Explosive Alliance (2 page)

TWO

R
ent-a-cop duty.

Could Cash sink any lower on the boredom scale? He didn't usually go in for security duty, but his buddy's wife was having a baby and his buddy needed someone to cover at the last minute. Ninety minutes into the job, he was regretting his decision to help.

He glanced at his solid titanium watch he'd worn on countless Delta Force missions.

Now
that
was an exciting job.

There was nothing more thrilling than serving on the army's elite tier-one Special Ops team. Fast-roping down to free a hostage. Night jumps and rock climbs to raid insurgent groups in Afghanistan. Diving into dark, murky waters.

Man, he missed it. Missed it all. The team. The camaraderie. Working with guys who really got him. His life hadn't been the same since a friendly bomb had gone astray, taking out his whole team. Why he'd survived, he had no idea, even after eighteen months.

Stop,
he warned himself. Standing here brooding wouldn't help him figure it out. He needed to keep busy.

He searched the crowd, looking for someone whose chops he could bust. He spotted the woman who'd brushed past him a few minutes ago to retrieve a cup of water charging down the steps.

Good.
Just the distraction he was looking for. A particularly beautiful one at that. He loved the way she'd blushed when he'd flirted with her. Wasn't often these days that he ran into a woman exhibiting such innocence.

She hit the landing and ran toward him, skidding to a stop in front of him. Eyes the color of his army dress blues were dark with worry, sending a curl of apprehension into his gut.

“I need your help.” She panted to catch her breath. “There's a...” She paused to look around, then drew him away from a man standing nearby.

She leaned close to Cash's ear. He caught a faint whiff of vanilla and another appealing spice he couldn't identify.

“There's a bomb,” she whispered, her breath warm on his skin.

He pulled back. “Don't even kid about that, ma'am.”

“I'm not kidding.” Full lips drew down in a scowl as her gaze continued to dart around.

“What's your name, ma'am?”

“Krista Curry.”

“Well, Krista, why don't you tell me what you saw?” It was very unlikely she'd actually seen a bomb, but whatever she'd witnessed had clearly upset her and he needed to take it seriously.

“It's by my seat,” she said. “A guy got up and left his backpack. There's a cell phone inside with a timer attached to a bunch of red bricks. It's counting down. It had twenty-five minutes on it. Now it must be closer to twenty.” She grabbed his arm in a viselike grip. “Please, we can't waste any time.”

Something in her desperate plea made him believe her enough to agree to check out the so-called device. “Show me.”

She led him toward the aisle and gestured at the upper section. “See the older man seated in the second row from the top? That's my grandfather. The backpack is six seats to his left. By that big girder.”

He looked at the upper section, saw a gray-haired man sitting at the aisle, intent on the game.

“Wait. That woman.” Krista wiggled her finger at a stick-thin woman climbing over a seat. “Looks like she's spotted the backpack. She's going to open it just like I did. She might... Oh, no.”

He saw the woman, but he couldn't see the backpack. Krista grabbed his arm again. “We need to get up there before she does something stupid.”

The woman fumbled around at her feet. She looked up, her gaze wild and unfocused.

“Bomb!” she screamed and charged for the aisle. “There's a bomb in that backpack. Only fifteen minutes on the timer. Run! Everybody run!” She catapulted over the old man's legs, nearly lost her balance but recovered to run down the steps, waving her arms and inciting the crowd. “Bomb! There's a bomb! Go!”

People fled toward the exits in a stampede. Cash had to restore order before they trampled each other. At least attendance was down due to the rain, and he had a chance of calming them down.

“C'mon, people!” He held up his hands. “This is someone's bad idea of a joke, but just to be safe, let's clear the area in an orderly fashion.”

“It's no joke—I saw it,” the woman shouted, her eyes so terrified Cash figured she wasn't making it up, but the device could still be a dummy left to cause a riot.

“I've got to get to Opa!” Krista darted toward the steps.

Cash ran after her and jerked her into an empty aisle moments before the fleeing mob reached them. “You can't go up there. They'll trample you.”

She tried to wrench free. “But my grandfather needs me. I can't leave him alone.”

The last thing Cash wanted was for another person to lose their life on his watch so he tightened his hold while he reported the situation over his radio. He ordered the security team to cease use of their radios from this point forward. He'd take no chance of the radio signal setting off the bomb if it was real. He'd make one more call to the team leader for the First Response Squad—the tactical team Cash served on. The six-person squad was created to deal with emergency situations just like this one and would be the first to respond. Once he notified them, he'd go radio silent, too.

