Page 72 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

“My father’s testimony. It’s just about done. That means your job is done. He told me I only needed a bodyguard until he testified. Well, he did it. It’s done. So you’re done. I bet you’ll be relieved to get back to your real job, huh? Don’t answer that.”

He didn’t like the manic tone in her voice. There was no doubt in his mind the broadcast had triggered this mood. It must have been terribly unsettling for her to relive her kidnapping via a national news broadcast. “Rachel, maybe it would be better if we stayed home. Maybe you want to talk about it. Or call someone. What about Cindy or Liza or Feather? Or your father?”

“I don’t want to talk to my father,” she said tightly. “He’ll be doing his own celebrating. Caviar sushi or something. I want to get out of here. You can come or not. I don’t care. Technically, your job might be already over.”

“For crap’s sake, Rachel. If you’re going, I’m going. I’m not letting you roam around by yourself in this state of mind.”

“You don’t know anything about my state of mind.” She rummaged through her closet, finally emerging with a purple, sparkly dress with a wide zipper up the front. It looked like something Space Barbie might wear. In fact, he was pretty sure Lizzie’s old Barbie had that exact same dress.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed to go out. Are you coming?”

Even though it sounded as if she didn’t care one way or the other, he repeated, “I said I was.”

“Then let’s go. It’ll be just like the night we went out, except even more fun. We can pull out all the stops because it’s your last night as my bodyguard. I’ll buy you a drink.”

“I don’t drink on the job.”

“Then I’ll buy you a lap dance.”

“We’re not going anywhere near anyone’s lap.”

She shot him a furious glare over her shoulder. Bright pink still burned in her cheeks.

“You aren’t the boss of me. No one’s the boss of me. I’m so. Damn. Tired. Of everyone thinking they can control me.”

She whipped off her white T-shirt and shimmied into the dress.

“Who are you talking about? Me? Your father?” He took a deep breath, daring himself to throw out one more possibility. “The kidnapper?”

Thrusting her head deep into her closet, she ignored that question. “I’m leaving in three minutes. Come if you want.”

“I said I’m coming.”

He had a very, very bad feeling about this.

Chapter 21

Rachel didn’t give herself a minute to think about what she was doing. All she knew was that she had to breathe some open air, that she couldn’t stay trapped in her apartment with that television one more second. Or was it herself she couldn’t bear? Who knew? Didn’t matter. The drumbeat of “get out” thundered through her veins and there was no stopping it.

She snagged a little purse made of oyster silk and stuffed her cell phone and some cash into it. She rifled through her wallet, keeping her Rachel Allen driver’s license and one credit card and tossing everything else on the bed. If she could have left her identification behind, she would have.

If she could leave herself behind, she would.

Ballerina flats. Loose hair, with an extra bit of spritz for a tousled look. Lip gloss. A quick glance in the mirror to confirm that she looked nothing like that little girl on the television, with her sweet little braids and her innocent grin. What if she hadn’t insisted on riding her bike that day? What if she’d stayed home and gone swimming in their own pool? What if she’d run at the sight of the Heating and Cooling Repair van waiting at the corner?

Maybe everything would have been different. Maybe that little girl would have grown up to be the wild, carefree tomboy she was meant to be. Maybe she would have traveled the world, competed in the Olympics, danced on tabletops … who knew? All she knew was that girl wanted her moment. For this night, she was going to pretend that girl was alive and well and ready to dance. There must be a tabletop out there with her name on it somewhere in San Gabriel.

Marsden jumped to his feet and tossed his newspaper aside as she came barreling out of the elevator. “What’s going on?”

She waltzed to his side and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Dancing. That’s what going on.”

“Dancing?”

“Not the ballet kind. The having fun kind.” A frown creased his weathered forehead. She knew she probably sounded kind of crazy and manic, but she couldn’t help it.

“I don’t like this, Rachel. The timing’s bad.”

“But that’s just it! The timing’s perfect. We’re celebrating my dad’s testimony. He killed it, totally killed it. Didn’t you see?”

Marsden started to object again, but Fred spoke up from just over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Marsden. I got a handle on it. But stay on standby, if you don’t mind, in case I need backup.” She felt a strong arm come around her. “We’ll be careful, right, Rachel?”

She opened her mouth to say she was done with being careful, but Fred squeezed her shoulder, and she nodded instead. No need to put Marsden on full alert.

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