Читать книгу Licensed To Marry - Charlotte Douglas - Страница 11

“You’re an answer to a prayer,” Laura tried to shout, but her voice was hoarse from dust and singing.

Her rescuer’s mouth curved in a slow, sensuous smile that would have weakened her knees—if she’d had any strength left and hadn’t been already sitting. She hoped he was as courageous as he appeared. He’d promised to get them out, but she could hear the building falling around them. Only someone with nerves of steel would risk being buried alive to help people he didn’t know.

“Just keep those prayers coming till we’re out of here,” he called in a deep, resonant voice filled with steady reassurance.

Jeremy stirred in Laura’s arms, and her anxiety for the child increased. “I have a little boy who’s hurt,” she called.

Kyle’s smile disappeared, and concern filled his eyes. “How bad?”

“Don’t know,” Laura replied out of honesty and a reluctance to frighten Tiffany and Jennifer any more than they already were.

“Can you bring him to me?” Kyle said with a calmness that eased her racing heart. “We’ll take him out first.”

Laura struggled to her feet with the boy in her arms. “Stay here, girls. I’ll be back for you.”

She picked her way carefully through the wreckage toward the opening to the main corridor. Stumbling once, she almost fell, and chunks of plaster rained down on her. She hunched over Jeremy to shield him with her body and struggled to maintain her balance in that awkward pose.

The boy roused again and looked up at her through unfocused eyes. “Mommy?”

“No, sweetheart, I’m Laura.”

She thought of his mother, of the parents of all three children and how frantic they must be to have their youngsters out of danger and back in their arms.

And she thought of her own father, waiting outside for her rescue, desperate to see her unharmed.

Soon, Daddy, she promised. Don’t worry about me.

“You’re almost here.” Kyle’s encouraging voice echoed through the wreckage. “Keep coming.”

“My arm hurts,” Jeremy whimpered.

She bit back tears at the little boy’s pain. “We’ll have you fixed up real soon.”

When she reached the opening, Kyle was gone, and she panicked, wondering if they’d been deserted. Debris continued to fall in the stillness of the wreckage, and she feared the rest of the building might collapse any moment.

“Hello? Anyone there?” she called.

Kyle’s handsome face reappeared, and she chastised herself for her lack of faith in him. She should have known from the reliable look in his amazing green eyes that the man wouldn’t desert them.

“I’ve sent my partner after the paramedics and a stretcher.” He couldn’t fit his wide shoulders through the narrow hole, but he thrust his arms, clad in a denim jacket, into the opening. She noted the strong, slender fingers and square nails, streaked with dirt and marred with nicks and scratches from clawing through the wreckage.

“Let me have him,” Kyle said. “We’ll take good care of him.”

“Careful,” Laura warned as she transferred Jeremy. “His arm may be broken.”

With a gentleness she hadn’t expected in such a rugged man, Kyle took the boy in his arms as carefully as if the child were made of glass. A tear slid down the man’s face, but Laura couldn’t tell if he cried for the child or if the dust from the wreckage irritated his eyes.

Jeremy opened his eyes and gazed up at Kyle. “Who are you?”

“I’m helping the firefighters, big guy.” The man’s voice was kind and encouraging. “My friends and I will get you out of here and find your mother.”

Jeremy relaxed in his arms. Kyle maneuvered the boy’s body through the narrow aperture, and the two disappeared.

“I’ll be back for the rest of you,” Laura heard Kyle call.

She returned to Jennifer and Tiffany, grabbed each one by a hand and helped them pick their way through the tangle of beams, wires and drywall to the opening, their only route of escape.

“Will he come back?” Jennifer asked, once again sniffling with fear.

“He’ll be back.” Laura placed a supportive arm around the girl’s shoulders. She didn’t have to fake confidence. Something about the man, the assurance in his eyes, the tenor of his voice, told her Kyle Foster was a man who didn’t make empty promises.

