Page 66 of Scorched

“We have our hands full with Emma. But we have talked about it. We want to wait until we’re married. That’ll give us all time to settle into a routine and find each other’s quirks.”

“Is she adjusting well?” Maggie asked. She could imagine it would take some time for young Emma Lund to get comfortable in her new surroundings. After years in lackluster foster homes, she was probably still expecting the other shoe to drop and take away her newfound family.

“Yeah, for the most part. We’ve had a couple hiccups, mostly with curfew. Her previous foster family didn’t care much what she did, so long as she didn’t make waves at home. We don’t want her running around after dark. Having Mason close by has helped, though. She trusts him, and she’s getting better about being back on time. She’s a good kid.”

“That’s awesome,” Macy said. “I love that you guys took them both in. I wish—”

A loud boom from behind the coffee shop cut her off. The building shook, and their car alarms went off.

“What the hell was that?” London asked, standing.

“It sounded like an explosion,” Rayna replied.

They all hurried into the kitchen. The back door was blown in, and smoke rapidly filled the room.

Maggie covered her mouth and nose with her shirt. “Tara, London, you two stay back.”

“You should too,” Rayna said. “Your lungs haven’t healed completely.” She motioned Macy forward. “Let’s check it out. Someone call 911.”

London pulled her phone from her pocket. Macy and Rayna hurried toward the door, their faces covered with towels from the stack on the table. Maggie could see the glow of a fire from where she stood. Embers floated through the air and smoke rolled.

“Oh my God!” Macy looked back. “Maggie, your car blew up.”

“What?” Alarmed, she hurried forward, braving the smoke. It stung her eyes and scratched the back of her throat. She held her shirt a little tighter to her face and peered past her friends to look outside. Flames shot skyward from the twisted remains of her SUV. Thick black smoke roiled around the vehicle as the engine oil burned.

The world spun and her vision grayed as shock and a healthy dose of fear hit her. She grabbed the doorframe for support. The sound of a firetruck pulling up out front, sirens blaring, barely registered.

“Come on, Maggie,” Rayna said, turning her around. “We need to get out of here and let the firefighters do their jobs.”

Her feet felt like lead, but she let Rayna usher her through the kitchen to the front of the café. Macy unlocked the front door, and they stepped outside. Firefighters hurried around, hooking up hoses. Matt Crichton walked up to them.

“What happened?”

“We were in the front, working on decorations for Tara’s wedding when we heard a boom and the building shook. We ran back to check and found Maggie’s car on fire. It looks like it blew up,” Macy said.

He gave a quick nod. “Okay. You guys stay out here behind the truck.” He looked back and gave a sharp whistle. “Stickley, McPherson, charge the hose. We’ll go through the building. The fire’s out back.”

Maggie hugged herself and followed the other women around the firetruck and across the street. She stared at the building, her mind elsewhere. Why would someone want to blow up her car? Was it Hank Tulley? Was he also the person who sent those photographs of her? Or did she have another unseen enemy lurking? The first shiver of fear went up her spine.

A truck screeched to a halt at the perimeter set up by the police department. It was Declan. The vehicle still rocked as he climbed out, helmet under his arm. He jogged toward her.

“Maggie!” He stopped in front of her, wrapping his hands around her arms and catching her eye. “Are you okay? What happened? I heard the address come over the scanner.”

She blinked at him, then glanced at his truck. “You aren’t supposed to drive.”

He gave her a soft shake. “Maggie, honey, never mind that. What happened?”

She took in a breath, clearing her mind a bit. “Um, my car exploded.”

“What?” Shock colored his tone and his face. His eyes roamed over the others, pausing on Macy before he turned his attention back to Maggie. “How?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m going to guess it wasn’t an accident, though.”

He cursed and looked around. “This is Crichton’s squad, right? Where is he? Never mind, I’ll go find him. Stay here, okay?”

Maggie nodded. Where was she going to go? Her car was a twisted hunk of burning metal. A hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat. She swallowed hard, holding it in, knowing if she let it out, it would quickly turn into sobs she couldn’t stop.

Declan weaved through the emergency vehicles on scene, looking for Crichton, finding him standing at the open door to the pumper, radio in hand.

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