Cole: Black Bear Outlaws #3 (Mating Fever) Read Free Page B

and tried again, “That package, it was for me?”
    I stared into her deep blue eyes, and nodded slowly.
    “A bomb,” she said so softly I barely heard her.
    Glancing back over my shoulder, I noted the flames had died down, but the smoke was still rising. Without another word, I stood and pulled her up with me.
    Her body was shaking, but she was already moving toward the back door.
    “Oh, no you don’t.” I wrapped my hand around her wrist, stopping her. “You are not to go out there until I check it out.”
    She stopped and narrowed her eyes at me. “So it’s okay for you to get blown up, but not me?”
    “That’s exactly right,” I growled. “My job is to protect you and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Then I scooped her up and carried her into the living room.
    “I can walk you know,” she said without any heat.
    “I’m certain you can. But this makes a point, don’t you think?” I gently lowered her to the couch and handed her my phone. “Call Cyrus. Let him know what happened. I’m going to go make sure your house doesn’t burn down.”
    “I don’t think—”
    “Amberly,” I said, too sharply, as I paused at the doorway. Adrenaline had taken over and my heart was racing at the thought of what could’ve happened to her. “Let me do what I’m here to do.”
    “Your job doesn’t involve dealing with bombs!” Her voice rose a few octaves on the word bombs.
    “No, love. It’s to keep you alive.” Even if I have to die trying.

Chapter 3
Amberly
    T he echo of Cole’s strong arms that had been wrapped around me was the only thing still holding me together. Holy hell! Someone had sent a real, live bomb to my house. The house no one was supposed to know about. The one I hadn’t been to since I was seven years old.
    How had they found me?
    I hadn’t seen any paparazzi since I’d landed in New Orleans last week. One almost never did. It was one of the great things about the city; photographers didn’t follow the stars around on a regular basis. It was possible someone saw me at the airport, but I’d been on a private jet and hadn’t even gone through security.
    With shaking hands, I scrolled through Cole’s contacts. It took two tries to hit Cyrus’s number, and when it started to ring, I leaned back against the couch and closed my eyes.
    “It’s about time I heard from you,” Cyrus said. “Any updates or have you and the starlet been too busy rolling around in the sheets to get any work done?”
    His words left me momentarily speechless.
    Cyrus chuckled over the line. “I see I hit a nerve.”
    The combined fear and stress of the day hit me hard. “Mr. Doucet,” I said, my tone full of ice. “I don’t know what makes you think my sex life is any of your business, but I can assure you, it isn’t.”
    “Uh, Miss Matthews?”
    I could practically hear his grimace. “Yes. Cole is busy putting out a small fire caused by a bomb—”
    “A bomb?” His volume rose and his swift footsteps echoed over the phone.
    “Yes—”
    “I’ll be right there. Have you called the police?” He was all business now, steady and concerned, all traces of humor and embarrassment gone.
    “No, I—”
    “I’ll take care of it.” The line went dead.
    I stared at the phone and wondered if I should’ve called the police. Or the fire department. Christ the fire department. Of course I should’ve called them.
    I bit my bottom lip. If I called 911, my conversation would be recorded and most likely sold to a tabloid by some hungry dispatcher.
    It would be better if the call came from Cole. I gripped the phone tightly and made my way out back.
    “Your brother is on his way,” I said from the doorway, watching as Cole doused the offending package with a bucket of water. “Is it out of commission?”
    He nodded and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “It’s definitely homemade, and thankfully, not well done. Looks like they used a firecracker and a homemade electric timer for the