A horrific boom reverberated behind them in the rest room, and a major portion of the ceiling gave way and crashed to the floor. The girls screamed, and Laura jumped. If they’d stayed where they’d been earlier, all of them would have been crushed. What remained of the building was deteriorating fast, and if Kyle didn’t return soon, they might be buried alive.

She pulled the girls close to bolster their courage and tried to squelch her own rising panic. “He’ll be here any minute now.”

True to his word, Kyle thrust his face through the opening. Laura had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. How could any man look so damn sexy with so much dirt on him and seem so at ease with a building raining down around his ears?

“Who’s next?” he asked.

Laura felt Tiffany stiffen against her. “You go, Jennifer,” the little redhead insisted. “I’m older. I’ll stay here and look after the lady.”

“You’re not older.” Jennifer sniffed. “We’re both six.”

“I’m six and a half,” Tiffany said in a superior tone.

“You’re both coming,” Kyle said. “I have people with me to carry you out.”

The urgency in the look he threw Laura set her into instant motion. She scooped Jennifer into her arms and handed her to Kyle. He threaded the girl through the opening as if she weighed no more than the dust that swirled around them, a testament to the strength in the well-developed muscles of his arms.

“What’s a good-looking kid like you doing in a mess like this?” he asked Jennifer. She responded to his teasing grin by throwing her arms around his neck and holding tight.

With a tenderness that brought tears to Laura’s eyes, Kyle patted the girl’s back, then handed her off to someone behind him. He immediately shoved his arms through the opening again. “Next?”

Laura picked up Tiffany. The girl leaned back in her arms and looked at her. “Aren’t you coming?”

“In a minute,” Laura said.

“But the hole’s too small.” Tiffany locked gazes with her, eyes filled with worry, as Kyle took the girl from Laura’s arms. “How will you get out?”

“Don’t worry.” Kyle spoke to Tiffany but his eyes met Laura’s. “We won’t leave your friend in there.”

He disappeared for a moment. When he returned, he thrust a hard hat and his own denim jacket through the hole toward Laura. “Put these on and move as far from the opening as you can. We’re going to frame some supports before we tear open this hole.”

Only then did Laura realize she’d been standing there the whole time in only her bra and skirt. She’d thrown aside her jacket, now buried beneath the wreckage behind her, and used her blouse to bind Jeremy’s wounds. But Kyle Foster had acted as if finding a woman only half dressed in the halls of the capitol building was nothing out of the ordinary.

She tugged on his jacket, still warm from his body heat, and was inundated with a melange of scents: sunshine, meadow grasses, saddle soap, leather and a pleasingly masculine musk. As she slid her arms into the sleeves, it was as if Kyle Foster had wrapped his arms around her, a comfortable illusion. The thought and the jacket warmed her. She hadn’t realized how hard she’d been shivering until she stopped. Caring for the children, she hadn’t had time to think about herself. Now, the solitude and vulnerability of her situation hit her full force.

Her distress must have shown in her eyes, because Kyle reached out through the opening, his eyes fierce with emotion, his jaw set with determination, his lips curved in an encouraging smile, and ran his fingers down her cheek in a tender salute. “You’re a hell of a brave lady.”

She didn’t want to move, to break the warm, heartening contact of his touch. She wanted to lean into the cup of his hand, the only place in this hellhole of a building she felt safe.

He patted her cheek and gently shoved her away. “Move. Now,” he ordered.

Jamming the hard hat on, she scurried back against the wall of the access corridor.

“Don’t be alarmed,” Kyle spoke through the opening. “You’ll hear a lot of noise out here, chain saws and jackhammers. We have to clear a path for you. There’ll be some debris shaken loose. Hunch down against the wall and keep that hard hat on.”

“I understand.”

“Hey.” He took off his own hard hat and thrust his head through the opening. His forehead was tanned above the line of plaster dust and his hair a golden brown, a perfect complement to his eyes, the deep green of summer leaves. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll get you out.”

This time he didn’t smile, but there was intensity and solemn promise in his expression.

