LITMIR.BIZ

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she said, and pressed the starter button.

      SARA FELT THE EXPLOSION before her brain processed what was happening. A force like a giant fist jerked her from the pavement and carried her toward the motel with the impact of a freight train. She felt herself cannon through the air and land with Liam, entwined in his strong embrace, against an evergreen hedge.

      Heat burned her skin. Corrosive smoke filled her lungs. She choked on the acidic fumes as she peeked over his shoulder at what was left of her car.

      The row of vehicles in which it had been parked now looked like a mound of burning, twisted metal, a smoking inferno. Although the explosion had occurred several seconds ago, plumes of black smoke, flying metal and debris still spiraled through the air.

      “What happened?” she asked, her ears ringing.

      Liam held her, frantically searching her face. “Are you hurt?” Pure terror edged his voice.

      She glanced down at herself and realized her body was shaking uncontrollably. “My ears…I can barely hear you.” Then she realized he might be hurt, too. “Liam?” she cried, her voice rising. “Are you okay?” She ran trembling fingers over his face, her heart hammering with fear.

      “Yeah, I’m fine.” He winced in pain as he moved beneath her, then shot her a crooked smile. “Really, I’m okay.”

      She stared at him warily. He was rubbing his shoulder. Black particles of soot clung to his skin, but he looked…incredibly wonderful. Her body sagged with relief, but she couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through her.

      “We’re both lucky,” he said as he picked an evergreen needle from her hair. “We were far enough away from the explosion to keep from being burned, and the hedge broke our fall.” He stood to help her to her feet, glancing over at the fire, which was burning out of control.

      Several cleaning women in white uniforms hurried outside, screaming and shouting excitedly. Guests burst from their rooms, their yells adding to the din. A man, dressed only in striped pajama bottoms dashed barefoot from the door of his motel unit into the street.

      “What could have happened?” Sara asked, unable to take her eyes from the blazing inferno.

      “We’ll know for sure once the police arrive and the bomb squad gives their report, but I think your car was wired.”

      She swung around to face him. “Wired? You mean someone wanted to blow up my car?” Her face froze as the possibility struck her.

      Someone wanted to kill her. If she had turned on the ignition when she was sitting in the car, she’d be dead now.

      Panic shot through her like a bolt of lightning. “I’ve got to get away,” she cried, pulling out of Liam’s grasp. She staggered a few steps before his large hands grabbed her shoulders.

      Liam was reminded of when he’d first found her, lost and afraid and trying to run away from some unseen terror. He held her, wanting desperately to find a way to calm her. Finally she stopped struggling and looked up at him, her eyes wide with terror.

      “If someone is trying to kill me, I’m endangering you, too. You could have been killed.”

      “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “Come on, let’s go to my car. It’s lucky I parked by the front door.” As they made their way around the motel he smiled to himself. When was the last time a woman had cared about his safety? That is, a woman with whom he didn’t share the same gene pool? He was surprised to find he liked the feeling.

      As they neared the corner of the building, the desk clerk burst into view, nearly running into them. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the smoking inferno in the rear parking lot. His jaw dropped, then he turned to Liam and Sara. “My God, look at you! What the hell happened?”

      Ignoring his question, Liam asked instead, “What did that man with the camera look like?”

      The desk clerk shaded his eyes with a hand as he gazed at Liam. “He was almost as tall as you. Black, shiny hair, like Elvis Presley’s.” The clerk made a disapproving face. “Heavy in the shoulders and arms, like a wrestler. And he had a diamond ring the size of a doorknob.”

      Liam frowned. “Did he speak with the local accent?”

      “No, more New Jersey or the Bronx. My sister’s husband is from the Bronx and he talks like this guy did.”

      Now we’re getting somewhere, Liam thought. “Anything else?”

      “He had long arms. He lumbered when he walked, like he was skating almost.” The clerk scratched his head. “I saw his car. Yeah, a classy set of wheels.”

      Liam looked up. “Did you get the license number?”

      “Er, no. I was too busy looking at the Caddy. Black. Tinted glass. And the fanciest set of gold hubcaps I ever saw.”

      “Did he mention where I’d lost my camera?” Sara asked, her expression so trusting that Liam felt like a jerk for doubting her earlier.

      The desk clerk thought for a moment. “He said you’d left the camera along the shore. You’d been photographing birds.” The clerk scratched his head again. “Funny, now that I think of it, it was foggy when you left. Not a good morning for taking pictures.”

      She cocked her head. “Did you see me leave?” Her voice rose with excitement.

      He shook his head. “I didn’t see you leave. I was on duty when you checked in, don’t you remember?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “You came back after seeing your room and asked if you had any messages. When I said no, you paced back and forth in front of the entrance, like you were expecting someone. You seemed to be in an awful hurry.”

      The howl of a police car sounded in the distance.

      Liam put his arm around Sara’s shoulder. “Come on, honey. Let’s go wait for the police.”

      THE LOBSTER TRAP DINER was the best restaurant on Bellwood Island. It was also the only restaurant open this time of year.

      “Two coffees,” Liam called out to the fry cook as he followed Sara toward the back of the room. The place was deserted except for a middle-aged, gray-haired couple who were engrossed in reading the Sunday edition of the Boston Globe, which lay sprawled across the table of their booth.

      Sara chose the rear booth, beside a window overlooking the ocean. He watched her gaze flick over the plastic-covered menu. Her skin looked translucent in the morning light reflected off the water. She held herself with a rigid stillness that he’d come to recognize. Considering what she’d just been through, she was holding up better than he expected.

      After they had filed their statements with the police, she had cleaned up in the ladies’ room, changing into the turtleneck shirt and slacks that she’d brought from the motel. Now, sitting across from him, scanning the menu, Sara gave no hint that less than an hour ago she’d escaped death from a car bombing. But he knew that beneath that quiet surface she was as brittle as glass.

      Maybe she’s not as brittle as you think, O’Shea. Covert operators trained by military insurgent groups can be cold-blooded killers and appear as innocent as lambs. If Sara was what he thought she might be, she could know as much about and be as experienced with explosives as he was.

      Yeah, well, maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe she was just what she seemed—an innocent victim who needed him.

      Innocent? Maybe the car bomb had been staged to make her appear a victim. She might have clicked the ignition starter in plenty of time without his prompting. After all, the pieces had already been put into place: the desk clerk, the story about a man finding her camera, the phone call to the funeral home. What if the car explosion was only a ploy to gain Liam’s trust?

      Damn, he’d gotten so tangled up in Sara’s bedroom eyes and long legs that he didn’t know what to believe. He wanted to reach out and rub his thumb across the skin at the corners of her eyes, smoothing

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