“Let. Me. Go!” Krista's volume escalated with each word.

“I can't.”

“Please.” Her eyes darted around as if she might lose it any second. “I have to help him. I have to.”

She jerked harder. Cash let go of his radio to catch her chin, forcing her to make eye contact. “Calm down, Krista. If you promise to stay right here, I'll take care of your gramps.”

She stopped thrashing and eyed him suspiciously. “Really? You'll get him out of here?”

After I get a look at that bomb and, if it's legit, disarm it if I can.
Thankfully, he was on duty tonight. His buddy Neil was a great guy, but he wasn't a bomb expert. Cash had years of experience disarming explosives in the military and another year as the FRS bomb tech.

He looked around for another officer to hand Krista off to but found no one. “I'll go, but you have to stay here. Right here on this spot. No moving at all. Promise?”

She nodded unreservedly.

He hoped she was sincere and wasn't playing him. “I mean it. If I look back down here and see you've moved at all, I won't follow through.”

“You'd leave him?”

No, but you don't need to know that.
“If you force me to.”

“I won't move. I promise. Just go. Now! Hurry!”

Cash released her arm and surveyed the chaos as he formed a quick game plan. With crazed people flooding down the aisle, he'd have to climb over seats to reach the top, then hope the crowd had thinned enough, allowing him to shoot across the aisle to the bomb.

He started over the seats. One by one. Up. Higher. Toward the bomb.

“Be careful, Deputy,” Krista called out.

He felt his stride falter. Not for long. The briefest of moments, really, but long enough for the memory of his fallen teammates to come rushing back.

Stow it, man. Or these people could pay the price for your distraction. Keep calm. In control. Step by step. Work through it.

He could do this. He
had
to do this. If the bomb was real, it was up to him—him alone—to disarm the device. With fifteen minutes on the timer, neither his squad nor the Metropolitan Explosives Disposal Unit could arrive on time.

If
he even had the fifteen minutes to get this done.

More likely he had less.

Putting a cell phone on the bomb said the bomber planned to detonate via a phone call and the timer was likely a fallback. A simple ring of the phone and the bomb could go off in a split second, killing everyone in the blast radius.

He upped his speed, reaching the top tier. He looked for a break in the crowd. A cold bead of sweat dampening his forehead, he shot across the aisle, found the backpack and gently opened it. The sight that greeted him sent his heart plummeting.

He shone his flashlight into the pack, following the detonator wire from the timer now at twelve minutes to demolition blocks stacked neatly inside.

He let out a low whistle, and a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach followed.

There was nothing fake about this bomb. Nothing at all.

THREE

“N
o-o-o-o!” Raw fear uncoiled in Krista's stomach. “Don't mess with it. Opa first. Please!” Her words came from deep in her gut, but there was no chance Cash could hear her over the crowd.

Was he trying to be a hero? Trying to disarm the bomb himself instead of waiting for a trained technician?

Of course he was. He was a hotheaded cop like the ones who'd railroaded her toward a murder rap. And she'd trusted him. Stupidly. She was the worst kind of granddaughter. She'd left Opa a stone's throw from a bomb, then trusted the wrong person again.

You're a fool, Krista.

She was about to charge up there, but Cash turned and headed in Opa's direction. He squatted in front of him. They talked, Opa responding with his usual animated gesturing. Cash patted Opa's hand then stood and looked away. Krista waited for Opa to get up, but he sat there watching Cash walk toward the bomb.

What?

“No! What're you doing?” she screamed.

He took a tool from his pocket and bent over the bomb. He
was
going to try to disarm it and leave Opa all alone.

Fear skittered down Krista's spine. She couldn't stand there any longer and leave her grandfather in extreme peril. She took off, following the trail Cash had left behind, pushing through people like a snowplow. She wouldn't stop. No matter what. She was going up to Opa's seat even if the crowd trampled her to death.

* * *

Adrenaline raced through Cash's veins, leaving him light-headed for a moment. He took in a calming breath. Blew it out and replayed his radio conversation with Jake, the FRS leader. The team had an ETA of ten minutes, but once they arrived, they still would have to fight through the crowd streaming out of the stadium.

Translated, Cash was on his own.

