Bombshell - Men of Sanctuary Series, Book Three Read Free Page B

Abigail. We don’t need this right now, with tourists bustling in and out and all over for leaf-peeping and craft fairs.”
    “I know. I know.”
    She leaned against her Land Rover’s hood, kept her voice low. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Blake that might influence his investigation, not that I think he’d do anything less than his usual best. I’m just saying, I think this whole scene is hinky. It looks staged.”
    Mac was about to climb into his truck when he caught a peculiar scent in the air.
    “Abigail, what is that smell?”
    “Ya gotta be more specific, chief.”
    “Sort of sweet, like perfume.” He turned toward her, then sucked in a deep breath. “Are you wearing perfume?”
    “No, not me. I don’t wear perfume when I’m on the job. Screws with the wildlife.”
    She closed her eyes, sniffed the air like a beagle. “That’s wild honeysuckle. It’s all over the damned place. The flowers are dying off now, but you should smell it when it’s in full bloom. Grows like a bushy weed. Why?”
    “No reason. Reminds me of something, but I can’t recall what, at the moment.”
    He straightened up, scanned the woods.
    Abigail nodded. “Research has proven that scent can be the most potent time-machine.”
    Time machine. Good explanation . Then he got it. The last time he’d smelled honeysuckle, his bristly cheek had rubbed against the soft throat of the ebony-haired beauty in his hotel suite. She’d laughed, said the stubble tickled. He’d slid down the length of her body to see what else he could tickle. Damn.
    “Mac, you okay?”
    “Yeah, no worries. Just tired.” And frustrated. Why did Green-eyes take off before I could find out her name?
    “Yeah, well, don’t be too tired to call me if you or Blake come up with anything interesting.”
    “Will do.”
    Abigail paused as she opened the door to the Rover. “Hey, I hear the Three Musketeers are back.”
    “You heard right.”
    Yes, they’re back, so I can set Lucian on my mystery woman’s trail. Before I lose my mind .
    * * * * *
    Evening fell by the time Mac caught a break to call Special Agent Chandler.
    Chandler picked up on the second ring. “Good timing, Sheriff. I planned to contact you in the morning after I grabbed a couple hours shut-eye.”
    “Let me know how that sleep thing works for ya.”
    Chandler snorted. “I’ll be sure to do that. I’ve had about enough of sleeping upright in the seat of a moving vehicle. Anyway, confidence is high that the signature of the bomb components has the same characteristics as the device that took out John Larsson. The good news is that the top expert on that particular device—the only expert—will be landing in Boston.”
    Mac heard Chandler shuffling papers. He could imagine the chaos of files that probably covered the agent’s bed at the Cata-Lodge Hotel. His desk occasionally looked the same way.
    ” Ahh , here it is. Damn, either my penmanship is really deteriorating, or my eyesight is finally history. I already know my brain cells are gone. And the phone connection wasn’t the greatest. Sounded sorta like K-something Holo-something. I’m guessing it’s Kyle Holloway, maybe.
    “Anyway, Holloway apparently worked closely with Larsson. Our D.C. office didn’t have time to divert him, so he and his second-in-command are winging their way to Boston from the West coast as we speak. State Police will snatch them up, then toss them on a red-eye shuttle. They should arrive at the Catamount Lake regional airport in the wee hours, morning after next.”
    “Saturday morning. That’s the soonest they can get here?”
    “Yep, that’s it. They’re civilians, not government employees—we can request, not order. They’ll be arriving at Logan on their regularly scheduled flight, but they had two stops in between. We’ve been chasing him across the country, always half a step behind.
    Hey, count yourself lucky, we’re picking up the tab on this one. Larsson had gone