Читать книгу Duty To Protect - Beth Cornelison - Страница 8

Chapter 2

Another curtain of water doused Riley. For a few seconds, the smoke cleared enough for him to assess the situation.

The woman’s arm was pinned by the file cabinet. And she wasn’t moving.

His gut tightened.

“Ginny? Ginny West?”

No response.

He pressed his hand to her throat, feeling her carotid artery for a pulse. A gentle throbbing met his fingers, and relief swelled in his chest.

“Cal, she’s alive, but she’s pinned down!” He shoved his shoulder into the file cabinet. It rocked—but not enough.

“Walters!”

Cal appeared through the smoke. “Right here.”

Another fire-weakened beam collapsed near them. Riley averted his face from the blast of heat and sparks. Glancing up, he found the beams overhead equally eaten by the fire. They could come down any second. He and Cal were working on borrowed time.

“She’s under here!” Riley plowed his shoulder into the cabinet again, and Cal pulled from the other side. This time the heavy unit toppled aside.

The woman’s arm, free now of the cabinet, was bent at an unnatural angle. Riley’s gut pitched.

“Help me get her up. Watch that arm!”

He climbed over her still form while Cal positioned himself to help lift her carefully over Riley’s shoulder.

After draping her limp form into place, being as gentle with the woman’s injured arm as time would allow, Riley headed out. “Let’s go!”

As they picked their way through the rubble, a loud creak rent the air above them.

“It’s coming down! Go! Go! Go!” Cal shouted.

Riley staggered out of the building, the woman over his shoulder and his partner on his heels, just before the roof collapsed. Flames ravaged the corner by the fallen cabinet.

Captain Shaw rushed toward them. “That was a little too close for comfort, Sinclair.”

Riley didn’t spare him so much as a glance. “But we got her out.”

Now a safe distance from the fire, he eased the woman onto the grassy lawn, protecting her head as he laid her down.

Dusk cast the outdoors in long purple shadows, and billowing smoke contributed to the dark haze.

Kneeling beside the woman, Riley ripped off his oxygen mask and helmet.

“I need help over here!” He waved toward the EMTs hovering by a waiting ambulance.

He confirmed she still had a thready pulse, then gently brushed the tangle of pale blond hair from her cheeks. Riley’s heart lurched.

He knew this pretty face.

The woman he’d just pulled from the fire was 3C.

And she wasn’t breathing.

Riley’s chest seized.

He battled down haunting images of his sister’s lifeless body, her bloodless lips and pale face. His nightmare had started with Jodi.

You failed her.

Grief and guilt tangled with an iron determination not to let 3C die on his watch. He’d been too late for so many others, but he’d be damned if he’d give up on 3C….

Tipping her head back, he pinched her nose closed and sealed his mouth over hers. He blew his breath into her lungs, willing her to take in air on her own.

Nothing.

Another puff of air.

He tasted the smoke that seeped up from her throat. And strawberry. She wore strawberry lip balm. The sweet fruity flavor stood in stark contrast to the dark, life-stealing smoke and the bitter taste of desperation that rose in his throat. A fresh twist of pain wrenched his chest.

He remembered her lips curved in an enticing smile as she flirted with him in the apartment lobby. Vibrant, alluring, alive.

He forcefully swallowed the bile, the fear rising inside him as he leaned his ear near her mouth, listening, feeling, watching for signs of life.

“C’mon, 3C. C’mon! Breathe, damn it!” he muttered through clenched teeth.

An EMT arrived and tried to shoulder him out of the way. “I’ll take over.”

Riley refused to budge. Instead, he bent to give her another puff of air. And another. He counted the interval between breaths with his heartbeat thudding in his ears. In his head, Riley knew only a few seconds had passed without 3C breathing on her own, but those seconds felt more like hours, years…sixteen years.

Sixteen years had passed since Jodi died.

Finally, 3C coughed, wheezed. Black smoke curled from her mouth before she dragged in a ragged breath on her own.

The relief that spun through Riley brought moisture to his eyes and left his hands shaking.

3C’s blue eyes fluttered open as she gasped for more air. Her gaze darted from one face hovering over her to another. Until it landed on Riley’s.

Her eyes zeroed in on his. Widened. Brightened.

Across from him, an EMT had an oxygen mask ready and slipped it into place over her nose and mouth.

But her gaze clung to Riley’s, recognition softening the panic and pain in her expression as she fought for each breath.