His confidence was infectious. She nodded and huddled closer to the wall.

He broke into a grin then, an appealing expression that made her wish she’d met this man before in another time and place.

“Better stick your fingers in your ears—Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Laura, Laura Quinlan.”

“Stop up your ears, Laura. The noise will be brutal.”

He pulled back and was gone. True to his word, the scream of chain saws and thunder of jackhammers assaulted her senses and sent a rain of dust and debris around her. She crouched low and raised her arms above her head, praying her rescuers would reach her before the building collapsed on top of her. The bone-jolting racket seemed to go on forever.

Then, suddenly, it was quiet.

Before she could lift her head, she felt someone grip her elbows and lift her to her feet. She glanced up into Kyle Foster’s grimy but handsome face.

“C’mon, Laura.” His face lit with the same killer smile. “We’re busting out of this joint.”

Before she could protest, he swept her off her feet and into his arms.

“I can walk,” she protested.

He gripped her tighter. “You don’t know the way through the wreckage.”

In spite of carrying her, he moved with a swiftness that amazed her, surefooted on the treacherous debris. She twined her arms around his neck and held on tight, her face buried against the broad expanse of his chest.

Dust clouds choked them.

Debris tumbled around them.

Although her rescuer seemed calm, she could feel his urgency in the fierce pounding of his heart beneath her cheek. Her own heartbeat thundered in her ears. What if the building collapsed on top of them?

Suddenly she was blinded by daylight.

Laura heard cheers go up from a group of people in the distance. She lifted her head and saw a band of firefighters, police officers and paramedics gathered in the parking lot, applauding and smiling.

“You can set me down now,” she told Kyle. She preferred to face the crowd of strangers on her own two feet.

“Nope. Not until the paramedics check you out.”

A thundering roar and a blast of dust hit them from behind, and Kyle staggered slightly, still heading for the group in the parking lot. The waiting crowd went silent.

“My God!” Laura said. “What was that?”

“The building.” Kyle’s rich voice was tight with emotion. “The ruins caved in. We got you out just in time.”

“The children?”

“Everybody’s out. We were the last ones.”

She sagged against him in relief.

Ahead of them, the crowd parted, forming a corridor to the triage center the paramedics had set up. Kyle slid her onto a chair beneath the awning strung from the back of the truck. A young woman in paramedic blues took Laura’s blood pressure, checked her pulse, listened to her heart and lungs, and did a quick body scan for injuries.

Kyle remained by her side. “She okay?” he asked the medic.

The woman nodded. “But I want her to stay here for now so we can keep an eye on her, just in case.”

“The little boy,” Laura said, “Jeremy. How is he?”

“Broken arm,” the medic replied. “And a concussion. We’ve already transported him to the hospital. But he should be fine in a few days.”

“His parents?”

“They were waiting for him,” the medic said. “As soon as the explosion hit the news, we’ve had the parents of children in that class pouring in here to learn if their kids were safe. Jeremy’s parents rode in the ambulance with him.”

“And the little girls?” Laura looked around for Jennifer and Tiffany, but didn’t see them. Only then did she notice that Kyle had disappeared.

“They both checked out okay,” the paramedic said. “Their parents took them home. Wanted them away from all this as soon as possible.”

Laura glanced behind her at the awful wreckage and shuddered. “Can’t say that I blame them.”

Kyle Foster reappeared and handed her a bottle of water. “This will clear the dust from your throat.”

She accepted it with thanks and drank. Water had never tasted so good. When she’d finished, she remembered she was wearing his jacket. “If the paramedics will loan me a blanket,” she said, “I can return your coat.”

“Keep it,” he said. “You can return it later.”

“But it’s getting late. And colder.”

His slow grin made her pulse race. “I’ll be too busy for a while to be cold.”

She remembered her father then, dressed only in his best suit. At his age, he chilled easily. She needed to find him quickly and take him away from the destruction that surrounded them, back to the warmth and security of home.

