28 Days(24)

His gut told him that her death had everything to do with her ex-husband and his trial, but what? The timing was too much of a coincidence for him to not look back at the original players.

He shoved the key into the ignition of his truck, gave it a turn and all it did was choke. He tried again, and nothing. About to try once more, he caught his captain waving to him from the door.

“What does he want now,” Coulter grumbled, but climbed out of his truck anyway, slamming the door behind him.

He jogged back to the station door, and was just about to question the hold up, when a loud explosion shook the ground.

Coulter grabbed the handrail on the wall lining the steps to stay on his feet. Turning, the shock of seeing his truck completely engulfed in flames made him stop dead as his pulse raced and the reality of what had happened started to sink in.

If his captain hadn’t called him back, he’d have been dead.

While the shock still had a grip on him, other officers grabbed fire extinguishers from the building and started to try and hold the fire back. They only stopped when firemen from the firehouse across the street rushed over with two hoses.

Coulter was tugged away from the railing and pulled around the side of the steps by his captain who looked just as shocked as he was.

“Pissed anyone off lately, Robinson?” If he hadn’t been wondering the same thing, he’d have told his Captain where to shove his question.

“I don’t know, but you sure have great timing.” He met his captain’s gaze. “Thank you.”

His Captain waved him off. “Forget about it. I can’t even remember what I called you back for now.” He shook his head. “I need to call the boss.” Turning, he disappeared inside the building, just as Coulter spotted a slight figure with a head full of bright orange hair come flying out.

He could hear the gasp that left Amber’s mouth from where he stood, and then her shoulders started to shake.

Anything he was about to say left his head when he realized that she was crying—for him.

“Amber,” he whispered. Clearing his throat, he tried again, “Amber.”

Her head whipped around and before he could catch his breath, she jumped down the steps and was wrapped around him. Her sobs absorbed in his shirt as she clung to him.

Up until Amber’s response, he hadn’t realized just how much she obviously cared for him, but she wasn’t letting up with her tears.

He stroked the hair down her back and buried his face into the curve of her neck, just wanting to inhale the scent of Amber’s freshness.

“I’m sorry,” Amber whispered as she tried to pull away from him. “I got your shirt all wet.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He kept her in his embrace. “My truck can explode every damn day if it gets you in my arms.”

She whacked him on the arm, and dried her tears. “You...you...ugh! How can you say that? Look”—she pointed toward what was left of his truck—“you could have been inside. So don’t you dare joke about it.” Her face crumpled again, and he tugged her back into his arms, his heart aching with so much longing.

“I’m sorry, Amber.” He kissed the top of her head, and met his captain’s gaze.

All he needed.

“Will you be okay?” he asked, putting Amber at arm’s length, his hands flexing on her shoulders. She felt too good in his lonely arms that he wanted to keep her with him.

She nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be okay. I’m not the one I’m worried about.” Her shy smile affected him more than it should have. “Are you still going to the prison this afternoon?”

“Probably tomorrow now.” He ran his hands through his hair before resting them on his hips.

“Will you call me, Coulter? Let me know you’re okay.” Amber backed away slowly toward the steps.

Before he could think too hard about his next move, he grabbed her hand, tugging her back to him. Coulter kissed her pink lips. “I’ll call you,” his voice nearly failed him, but he added, “I promise.” One last kiss and he turned and walked toward the wreckage.

If he stayed with her any longer, he’d be begging her for a lot more, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to go there with her. He certainly wanted to. He’d woken plenty of nights with his legs tangled in the sheets, his cock hard and aching to get wet between Amber’s thighs.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts so that he could concentrate on finding the f*cker who’d just blown up his truck. He’d pissed a lot of people off over the years, but he didn’t think he’d pissed them off that much. He stared at the flames as they started to die down, his thoughts navigating over all the coincidences. There were too many. Quinten’s death warrant, Jocelyn’s body, Saige Lockwood visiting him, all the players out on the table and in the open…now his truck…No way was everything a coincidence, and he would bet his badge that they were all related.





Day 7





3:30pm



* * *



It had taken Quinten a long time to get used to the shackles going on every time he left his cell. At first, he feared what would happen to him while they were on. Over time, he wouldn’t say he got used to them, but he certainly didn’t have to count in his head anymore to keep the panic from completely taking over.