“How’s your painting coming along?” Addie asked when Tegan would have made her quick getaway.
She glanced over her shoulder. There were two joggers heading down the opposite sidewalk. Unlikely they’d head into Kimmy’s shop, but she needed to be there in case they did. “Ah…” She turned back to Addie and winced. “Awful, to be honest. Spectacularly awful. I don’t think I have that creative gene.”
“I don’t believe that. I’ve gotten so many compliments on that website redesign you did. But come to the next class this Thursday afternoon if you’re free. I’ll figure out where you’re struggling. We’ll fix it, I promise.”
The truth was Tegan would rather just buy a cute painting, but it would be pretty cool to actually finish one herself. Once. Because after she finished this thing, she was done with painting. And it was unlikely she’d be hanging it where anyone could see it either. Maybe in her closet. “I’ll be there. I’ll bring some treats, too.”
Addie’s blue eyes lit up. “Bring those chocolate chip cannolis.”
“I will, but I’ve gotta get back to the shop.” She glanced over her shoulder again just in time to see Mrs. Bailey strolling down the sidewalk, bundled up in a scarf, hat, thick jacket, and walking her little shih tzu—who had on a tiny pink hat and matching doggy coat. She opened the door to Kimmy’s shop and stepped inside. Duty called.
As she started to jog back across the street, a chilly breeze whipped over her. She hadn’t bothered to grab her jacket, but now she wished she had. Wearing jeans, a long-sleeved black T-shirt, and a black-and-white checkered apron wasn’t helping much with the chill.
When she reached the sidewalk she stuck her hand in the pocket of her apron. She’d get too warm wearing her jacket inside, but she could use an extra sweater today. She’d just grab the one she’d left in her car. It was a surprisingly cold winter in Florida. She was counting down the days until spring.
Her car was a few shops down as she pressed the key fob to unlock the doors. The moment she did, an explosion of noise and heat ripped through the air. Glass seemed to rain down from everywhere, pinging against cars, the sidewalk, and scraping her neck.
Screaming, Tegan threw herself to the sidewalk, covering her head as she dove. Another scream built in her throat, but it was too tight to escape as another shockwave of energy seemed to roll over her, pulsing through her entire body.
As she rolled for the curb, her stomach slammed into a light pole. Grunting in pain, she tried to push away from it, but couldn’t make herself move. Her head throbbed and all the muscles in her body were pulled tight.
Full-blown terror rocked through her as it belatedly registered that had been her car that had just exploded.
If she’d been closer to it or inside it…
Oh God, she’d parked right outside the children’s clothing boutique. If that thing had gone off a couple of hours later…
Tremors overtook her body, making her shake so badly she couldn’t move, could barely think. The man who’d wanted something from her that she simply didn’t have, had been killed. He couldn’t be after her.
But someone obviously wanted her dead. You didn’t accidentally rig a bomb in someone’s car.
When a strong hand took her by the shoulder, she moved on pure instinct and struck out, letting years’ worth of raw survival instinct explode as her fist connected with hard flesh.
Chapter 2
Aaron caught her fist in his open palm. “Tegan! It’s me!”
All the energy left Tegan’s body in a whoosh. It was Aaron, not someone who had come back from the grave to finish her off. Her heart still beat an erratic tattoo against her chest, but her fight instinct was quickly fading.
Aaron bent over her, his far too handsome face a mask of concern. “Tegan, can you hear me?”
Nausea swept through her as she stared up into the most beautiful dark, amber-flecked eyes she’d ever seen. In the distance she was vaguely aware of multiple car alarms going off and the sounds of worried shouts. Probably from shop owners or early morning joggers. At least most of the shops weren’t open this early.
“Damn it, Tegan, answer me.” He looked away from her then and she heard him shout out orders to someone to call 911. It sounded as if he was in a tunnel as he spoke.
He held up three fingers in front of her. “How many fingers am I holding up? What day is it?”
The ringing in her ears suddenly stopped, as if a switch had been flipped. Groaning, she swatted at his hand. “Three, and Tuesday, I think.”