Page 46 of Tate (The Montana Marshalls #2)

As it were, Sloan’s mouth tightened, and he shook his head.

Glo let Tate go. “Promise me you’ll stay safe.”

He took her face in his hands. “I promise to do everything I can to come back to you.”

“You’d better, Captain America. Because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life pining for you.” She kissed him again, hard. Then turned and left the room.

Ford’s chest tightened as he watched her go. He pulled out the battery and noticed another set of electrodes attached to the battery.

He eased the assembly out onto the table.

Two wires attached to a tiny timer, the count at two minutes, forty-eight seconds.

His entire body went still, only his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

“No time for EOD,” Tate said.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Scarlett said, her voice soft, solid in his earpiece. He looked up and spied her standing at the door, watching him through the glass. She had a cell phone pressed to her ear, probably talking to Nez.

“There’s a timer,” Ford said. “It’s attached to a battery, counting down. My guess is that it’s on a frequency, and when the count gets to zero?—”

“Boom,” whispered Tate.

“You should leave, too, bro,” Ford said.

He got a look that might as well have been sign language.

Scarlett was relaying the information. “Nez is on the line. Says to describe the timer.”

Ford knelt and used a fork to turn the mechanism. “It’s a simple digital timer with a chip on the back. It has a number on it.”

“Read it.”

Scarlett repeated it to Nez.

Ford looked up. “Tate, really?—”

“This is my gig. If anyone is leaving, it’s you. I should’ve never gotten you into this in the first place.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve wanted to do superhero stuff with you ever since Dad told me about that time you fell off your horse and walked around the house for two days like you might be invincible. He said you had a hero streak a mile wide.”

Tate frowned. “He did?”

“Yeah. Dad told me that out of all his boys, you were too much like him. Stubborn and tough and didn’t know when to quit. Which was probably why he was so hard on you, I’d guess. But I got it in my head that I wanted to be like you—well, without some of the trouble.”

Tate smiled, still the frown in his eyes.

“Ford, I have an answer for you,” Scarlett said.

“Go ahead, Red.”

“That’s a common control system switch. It’s used for things like temperature control circuits to turn off or on an engine. When the clock reaches zero, the chip will send a signal to the remote detonator.”

Boom .

“So, we just have to cut power to the clock to deactivate the chip.”

Tate was crouching next to him.

“No, you have to cut the power to the chip. Because if you cut the power to the watch, the chip will think the timer is at zero?—”

“And boom ,” Tate said, listening in with his earpiece.

“I’ve got two cords. One is blue, one is white. Can’t I cut them both?”

“Not precisely. They would have to be cut at the same time down to the ten-thousandth of a second. Even if you put them in the cutter at the same time, one will be cut just prior to the other. There’s no physical way to make it happen at the exact same time.”

“Okay, so, which one is the power to the chip? Blue cord or white cord? Yes, we’re playing that game.”

Silence.

“Red, you got anything for me?”

“Don’t know, Ford. And neither does Nez.”

Perfect.

He picked up a steak knife from an uncleared table. Looked at Tate.

Then to Scarlett. She had her hand on the window, her eyes wide in his. And he heard her words. I want this. Just this, right now.

Him too. Maybe he didn’t have to be the guy who always had to figure out everything. And no, he wasn’t going to suddenly abandon everything he believed in, all his promises to himself, but maybe he could follow his gut a little.

Let go and live.

That worked out sometimes too.

“Which one, Red?” he whispered. “Tell me which one.”

She drew in a breath. “The white one. For hope.”

He nodded and slid the knife under the wire.

Beside him, Tate tensed.

Then he cut and waited for the world to explode.

Glo had been set up—maybe not by Tate but definitely by Sloan.

As soon as she walked outside the ballroom, Sloan directed Rags to grab her and drag her away from the trauma inside, leaving Scarlett to crouch beside the door, watching and relaying the events to whomever she talked to on the phone.

“Let me go!” Glo had kicked Rags in the shin, but he’d simply pulled her up into his arms and held her in his Hulkish embrace as she battered him. “This is kidnapping!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Rags said as she pushed against him.

She wouldn’t slap him—that wasn’t fair—but when they reached the escalator, she said, “Fine—fine. Put me down. If people see you dragging me away, they’ll panic.”

Still, it took a look from Sloan, the betrayer, before Rags would set her down. He steadied her with his hand on her arm as they rode to the main floor.

The security had led everyone outside, to the grassy park area beyond the hotel.

A few of the women had taken off their shoes.