Again an EMT tried to shoulder Riley out of the way. He moved, letting the medic work, but he didn’t leave 3C’s side. He couldn’t. Something in her steady blue eyes reached out to him and held him fast.

When he stroked her sooty cheek, she lifted her uninjured arm and linked her trembling fingers with his. As with her gaze, he sensed in her touch a connection that went beyond the mere joining of hands.

Tears puddled in her eyes, kicking him in the gut and yanking a tighter knot in his chest.

He may have failed Jodi, failed Erin, failed nameless others, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t let this woman down.

Leaning closer, he whispered, “You’re going to be okay now, 3C. I’m gonna take care of you.”

The EMTs finished their preliminary exam, scooted a backboard under her and loaded her onto a stretcher. Through it all, Riley stayed beside her, squeezing her hand gently and giving her encouraging smiles.

As they rolled her toward the waiting ambulance, he trotted beside the gurney. He released her hand only when the medics slid her into the ambulance and her fingers slipped out of reach.

An EMT climbed inside and closed the back of the ambulance with a thud that reverberated in Riley’s heart, in his memory.

He closed his eyes and saw the door close on the coroner’s wagon that had carried Jodi away to the morgue.

And then it was he who couldn’t breathe for several moments. Raw emotions, unearthed by the near tragedy today, scraped through him, setting every nerve ending on fire.

“Hey, Sinclair,” Cal said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, buddy?”

Riley gathered himself quickly, shoving down the emotions that left him so exposed and vulnerable. Buried them again.

“Yeah,” he rasped, then cleared his throat before continuing. “I’m fine. It’s just…I know her, and—” He blew out a deep breath. “That was too close. We almost lost her.”

Cal slapped him on the back. “Key word there is almost. You really came through for her, buddy. Good work.”

Riley acknowledged his friend with a nod, then headed toward the place on the lawn where he’d discarded his helmet.

He may have saved 3C today, but it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough. He had too many marks in his loss column.

Nothing would change the mistakes he’d made with Erin.

And, more importantly, he could never make up for having failed Jodi.

“The police said when they arrived at the scene yesterday, the man driving the car had already disappeared.” Ginny’s mother, Hannah West, sat forward in the hospital chair and stroked Ginny’s uninjured left arm. “They’ve been looking for him all day today, but no luck so far.”

Hannah had touched Ginny frequently throughout the day, as if repeatedly reassuring herself that her oldest of three children and only daughter was, in fact, alive, safe, healing.

“This Walt Compton fellow the newspaper mentions…if he was hurt when he crashed through the wall, his injuries apparently weren’t enough to keep him from running off before the cops arrived,” Megan Calhoun, Ginny’s best friend, said from a chair opposite Hannah.

So much for her client’s confidentiality. Thanks to the newspaper reporting the actions of Annie’s husband and mentioning the police’s top suspect by name, her mother and best friend already knew enough to fill in the blanks about the woman whose identity Ginny was duty-bound to keep confidential.

“Also says here that Walt Compton was dishonorably discharged from the service for assaulting an officer.” Megan glanced from the newspaper to Ginny. “History of letting his temper get the best of him.”

Ginny frowned but didn’t answer. Smoke inhalation left her throat painfully raw, her voice almost gone. But her throat and voice would heal, as would her broken right arm.

Right now, her main concern was for Annie. Twenty-four hours after the fire, Annie’s husband was still out there, still a threat, enraged enough to try to kill her and anyone else in his path.

“Is his wife…at…shelter?” Ginny whispered, despite the ache in her throat. She had to know her client was safe before she could rest and concentrate on her own recovery.

Hannah and Megan exchanged a glance.

“I don’t know. We were so worried about you that we didn’t ask,” her mother said.

Ginny sent Megan a querying glance that needed no verbalization.

Megan, who volunteered at the women’s shelter and knew the staff well, nodded. “I’ll find out and let you know. If she’s not, I’ll make sure someone from your office knows to get her there.”

Ginny released a sigh of relief and smiled her thanks.

Megan had recently been through an ordeal of her own, facing down a second attack by the man who’d raped her years before. Fortunately, Megan had stopped her attacker and gained a boatload of confidence and perspective in the process. She was well on her way to a new life, making a fresh start with her new husband, Jack, and Jack’s darling daughter.

Ginny’s thoughts turned to her own dependent—the furry kind—and caught her mother’s gaze. “Zach?”

Her mom nodded. “Don’t worry, hon. I’ll stop by your place on the way home to feed him.”

“Shot, too.”

