Free Her Stolen Past by Lynette Eason

who scooted a little farther under. His gasp jerked Sonya’s head up.
    “Max?” Brandon said.
    “Yeah?”
    “Can you take Sonya over to your vehicle and wait a minute?”
    Max’s gaze sharpened. Without another word, he motioned for Sonya to join him. Confusion on her face, she snagged her bag from the ground and walked over to Max. “What’s going on?” She looked from one man to the next.
    Peter’s hands fisted and he stepped back. “Brandon, what do you see?”
    Max gripped her upper arm and gently led her farther away. Brandon maneuvered out from under his vehicle, his face pale in the porch light.
    “It’s not a tracker.”
    “What is it?” Sonya asked.
    Brandon continued walking toward her. “A bomb. We need a bomb squad.”

EIGHT
    S onya watched the bomb squad go to work. She wanted to scream, to give in and promise to quit looking for Heather Bradley. She didn’t want people she cared about to be in danger because of her. She looked at the muscle jumping in Brandon’s jaw and knew even if she decided to stop looking, he wouldn’t.
    The twitching muscle, narrowed eyes and hands on his hips shouted his determination to figure out who had just tried to blow him—them—up.
    The clock pushed eleven-thirty and she texted Missy and told her friend to just go on to bed. Missy told her where to find the key, but made her promise to tell her everything in the morning.
    Sonya agreed, but wondered if she’d even make it to her friend’s house by morning. At this rate, she didn’t know if she’d even be alive come morning. She swallowed hard and forced those thoughts from her mind. “Please, Lord, let us figure out who Heather Bradley is and who doesn’t want us to know. I really don’t want to die over this.”
    The whispered prayer echoed through her mind even as she walked over to hear Brandon ask, “How would it be detonated? It was under the back of the car. The person didn’t have time to attach anything to the ignition.”
    “It wasn’t going to go off until the person wanted it to.”
    “Remote detonation?”
    “Yeah.”
    Brandon cocked his head. “I don’t understand. We were all standing around the car at one point. Whoever had the remote could have blown us all to our final reward.”
    The bomb-squad member held up two wires. “These weren’t attached. In order for the bomb to be remotely accessed, these wires have to be attached. My guess is you scared him off before he got them connected.” He shook his head. “You guys are one lucky group.”
    Sonya swallowed hard. “I don’t really care why. I think I’ll just be grateful it didn’t go off.”
    “I sure would be.”
    The man walked away and Brandon stepped over to Sonya. She looked up at him, thankful he was still here with her. She moved toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. He patted her back and gave her a hug. She stepped back. “Please don’t ever put yourself in danger like that again.”
    He sighed. “I didn’t realize I was in any danger until I saw the bomb.” He paused. “And I guess I wasn’t really in any danger if the bomb wasn’t going to go off. Sure spiked my adrenaline when I saw it, though.”
    Neighbors crowded their porches and people moved into the street to get a better view of the happenings at her house. Sonya groaned. Just what she needed. An audience and an endless parade of neighbors with offers of help. Not that she didn’t appreciate their kindness, but—
    “Sonya?”
    She turned. Doris Talbot. Her mother’s best friend. The woman barely topped five feet and she was as wide as she was tall. Her heart was just as big and Sonya loved her dearly. She walked over and gave the woman a hug, inhaling the scent of mountain-fresh fabric softener and Pine-Sol. “Hi.” This was one neighbor she didn’t mind seeing.
    “Honey, what’s going on?”
    “It’s a really long story.”
    Mrs. Talbot glanced around at the flashing lights and milling law-enforcement