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Tala looked from Londyn to Nash and back to Londyn. “I don’t understand. I thought maybe a gas leak caused it.”
“It was deliberate.” Londyn tipped her head toward Nash. “Tell her what you saw.”
“Someone set explosives,” he said. “If Miss Tyler-Lovejoy had gone into that trailer a minute before...”
Tala’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Who would do such a thing?”
Londyn’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Tala, how upset are the Shoshone over the movie crew being on sacred grounds?”
The woman pressed her hands to her chest. “You don’t think we had anything to do with it, do you?”
“There have been a number of incidents on the set,” Londyn said. “One of which was graffiti on the back of my trailer that said, Go Back Where You Came From.”
“When was that?” Tala asked.
“Last night,” Londyn answered.
“We didn’t get here until this afternoon.” Tala shook her head. “We had nothing to do with it. We didn’t even organize until this morning.” She looked around at the others in her group. “Ours is a peaceful protest. No one is armed—especially not with dynamite or whatever they used to destroy your trailer.” Tala touched her arm. “We don’t like the movie crew tromping all over sacred grounds, but we wouldn’t kill anyone over it. Especially not you.”
“Londyn, darling,” a woman called out from behind Nash.
He turned to find a dark-haired woman wearing a flowing white dress hurrying toward them. A tall, blond-haired man dressed in jeans, chaps, a leather vest and a cowboy hat followed her.
The woman rushed past Nash and flung her arms around Londyn. “Oh, thank God you’re all right.”
Londyn awkwardly patted the woman’s back and then stepped out of her embrace. “I’m fine. I take it you and Craig weren’t injured in the blast?” She looked past the woman to the man in the cowboy hat.
“I was in my trailer, studying my lines, when the blast practically threw me out of my chair,” the woman said.
“I was getting into my costume for the night scene,” the man said. “My trailer shook so hard my blow dryer fell off the counter.” He stepped past the woman and pulled Londyn into a crushing embrace. “When I heard it was your trailer, I was worried about you and came over as soon as I could get through the crush of emergency personnel.”
Nash frowned at how long the man was holding Londyn. He stepped forward and gripped the man’s shoulder. “Hey, man, let her breathe.”
The man stepped back, his arm still around Londyn’s waist. He cocked an eyebrow at Nash. “And you are?”
“Your worst nightmare if you don’t take your hands off Miss Tyler-Lovejoy.”
Londyn shook her head. “Nash, I’ve got this.” She looked up at the man she’d called Craig. “I’m fine. You can let go.”
He pulled her back into his arms, crushing her to his chest. “I’m worried about you.”
Nash snorted. “So worried, it took you twenty minutes to make your way over to her?” His hands clenched into fists.
“Law enforcement herded us out into the open and wouldn’t let us get closer,” Craig said. “We were told to stay put while they questioned people and ran the bomb-sniffing dogs through.” The man held tightly to Londyn. “I wanted to come, but they wouldn’t let me.”
Nash wouldn’t have let anyone stand between him and someone he cared about. They’d have to shoot him to make him stay away. “Right,” he said with a grunt. “Very heroic.”
Londyn glared at Nash but directed her words to the man holding her. “Let go of me, Craig.”
“You’re my leading lady,” Craig said. “What would’ve happened if you’d been injured or killed?”
“Haynes would find another leading lady,” the woman beside Londyn said.
Londyn reached behind her, grabbed Craig’s thumb and twisted his arm around and away from her body.
“Hey, hey!” Craig cried. “Ease up, or you’ll break my thumb.”
Londyn’s mouth turned up on the corner as she held onto the man’s thumb. “That’s the idea. Save the love scene for the camera.” She let go of Craig’s thumb and waved a hand toward the man and woman. “Nash, this is Craig Ryland and Julia Banes, also known as ‘the talent.’”
