Page 47 of Tate (The Montana Marshalls #2)

“Apparently, they’ve diffused the timer, ma’am, and security is searching the building.”

Glo had already turned and headed up the escalator.

“Gloria!”

Tate was standing outside the ballroom with Scarlett and Ford, and she took off running.

Tate looked up just in time to catch her up. “Babe.”

“Not one more second,” she said, pulling him tight against her. “Not one more second without you.”

“I agree,” he said. “I agree.” He set her down, catching her face in his hands, those devastating blue eyes holding her. “I completely panicked when Sloan… Scarlett said he proposed?”

“Yeah. And for a second, I thought…this is all I could hope for. A pseudo-happy ending doing what I should, but not what I wanted. And I stood there, and I thought…no. I wanted to wait for the song. For?—”

“One True Heart.”

She nodded. “And then I saw you standing there and…I knew I didn’t want anything but the real thing.”

“It is the real thing, Glo. I love you so much…I’d?—”

“Die for me. I know.”

“Or live. Whatever it takes to keep my promises.”

His promises. “I don’t know why you love me, Tate. But it’s enough that you do.”

“I do love you. And I know you’re destined for amazing things. In and out of the limelight—whatever. I just want to be there, on the sidelines. Being the one who keeps you alive.”

In spirit and body. Lighting her fire.

Yes.

“Forgive me for walking away from you, Glo. It was impulsive and prideful, and I should have told your mother that I was staying?—”

“No. I should have gone with you. You’re not trouble, Tate. You’re…brave. And you’ve got such an amazing heart and frankly, I need a guy who isn’t afraid of a little trouble.”

He drew his thumb down her cheek and was bending to kiss her— yes, please —when Ford came up.

“You guys ready to go?”

“In a minute. I need to put my mother’s mic away and grab my bag.” She met Tate’s eyes. “Want to come with me?”

He glanced at Ford. “Yes. Alone.”

Ford rolled his eyes.

“Nez just arrived,” Scarlett said. “And the San Diego bomb squad is coming in to sweep the building.”

“The police are evacuating the building so don’t take your time,” Ford said to Tate, but he winked at Glo.

Yeah, she could get used to being part of the Marshall family.

She led the way to the greenroom/VIP suite where the campaign team had gathered before the event, not sure how much she should tell Tate about Sloan.

She’d seen enough violence for today.

“Who did you say put that mic on your mother?”

Glo pulled out her access card as they reached the door.

“The sound guy. The one who fixed the mic on stage.”

She opened the door and stepped inside.

Tate grabbed her hand and took off in a run.

She screamed, mostly in surprise, but with a little horror as he hit the glass door to the balcony without slowing. It shattered as it opened, and then he had his arms around her.

“Take a breath!” He clutched her to himself as he launched them off the balcony.

Behind them, the room exploded in a flash of fire and glass and timber.

They hit the pool, Tate’s arms tight around her.

She’d forgotten to breathe, the water sucking her under, closing around her.

But Tate was right there, letting her go, pulling her to the surface.

She gulped air, a fish gasping. “What?—?”

Tate was already dragging her away from the falling debris, toward the edge of the pool. He hooked his arm around her waist and practically carried her out and away from the destruction.

“Are you okay?” He put her down then, and turned her, his hands running over her arms, her body, then meeting her eyes. “Tell me you’re not hurt.”

She managed to get a shake of her head in before he pulled her into his arms, so tight she couldn’t get her head around it all.

“What happened?”

Not her voice, but her thoughts, definitely. Ford was sprinting up the boardwalk from the park.

“The senator’s mic—that was a transmitter.” Tate wasn’t letting her go, so she pushed against him. His entire body started to tremble, clearly an adrenaline rush. “It didn’t make sense—our fifty-fifty odds were just too…easy. And the second mic?—”

Scarlett had run up behind them, barefoot, and behind her, a tall Native American man, along with a couple more men.

“That’s what the switch was for—it activated the transmitter in the senator’s mic.”

“I don’t understand,” Glo said. “Mother was mic’d in the greenroom, before the event.”

“Which was why they needed a second transmitter to activate the first. When Plunkett brought out the second mic and turned it on, it activated your mother’s unit. She was supposed to wear it until after her speech.”

“And since it was under her dress, she’d return to the suite to remove it,” Glo said.

“Which would then activate the bomb, in her room, as soon as she entered. They didn’t want to take out the crowd. Just your mother,” said Scarlett.

“And Glo, maybe,” Ford said.

“Collateral damage.” Tate looked a little pale. “I don’t know why I knew to run—it was just…something inside me said get out of there.” He turned to Glo again and pulled her against himself.

And she wasn’t going anywhere, thank you very much.

Not without her bodyguard.