Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) by Karen Rose

GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA

            MONDAY, MAY 29, 7:45 P.M.

            As soon as the Sokolovs’ garage door lowered, Tom turned off the engine of his SUV and leaned his head on the steering wheel. He hadn’t been so exhausted in a very long time.

            He sat in the quiet, Pebbles’s happy panting from the back seat the only sound. He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, the interior lights of his vehicle were on and Liza was sitting in the passenger seat, lightly squeezing his upper arm.

            “Tom?”

            He slowly lifted his head to blink at her blearily. “Sorry.”

            “Come on. You can have some supper and then a nap.”

            “With you?”

            “Absolutely.” She turned to the back seat with a sweet smile. “Hello, Pebbles. I missed you.”

            Pebbles was wriggling in her harness, trying to get to her favorite person.

            “You had to come back to me,” Tom said. “Pebbles would have been inconsolable.”

            Liza leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Come on. The kitchen is quiet. Everyone is watching a movie in the living room. You can eat in peace.”

            That sounded like heaven.

            She released Pebbles from her harness, laughing when the dog licked her face. It was such a joyful sound, he couldn’t find it in him to rebuke her tonight. He grabbed his briefcase and a bag of kibble and followed Liza into the kitchen. She took everything from his hands and set it aside before drawing him into a hug that he hadn’t known he’d needed.

            But he had needed it. So damn much.

            “Baby, you’re swaying on your feet.” She led him to the table and pushed him into a chair. “What do you want to do first? Food or sleep?”

            He patted his knee and she sat on his lap and kissed him. “That’s all I could think about, all the way here,” he murmured.

            She kissed him again, then rested her head on his shoulder. “How bad was it? From the news reports, it looked awful.”

            “Nobody died,” he said. “Which was a miracle. That fucking asshole threw fucking dynamite into fucking traffic.” She pulled his tie free of his collar, the movement more caring than sexual. “Ten people were taken to the hospital. Three serious, one critical. The critical one wasn’t in the blast. She was shot.”

            “The minivan owner.”

            “Yeah.” Tom wasn’t sure what the news had covered and what it hadn’t. He’d been too busy at the scene and then in a marathon team meeting in Raeburn’s conference room. “He was in too much of a hurry to double-tap her like he’s done with his other victims.”

            She unfastened the top buttons of his shirt, allowing him to breathe. “At least you found her in time.”

            “True.” Two of the cars tailing DJ Belmont had finally managed to get free of the traffic disaster, only to find DJ in the wind once again. He’d abandoned the Honda Civic that he’d stolen from Kathy McGrail on Saturday night and taken the woman’s minivan.

            “Do you know where he is?” she asked cautiously.

            “No. He ditched the minivan for a laundry truck, then traded that for a really old pickup without GPS. He’s in the wind. Again.”

            “He was so close,” she murmured. “Just around the corner. Karl and Irina knew Mr. Smythe, but only to wave when they were out walking.”

            “His wife is angry.”

            “I can see why,” she said.

            “Not with DJ. Well, not only with DJ,” he amended. “She’s furious with Karl and Irina for welcoming ‘troublemakers’ into their home.”

            Liza immediately scowled. “What the hell?”

            He shrugged wearily. “I know. It was a very unpleasant conversation. She arrived home when I was still at her house, before I got called to the scene of the blast. She was . . . incensed.”