So did he move the bomb? Disarm it? Jake had told Cash to use his gut feeling.
His gut, right.
His gut couldn't be trusted. Afghanistan proved that.

He stared at the bomb for a moment. Thinking. Evaluating. His best option was to get the device away from people. Center field would be good, but safely moving through the crowd while carrying a bomb would be problematic. So then what?

He checked the timer.

08:29.

08:28.

08:27.

He had to act. Move it or disarm it, which was less risky? He just didn't know. He used to be so decisive. Until the loss of his team.

He glanced around, assessing the number of people still in the blast radius, and saw Krista urgently climbing over seats to get to her grandfather.

Otto seemed like a fine gentleman. He'd thanked Cash for risking his life to disarm the bomb and for his willingness to sacrifice himself for others, then told him to go ahead with his job and not worry about him. He was counting on Cash to make the right decision. So was Krista. So were all the people in the stadium.

A lump formed in Cash's throat, but he wouldn't disappoint them.

He knew what he had to do. He flipped open his Leatherman and went to work on the antiremoval device. Each movement calculated. Precise.

The noise of the crowd. The announcer. The sounds of other officers who'd responded, all fading into the background. It was just him and the device. And the timer.

He wasn't one for praying. Not since answers to his questions about the loss of his former team remained unanswered, but if any situation called for hope and prayer, this one did.

He sent up a quick request to keep everyone safe. To make his movements sure and true. He took a deep breath, held it and decisively disconnected the device.

With no time to spare, he moved on to the detonator, carefully pulling it from the Semtex and moving it well away from the explosives. The timer continued counting down, but with the detonator removed, it no longer mattered.

“Done!” he called out, then wiped perspiration from his forehead.

Before he could celebrate, in his peripheral vision he caught someone quickly advancing toward him. He was instantly on alert again.

He jerked around, his hand flying to his gun.

Krista raced across the now-deserted aisle.

“What're you doing?” She rushed up to him, her eyes immediately going to the backpack. “The timer is almost down to zero and you promised to get Opa out of here. Let's hurry. Now!”

He opened his mouth to tell her that he'd disarmed the bomb, but she flew at him and pounded his chest. He grabbed her hands. They were icy cold and trembling. “We've got to go. Now! Help us. Please.”

“Krista,” Otto said calmly from behind them.

Cash continued to clutch her hands as she looked over her shoulder at her grandfather. “Opa, we have to go.”

“But Cash is a bomb technician. He has disarmed the bomb. There is no longer any danger.”

She whirled on Cash. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I tried to.”

She jerked her hands free, looking torn between aggravation with him and relief that her grandfather was safe. She made quite a sight, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. Her fiery personality contrasted with her elegant, tailored clothing, which Cash bet cost a pretty penny. Not that he had much experience with such things from his low-income upbringing, but he knew quality when he saw it.

“Let me arrange for someone to stand watch on the backpack, and I'll assist you with helping Otto down the stairs,” he offered.

“I don't need your help.” She turned away. “Let's get you up, Opa.”

“I'm feeling tired,” Otto said, a smile in his voice. “I think it would be better to wait for the nice young man to help us.”

She jerked around to look at Cash again, her frustration with waiting for him rampant in her expression.

Cash stifled a snort and radioed for an officer. She watched him, her jaw jutted out in defiance. She was a tenacious little thing, battling for her grandfather at all costs, a trait Cash admired. By the time the officer arrived and Cash had given him instructions, she had Opa on his feet.

He was clearly in poor health, and today's scare had likely rattled him more than he was willing to admit. Cash would do his best to help Otto relax.

Cash took the older man's elbow and winked at him. “Let me know if you catch the eye of a pretty lady. I'll let go so we don't ruin your cred as a ladies' man.”

Otto shook with laughter. “I like you, Cash Dixon.”

Krista glared at him. It was obvious
she
didn't like him. Not the least little bit. No skin off his nose. He was hardly boyfriend material right now. The jury was still out on whether he'd ever be again.

They slowly worked their way toward the main concourse. Otto chatted all the way down, his attitude remarkably cheerful.

Around the corner, Cash spotted the First Response Squad barreling up the ramp. Five strong, they wore uniforms of black tactical pants and black collared knit shirts. Kevlar vests covered with intricate FRS logos on their chests.

“Late to the party, I see,” Cash joked, though he was glad to see them.

Jake marched up to Cash. “We good?”

“Yeah. The device is disarmed. I've put an officer on the backpack. When MEDU arrives they can dispose of the Semtex.”