Servers walked around with desserts on trays.

The sun had just started to sink into the ocean, a bloody red upon the water.

The chamber orchestra had reset up, Nicole at the helm of the disaster, as usual.

The whole thing felt a little like the sinking of the Titanic . Ford and Tate were inside disassembling a bomb, and?—

“Are those sirens?” her mother snapped and turned to Sloan. “Make them go away.”

“Mother. There is a bomb in the building. Of course we need police and sirens!”

Reba turned to her, swallowed hard. Then blew out a breath. “Yes, of course.” She reached up to her neckline and unclipped her mic. “Come with me. I need your help to get this off me. I don’t know why the sound guy mic’d me up if he was going to use the stand mic.”

Glo followed her mother back into the lobby and down to the bathroom, Rags and Sly on their tail. She turned to them at the door of the bathroom and held up her hand. “Really. I got this.”

Her mother was washing her hands, muttering. Blowing out controlled breaths.

“Mother.” Glo stepped up and unzipped her to where the mic pack hung on her camisole.

“It was a great night. Every single one of these people are here to see you. Because you…you’re amazing.

You fight for the underdog, and you give the voiceless a voice.

That matters.” She unclipped the mic pack and wound up the wire around it, setting it on the counter.

“That’s why people vote for you. Because of your character.

Not because you throw them a great party. ”

Her mother looked up, drew in a breath. “How did I get so lucky as to have two such brilliant daughters?”

Glo looked down and zipped her mother back up.

Reached for the mic pack.

But her mother grabbed her hand, stopping her, and turned, her back to the mirror.

“I mean it, Gloria. After Joy died, a part of me died too. And I threw myself into public service, thinking it would fill that empty place inside. And it did, it does. But not enough. Not like having you around does.”

Glo’s eyes burned.

“But you carry that same light Joy had inside you. It shows when you sing. And it shows…well, when you love other people. Like your band. And your father. And…Tate.”

She looked up at her mother.

“I was wrong about Tate. He might be trouble, but he is also a hero.” She touched Glo’s cheek. “And he came all the way to San Diego. For you.”

Even after she’d rejected him.

Glo’s breath caught. What if you let God show up for you? Show you that you don’t have to do anything for Him to love you.

“In fact, he never left Nashville. I know, because Sly was watching him.”

Glo frowned. “Did you assign Sly to him?”

“Of course I did?—”

“I mean, in Vegas too?”

“Yes. Because, well, I had heard about his reputation. I wasn’t sure…”

“Where was Sly the night he was attacked?”

“I don’t know. I was on a flight from Pennsylvania that night. Sloan came in and told me about the attack. So I re-routed us.”

“Sloan was on the plane?”

Her mother sighed. “Yes. I didn’t want to…well, I wanted everything to progress between you two naturally…”

“When did Sloan find out about the attack?”

“Oh, let’s see. It was after eleven, I think.”

“11:00 East Coast time is only 8:00 p.m. in Vegas.”

Her mother just stared at her.

“Mother—we didn’t get attacked until nearly midnight. And you were there by morning.”

“Maybe I’m wrong about the time?—”

But something Tate had said…about Sloan and the Bratva… “Oh no!”

Glo scooped up the mic and headed out of the bathroom. Rags and Sly stood at the door.

She looked at Rags, then Sly, and took a chance. “Sly, where were you the night Tate and I were attacked in Vegas?”

Sly glanced at her mother, now following her from the bathroom, then back to her.

“I’m sorry ma’am…I was—” He shook his head.

“I was gambling. The show was over, and I thought you were tucked in for the night.” He appeared distraught.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am. I should have been there.

I checked in with Sloan, and he asked me where you were staying.

I told him I thought you were safe—the Bellagio has top-notch security.

He agreed and gave me the night off. If I’d known…

” He wore a tight ball of agony on his face.

Glo looked at her mother.

“Gloria—”

“I have to apologize, Mother. I thought it was you.”

Her mother frowned.

“I couldn’t figure out how the Bratva might have found Tate—and I…I suspected you. But I didn’t want to.”

Her mother’s mouth tightened. “It was Sloan. He had the connections and your location.” She had gone white. “He knew I didn’t like Tate, but I never thought…oh my…”

“I’ll find him, ma’am,” Rags said, and his expression looked very much like Tate’s when he’d told her he’d come back to her.

Promises. Unspoken, but just as binding.

Tate. The bomb. She probably wore questions in her eyes because her mother said, “What’s happening, Sly?”