Gripping poles as they walked against the movement of the ride, he kept his eyes fixed on the woman seated in the seahorse seat. Her back was to him. Stands of streaky dark blond hair flew into her face. He watched as she batted them away impatiently. Her head swiveled as they came around to the midway side again. He caught her frown in profile, then spoke softly, not keen to startle the woman who may or may not have willingly strapped a bomb onto her back.
She wouldn’t be the first possible terrorist to work from the inside.
But Cassidy Walker wasn’t a terrorist. At least, the Cassidy Walker he’d once known wasn’t. She’d been the most upright, no-nonsense woman he’d ever met. Stubborn, too. And brave.
Brave enough to keep wriggling her way into holding an incendiary device so everyone around her could go free.
“Hey, Cass,” he said, coming to a stop a few inches behind the bench. He ignored Max’s warning whine but could feel the dog beside him tense with anticipation. “Remember me?”
* * *
Everything Inside Cassidystilled at the sound of his voice. She wet her dry lips and lowered her chin to her chest, her mind racing as she tried to come to grips with her circumstances.
Her hair blew into her eyes. She swept it away, thinking about how smug she’d felt about everything earlier. The good hair day. A picture-perfect October sky.
The bombs planted around her fairgrounds.
How had it all gone so wrong?
“Cass?”
He called her name again. He was here. The man calling to her was not a figment of her overwrought imagination. He was as real as the backpack she’d willingly strapped to her back. Screwing her eyes shut, she wondered if maybe she was dead.
Maybe the jerk who’d sent those text messages had detonated a bomb.
Someone touched her shoulder, but she didn’t turn to look. She didn’t need to. She wasn’t dead and this wasn’t all some kind of daytime nightmare. It was actually happening.
“Jake.” She croaked his name. It was neither greeting nor warning. Simply a whisper carried off on one of the endless circuits.
“Cass, what is happening?”
“My day isn’t going as planned.”
She tried to inject her words with a light, mocking tone, but it fell short. No matter. She focused on keeping her eyes fixed on the chipping green paint on the bench across from her. After more than a half hour whirling in circles, she’d given up on looking at anything more than a couple feet in front of her.
“I saw you take that backpack.” The statement contained a gentle chide. She felt a surge of hot indignation spark deep in her belly, but she shut it down. Losing control could mean disaster. She swallowed hard then spoke in a slow, measured tone.
“Well, I wasn’t going to leave Darien holding the bag.” She eyed him warily. “What brings you here?”
Sensing a movement to her right, she blinked slowly. When she opened her eyes, she was shocked to find a pair of amber ones staring back at her rather than Jake’s sea-blues.
The dog’s nose twitched and then he bared his teeth with a growl. But there was no menace in the tone. It was simply a warning. Was he warning her? Or warning Jake about her?
“Oh. Hi…” she blurted.
“Max,” Jake disclosed, stepping into her line of vision behind the dog.
He murmured something in a soothing tone and the dog settled onto its haunches, a soft wuffling noise escaping with each impatient exhale.
“Hey, Max,” she said in a trembling voice.
“He’s not a fan of your new backpack,” Jake said in a quiet, confidential tone. He sat on the bench directly across from her. “What were you thinking, Cass?”
“Cassidy.” The correction was automatic. No one called her Cass anymore. Only Jake Donovan had ever called her Cass. “And I figured better me than a seven-year-old boy.”
“Noble,” he said, lifting a single eyebrow.
The familiarity of look both comforted her and set her blood simmering. “Yep. I’m the queen of self-sacrifice,” she shot back, her tone drenched in sarcasm. She took in his tactical gear and the vest on the dog seated between them. “I see you got your dream job.”