“Good job, man.” Jake clapped Cash on the back.

Brady Owens, whose shaggy blond hair made him look like a surfer instead of a sniper, socked Cash in the arm. “When the building didn't blow up on schedule, we figured you had things under control.”

“Yeah, man.” Archer Reed, a team negotiator and the only member of the group taller than Cash, grinned. “We're glad you didn't go boom.”

Despite the obvious sarcasm, Cash knew both men were sincerely relieved that he was all right.

Negotiator Skyler Brennan, small for a law enforcement officer, with fiery red hair, stepped forward. Her size often had people underestimating her strength and determination, but she was one of the strongest women Cash had ever met. She lifted her arms to give him a hug.

He wasn't about to let anyone hug him on the job. He stepped back, and she looked hurt.

“Don't be rude, Cash Dixon,” EMT Darcie Stevens chastised. The self-professed mom of the group, she kept everyone in line.

A job Cash could never do. Making a bunch of adrenaline junkies mind their manners and play nice together was a thankless job. But Darcie did it well. Most of the time anyway. When she wasn't trying to get all the guys to express their feelings. That was just plain annoying.

“Don't worry, Darcie,” Skyler said. “I get it. Cash's on duty. He can't possibly let people think he's less than a macho alpha male.” She grinned at Cash, then turned her attention to Krista. “When Cash called this in, he told us how well you handled discovering the bomb. Most people would've screamed or fainted.”

Krista shot Cash a surprised look.

He shrugged it off.

“Don't mind him.” Skyler wrinkled her nose at Cash. “He doesn't like people to see it, but he's a real softy.”

Cash groaned. “Maybe we should keep the focus on Krista, not me.”

“My Krista is an amazing woman,” Otto said fondly. “I'm glad for others to see this, as well.”

Jake cast an intimidating look at Otto. “And you are?”

“I am her very proud grandfather, Otto Schiffer.” Otto puffed out his chest.

“A brave man in his own right.” Cash relayed how Otto had been willing to give up his life so Cash could disarm the bomb instead of helping Otto exit the arena.

A flush colored Otto's face, his silvery beard now more pronounced. “It wasn't anything that anyone else wouldn't do.”

“If you don't mind, can we end this praise fest and move things along?” Brady tapped his foot on the concrete.

He was constantly in motion, a field of energy always buzzing around him, but he had a laid-back, carefree attitude. Cash was more deliberate. Moved slower. Thought things through and weighed the consequences. Still, as a former Marine Scout Sniper, Brady's past military experience made him the person Cash connected with most on the team, despite their different personalities.

“For once I agree with your need for speed, Brady.” Jake changed his focus to Krista. “The sooner we get your statement, the sooner we can catch our bomber.”

“Wait, what?” Brady swiveled to face Jake. “We're staying to take her statement?”

Cash seconded the question. The FRS was needed in the moment of crisis to take care of the immediate danger. They were rarely involved in the subsequent investigation other than holding a debriefing to evaluate and improve their performance for the next incident.

“With the gravity of this situation, the higher-ups have already decided the county will form a joint task force with the city. Skyler will take lead for County.” Jake turned to Krista. “In addition to Skyler's duties as a negotiator on our team, she's also a detective with the county's Special Investigation Unit. She's asked us to sit in while she takes your statement.”

Darcie lifted her medical bag. “After I give them a quick evaluation.”

“The restaurant looks deserted. We can meet in there.” Jake took off, his long strides carrying him swiftly down the empty corridor.

The team followed like ducklings after their mama, Krista and Otto trailing them. Cash chose to hang back for a few seconds to clear his mind. Still, he let his gaze track Krista. He'd never admit it to anyone, but he was glad he didn't have to say goodbye to her just yet.

Brady turned back and eyed Cash.

Right. Get moving before everyone starts asking questions.

“Dude.” Brady slugged Cash again. “You're practically drooling. Not that I blame you. She's a real looker. But you'd better get your head together before Jake notices.”

Cash laughed, pretending to blow off Brady's comment.

Brady was right—Krista was a real looker. But what really attracted him was the care and concern she exhibited for her grandfather. After Cash's parents had died when he was eight and he'd been passed around from home to home, he could appreciate the obvious love they both shared.

Still, he wouldn't let this interest in her distract him. Not now. Not when his help was needed to locate this very dangerous bomber before he struck again.