Read Online Agnes and the Hitman by Jennifer Crusie - Free Book Online Page A

initial shots, the intruder had not fired, which meant he was either waiting to ambush Shane if he got closer or else had split while the getting was good. Or Shane had hit him and taken him out, which he doubted, given he had fired mainly for cover not effect, having no solid target.
    He waited, letting time tick away. He was in no rush and knew waiting put the burden on his opponent, if he was still around. If the guy was a pro, the wait could be long. After fifteen minutes, Shane turned to Rhett, who appeared to be sleeping, and poked him. Rhett opened one eye. Shane poked him again and the dog opened both eyes and took a deep sniff.
    No baying. No alert.
    Shane got to one knee, pistol still at the ready, and looked around. No sign of the intruder. Between his eyes and Rhett’s nose, he felt confident they were alone.
    He walked forward, on alert, Rhett trailing him, and stopped when he saw his battered black Defender. He pulled out his remote opener and tapped the small status button and then watched as a small green light flickered green a dozen times, then surprisingly turned red and stayed that way. Shane stared at the Defender. Something or someone had set off the vehicle’s motion detector.
    He slowly circled the truck, eyes going over every inch. Nothing seemed amiss, but given he had just been shot at, he wasn’t willing to bet his life on it. With a resigned sigh, he got down on his knees in the muddy ground, then lay down, sliding forward, feeling the damp soil ooze into his outer clothes as he angled himself so he could see the underside of the high-riding truck. Then he froze.
    The shaped charge on one of the plates was easy to spot: it was directly under the passenger seat—whoever had put it there had not taken into account it was a right-hand-drive European vehicle. No wires. It looked like one of Agnes’s large mixing bowls painted black and stuck to the plate. A small red LED light glowed, indicating it was armed. Shane doubted it was on a timer since whoever had placed it wouldn’t know when he was coming back to the truck.
    But no one should even have known he was here. At least no one who had the sophistication to make and plant such a device. The kid in Agnes’s basement wasn’t anywhere near this level of professionalism. But whoever had just shot at him obviously was.
    Shane took a deep breath, then slid to where the bomb was right in front of his face. It couldn’t have been armed until it was in place, thus there was an arming mechanism. Which meant there was a disarming mechanism.
    He placed both hands on the bowl and slowly twisted it counterclockwise. The bowl moved smoothly and Shane unscrewed it until he felt it give slightly. He carefully lowered the bowl of explosives inside the metal frame to the ground, exposing a small metal canister hung below the plastic top that had been glued to the bottom of the car and into which it had been screwed. He reached up and removed the battery that supplied power to the detonator.
    He stuck it in his pocket, then ripped the plastic off the bottom of the truck. He pulled the entire contraption with him as he crawled out from under the Defender. He opened the rear of the truck and placed it all inside, then went around and opened the door.
    “Come on,” he called to Rhett, who had watched the disarming of the bomb with no interest at all.
    The dog jumped, feet scrabbling at the edge of the seat, and then he was in, moving over to the window, where he looked at Shane disapprovingly, a smear of snot on the dark glass.
    “It’s bullet- and blast-proof glass,” Shane said, trying to explain why he wasn’t rolling down the window.
    Rhett gave Shane a look that said, I just saved your life, but that’s okay.
    Shaking his head, Shane violated standing operating procedures and lowered the passenger window. Rhett stuck his head out, a happy camper.
    Shane spared a moment for what Wilson would say if he ever had to explain this— The dog wanted the