“And I’ll give him his insulin. Your cat is in good hands. You just concentrate on healing,” Hannah said.

A soft knock sounded on the hospital room door, and Ginny looked up.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” said the gorgeous blond man standing outside in the hall. “I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you were doing all right.”

Ginny’s heart lifted, her pulse stumbling to a racing beat.

4A.

A wide smile tugged the corners of her mouth, and she waved him in. Hi, she mouthed.

From the corner of her eye, she caught her mother’s and Megan’s curious glances, but her gaze stayed locked on her handsome firefighter neighbor.

He stepped into the room, gave the other women a polite smile and set a small vase of flowers on the tray at the foot of her bed.

“I’m Riley Sinclair,” he said, shaking Megan’s hand then Hannah’s and nodding when they each introduced themselves.

Riley Sinclair. Ginny let the name roll through her mind, testing the feel of it. She smiled to herself, amused that this was how she’d finally learned his name—when he introduced himself to her mother.

“Riley’s the man…who saved my life,” Ginny rasped.

All eyes swung to her, then her mother and Megan both turned back to gawk again at Riley.

Hannah rose from her chair and pulled him into a bear hug. “Oh, Riley, thank you! Thank you for giving my baby girl back to me!”

He smiled awkwardly, appearing decidedly uncomfortable with the attention and accolades.

Megan caught Ginny’s eye and arched a brow. While Riley dealt with Hannah’s motherly gratitude, she mouthed, He’s hot!

Ginny nodded and grinned. Cutting a glance to her mom, she signaled for Megan to take Hannah and give her and Riley some privacy. With a thumbs-up, her friend grasped the older woman’s arm and headed for the door. “Mrs. West, why don’t we go see what we can find out about Annie for Gin? Maybe grab a bite at the snack bar?”

“Oh, sure… We’ll be back later, darling!” Hannah called as Megan tugged her out the door.

Ginny gave her mom a wave, then turned to 4A.

Riley.

His silver eyes were focused on her, and his mouth curled up in a sexy grin. “Hey, 3C. How’re you feeling?”

“Alive. Thanks to you.”

He ducked his head and shrugged. “Just doing my job.”

“Not from what…I hear.” She paused to swallow and take a breath. “You went beyond the call I hear. You resuscitated me.”

He shrugged this off as well, as if saving her life was a walk in the park. “Had to. I couldn’t very well ask you out to dinner if you died on me.” He flashed a devilish smile and moved to the chair Megan had vacated.

Ginny grinned. “If that’s an invitation, I accept…Riley.”

“Yeah, I guess it was. So…great. Once you spring this joint, we’ll compare calendars…Ginny.”

Her smile brightened. “You know my name.”

“Mm-hmm. Folks at the fire scene told me.”

An awkward silence fell between them, and Riley steepled his fingers, fidgeting. “So…you look good.”

Ginny sputtered a laugh. She touched the plastic tubing feeding oxygen into her nose. “Oh, sure. A nasal cannula…is so attractive.”

Riley leaned forward and wrapped his hand around her good one. His silver eyes held hers with a piercing intensity. “It is to me.”

Everything inside Ginny went still. Something in his expression spoke of a deeper concern than the relative attractiveness of hospital equipment. A memory teased the edges of her thoughts.

She recalled seeing that same piecing intensity when she’d come to at the fire yesterday. When she’d met his gaze, his pale gray eyes had brimmed with tears and swirled with emotion.

And something deeper.

Something that spoke to her soul.

In that instant, she’d known a spiritual connection with him. She’d known in a way she couldn’t explain that he was the one who’d saved her life, breathed life back into her lungs.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Just my humble opinion. Of course, it could be you making it look so sexy.”

She hitched up a corner of her mouth, acknowledging his compliment, but pushed on. “No. I mean…thank you for saving my life.”

A shadow flickered across his face, but he immediately schooled his features and forced a grin. “That again? You really are easily impressed. At least it got me a date with you, huh?” He winked, but she detected an unease behind his flirtation.

Ginny furrowed her brow. “Why does talking about it make you…uncomfortable?”

Riley blinked and sat back a bit, clearly caught off-guard by her question. He shrugged again. “I don’t know. It’s just not that big of a deal.”

Ginny scoffed in disagreement. “You saved a life! That’s huge!” She paused long enough to swallow and soothe the fire in her throat. “And not because…it was me. Saving any life is major. Big-time huge.”