She stood, silently cursing the weakness in her legs. “I have to find my father.”

Kyle apparently noticed her unsteadiness. He grasped her elbow and braced her against him.

“You really should stay quiet,” the medic warned.

Laura cast a pleading glance at Kyle. “Please, I need to know he’s all right.”

Kyle nodded. “There’s a check-in area for evacuees across the lot. I’ll go with you.”

“But you have work—”

“This is part of it.”

He helped her pick her way through snarls of fire hoses, clusters of emergency vehicles and crowds of panicked people, also searching for their relatives. When Laura and Kyle reached the checkpoint, it was mobbed.

“You don’t have to stay,” Laura said. “Looks like I’ll be standing in line a while.”

“Your father wasn’t with you in the building?” Kyle asked.

Laura shook her head. “He was meeting with the governor.”

The sudden careful stillness on Kyle’s face frightened her. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

He was gone only a couple of minutes before he returned. “Come with me. The governor’s in the sheriff’s command center.”

“And my father?”

Kyle didn’t answer. With a protective arm around her shoulders, he threaded them through the teeming, sometimes hysterical crowd to the edge of the lot. He knocked on the door of what looked like a huge recreational vehicle except for the lettering and insignia that clearly marked it as the sheriff’s command center.

An officer opened the door and offered his hand to Laura to guide her up the stairs. Kyle followed. Inside, Governor Haskel, a bandage around his head and his arm in a sling, pushed up from his chair and approached her. For once, his smooth, political smile was absent, his charismatic face grimly set.

Laura whipped her head around, searching for her father.

He wasn’t there.

“Where’s Daddy?” she asked the governor. “Was he hurt? Have they taken him to the hospital?”

Harry Haskel shook his head. “I’m sorry, Laura. Your father…he was killed in the blast.”

“What?” Everything took on a surreal aspect. She saw everything through a muted haze. The handsome, sympathetic face of Kyle Foster, whose strong arms kept her from falling. The silent sheriff’s deputies who manned their posts without looking at her. The pained expression of the governor.

“There must be some mistake,” she pleaded in desperation. “Have you checked the hospitals?”

The governor’s expression didn’t change, and when he spoke, his usually booming, hale-and-hearty voice was gentle. “I’m sorry, Laura. We’ve confirmed it. Your father’s dead.”

The last thing she remembered was Kyle Foster catching her as she fell.

KYLE STOPPED the night-duty nurse as she came out of Laura’s hospital room. “May I see her now?”

The stout woman nodded, but fixed him with a stern stare. “Don’t stay long. She’s had a terrible shock and needs her rest.”

Kyle hesitated before entering, wondering if he was doing the right thing. At the hotel, where he and the other agents had showered and changed after long hours of investigation and conferring with the other authorities, he had debated whether to visit Laura or not. He knew she was grieving, that she probably wanted her privacy, but he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

In the bombed-out building that afternoon, he’d heard her long before he’d met her. He’d caught the clear, pure notes of her soprano voice leading the children in song, guiding the rescuers to them. And when he’d seen her, her long dark hair framing her pale face like a midnight cloud, her startling blue eyes calm and bright, he’d been amazed by her composure. She’d stripped away her blouse to bandage the boy’s wound, but she’d exhibited no false modesty. In fact, she’d been so centered on keeping the children calm, he would swear she’d been totally unaware how provocatively gorgeous she’d looked, clad only in a short skirt that emphasized her slender hips and revealed slim legs, and a wispy piece of lace that did little to hide her small, firm breasts.

She’d been an angel to those children. Without her assistance, he doubted he and the others could have moved them from the building as quickly.

And after all her bravery and help, she’d lost her father.

Damn. Life wasn’t fair.

Encountering no one else in the waiting room and observing no one except the nurses coming and going from Laura’s room, he decided she needed a friend. Taking a deep breath and warning himself not to screw things up and upset her even more, he stepped into the room.

