Page 12 of Shifter For Hire (For Hire 2)

“We better get checked out. I might have a concussion.” She had no other explanation. The smoke might have addled her brains as well.

“Stay here,” Gerard ordered. “I’m going to look around.”

“You mean the grounds? What we need to do is see if there’s anyone trapped in the building.”

He ignored her protest and disappeared. Well, forget him. She wouldn’t stand there while people might need her help. If she was going to be a police officer, this kind of thing would be a part of her job.

Regardless, as she made her way toward the building, fear and nerves clawed at her core. There could be another bomb. She might be killed. Regret washed over her and a slight panic. She had to bite down on her inner cheek to keep moving forward.

An entire wall lay in pieces on the ground. The door she had just walked through just minutes earlier hung from one hinge. Its partner was nowhere in sight. She climbed over the rubble, and the heat and smoke intensified. Somewhere inside a fire burned.

She doubled over, coughing. Her lungs burned and her eyes stung. She tried to go further when someone stepped into her path, blocking the way. Arms encircled her, and she pushed them off. “Gerard, I told you—”

“Go back.”

She gasped and then coughed. When she spoke, her voice sounded ragged. A better plan might have been to find water to wet the strips of Gerard’s shirt and tie one around her mouth and nose. “Skip, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Ohio.”

He frowned at her and shuffled her backward. Stumbling over the bricks and other debris, she tried to get out of his hold. His grip on her elbow never eased as he escorted her several feet away from the building.

“I could ask you the same thing, Lachelle. What are you doing here? You could have been killed.”

“And you couldn’t? I want to know why you’re here at a time like this. What gives?”

“I got a tip about the bomb.”

“And you thought you’d come see for yourself? Yeah, that makes sense. How about calling the police? Plus, you don’t write regular news reports, so why would someone give you a tip?”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and started typing a mile a minute with just his thumbs.

“What are you writing?” She tried to see over his shoulder.

He turned away. “Notes on my story.”

Sirens blared in the distance, the deep rumbling blast from fire trucks. Voices rose all around them, and she started seeing more and more people gathering. Some wore police uniforms, and she sighed in relief that they were safe. It looked like the police were doing a head count and conducting rescue.

Lachelle stood on her toes, trying to see better now that a breeze stirred and redirected the smoke. She couldn’t spot Gerard anywhere. Suspicions rose. Both Skip and Gerard had both been in two locations where disasters happened—one bomb, one murder. So which was the innocent man? Or were both guilty of something?

Another fact about the day’s events niggled at the edge of her mind, but she couldn’t piece it together just yet.

“Let’s get out of here, Lachelle.”

“I can’t leave. I have to give my statement to the police.”

“Let someone else do that. I’ve got what I need.”

“Excuse me, but it’s not about whether you have the facts for your story. I’m going over there to see if I can help with rescuing anyone or at least administering first aid—what little I know on the subject. After that, I’m going to look for…”

She let her voice trail off.

“Look for who?”

“Forget it, but if you’re feeling selfish, by all means you can go.”

She started walking toward the area where policeman were gathering the injured. Then she recalled that she had an entire case of bottled water in the trunk of her car and rushed back to get it. Skip tagged along.

After she retrieved the water, Skip grabbed the case from her arms and carried it for her. “You look good, baby. I’m assuming you weren’t in the building.”

“Thank God, no. I was about to leave, and Gerard protected me.”

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