She stopped only long enough to pull another breath into her aching lungs, then plowed on. The passion she felt for her argument overrode the effort it took to rasp it out. “You should be proud of it. Feel good about it. Hell, you’re even…allowed to gloat a little.” Ginny quirked a little smile. “Just don’t be obnoxious about it, you know?”

Riley shook his head, dismissal and disbelief etched in his expression. “Look, I’m glad you’re okay. That I feel good about. As for me, my part in it, I’m a firefighter, and I was just doing my job.”

Ginny opened her mouth to press the issue but snapped it closed again. This was her first opportunity to really talk to Riley. She didn’t want to spend the time arguing the merit of his heroics or making him feel uncomfortable. Although as a counselor, she found his reluctance to accept praise and thanks for his good deed intriguing.

She pointed at him with her left hand, narrowed her eyes and scowled playfully. “Okay, I’ll let your mysterious reasons for your modesty slide…this time. But next time…”

He caught the finger she wagged at him and lowered it to the bed. The warmth of his hand curled intimately around hers, knocked the teasing grin from her lips and stole her breath.

His work-roughened palm abraded her hand, made tender from heat damage equivalent to a sunburn. But she didn’t give her sore skin a second thought. Having Riley hold her hand felt ridiculously good. Such a simple thing, that touch. Yet a crackling energy and awareness snapped along her nerve endings.

He arched an eyebrow. “Next time? Let’s hope there is no next time. One near-death experience for you is enough!”

“Touché,” she croaked, glad the crack in her voice could be excused as the result of smoke inhalation.

“So…have the doctors said when you can go home?”

“Tomorrow, if my vitals remain good.” She noted that, although the topic had changed, he still held her hand. Warmth blossomed in her chest, put a grin on her lips.

Maybe, like her mom’s constant touching, Riley’s grip on her hand was a hint that he wasn’t as unaffected by her close call or his part in saving her life as he wanted her to think. Ginny knew through her training, her experience with counseling, that body language spoke volumes.

“I’ll be off tomorrow. I can come get you. Drive you home.”

Ginny tightened her grip on his hand. “It’s nice of you to offer, but…not necessary. My mom or Megan can—”

“I don’t mind. I want to help.” Riley’s eyes held the same bright intensity she’d noticed earlier. His silver gaze held her transfixed for a moment before he seemed to realize how serious he’d become and laughed it off with a shrug. “Besides, you live in my building, so it’s hardly out of the way. What are neighbors for?”

“Okay. Tell you what…you can be my buffer.”

“Buffer?”

“Yeah. My mom is going to want to be here regardless, ’cause she lives to dote on her kids. Borderline smothering. I love Mom, but…hate the smothering. You can be my buffer, run interference.”

Riley turned one palm up. “If that’s what you need, I aim to please.” He gave her fingers another gentle squeeze before he pulled away and rose from the chair. “I think I should let you rest. I’m glad you’re okay, Ginny.”

“And I’m glad you were on duty last night. Getting mouth-to-mouth from anyone else…” She gave him a sultry smile. “…just wouldn’t have been half as much fun.”

A smoldering heat flared in Riley’s gaze. He hesitated a moment, as if deciding whether to match her flirtation with a suggestive comment of his own.

“Go ahead. Say it,” she prompted.

He looked a bit surprised that she’d read his intent so easily, then grinned more broadly. “I think I’d rather show you.” He tapped her nose with his finger. “But later. You get well, and then we’ll have some real fun.”

With a small wave, he sauntered out to the corridor, leaving Ginny with another breathtaking view of his jeans-clad backside and ample fodder for her imagination.

Compunction twisted in her chest, and she sighed. Had she gone too far? Had she misled Riley about her intentions? Maybe.

She’d mastered the art of flirtation over the years. But though she’d like to believe someday she and Riley might follow up on their banter, in truth, she was a long way from having an intimate relationship with him. Intimacy took time, took trust, took a whole lot of work. This time she had to look before she leaped. She had to be sure.

The real question was, was she ready to put in the work for a shot at something deeper with Riley Sinclair?

And was he ready to put in the effort to have a relationship with her?

His body thrumming, Riley strode toward the hospital elevator and indulged in a mental picture of himself having a steamy variety of fun with his seductress neighbor.

Get a grip. Save the X-rated fantasies for a while. The woman just had a brush with death.

A brush with death.

A chill skimmed down Riley’s spine as he jabbed the elevator button. He hadn’t realized until he saw Ginny again today how deeply her near miss still affected him. If he’d thought he’d put the surge of memories and emotion to bed yesterday at the fire scene, he’d been wrong. What’s worse, his emotions were so close to the surface that Ginny had picked up on his edginess.

