A Forever Kind of Love (Kinds of Love 1)

He threw on a pair of well-loved jeans, finding a hole in the knee. He frowned at it, then shrugged. It didn't matter what he looked like here, so he could just be comfortable. He put a clean t-shirt on and a pair of slip-on shoes to walk the short distance to the garage.

“It was just a dream,” he whispered to himself as he went down the stairs. “It isn't real. It didn't happen again.”

He shivered. The flames had been so real. It had felt the same as that day when he nearly died a month ago. He'd come to the ranch to escape those flames, but still, they chased him through his dreams.

Outside the stars twinkled and shone. The breeze was cold, but Carter didn't bother grabbing a jacket. It was just a short walk, and the garage would be warm enough. He hurried across the gravel path, noticing at least one security guard watching him.

The garage was quiet and serene. He took a deep breath in, smelling motor oil and metal. It was soothing and comforting. Here, the dream couldn't get him. He was safe here.

He went to his drafting table and turned it on. He lazily pulled up some design ideas and started playing around with future model ideas for his cars. Most of them would never be put into production, but he enjoyed the process of creation.

A yawn cracked his jaws, and he glanced at the clock. It was just after one in the morning. He really should go back to bed, but he hesitated. He didn't want the dream again, so instead, he forced himself to remember.

It had been a long day at work. There was always so much to do when preparing a beta for a new design. The test model was coming along nicely, and he was excited to see how it held up to testing in the next couple of weeks. He was ready to head home, take a long shower, and go to bed early.

He waved goodnight to his secretary and headed out to the parking garage. Keys in hand, he walked to his designated spot near the door. Any other day, he would have gone straight to the driver's seat and started the engine, but today, he forgot his phone on his desk.

He sighed and thought about just leaving it for the night, but decided against it. He had to go back inside for it.

He was close enough for the car to recognize his key fob and begin to uncurl the mirrors and turn on the engine. He pushed a button on his keys to remote start his car so it would be cool by the time he returned. Since it was electric, he didn't have to worry about wasting gas. He'd just go grab his phone and be on his way to bed before he knew it.

He didn't see the explosion. He was halfway through the door when the bomb under his car went off. Turning on the car had triggered it. The heavy door leading out of the garage took most of the impact. Still, the noise deafened him, and the smoke blistered his eyes. Flames and car parts rained down inside the parking garage. Fire filled his vision.

The police said he was lucky. If he'd been inside the car when he started it, he would have been dead. He couldn't decide if the remote start or forgetting his phone had saved his life. Either way, he was making remote starts standard on all his cars from now on.

Suddenly, the death threats to his office had taken a new meaning. The police had almost no leads to work with. All the pieces of the bomb could be bought at a regular gas station, and the security cameras were disabled at the time of the blast. All they had to work with was that someone wanted Carter Williamson dead.

Unfortunately, given the amount of people who sent him death threats because they felt wronged by his cars, the list was rather long.

They'd whisked him away to Stone Mountain Ranch in Colorado and told everyone who didn't need to know that he was at his ranch in Tennessee for a vacation.

No one except his security team and his main assistant knew he was here. He was safe from car bombs here, other than in dreams. He had cameras and security personnel making sure no one got within a quarter mile of him without consent. He was here to make sure that the death threats stayed threats rather than reality. Once the police caught the person responsible, he could go back to his regular life in the city, but until then, he was trapped on the ranch. He loved the ranch, but he couldn't leave which frustrated him.

Carter scrubbed his face, feeling the prickles of a beard forming on his chin. He'd need to shave before Mia and the kids arrived. The thought of Mia drove the flames from his mind and he smiled for the first time since waking up.

She made being out on the ranch more fun than he'd expected. Her visits and the smiles of the kids were the highlights of his day and he found himself wishing they were at the ranch more often. He felt better when they were there. Less alone.

In his mind's eye, he saw her smile. Her pixie nose and crinkled eyes made his heart lighter and he let a yawn overtake him. She was a dream he would happily take. He yawned again and switched off the drafting table. Bed, with dreams of Mia, suddenly sounded like something he could handle. She would keep the dreams of flame at bay.

Carter had to resist the urge to throw the piece of paper wrapped in a plastic bag as hard as he could. He wanted to rip it to shreds, but it was evidence and needed to be saved. Instead of chucking it, he handed it back to his head of security.

“You'll pay. It's your fault she's dead. You're next” The words glared up at him from a plain sheet of white paper.

“And you can't find anything on it?” Carter asked, looking at it the way most people would look at a venomous snake. For a moment, flames danced across his vision, but he pushed them away. This was just a piece of paper. Nothing more.

Brian shook his head. “No leads. It's from a generic printer on generic paper. The return address is a cheap motel in Texas. We're checking it out, but it doesn't look like it's going to tell us who sent this.”

Carter turned from Brian and looked out the window at the mountains. People died in car crashes all the time, so since he made cars, people often blamed him. He understood that. He could commiserate with many of them, and as such, he rarely took the threats sent to his business personally.

This letter unsettled him. He was used to getting threats of all kinds at his office in the city. Or, rather he had been until a couple of weeks ago, but getting one here was a different matter.

He wasn't supposed to receive them here. No one was even supposed to know he was at the ranch, let alone even in Colorado. The address wasn't even publicly listed, and the one on record went to a PO box just outside of town. He'd even gotten his address removed from the Internet map programs. There was no way for a threat to be delivered here.

Except one had been. This threat was on his doorstep, waiting for him. They knew where he was. This was personal. This had to be related to the bomb. They still hadn't caught the person who had tried to kill him. Unease ate his belly. But, he wasn't going to run again. This was the still the safest place for him.

Carter watched as a cloud danced across the tip of the mountain, changing the play of the shado

ws. Whoever sent this was close. They were watching him. They knew he was here and how to get to him.