Twenty-five minutes ten seconds. Nine. Eight.
Panic crawled up her spine.
No, no, no!
Why had she waited so long to look? How should she handle this?
Deputy Cash Dixon, the name barreled into her brain. She had to alert him.
She started to rise. Caught sight of Opa. In his fragile state, if she took him with her, it would take a long time to climb down the stairs. Precious minutes would be wasted before the bomb squad could be notified. She had no choice. She’d have to leave him sitting in his seat.
Here. Near a bomb.
She couldn’t do that to her Opa.
You have to or all of these people could die. Go! Now!
She’d bring the deputy up here, leave this situation in his hands and guide Opa to the exit. She had enough time. If she hurried.
Her stomach threatening to revolt, she gently closed the flaps on the pack from prying eyes and jumped to her feet.
“I’ll be right back, Opa.” She forced the words over a lump in her throat.
“Okay.” He didn’t look up.
“I love you.” She hoped it wouldn’t be the last time she ever said these words to him.
His perceptive gaze met hers. “What’s wrong, Liebchen?”
“Nothing.” She offered him a wobbly smile, then jogged down the stairs to discover Cash Dixon now leaned against the restaurant wall, that casual pose still in place. Her confidence in him evaporated.
Could he handle this? This man who seemed to excel in flirting? Was he just a pretty face, or was he cool and calm under pressure? Steady? Trustworthy?
Because he needed to be. Desperately needed to be, if he was going to stop this bomb from exploding and bringing the building down around them.
Rent-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.”