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  “A thorough inspection could take hours, but if you’d like, I could do a quick check in about fifteen minutes and eliminate the most likely places someone would have put a bomb.”

  “Maybe we should just call the police and—”

  “We could leave the car here, call the police from the airport, and I could escort you home,” Dane suggested, but could tell by the look on Annie’s face that she wasn’t going to agree.

  “I need to know for sure, before I make any decisions,” she said. “If there is a bomb, then you’re right about my needing a bodyguard.”

  Dane sighed. Realizing there would be no use to argue with her, he reached inside his hip holster, pulled out his Ruger P95DC and handed it to her.

  “I’m going to crawl underneath and take a look. You keep watch.” He winked at her, then bent and slid under the car. “And remember that Ruger has an ambidextrous decocker.”

  Ambidextrous what? Oh, yes, she remembered now. He was talking about the safety mechanism on the gun. Why hadn’t he just used plain English? Showing off, like most men!

  “Dane?” Annie held her breath.

  “What?”

  “Are you in any danger under there?” she asked.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because if you are, I don’t want you checking out anything. Do you hear me?”

  “Look in my duffel bag and hand me my flashlight and mirror,” he called from beneath the car.

  After placing the gun on the top of the car, she followed Dane’s instructions. She retrieved the flashlight and mirror, then knelt on one knee. “I’ve got them.”

  Dane stuck out his hand for the objects. She laid the flashlight in his palm. Then he switched hands and motioned for her to give him the mirror.

  Annie lifted the gun off the roof and began pacing back and forth along the side of her rental car. Although the weapon in her hand probably didn’t weigh two pounds and was less than eight inches long, it suddenly felt large and heavy. She’d never owned a gun. Didn’t even like guns. But she had to admit that if her life were threatened again, she didn’t think she’d hesitate to use Dane’s Ruger.

  She couldn’t believe what had happened to her in the past twenty-four hours. Her well-organized, neat little life was suddenly completely out of control. And Annie prided herself on being able to control every aspect of her life, on a daily basis. Being her own person, making her own decisions and, yes, even making her own mistakes, were of the utmost importance to her. Control had been an issue in her relationships with her father and her husband. Both had wanted her to be docile and sweet and obedient.

  Minutes seemed like hours to Annie. Every sound, be it children’s laughter from the nearby pool or the cry of gulls as they swooped down on the beach, was intensified by her nervousness. When a young couple entered the parking deck, she nearly jumped out of her skin. They didn’t even notice her. They got into a little red sports car and zipped out of the deck and onto the circular drive.

  Finally Dane emerged from beneath the car. He stood, brushed his hands off on his gray cotton slacks and tossed the flashlight and mirror into the open duffel bag Annie had left lying near the car trunk.

  “So?” She handed him the gun. “Did you find anything?”

  After slipping the Ruger into his hip holster, he grasped Annie by the shoulders. She stared up at him, her big brown eyes wide as saucers. “Yeah, I found something.”

  Closing her eyes for a split second, Annie bit down on her bottom lip and sucked in a deep breath. “A bomb?”

  “Yes. And in one of the all-time favorite spots to put plastic explosives.”

  “Where?”

  “On top of the gasoline tank, between the tank and the car body. There’s hardly enough room there to even stick your finger.”

  “So what do we do now?” She hated having to depend on anyone, especially a man—and in particular, a man like Dane Carmichael. But she had little choice at this point. Whether she liked it or not, he was her rescuer, her protector, her only safe harbor in the storm that threatened to destroy her.

  “We don’t do anything.” He ran his hands down the length of her arms, stopping when he gripped her wrists. “Except call the police.”

  Involuntarily, Annie began shaking from head to toe. Her breathing became erratic. Her heartbeat went wild.

  Dane grabbed her face between his big hands. “Take some slow, deep breaths. Do you hear me? You’re starting to hyperventilate.”

  Annie nodded that she understood and sucked in a deep breath, filling her lungs with air. Then she exhaled—a long, slow release. She repeated the procedure again and again, until a sense of calm prevailed. When her breathing and heartbeat returned to normal, she suddenly felt light-headed.

  “I’m all right now. I… The reality of my situation just hit me,” she said. “Someone is trying to kill me and they’re not going to stop until they succeed.”

  “They’re not going to succeed. I promise you.” He took her hands in his. Lifting her clasped hands to his lips, he kissed first one and then the other. “We’re going to find out who’s behind Halley’s disappearance and these attempts on your life.”

  “I can’t believe all of this has happened because of some story Halley unearthed.” Annie clung to Dane’s big, strong hands, as if they were her lifeline. “Today’s Alabama isn’t the type of magazine that’s ever dug up dirt or exposed scandals. We cover the human interest stories. What information could have been in that package Halley received that was so horrible she lost her life and put mine in danger? And how—”

  “Let’s take this one step at a time.” Dane picked up her suitcase and his duffel bag in one hand, wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her close to his side. “Come on. We’ll go over to the Sweet Savannah. You can sit down or even lie down for a while and I’ll put a call in to Lieutenant McCullough.”

  Annie nodded, then allowed Dane to take charge—of her and her life. She hated to admit, even to herself, how very glad she was to have Dane around at a time like this.

  “Here, drink this.” Dane shoved a shot glass into her hands.

  She wrapped her fingers around the small crystal container and stared down at the strong-smelling bourbon. She wasn’t much of a drinker. Wine occasionally. A Marguerita when she felt like celebrating. She wasn’t surprised that Dane’s drink of choice was bourbon. Good old Kentucky rye whiskey. A Southern gentleman’s drink. It had been her father’s favorite.

  “You need something to settle your nerves and relax you,” Dane told her. “It’s not going to hurt you and it just might do you some good.”

  “Regardless of what you think, I’m not a nervous wreck. I am not falling apart!”

  Huffing in exasperation, Dane speared his fingers through his hair. “Dammit, woman, do you have to make everything a battle of wills?”

  “All right, all right! I’ll drink the blessed bourbon!” She downed the liquor in one swallow. The smooth whiskey burned a path from her throat to her belly, where it ignited a raging fire. She coughed uncontrollably for a couple of minutes, then blew out a hot breath. Tilting her chin haughtily, she cast a quick go-to-hell glance his way. “Now, are you satisfied?”

  He nixed the first reply that came to mind. A highly inappropriate sexual response. Instead he said, “When you’re ready to get off your high horse and discuss the situation reasonably, you can find me topside.”

  Annie turned her back on him, but she heard his heavy footsteps when he left her alone in the Sweet Savannah’s saloon. She crossed her arms over her chest, then winced when a twinge of pain rippled through her side.

  He was treating her as if she were a child or, worse yet, a woman incapable of thinking or acting rationally, simply because she didn’t want to follow his orders. From the time she’d been old enough to have an independent thought, she and her father had fought over her constant unruly behavior, her rudeness and her disobedience.

  She had tried. God knows she had tried to please him, but