Page 47 of Unexpected Heroine

“Thanks. All good out there?”

The corner of his mouth quirks. “There was a cat chasing a squirrel a few minutes ago. He didn’t get him. The squirrel is a wily one. I’ll include it on my report at the end of my shift.”

I’d rather he be bored than pulling out his weapon, but I’ll play along since I know how lonely fieldwork can be. “Let me know if he catches him. I’ll expect photos too.”

“Roger that. You’re the boss.”

With that, he turns on his heel to head to his post. He’s a good guard. On the younger side but reliable.

When I return to the couch, I plop the stack on the coffee table and check on my girl before going through it. Not so much as a worried wrinkle marring her beautiful face. Only fading bruises and a healing cut.

After giving her a quick kiss, I move to the edge of the sofa cushion and return to the mail pile. A small bubble mailer catches my focus, and I pull it to the top. Probably the roofie test straws I ordered. I need to get those to all the Redleg women.

Inspecting the package, I notice no return address, which is odd for a purchase. Postmarked yesterday with a local zip code. Definitely not the test straws.

My hackles rise, and a sense of foreboding settles on my shoulders, then slithers around my neck.

Glancing at Lettie, I offer an easy smile, concealing my apprehension.

I wonder what the chances are that this is rigged with an explosive. If so, it’s pretty damn small. Not to say it’s impossible, but it’s unlikely. Most charges or ignition sources are larger than this. Could be hazardous materials. A poisonous inhalant.

I can’t open this beside Lettie. And not without taking precautions.

She’s been so strong today; I’d hate for this to stress her out.

Mia’s words from earlier traipse through my mind.

You’re not alone.

Without drawing Lettie’s attention away from the movie, I text Josh, asking him to meet me on the front porch.

“Can I pop into the other room for something real quick, Lettie? Sixty seconds.”

She dips her chin in a leery agreement.

Before she has a chance to sense my mood shift, I bound from the couch and get supplies from my closet. On my way to the front door, I let her know I’m giving something to Josh. She looks calm. If not, she’s faking it well.

When I meet him at the door, I hand him the package. “Suspicious mail. Need you to handle so I don’t cause her any panic.”

“I don’t suppose you have any bomb gear here, huh?” He laughs, kicking his head back like he’s told a joke.

I narrow my eyes at him, shaking my head at his stupidity.

Of fucking course I have bomb gear here. This isn’t amateur hour.

Reaching down, I pick up the duffel of bomb gear I grabbed from my closet. After passing him the small bag of supplies, I instruct him to swab for explosives residue and open it in the open air and downwind in case it contains hazardous chemicals.

He looks at me dumbstruck for four long seconds before agreeing and springing into action. Once he heads off to handle it at a safe distance from the house, I return to the couch to check on my girl.

“What’s going on?” she asks, wringing her fingers.

Reaching for her lap, I cover her fidgety hands and give them a soft squeeze. “Everything is fine, sugar bear. It’s just some suspicious mail. I asked Josh to inspect it closer and open it for me. More than likely, it’s an unnecessary precaution.”

“Thank you for telling me,” she says in earnest. “It helps my anxiety to know you aren’t hiding things.”

Her words drive a barb into my chest. Yet I can’t let it show. Not when she needs my strength so desperately.

The conflict between wanting to be nothing but honest with her and being terrified of her finding out all I’ve done roars in my mind, deafening and paralyzing.

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