He put on his seat belt and started the ignition. The moment he did so, he heard a strange sound. When he realized what the sound meant, it was too late. Within seconds, the car exploded.
*
“PACKAGE FOR J. B. SWEET.”
Manning Carmichael looked up from the stack of papers to stare at the young man standing in front of his desk. “I’ll sign for it.”
“I was instructed to make sure J. B. Sweet gets it.”
“And she will. I’m her personal assistant. I can take care of it.”
The courier shook his head. “Sorry, pal. I got strict orders to hand this to J. B. Sweet and only J. B. Sweet. No one else. I got a big tip to follow those orders, and I intend to earn every cent.”
Manning rolled his eyes, thinking this guy better be glad he was in a good mood today. Otherwise, he would tell him just what he could do with his delivery. “Fine, have it your way.” He smiled. At least it would give him the chance to interrupt whatever was going on in his boss’s office. Her husband, Dalton Granger, had arrived over an hour ago and hadn’t left yet. Knowing those two, Manning’s imagination was running wild as to what was going on behind the locked office door.
He pressed the intercom and couldn’t hold back the chuckle at the annoyed voice who answered, sounding breathless. “What is it, Manning?”
“Sorry for the interruption, Jules,” he lied, “but a courier is here to deliver a package that he claims he can only put in your hands.”
He heard the expletives that came from Dalton and the giggles from Jules as she tried shushing her husband. “Okay, give me a minute and I’ll be right out.”
Manning clicked off the phone and looked up at the courier. “You might as well take a seat. It will probably be more than a minute.”
Fifteen minutes later the door to J. B. Sweet’s office opened and Jules Bradford Granger walked out. Manning figured that most people were surprised to learn that J. B. Sweet was a woman. Since a majority of people preferred having a man handle their investigative work, Jules had come up with the ingenious idea to use her first and last initials as well as her mother’s maiden name for her business; hence the moniker J. B. Sweet.
“Hello,” she greeted the young man with a huge, bright smile.
Manning shook his head, knowing the effect Jules had on most guys. Manning would be the first to admit his boss and good friend was gorgeous. The young man was all but drooling and couldn’t keep his eyes off Jules while she signed for the packet.
“Thanks!” the courier said, smiling like a dimwit.
“No problem.”
The young man walked out of the office, whistling like Jules had made his day.
Jules studied the packet and then noticed Manning was staring at her while shaking his head. “What?”
Manning was surprised she had to ask. He figured she must not have noticed her hair was all mussed up, making her look like a hot, sexy goddess.
“Pardon me for saying,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “but since you and Dalton are married, can’t the two of you take it home?”
Jules smiled as if she didn’t have one shameful bone in her body. Then she reached out and playfully pinched his cheek. “Oh, Manning, yes, we could and eventually we will. If you’re feeling jealous, then I suggest you seriously start looking for a partner.”
She tucked the packet under her arm, went back into her office and locked the door behind her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“I LOVE IT HERE,” Margo said, as she and Striker took an evening stroll around the cabin. He had taken her hand in his as they walked down a wooded path. The weather had turned somewhat cold, but the wool jacket she was wearing kept her warm. And then there was Striker’s heat that seemed to flow through her, keeping her warm as well.
“But I wish I was here for another reason,” she added. Although if she had been there for another reason, she wouldn’t be here with Striker walking by her side.
“It is nice, isn’t it?” he agreed, and when they came to a bench, he said, “Let’s sit a spell. That’s a beautiful view.”
She sat beside him and followed his gaze to the meadow below. In the center of it was a huge geyser with water gushing upward toward the sky. It was simply breathtaking. The cabin was a place of peace and solitude, a place she had escaped to...to hide. For how long she still wasn’t sure.
When she had finally awakened that day, it had been past noon. She had gone downstairs to find Striker sitting on the sofa, as if he’d been waiting for her. That had prompted her to cross the room and curl up in his lap, wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him. She was certain that particular kiss would have led to something a lot more intimate if her stomach hadn’t decided to growl. That was when he’d picked her up in his arms and actually carried her into the kitchen and set her down in a chair at the table. He then proceeded to serve the meal he’d cooked—the most delicious vegetable soup she’d ever eaten, along with the tastiest turkey-and-cheese sandwich on wheat bread. Afterward, he suggested they put on their jackets and walk around the property for a while.
“Did I tell you how much I enjoyed lunch?” she asked him.
He chuckled. “Yes, you did. Twice, in fact. Glad you enjoyed it.”
At that moment his phone rang and Margo didn’t have to wonder who was calling. She’d gotten pretty used to the ringtone.
“Stonewall? What’s up?”
Margo could tell from the expression that appeared on Striker’s face that it wasn’t good news.
“Okay. Keep me updated.” Striker clicked off the call.
Margo stood, concerned. “Striker? Is anything wrong?”
He looked over at her and nodded. “According to Stonewall, there was a car explosion and the person inside the vehicle was an FBI agent. Even though it’s not his usual MO, the authorities think it’s the work of the assassin again.”
She raised a brow. “Had the agent been in the courtroom that day?”
Striker shook his head. “No.”
Margo frowned. “I don’t understand. Why would Erickson want him dead? What’s going on?”
Striker rubbed his face and said, “I think it’s a foregone conclusion Erickson had insiders’ help in carrying out this crazy plan of his. It’s believed the dead agent was one of Erickson’s men.”
“An FBI agent?”
“Yes. A cop was also killed yesterday.” Striker then told her about the female police officer and how it was believed she was also connected to Erickson.
“Do you think Erickson has abandoned his plan to kill everyone who was at the courthouse and has new targets? His own people?”
“Not sure how Erickson’s mind is working right now. Until we know what’s going on and why, we stay in hiding and stay alert.”
*
JULES BRADFORD GRANGER watched her husband as he slid back into his pants. Manning had left for the day, and by rights, she should have, too, but she and Dalton were still here. They had a perfectly good bed at home, but for some reason, he liked the sofa in her office. “I need to put an end to your drop-in visits, Dalton.”
He glanced over at her as he straightened his tie. “Why?”
She was about to give him a list of reasons when her cell phone rang. She smiled, recognizing her sister’s ringtone. “Shana? How is my nephew?” Her sister, Shana, was married to Jace Granger, Dalton’s brother. The third Granger son, Caden, was married to his childhood sweetheart, Shiloh.
“He’s fine. Starting to sleep through the night and that’s a good thing. Jace and I wanted to know if you and Dalton would like to join us for dinner. Caden and Shiloh will be here, and so will Dad and Mona and Sheppard and Carson.”
“Um, what’s the occasion?” Jules asked, leaning back against her desk as she continued to watch her husband re-dress.
“The architect dropped off the final house plans, and Jace and I can’t wait to show them to everyone.”