And why wouldn’t she? She was a counselor. Her job was all about reading people and dealing with emotions.

The knot in Riley’s gut cinched a bit tighter. Before he came back tomorrow to take Ginny home from the hospital, he definitely had to get some perspective, lock those memories of his failure with Jodi away where they’d be safe.

But he also couldn’t repeat the mistakes he’d made with Erin.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as the internal push-pull of responsibilities battled inside him.

He stepped on the elevator and drew a deep breath. Reining in his emotions should be easy enough. The crisis had passed. And he felt better about Ginny after seeing her.

She had color back in her cheeks. The soot and grime had been washed from her pale blond hair, and the spark of humor and vitality had returned to her sky-blue eyes.

He’d meant it when he said she looked good. Except for a few scratches and the cast on her arm, she looked every bit the sultry siren who’d spent the last several weeks tempting him with come-hither glances and witty flirtation.

Which brought him back to the X-rated fantasy images….

Whew!

Riley dragged a hand over his jaw. He figured he and 3C could have a whole lot of steamy fun together…if he could keep the raw memories of Jodi’s death in the back recesses of his mind where they belonged. Where he could manage them. Where Ginny couldn’t find them.

After Riley left, Ginny closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into her pillow with a satisfied sigh. Though his surprise visit had lifted her spirits, all her talking and the effort to hide her physical discomfort left her exhausted.

In her mind, she replayed their conversation, every glance and each touch. She analyzed the visit with fresh perspective, looking for red flags she may have missed. This time she wouldn’t be fooled, wouldn’t be so blind. A dull pang settled in her chest for her previous naïveté with men.

She must have dozed off shortly after that, because the next time she opened her eyes, her room was much darker, the sky outside her window was tinged with the shadows of twilight.

The scuff of feet beside her bed alerted her to someone’s presence.

She turned her head, expecting to find her mother.

Instead, a hand clamped tightly over her nose and mouth.

Panic surged up in her throat.

She blinked hard, trying to focus in the darkness on her attacker.

Red hair. Pale face. Dark eyes.

Walt Compton.

“Where is she?” he growled. The sour scent of liquor tainted his breath.

Ginny clawed with her left hand at Walt’s fingers. Even if he hadn’t had his palm clamped over her mouth, her voice was too hoarse to scream for help.

“You told her to leave me. I know it was you! Now where did you hide her?” His fingers dug deeper into her cheeks.

Ginny gave up trying to pry Walt’s iron grip from her mouth and fumbled in the covers for the nurse call button. But her frantic groping sent the cord slithering to the floor. Ginny’s heart sank.

With her emergency call button out of reach and her voice too weak to yell for help…

“Annie would have never left me if not for you! Now tell me where she is, or I’ll—”

“Time to check your blood pressure, Ms. W—”

As the nurse breezed into the room, Annie’s husband whirled around, releasing Ginny. He shoved the nurse out of his way as he raced out the doorway and down the hospital corridor.

“What the—? Who was that?” The stunned woman caught her balance and pressed a hand to her chest.

Ginny gasped for air, despite the oxygen tubes at her nose. Fear compressed her lungs. Chills skittered over her skin. “Call security! Stop him!”

The nurse darted out, yelling to someone in the hall. “Get security! Which way did he go?”

Ginny sucked in a few more calming breaths. The scent of stale liquor hung in the air. Annie had said her husband became more violent when he drank. A common enough problem in the troublesome world of domestic disputes.

Ginny shuddered and sent up a prayer, hoping that Annie and her children were safe at the women’s shelter. She realized, too, that she’d never gotten in touch with the court liaison to get a restraining order arranged for Annie against her husband.

She groped left-handed for the bedside phone and used her thumb to dial the courthouse. As she waited for someone to answer, she mentally replayed the desperate husband’s attack, a fresh jolt of adrenaline sending shock waves through her.

The man was dangerous, desperate, unpredictable. And if he’d come after her once, he could easily do so again.

Ginny swallowed the dark taste of dread.

The man had tried to kill her, had tried to kill Annie, and had torched the women’s center. The police were already looking for Walt Compton. They had plenty of reason to arrest and hold him when he was found. A restraining order was a moot point.

Ginny pressed the hook and put the phone down.

The best thing she could do until Walt was captured was protect her client, protect herself. And pray the authorities found Annie’s husband. Soon.