Page 33 of Colton's Second Chance
Asher tucked his hands in his pockets and scanned the yard. “This is a nice area. Not a lot of neighbors, but if you like privacy, that’s a plus.”
When Scott didn’t answer the door after a minute or so, Asher knocked again louder, calling, “Scott? Are you there? Open up! It’s Eli and Asher.”
Eli moved his gaze over the doorframe, looking for a Ring or similar app-synced camera. No buzzer, but he did locate a small camera over the door. He looked right into the camera and waved. “Scott? You there? Can you let us in?”
Asher tested the doorknob, and when it turned, he pushed the door open. “Scott? Hey, Montgomery, are you here?”
They both stepped inside, and Eli led the way deeper into the house. Lights appeared to be off throughout the residence.
“I’ll check the bedroom,” Asher said as he moved down the short hall to the next room.
Eli swept the living room with an attentive gaze. The room was sparsely decorated and had only basic furniture—a couch, a side table with a lamp, a flat screen TV on the wall. The only wall art was a modern piece in dark tones and slashing lines that gave Eli a creepy sensation.
Turning from the disturbing art, he spotted a piece of paper taped to the bottom of the TV screen. His name had been printed on the folded sheet in block letters. He pulled the paper down and opened it. The note read simply,Surprise!
As he puzzled over the note, the blink of a green light caught his attention from the corner of his eye, and he turned to look for the source. What he found under the side table chilled him to the marrow. The wires, tubes and countdown timer attached to an initiator left no doubt.
Scott had rigged his house with a bomb. Eli and Asher had likely triggered the timer when they’d entered the house.
The timer screen read 00:12.
00:11
00:10
Eli’s feet started running before his brain could fully form his next thought.
“Asher, run! Bomb!” he yelled as he fled the living room.
Chapter 12
Eli tore through the front door and down the sidewalk toward his Jeep. He dove behind his Renegade for protection. From behind his vehicle and with a mental clock countingfour,three,two, he rose only enough to see if Asher was behind him.
Asher appeared in the front door just as Eli’s mental clock hit one.
Ducking low again and raising his arms around his head, Eli braced, prayed.
The explosion shook the ground, thundered in his ears and echoed in his chest. Bits of building material rained down on him as the small house was blown to bits.
When his ears quit ringing, the sound that reached Eli first was a guttural cry of anguish.
Asher.
Pulse racing, Eli ran back toward the house and found his partner lying among the blasted debris and burning detritus of Scott’s house. “Asher!”
He knelt beside his friend, who, while in one piece, had clearly caught a considerable amount of the building-supply shrapnel. Glass shards, splintered wood, bent metal and tattered roofing tiles lay in a mosaic of destruction, with Asher in the middle. Bleeding. Groaning. But alive.
“Where were you hit worst?” Eli asked, hearing the note of panic in his voice.Stay calm. You can’t freak out. Manage the situation.
“Hard to say,” Asher rasped, his face pinched in pain.
Eli did a quick survey of Asher’s limbs, head and torso, checking for any critical injuries. He yanked off his coat and draped it over Asher, hoping to stave off shock. Next he stripped down to his undershirt, pulling the T-shirt off to soak up blood as he applied pressure to his partner’s injured leg. “Can you hold this while I call for an ambulance and some uniforms to secure the scene?”
After pulling his top shirt back on, Eli called for help, his gaze taking in the rubble.
Clearly Scott had no intention of returning, was in full fugitive mode now. If there had been any evidence in the house to support or refute Scott’s involvement in the Fiancée Killer case, it was now either burning or scattered, shredded and tossed to the four winds.
Eli gritted his teeth, frustration and adrenaline tap dancing along his nerves. He hated that Scott’s duplicity had been right under his nose, and he’d missed it. He refused to let the bastard win. Whatever his part in the Fiancée Killer murders, whether perpetrator or accomplice, Eli swore that he would make Scott Montgomery pay.
