Where There's Smoke.... Barbara McCauley
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then the ladder appeared.
“Here we go.” Shane shifted the woman to one arm so the upper part of her body draped over his shoulder. He held her tight, then backed out of the window. Matt was right behind him.
Shane had barely stepped off the ladder when another explosion blasted through the second story, blowing out the windows. He dropped to the ground, shielding the woman’s body with his own. She shuddered against him, held tightly to his jacket while glass and pieces of brick crashed down on them.
Shane quickly glanced behind him to make sure Matt was all right, then breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his partner picking himself up off the sidewalk and giving him a thumbs-up.
None too gently, Shane scooped the woman back up into his arms and made a dash to the waiting paramedics, who slid her onto a gurney and slipped an oxygen mask over her face. As they carried her away, Shane watched the woman lift her head and hold his gaze. She looked so small lying there, shivering. The sight of blood trickling down her soot-smudged forehead made Shane’s stomach constrict. He started to follow her, but was stopped short at the sound of Chief Griffin’s bellow.
“Cummings!”
Griffin, five foot ten and built like a bull, came charging at him. “I told you to get the hell out of there,” the chief roared. “I oughta suspend your ass for such a stupid stunt.”
Shane removed his helmet and wiped the sweat on his brow. “I didn’t have a—”
“Save it,” Griffin barked. “You’re bleeding, dammit. Go with the ambulance, then get your butt back to the station to file a report.”
“Yes, sir.”
The camera crews had already converged on the ambulance like spring locusts. Ignoring the microphones shoved in his face, Shane pushed his way through the crowd and climbed into the ambulance. The woman seemed to relax when he sat beside her. When he covered her slender fingers with his own and smiled down at her, she smiled weakly back, then closed her eyes and slipped into unconsciousness.
Five seconds later, with the siren wailing and the lights flashing, they were headed for Brookline Hospital.
“Emily…Emily…”
The distant sound of a man’s voice pulled her out of the thick blanket of fog surrounding her, worsened the ache in her head and the burning in her chest. She felt as if she were floating somewhere, disembodied….
“Emily, can you hear me?”
Go away, she wanted to say, but couldn’t make her mouth move. Couldn’t make any part of her body move. She heard the ring of a telephone…a man calling for a nurse…the squish-squish-squish of rubber soles on a tile floor.
Where am I? she wondered. And why did she smell smoke? Smoke and antiseptic…and a man’s cologne?
“Emily, wake up. It’s Derrick.”
Derrick? She didn’t know anyone named Derrick. But the voice was closer now, persistent. She tried to open her eyes, but they were so heavy and she was so tired. She didn’t know who Emily was and she didn’t care. She just wanted to sleep.
“I called Mom and Dad,” the man said, “but they’re at the opera and I had to leave a message. Emily, for God’s sake, open your eyes and talk to me.”
I don’t want to talk, she thought, and rolled her head away. The sheets underneath her were cool and crisp, the blanket covering her soft and warm. She felt soft and warm, she realized. And sleepy. So very sleepy…
“What were you doing at the plant?” The man’s voice turned to a harsh whisper. “You’d already left before me, why did you go back?”
She had no idea who was speaking to her or what he was talking about. She felt the moan vibrate deep in her throat, then the pounding in her head increased.
Slowly she opened her eyes, saw the blurred outline of a man standing over her. He was tall and thin, his hair and eyes dark brown. She blinked against the light and the pain, watched the image take shape. His features were sharp, his mouth pressed into a thin line. The black suit he wore was tailored, his tie a shimmering silver against his white dress shirt. The strong spicy scent of his cologne made her cough.
He leaned in closer and took her hand in his. She wanted to pull away but hadn’t the strength.
“Talk to me,” he said, still keeping his voice low. “Tell me why you were at the plant.”
I’m in a hospital, she realized as she saw the tube running from her arm up to the hanging IV bag beside her bed. “I—” She drew in a slow, painful breath. “I don’t know.”
His hand tightened on hers. “What do you mean, you don’t know? How can you not know?”
I don’t know how I don’t know, she tried to say, but her lungs were burning and her brain felt as if there were shards of glass tumbling inside. She struggled to keep her eyes open and focused on the man questioning her, struggled to keep her thoughts from bumping into one another. Derrick. He’d said his name was Derrick.
“You left the plant thirty minutes before me.” He narrowed his gaze. “I watched you drive away. What were you doing there?”
“I…don’t know…what you’re talking about,” she managed to say, but the words cost her and she started to cough again.
“Dammit, Emily, what are you—”
A knock at the half-open door stopped him. With a frown, Derrick straightened. “What is it?”
“I came to check on Emily.”
That voice. Deep, a bit hoarse. So familiar, she thought. So comforting. Though her eyelids were heavy, she lifted her gaze toward the doorway.
“Who are you?” Derrick demanded.
“A friend.” The man wore faded jeans, a denim jacket and black boots. His gaze flicked over Derrick as he moved into the room. “Who are you?”
“Derrick Barone.” Derrick stood and squared his shoulders. “Emily’s brother.”
Emily felt her pulse skip as the man moved closer to her bed. She knew him, she was certain she did. She just didn’t know how.
He was tall, close to six feet, his chest broad and upper arms solid muscle. His sandy-brown hair was short and neat on the sides, just long enough on top to allow several thick strands to dip down in the middle of his forehead. His eyes were green—no, blue. Both, she finally decided, and held her breath as he turned his incredible gaze on her.
“How you feeling?” he asked her.
Before she could attempt an answer, Derrick stepped forward. “Excuse me. I didn’t catch your name.”
“Shane.” He kept his eyes on Emily. “Shane Cummings.”
“I know most of my sister’s friends,” Derrick said. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“We haven’t.” Shane moved around Derrick and came closer to the bed. “Hey, Cinderella, how you doing?”
Cinderella? Why would he call her that? she wondered. She doubted she’d left any glass slippers behind or—
Pain seized her, shot like an arrow through her temple, had her gasping for breath and squeezing her eyes shut.
Fire…flames everywhere…smoke…
The sounds came back to her. The crackling heat, an explosion, shattering glass.
She reached out, felt the comfort of Shane’s large hand closing over her own.
I’ve got you….
She heard Shane’s voice, felt his arms lifting her out of the ashes and rubble. He’d carried her down a ladder, covered her body with his to protect her. Stayed with her.
That