James shrugged the question off.
“I’m the one who offered first,” he pointed out. “If you’re so worried, make me sign a waiver.” He cracked a smile then pointed past the windshield to a building coming into view in the distance. They had been driving for at least fifteen minutes since leaving the sheriff’s department. Rose knew the area but hadn’t beforeseen the house James had moved into since coming to Seven Roads years ago.
Not that she was sure what she was looking at was a home.
James chuckled, maybe picking up on her thoughts.
“Plus, some days I think it might be easier to just start over with this heap anyways,” he said. “Having it blow up might help me more than it hurt me.” He let his foot up on the gas and maneuvered them into a gravel parking spot. It cornered an open field of overgrown grass. It wasn’t as wide or vast as Old Man Becker’s fields on the opposite side of town, but it took some squinting to see the furthest edge near a cropping of trees off in the distance.
James put the truck in Park, puffed out his chest and made sure she was looking at him before he spoke clearly and with ample volume.
“Unless I’m in there when it blows. If that’s the case, I hereby absolve you of any guilt, Rose Little.” He held up three fingers like he was making a Scouts’ honor sign. “I, James Keller of sound mind, invited you to my home of my own doing. Anything and everything that happens after this point was because I’m a ten-out-of-ten individual with nerves of steel and a kind, caring heart. Oh, and charming too. And funny. And a mechanic whiz.”
Rose snorted.
“And apparently humble.”
He gave her a thumbs-up.
“See? You understand how outstanding I am. So let’s just stop this whole ‘stay away’ bit you’ve been trying to pull since Sheriff Weaver came into that room withthe whole ‘good news, bad news’ thing.” James, dare she think it, turned almost sulky. “I have to be honest though, I thought that had become our trauma-bond thing.”
Rose felt her eyebrow rise at his expression, but he was already going about getting out of the truck to catch it.
James was a big, intimidating man.
He was also surprisingly childlike at times.
It was almost refreshing.
Especially after the news Liam had given them back at the department.
“The good news is we just found the bomb maker,” Liam had said after stepping back into the conference room. “His name is Dave Kyler and one of the men who came to the garage at Damon’s order was the one to roll on him. Darius, along with the FBI agent who came in once a bomb was in play, found Dave not too far from here. They’re still talking to him, but Darius said so far it looks like he was given a pretty penny to assemble it.”
Rose hadn’t recognized the name but was relieved that the one with the ability to make homemade bombs might be truly out of the picture.
“And the bad news?” she had to ask.
Liam had put his hands on his hips. Another big-man gesture in contrast with his icy exterior.
“He said the original plan was to put it in your apartment, but he refused, because even though he saw you as a job, he didn’t want to hurt any kids.”
“Melinda and Madeline,” Rose offered.
Liam had nodded, not at all happy.
James had spoken up then, to ask, “Melinda and Madeline?”
“The children of the family in the unit across the hall from my apartment.”
“Which is the bad news,” Liam had said.
Rose had agreed, but still she had to say it out loud.
“It means that Damon definitely knows where I live.”
That one statement had led her to the beginning of a cracked concrete path that ran straight to a house that looked as frustrated and tired as she felt.
The man who owned the weathered two-story house was opposite it in cheer. Smiling once again, he waved his arm out toward the worn brick and made an exaggerated announcement.