She lay propped against pillows as white as her flawless complexion, eyes closed, with long lashes lying dusky against her cheeks. Someone had brushed the dust from her luxuriant hair, spread like a dark halo on the pillow. And someone had washed the grime from her lovely face, its only shortcoming now the paleness in her cheeks. He’d touched the soft silkiness of her cheek in the corridor of the ruined building, and he was consumed now with a desire to touch her again.

He moved beside the bed, and she opened her eyes.

“I came by to check on you.” He silently cursed himself for his awkwardness. She needed comforting, but he couldn’t find the words.

She curved her lips slightly in a smile of recognition. “I’m not very lucid. I think they’ve pumped me full of tranquilizers.”

“You’ve had a terrible shock. I’m sorry about your father.”

Tears welled in her magnificent blue eyes. “My mother died when I was born. I don’t have brothers or sisters. Daddy’s been my entire family….”

He sat on the side of the bed and gathered her long, slender fingers folded atop the coverlet into his own. Her hands were cold, and he rubbed them gently to warm them. “I wish I could help.”

She blinked away tears. “You did help. You saved my life. Are you a firefighter?”

He shook his head. “Just happened to be in town. I work at the Lonesome Pony Ranch near Livingston.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “With C.J. and Frank Connolly?”

“That’s right. Frank’s gone to get C.J. Figured you’d want her here with you.”

He’d be glad when C.J. arrived to stay with her. C.J. was one of the top researchers at the Quinlan Research Institute owned by Laura’s father. A couple months ago, Frank had saved C.J. from kidnapping by Gilad, a member of the Black Order terrorists anxious to learn what the British scientist knew about biological weapons and how to stop them. Frank had fallen in love with the beautiful researcher and married her.

He remembered C.J. telling him that since assuming her post at the research lab several weeks ago, she had become close friends with Laura Quinlan. Not so close, however, that C.J. had divulged to Laura or anyone else at the facility the true nature of the work at the Lonesome Pony Ranch. As far as the Quinlans and the other scientists were concerned, C.J. had married a cowboy, not an undercover agent.

Laura closed her eyes, and her fingers squeezed his tightly.

Poor kid, he thought, then corrected himself. Not a kid. Laura Quinlan had to be in her late twenties, according to what C.J. had told him.

Laura opened her eyes. “Nobody will talk to me, except to say I’ll be all right. Please, tell me what happened to my father.”

Kyle swallowed hard. He wasn’t about to cause her more anguish by describing the gruesome extent of Josiah Quinlan’s injuries. “He died quickly. I doubt he felt anything or even knew what happened.”

He could tell from her expression she was in total denial of her father’s death, and her next words confirmed his fear. “Everyone else in the building was evacuated. Daddy must have been, too. Maybe he’s lost his memory and is wandering the city somewhere. Has anyone looked for him?”

“Laura, the governor was in the same room.” Kyle was firm but empathetic. “He identified your father’s body.”

Yanking her hands from his grasp, she propped herself on her elbows, eyes blazing like blue fire. “Why?”

With patience he’d learned from dealing with his strong-willed daughter, Molly, Kyle grasped her shoulders and gently pressed her back against the pillows. “Promise you’ll stay calm, and I’ll answer all your questions. Otherwise, Nurse Godzilla will throw me out of here on my ear.”

As if all the strength had gone out of her, Laura sagged against the pillows. “Why didn’t Daddy and the governor evacuate like everybody else?”

Hers was a good question, one Kyle and the other investigators had pressed the governor about. “Governor Haskel said his secretary came in when the alarm sounded. She told him one of the capitol police had just assured her the alarm was simply a malfunction in the system. That there was no need for the governor to interrupt his business to evacuate.”

Groggy with medication, Laura shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Someone wanted to make certain the governor’s office wasn’t empty when the bomb blew.”

“Bomb?” The word seemed to hit her like a blast. “The explosion wasn’t an accident?”

Kyle shook his head.

