Page 30 of Splintered Security (Aspen & Evergreen #2)

He exhales enough to rock me back, enough to tell me to brace.

“She’s beat up. She went through some things.

Her face is pretty bad. Giltenhouse hit her more than once.

We’ll know more when we get to the hospital.

That’s what I was able to tell when I got to her house.

I haven’t seen her since the ambulance took her away… That was this morning.”

“This morning?! It’s been hours. Why haven’t you told me?”

“I can tell you everything now or I can tell you in the car on the way to see your mom. Which would you prefer?”

“Ugh!” I hate when he’s rational and calm. Grrr.

I spin on my bare heel and stalk to our bathroom, rushing through the basics of what I can get away with.

Teeth brushed, face washed, and hair in a messy bun, I’m dressed and in the car, tapping my foot on the floorboard in irritation in less than seven minutes.

“Well?”

His lips twitch. “Well?”

“Tell me everything. Start at the beginning.”

He does. Down to being detained and questioned at the police department for hours. It took longer than normal since he refused to allow them to search his phone. Something about him not being read his rights since he wasn’t arrested or accused of any wrongdoing.

Heath accused him of all kinds of craziness, trying to find something that would stick. That plan fell apart when Junior’s story didn’t match .

And none of it matched the story of the two recruits who were detained fleeing the neighborhood.

Apparently two grown men running on foot down a decent thoroughfare toward town is enough of a red flag to warrant some attention from police when called to a crime scene.

The fact that their motorcycles were left at Mom’s while their cuts were visible was more than enough to cast suspicion on their involvement.

So while the others ran in incoherent circles, Ren sat quietly, explaining his involvement. His credibility wasn’t in question, and mom’s brief questioning implicated Heath and the Lost Mountain Rebels. She also confirmed our recent marriage and that Ren saved her.

When he left there, he found Troy Smith, who had taken the bait and went to David Rosen’s apartment, only to discover no one home.

Ren intercepted Smith on his way back to Pueblo and did his own brand of interrogation—one he didn’t describe in detail, but mentioned was “effective”—to discover that Rose’s payment for Troy’s silence had one last installment.

He was to deliver a bomb to Platt BioPharma.

Smith hadn’t heard any news of problems at the pharmaceutical company, much less an explosion at their lab, and was pissed his calls and texts to Rosen had gone unanswered.

Smith only cared that his “message” was still being delivered to the target there.

Apparently, in his focus for news around PBP, he missed all the news about Queen City.

I’ll never understand why someone would configure a homemade bomb, much less trust it would wait until the exact right time before exploding.

What happens if the detonator is faulty or the chemicals mix a little?

Unfortunately for me, I know the answer to that.

I was a part of that nightmare when Queen City Wine Bar and the building it was in was leveled by that very bomb.

Luckily for the woman who was the would-be recipient, Rose never made it home with the duffel containing the explosives. Unless Troy talks, we’ll never know why she was targeted. And we have to hope that’s past tense. She could still be in the crosshairs.

Between this morning’s questions and the explosion at Queen City less than two weeks ago, Ren’s involvement would be more than a little suspect if he turned Smith over to the police.

Instead, he told his boss where Smith was and let Christian know he had more pressing matters with his mother-in-law than bringing Smith in.

Some guy named Fitz something or other is on the job now.

“I don’t understand something.”

“What’s that?” Ren asks the windshield.

“If the bomb wasn’t meant for the bar, if it was supposed to go home with Rose, how did you know to clear the building? That’s what you were doing when you found me.”

He pulls into the hospital parking lot, finding an empty spot. “We got a call.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

After putting the car in park, he shifts my way and provides a cryptic answer. “Rosen?”

“Rosen what?”

“There were only two people who could’ve known a bomb was in the building. And Troy Smith had a plan for it. That plan did not include Queen City. The caller told us to clear out. No ransom. No negotiating. The timer was counting down.”

I sit silently in the dark, watching the wheels turn as he puzzles out an unknowable situation.

“It could only be Rosen. David realized what was going on and saved everyone. But why sacrifice himself?”

“I don’t know, Ren. I told you, Rose was always a decent guy, but no one chooses that if they can avoid it.”

“Yeah. I’ll get with Christian on it. I have footage of him on his phone at the time the call came in and didn’t put two and two together. I knew my gut was right about him.” He slaps the steering wheel. “Dammit.”

I set an arm on his forearm. “I’m sorry.”

“No, baby. There’s nothing for you to be sorry for. I need to tell you, though, I don’t know where Giltenhouse or Conyers were taken. There’s at least a possibility they’ll be here. I’m not worried about them, but in case any of the club is here, I don’t want you to be surprised.”

“Okay, Ren.”

His face goes soft at my words, something I can’t register twinkles in his eyes. “Okay, Anni. Let’s go.”

I don’t give him time to make it to my door as is typical, so he’s left meeting me at the hood of his SUV. He takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine.

Three hours later, we return the way we came.

I’m dead on my feet and I’m sure Ren is too.

He opens my door and lets me get settled before rounding the car to slide inside.

Once we hit the highway heading north, he reaches across the console and offers his hand.

I place mine in his, and he kisses the back of my knuckles before pointing us home.

I don’t offer to fill the silence and neither does he.

Mom may need surgery. There’s swelling at her cheek and eye socket. The doctors have drained it. If that keeps the pressure off, it may be enough. X-rays show a fracture there that can’t be set until the swelling recedes.

His large warm palm squeezes mine. “Where’d you go?”

“Just thinking about mom. She looks…” I pause, staring out the passenger window in the black of night. “She looks like she was hit by a baseball bat. At first glance, I could hardly recognize her.”

“I felt the same this morning. But she has your fire, so I knew she’d be fine when we made it through.”

I wipe the errant tears that don’t want to stop.

“Thank you for today. Thank you for saving her. I need her.”

“Of course, baby.”

Even quieter, I add, “Thank you for saving me.”

“You’re my wife.” It’s the voice he used when he said our vows.

That I am.