She conducted a quick check of her body. “I think so.” Her ears were ringing. She turned to see smoke and fire spiraling out of his building. “Whatjust happened?”
“Bomb.” He reached under the seat and brought out a matte black gun. “Shoot anybody you don’t know and call this in. Call for an ambulance and then call Wolfe. Keep thedoors locked.”
“Wait.” She clutched his wrist. “Whatare you doing?”
He jumped out of the truck. “Making sure my friends aren’t dead. Lock this.” He slammed the door shut and ducked into the storm, running across the now-cracked ice to the building and taking the exterior stairs three at a time.
Gemma called 9-1-1 and then called Wolfe, watching the fire blowing out of what must’ve beenthe front door.
“Wolfe,” he answered.
“There’s been an explosion at Jethro’s and he just went inside,” she said in a rush, panic heating her entire body. “I don’t know what to do. Icalled 9-1-1.”
Movement sounded as Wolfe reacted. “Are you armed?”
“Yes,” she gulped. “Inside thelocked truck.”
“Okay. I’ll send people there now. Dana and I will cover Trudy, so don’t worry about her. I’ll call you back.” Theline went dead.
Jethro emerged with flames behind him, carrying a bulky form over one shoulder.
Crap. Gemma jumped out of the vehicle and ran through the snow, slipping several times, to reach him.
“Get back in the truck.” He moved fast, shoving the guy into the back seat. “See what you can do for him.” Jethro turned and rushed back to the stairs, his shoulders smoldering.
Gemma coughed from the smoke. “Hello?” She nudged either Ian or Oliver. Bruises and cuts covered what she could see of his body, and smoke wafted from his tattered and burned shirt. He was out cold. She didn’t want to move him too much in case he had a neck or spine injury. Holding her breath, she felt for a pulse.
Slow but steady.
Another explosion ripped the world behind her, and she partially leaned over him, protecting his head.
Sirens trilled miles away. “They’re coming,” she whispered. “Hold on. Help will be here soon.” She brushed his thick hair away from his face, noting a deep purple bruise on his temple. “Just hold on.” Turning, she looked frantically for Jethro.
He jumped out the front door and leaped down the stairs, the other twin over his shoulder. Fire bloomed behind them and another explosion ripped through the night. Glass blew out and half of the building started to collapse.
“Jethro!” she screamed.
The blast blew him forward and he fell, landing hard and rolling with the wounded man. In one impossibly smooth motion, he was back on his feet and readjusting the man over his shoulder, dodging through debris to reach the truck.
He placed the other man in the back seat. “Get in the truck,” he ordered. “Now.”
She hurried to comply, jumping into the driver’s seat. Almost in slow motion, she turned, her brain mush. “Jethro? Your shirt is on fire.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gemma moved stiffly out of the examination room after getting the all clear from the doctor. She had contusions and a possible mild concussion, but she was thankful to be alive. If the bomb had detonated just a few seconds later, once they were inside the building,she’d be dead.
Then wherewould Trudy be?
She limped down the hallway to find Jethro leaning against the wall, his head back, his body wounded. Bruises marred the side of his rugged jaw and burn marks covered his arms. Most of his shirt had been burned away, revealing red skin and old scars on his chest.
His eyes opened and he laser focused on her. “Areyou all right?”
“Yes,” she said, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes. “I already gave my statement to Agent Rutherford while the doctor checked me out. How are you?” She looked down at his torn jeans. “Have you seena doctor yet?”
“No,” Nari answered for him, coming around the corner. “The stubborn ass won’t see a doctor until his friends arechecked out.”
Angus was on her heels, two cups of coffee in his hands. He handed one to Jethro.“How are they?”