“I didn’t know,” she murmured. “I thought maybe it was a leak in a natural-gas line…”

For several minutes she remained so still, eyes closed, he thought she’d drifted back to sleep. He started to rise from the side of the bed, but she gripped his hand and opened her eyes. He could see her fighting against confusion and the effects of the drugs she’d been given.

“My father was murdered.”

She’d stated a fact, not asked a question, so Kyle said nothing.

“Did the secretary identify the policeman who told them to stay?” she asked.

“Haskel’s secretary, your father and a policeman doing a final sweep to clear the building were the only fatalities.”

This time she’d didn’t contradict him about her father. She was either in shock or finally coming to grips with his death.

She raised her face and fixed her tear-filled, periwinkle-blue gaze on him. “Why…how could the governor survive and not Daddy?”

Another good question. Even in the depths of grief and the haze of tranquilizers, she exhibited a remarkable grasp of what was important.

“According to the governor’s account,” Kyle explained, “he was leaning down to remove something from the bottom drawer of his desk when the blast occurred. The massive piece of mahogany furniture between him and the direction of the blast absorbed most of the impact.”

Tears overflowed her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. Her full bottom lip quivered. “And Daddy was on the other side of the desk.”

“I’m sorry.”

She swiped away the tears with the back of her hand. “Thank you for telling me. I had to know, no matter how awful…”

He marveled at her poise. Even under the most horrific circumstances, she was thoughtful and kind, considerate of others in spite of her grief. If, as she’d said, Josiah Quinlan had raised her on his own, the man had done a damn good job.

He thought of Molly, abandoned by her mother, with only Kyle to take care of her. Molly would be counting on him for everything. He hoped he could do half as good a job as Josiah had with his daughter.

Laura turned her head on the pillow toward the table where he’d emptied his hands when he’d entered the room. Following her gaze, he picked up the bouquet of pink roses he’d left there. “I’ll have the nurse put these in some water.”

“Thank you.” A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. “And the science fiction video game?”

“For Jeremy. He’s in the pediatric wing on the next floor. I thought I’d check on him before heading back to the ranch.”

“You are a remarkable man, Kyle.”

Embarrassed by her praise, he shook his head.

“Please, one more question?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Why am I here? I don’t have any injuries, do I?”

“No physical injuries, but you’ve suffered severe emotional trauma. They’re just keeping you for observation.” He didn’t add how Daniel Austin had pulled strings to have her admitted, to make sure she had someone to watch out for her until C.J. arrived. Laura had no relatives, and Daniel had made certain she wasn’t left alone to deal with her father’s death. “You’ll be released in the morning, and C.J. can take you home.”

He heard footsteps and glanced into the hallway to see Frank and C.J. waiting outside the door. “I have to go.”

Laura still reminded him of an angel—a grief-stricken angel. “You’ve been very kind,” she said.

This time he couldn’t resist the impulse to touch her. He cupped the side of her face in his hand. “Get some sleep.”

He wished he could assure her that everything would be all right in the morning, but he couldn’t. With her father dead, it would be a long time before things would feel all right again for Laura Quinlan.

She leaned against his hand and closed her eyes. He waited, cradling her face until he was certain she’d fallen asleep. Then he slipped quietly from the room.

Motioning to Frank and C.J., he led them to the visitors’ lounge at the end of the corridor, thinking as he always did when he saw them together what a handsome couple they made, Frank with his dark hair and military bearing and C.J. with her honey-blond hair and curvaceous figure—and both with minds as sharp as steel traps.

“How is she?” C.J. asked in her clipped British accent.

“Taking it hard, but she’s sleeping now.” Kyle glanced at Frank and noted the tension in his expression. “What’s happened?”

Frank, his exhaustion showing, ran his hand over his short, military-cut hair. “There was a break-in at the Quinlan Research Institute this afternoon.”

“And?” Kyle asked, sensing the worst.

C.J.’s light-brown eyes telegraphed her anxiety. “Someone’s stolen enough D-5 to poison every city water system in Montana.”