Save Your Breath (Morgan Dane #6) - Melinda Leigh Page 0,55

package?”

Lance stopped. Under her hand, his muscles tensed. “It looks like an infrared light.”

And it was blinking faster.

The package emitted a faint beep and then a second.

“Get down!”

She barely heard the third beep. Before she could process what was happening, Lance hooked an arm around Morgan’s waist and tackled her to the lawn. She went down hard in a full sprawl. Her chin bounced off the grass. The impact jarred her head and knocked the wind from her lungs. Lance crawled on top of her and wrapped his arms around his head.

A boom sounded. Bits of debris showered them. A chunk of something hard nicked her calf. The slice of pain brought her brain back into focus.

A bomb.

Morgan gasped. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her face was pressed into the grass, and Lance’s weight on her back prevented her from inflating her lungs. Lance had covered her body with his own and used his arms to protect their heads.

The air went quiet, and she tapped his arm. “Are you OK?”

“I think so.” His weight shifted slightly. “You?”

“I can’t breathe.”

He slid off until he was lying on the grass next to her, one arm still protectively over her back. “Are you all right?”

Rolling over, she drew in a deep breath. All of her limbs moved. No major pain. “Yes.” Morgan spotted blood dripping down his arm. “You’re bleeding.”

But he ignored it. He was scanning the front yard and the street. “I think that infrared beam was the detonator, but let’s find cover just in case there’s a second package.”

He rose into a crouch, tugged her to her feet, and pushed her back toward the Jeep. Without breaking stride, she grabbed her tote bag from the grass where it had fallen. One of her shoes had come off. She left it and ran awkwardly with Lance in one heel and one bare foot.

Once inside the vehicle, Lance started the engine and moved the Jeep down the street, his head swiveling as he looked for threats.

While he drove, Morgan called 911, then looked back at the duplex. A hole gaped in the front porch and scorch marks colored the siding next to the door. Most of the debris that littered the front walk and lawn appeared to have come from the porch railing and the bomb packaging. The front window that looked into Sharp’s office was broken.

She’d expected more damage, but the explosion seemed to have been limited to a six-foot radius centered around where the bomb had been placed.

She turned back to Lance and his bleeding arm. “Let me see.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Yet.” She found the source of the bleeding immediately: an inch-long gash in his biceps. “This might need stitches.”

Lance didn’t seem concerned.

Sirens signaled the approach of the first responders. The Scarlet Falls Police Station was only a few blocks away. Two police cars roared around the corner.

“Wait here.” Lance stepped out of the Jeep and waved them down. They parked in the middle of the street, their lights swirling. Two officers emerged from the squad cars. She recognized Officer Carl Ripton. Lance conferred with his former coworker. Morgan changed into the flats she kept in her tote bag. Then she joined Lance in the street as the officers moved away.

Lance steered her back toward their vehicle. “They want us to wait here. The SFPD is going to evacuate the block and sit tight until the county bomb squad gets here to clear the scene.”

Carl blocked one end of the street with his vehicle. The second officer drove to the other end of the street and did the same. Then the two cops left their vehicles and ran toward the buildings on either side of the office.

The thought that there could be additional bombs around the property made Morgan feel ill. The blood dripping from Lance’s fingers onto the sidewalk wasn’t helping. She wasn’t normally squeamish. The explosion had left her shaky. Plus, little aches were blooming where her chin, knees, and hands had hit the ground. She opened the hatch and rummaged in the back of the Jeep for two bottles of water and the first aid kit. Lance stocked his vehicle the way she stocked her tote bag.

She opened three gauze pads and held them against Lance’s cut. The blood soaked through them in seconds. She’d need twenty stacked together. She needed something more absorbent. The ACE bandage in the kit wasn’t sterile. Unzipping her tote, she found a Maxi Pad, opened the package, and pressed it against his