seconds. Everything had happened so quickly. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He eased the stroller to the side and upright in a smooth move that left her blinking. The mother pushed past and unbuckled her child.
“Omigod, omigod, omigod!” She scooped her son into her arms, tears streaking down her face as she kissed his curly little head and babbled, “Thank you, sir, thank you for saving him.”
As the adrenaline let down, Jill realized how he’d summed up the situation with lightning-fast reflexes, keeping her safe while trusting her to act rather than simply tackling her, somehow determining who was in imminent danger.
It would have been easy to believe the car was heading for the elderly couple instead. Mason had chosen correctly. She understood well from work how tough it could be to make the right choice sometimes. She also knew how hard it was for some men to believe in a woman’s training, even when the guys were pros, too. But he had trusted her.
Her attitude toward Mason shifted ever so slightly.
There were people behind them—she heard curses, footsteps running away, a woman speaking with 911. Jill extended her hand to Mason.
A blast echoed. She jerked back. Mason sprang to his feet.
Flames erupted from the crashed car about ten yards away.
The ground rumbled, and a hubcap clanked to rest beside her. Jill flinched, and the toddler burst into tears, his siblings peering out of the minivan with wide eyes. Good God, she and Mason had experienced two explosions together in less than forty-eight hours. Had the world gone nuts?
Mason darted forward again, the bright morning sun dancing off the flames. Damn it, she wasn’t standing around and watching this time.
“Wait, Mason,” she shouted, running after him. “What if there’s a secondary explosion? Stop!”
He closed in on the burning vehicle. “I’ve got to check on the person driving.”
“There wasn’t anyone behind the wheel!”
“Maybe the driver passed out.” He shielded his eyes from the heat with his arm and peered through the passenger window. “There could also be somebody else in the car, maybe in the back.”
She inched forward carefully. “I’ll check the back. You get the front.”
Jill moved in closer. Heat from the flames scorched her skin. She peered through the jagged broken glass into the backseat. “Empty.”
Mason backpedaled from the front. “No one here either. Let’s clear the hell out.”
He hooked a hand around her elbow and yanked her alongside as he hoofed it to the clustering crowd. His vise grip nearly lifted her from the pavement as he propelled her until they stopped by a lamppost.
Jill sagged against the cool metal, gasping for air. “How could no one be in the car?”
Mason scratched the back of his close-shorn head, favoring one foot by bending his knee. “The little green men sure are busy lately.”
“Not funny. Terrorism?”
“Honest to Pete, I’d rather it be the little green men.” He nodded toward the approaching security police. “Either way, you and I aren’t going to be saying good-bye anytime soon after all.”
Watching Jill wrap up her statement to the security cop, Mason didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he didn’t like it.
Somebody had drawn a bull’s-eye on his back, and Jill Walczak had almost been caught in the crossfire.
He didn’t believe in coincidence or even a funky notion of fate. Facts told him he’d nearly been killed three times in two days. Somebody was gunning for him, and he had no idea who or why. Yet.
The security cop tucked away his PDA, crisp camos, and blue beret attesting to his attention to detail. “That’ll be all for now, ma’am, but we may be calling you again for more information. You caught a lot of important nuances that could be helpful in figuring this out.”
Jill nodded, her ponytail swishing. “That’s my job, too.”
The cop nodded. “I’ll be in touch if I have any questions.”
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