with moisture. The bomb squad had arrived surprisingly quickly, followed by federal agents whom Angus Force had handled over the phone.
“Well. That was exciting,” Dana murmured, her heart still pounding.
“Your folks took all of it pretty well,” Wolfe murmured, starting the engine, his gun tucked into the side of his waistband.
“Dad was a marine,” Dana said, shivering. “Those were real explosives? Not a bluff?” She’d watched, from a safe distance, as Wolfe had met with the bomb guys.
“Yes,” Wolfe said, his voice clipped.
Roscoe sprawled across the back seat, his nose on his paws.
They both seemed out of sorts.
Okay. Something was so not right. Dana secured her belt, her hands trembling. Gone was the good-natured and finally relaxed Wolfe of the night before. Not that she could blame him. She remained quiet as he drove by the golf course and out of the club grounds, turning toward home.
The silence between them was nothing like what they’d shared that morning before breakfast, when she’d cuddled in his arms and just enjoyed being near him. This was hard and cold and distant.
She swallowed. “What all did you and Rock talk about before I came outside?”
Wolfe remained silent, his gaze on the shimmering asphalt through the window.
Irritation itched through her. She tried to remain calm, but he was freaking her the heck out. “I asked you a question.”
For answer, he pulled off the road and drove to the first pump at a quaint little gas station, and then stopped the truck. “Give me your phone.” He held out his hand.
She frowned. What was happening? Shrugging, she dug in her purse and brought out her cell phone. “I haven’t called anybody.” In fact, she’d forgotten to even charge it with the excitement of the night before. She looked down at the screen. “The battery is almost dead, and there aren’t any messages or anything.” Was somebody from the team supposed to call her?
“Phone,” Wolfe repeated, his hand out and his tone lacking inflection.
She slapped the phone into his hand with more force than was necessary. “Don’t you believe me?”
“Yes.” He stepped out of the truck, his boots loud on the cracked concrete. Then he tore off the cover and removed the battery, tossing it toward the antique garbage can by the pump. He dropped the phone and stomped on it, sending plastic scattering.
Dana’s mouth gaped. “What are youdoing?”
He leaned down to pick up the pieces and then deposited those in the garbage as well. “Do you have any tablets or Bluetooth devices on you?”
It was like talking to a robot. She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder. “What is wrong with you?” she breathed. He had justdestroyedher phone.
“Dana.” One word, spoken in a voice with no give.
Had she dropped into an alternate universe? “No. I don’t have a tablet or any Bluetooth devices on me.”
He tugged his phone from his back pocket and hit a speed dial, pressing it to his ear. “Brigid? Hey.” His eyes were hard and remote. “Yeah. Go into Dana’s online accounts, any clouds, and delete everything, would you?”
Dana scrambled to release her seat belt. “Wait a minute.”
Wolfe handed her the phone. “Tell her what you want to save. Pictures only. No data.” He shut the door and moved to the back of the truck to pump gas.
Dana shook her head, her body going numb. “Um, Brigid?”
