the radio station kept patching in could explain that earthquakes happened because of shifting tectonic plates and heat and not because a piddly redheaded woman had Satan’s calling card running through her veins.
There were fires and there were tragedies. That didn’t always spell the end of the world—at least that’s what I kept telling myself as I rode up the elevator, listening to the soothing sounds of Jon Secada Muzak.
“Oh. Hey.”
Alex was standing in the police station vestibule, but he was dressed in full SWAT gear and my knees started to shake faster than the earth did. He looked rugged with a five o’clock shadow and dirt streaked over one cheek, his hair plastered back with sweat and grit. He was dressed in all black, his short sleeves straining against his thick, round biceps, showing just the tip end of his feather tattoo. His black-gloved hands were fisted at his sides and even though he had an assault rifle slung across his slim-fitting bullet-proof vest and a six-inch knife strapped to his thigh, I had the overwhelming and unsafe urge to rush him, to throw my arms around him and hiccup-cry until he promised me that no one was abandoning me, that he would always be with me.
Instead, I shifted my weight and cleared my throat, biting back those threatening tears. “You look pretty. Tough. You look pretty tough,” I said, with all the grace of a blubbering idiot.
He wiped a piece of grit from his chin with the back of his hand, and if I hadn’t been served such a heartbreaking blow by my so-called “family” downstairs, I would have tripped over my panties falling head over heels, once again, for Alex.
“You shouldn’t have taken the elevator.”
It wasn’t exactly the sexy, comforting line I had imagined, but the fact that SWAT Alex was talking to me still sent a delighted shiver through me. I realized that the only thing I was in real danger of was becoming a jiggly pool of lady goo.
“Sorry,” was my sexy rejoin.
“Anyone else down there?”
I shook my head. “Why are you dressed like that? You’re a detective.”
“It’s a state of emergency. The city was hit pretty severely by the quake. Power lines are down, windows were shattered on Market. There’s widespread looting. I’m SWAT trained so I was patrolling. People get pretty awful when they think they can take advantage of someone else’s misfortune. Is there a reason you’re staring at me?”
He patted his chest with his gloved hands, and I clamped my knees together tightly.
“No. I was just listening intently to what you had to say. Why did you come back here if it’s so bad out there?”
“Things are beginning to go back to normal. Power is being restored. And you weren’t answering either of your phones. Nina said she’d left you back at the office.”
There was a wash of crimson under the dirt streak on Alex’s cheeks.
“You came to save me.”
He rolled his eyes. “I came to check on you. If anyone is going to be able to save herself, it’s going to be you. Come on.”
He threw an arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the door.
“I must be moving up in the world. Usually you would ask how I was responsible for the disaster in progress.”
“Yeah, well, I thought this one was probably out of your realm of expertise.”
Alex pushed open the door for me, and we both scanned the city in the fading twilight. We weren’t staring at the city I lived in; we were staring at the smoky, ruined set of some disaster film. Cars were abandoned in intersections. A piece of street had buckled and split down the center. A Muni bus sat empty, doors wide open, gaping front windows like hollow, sightless eyes. The humming pulse of San Francisco—horns honking, cable cars ringing, the general chatter of life in the city—had been snuffed out, and the silence was unnerving.
I shivered. “This is weird.”
“I’ll give you a ride.”
“That’s okay—I drove today.” I pointed to my little Honda,
There were fires and there were tragedies. That didn’t always spell the end of the world—at least that’s what I kept telling myself as I rode up the elevator, listening to the soothing sounds of Jon Secada Muzak.
“Oh. Hey.”
Alex was standing in the police station vestibule, but he was dressed in full SWAT gear and my knees started to shake faster than the earth did. He looked rugged with a five o’clock shadow and dirt streaked over one cheek, his hair plastered back with sweat and grit. He was dressed in all black, his short sleeves straining against his thick, round biceps, showing just the tip end of his feather tattoo. His black-gloved hands were fisted at his sides and even though he had an assault rifle slung across his slim-fitting bullet-proof vest and a six-inch knife strapped to his thigh, I had the overwhelming and unsafe urge to rush him, to throw my arms around him and hiccup-cry until he promised me that no one was abandoning me, that he would always be with me.
Instead, I shifted my weight and cleared my throat, biting back those threatening tears. “You look pretty. Tough. You look pretty tough,” I said, with all the grace of a blubbering idiot.
He wiped a piece of grit from his chin with the back of his hand, and if I hadn’t been served such a heartbreaking blow by my so-called “family” downstairs, I would have tripped over my panties falling head over heels, once again, for Alex.
“You shouldn’t have taken the elevator.”
It wasn’t exactly the sexy, comforting line I had imagined, but the fact that SWAT Alex was talking to me still sent a delighted shiver through me. I realized that the only thing I was in real danger of was becoming a jiggly pool of lady goo.
“Sorry,” was my sexy rejoin.
“Anyone else down there?”
I shook my head. “Why are you dressed like that? You’re a detective.”
“It’s a state of emergency. The city was hit pretty severely by the quake. Power lines are down, windows were shattered on Market. There’s widespread looting. I’m SWAT trained so I was patrolling. People get pretty awful when they think they can take advantage of someone else’s misfortune. Is there a reason you’re staring at me?”
He patted his chest with his gloved hands, and I clamped my knees together tightly.
“No. I was just listening intently to what you had to say. Why did you come back here if it’s so bad out there?”
“Things are beginning to go back to normal. Power is being restored. And you weren’t answering either of your phones. Nina said she’d left you back at the office.”
There was a wash of crimson under the dirt streak on Alex’s cheeks.
“You came to save me.”
He rolled his eyes. “I came to check on you. If anyone is going to be able to save herself, it’s going to be you. Come on.”
He threw an arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the door.
“I must be moving up in the world. Usually you would ask how I was responsible for the disaster in progress.”
“Yeah, well, I thought this one was probably out of your realm of expertise.”
Alex pushed open the door for me, and we both scanned the city in the fading twilight. We weren’t staring at the city I lived in; we were staring at the smoky, ruined set of some disaster film. Cars were abandoned in intersections. A piece of street had buckled and split down the center. A Muni bus sat empty, doors wide open, gaping front windows like hollow, sightless eyes. The humming pulse of San Francisco—horns honking, cable cars ringing, the general chatter of life in the city—had been snuffed out, and the silence was unnerving.
I shivered. “This is weird.”
“I’ll give you a ride.”
“That’s okay—I drove today.” I pointed to my little Honda,
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