Page 109 of Smitten with the Single Dad

He must have been staring for a while because suddenly Jagger glanced up, saw Wyatt, and his face turned bright red beneath his big lumberjack beard. Then he gave one final snarky remark—at least that was Wyatt’s assumption—to Raina, before stalking off.

But he didn’t even approach Wyatt, he just disappeared.

Jagger was an odd dude.

Salt of the fucking earth. A great brother and incredible uncle. But he was an odd dude.

Wyatt would have to debrief Dom, Bennett, and Clint on his Jagger sighting and see if they had any insight. Then he sighed as he took the stairs down to the gravel. He’d have to debrief them on what happened with Shelley too. They would not be happy.

Growing up, everyone knew that if the boys were involved in any fights,whether with each other, or other kids, Wyatt was the one to throw the first punch. He had a temper, and even though getting married, having children, and becoming a widower had subdued him immensely, he was still very quick to act first and ask questions later. It landed him in hot water more than he cared to admit.

His gut was rarely wrong though. He knew when someone deserved comeuppance for behaving like a dick.

By the time he got home, his mood was a lot better. He knew that Shelley would follow through and cooperate in any way she could. He just hoped that her cooperation didn’t land her in trouble with whoever asked to rent the garage from her. They’d need to disclose this to Isaac too. At least it removed the need for a search warrant.

He pulled onto the long laneway that served as the driveway for the pub and property, but when he arrived, his body went ice cold. Two cop cars were parked in front of the pub and all the patrons and staff—except Vica—were standing outside.

He didn’t even bother to turn off his truck before he opened the door and booked it to Bennett, who was chatting with Myla and Everett. “What happened?”

“Someone sent a package to Vica,” Bennett said, his face ashen.

Terror rippled in frigid waves down Wyatt’s face. “Where is she? Is she okay?” He made to run into the pub, but Clint gripped him by the shoulders. “She’s fine. She’s fine. Everybody is okay.”

“Why did the place get evacuated?” Wyatt asked.

“Because when she opened the package, it was a bomb,” Bennett said, his face somber.

Wyatt swayed a little. “A bomb?”

Jesus Christ.

“Good thing Burke was a former bomb tech. Huh?” Clint said, shaking his head. “He, uh, he climbed into a kayak, took the bomb out into the middle ofthe water, and is attempting to disarm it before it goes off.”

Wyatt’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding me?”

Myla pointed out to ocean where, sure enough, a red kayak sat a ways out in the waves and Burke was hunched over an unidentifiable object.”

“Where’s Vica?” he asked.

“Down there.” Bennett pointed to the beach where Vica stood with Everett Jacobs, the other police officer, watching Burke.

Wyatt took off toward her, having to maneuver his way through the crowd. When he reached her, she was sobbing, her hands cupping her face. Seeing him, she clung to his body, burying her face in his shirt. “This is all because of me.”

He held her tight, both of them watching Burke. “No. It’s not. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“How do things look?” Everett asked into a radio.

“One more wire. Then I’m going to drop it into the water and paddle like hell,” Burke replied.

Everett nodded. “What’s your time frame?”

“Sixty seconds.”

Vica gasped.

Wyatt gripped her tighter.

“Done. Fifty-two seconds.” Burke said before he held the bomb over the side of the kayak, dropped it in, then began to paddle like an Olympian toward shore.

---