from the club to
blackmail a politician, Andrew Landsley, in a land deal that could
make him millions. He’s already asked me to sell Landsley out
-- and I’ve refused.
Is
this him making a point?
Just
how far will he go to get what he wants?
I
head up 55th towards Zoe’s place just as a fire truck comes
screaming past. Another blares after it, causing traffic to come to a
stand-still. I use the break to try Zoe again, but it’s
straight to voicemail again.
Why
the hell isn’t she picking up her phone?
I
turn down her block.
What
the fuck.
The
fire trucks are clustered outside her apartment building; a crowd of
people being held back on the street as fire marshals head inside.
Smoke
billows from a window on the sixth floor. Fuck. This isn’t
happening. Which apartment is Zoe in? And where is she? I scan the
street, but I don’t see her.
I
screech the car to a stop by the sidewalk and charge through the
people standing around.
“Hey,
you can’t go back there!” A marshal tries to stop me.
“What
happened?” I demand. “Is anyone hurt?”
“Just
wait with the rest of them.” He takes my arm. I violently shake
him off.
“I
have to find her. Zoe?” I yell, looking around. “Zoe, are
you here?”
Then
I see her. Sitting in the back of an ambulance, an oxygen mask
strapped over her face. She’s pale, too fucking pale. So
fragile, in spite of everything.
But
she’s alive.
I
stride over and leap up into the ambulance. Zoe’s eyes widen as
I pull her into a hug, cradling her body to my chest as relief pounds
through me.
“Sir,
you can’t be here—” an EMT starts to say.
“It’s
OK.” Zoe pulls away, then coughs. “He’s with me.”
I sit
her down again and take her hands, kneeling beside her in the back of
the ambulance. “Are you OK? What happened? Were you inside?”
Zoe
answers in a rasping voice. “I don’t know. I was
sleeping, and then when I woke up, the place was on fire. I tried to
get out, but...” she coughs, and I shush her, stroking her
hair.
What
the hell happened?
“Let’s
get you to the hospital,” I soothe.
“No
need,” the medic interrupts. “I’ve checked her
over, it’s nothing but a little smoke inhalation.”
“She
still needs a full exam.” I glare.
Zoe
rolls her eyes, putting the oxygen mask down. “He said I’m
fine. Really, I’d barely even passed out when they got into the
room.”
Passed
out?
I
picture her up there trapped in the flames. Scared. Alone. She’s
a survivor, through and through.
But
she should never have been in this position to begin with.
“You’re
staying with me,” I decide. “Get your things, you’re
coming home with me right now.”
Zoe
opens her mouth to argue, then closes it again. She nods. That’s
when I know she’s really shaken up, because she doesn’t
put up a fight. “I don’t know if they’ll let me
back up,” she says instead.
“They
will,” I answer grimly. I want to take a look around myself -
and get some answers. “You wait here, I won’t be long.”
I go
find the chief marshal, and convince him to take me up to the scene
of the fire. He can probably tell by my tone, I’m in no mood
for fighting tonight.
The
apartment door is busted down off its hinges, and inside, the place
is dripping wet, charred and sooty. Everything is destroyed.
“We
tracked the source of the fire to a faulty wiring box, here.”
The marshal shows me to a spot in the living room in the center of
the charred wreckage. “Spread to the carpet, the curtains...
Blazes like this can escalate fast.”
“Wiring?”
I don’t buy it. “So it was an accident?”
The
marshal is reluctant to answer. “The junction was jammed. The
wires looked pretty frayed, it could have been wear and tear, you
know, older apartments like this...” he looks away.
“Or?”
I demand.
“Or,
someone did it intentionally. I won’t know until our
investigator does a full work-up. There was one other thing...”
he pauses.
blackmail a politician, Andrew Landsley, in a land deal that could
make him millions. He’s already asked me to sell Landsley out
-- and I’ve refused.
Is
this him making a point?
Just
how far will he go to get what he wants?
I
head up 55th towards Zoe’s place just as a fire truck comes
screaming past. Another blares after it, causing traffic to come to a
stand-still. I use the break to try Zoe again, but it’s
straight to voicemail again.
Why
the hell isn’t she picking up her phone?
I
turn down her block.
What
the fuck.
The
fire trucks are clustered outside her apartment building; a crowd of
people being held back on the street as fire marshals head inside.
Smoke
billows from a window on the sixth floor. Fuck. This isn’t
happening. Which apartment is Zoe in? And where is she? I scan the
street, but I don’t see her.
I
screech the car to a stop by the sidewalk and charge through the
people standing around.
“Hey,
you can’t go back there!” A marshal tries to stop me.
“What
happened?” I demand. “Is anyone hurt?”
“Just
wait with the rest of them.” He takes my arm. I violently shake
him off.
“I
have to find her. Zoe?” I yell, looking around. “Zoe, are
you here?”
Then
I see her. Sitting in the back of an ambulance, an oxygen mask
strapped over her face. She’s pale, too fucking pale. So
fragile, in spite of everything.
But
she’s alive.
I
stride over and leap up into the ambulance. Zoe’s eyes widen as
I pull her into a hug, cradling her body to my chest as relief pounds
through me.
“Sir,
you can’t be here—” an EMT starts to say.
“It’s
OK.” Zoe pulls away, then coughs. “He’s with me.”
I sit
her down again and take her hands, kneeling beside her in the back of
the ambulance. “Are you OK? What happened? Were you inside?”
Zoe
answers in a rasping voice. “I don’t know. I was
sleeping, and then when I woke up, the place was on fire. I tried to
get out, but...” she coughs, and I shush her, stroking her
hair.
What
the hell happened?
“Let’s
get you to the hospital,” I soothe.
“No
need,” the medic interrupts. “I’ve checked her
over, it’s nothing but a little smoke inhalation.”
“She
still needs a full exam.” I glare.
Zoe
rolls her eyes, putting the oxygen mask down. “He said I’m
fine. Really, I’d barely even passed out when they got into the
room.”
Passed
out?
I
picture her up there trapped in the flames. Scared. Alone. She’s
a survivor, through and through.
But
she should never have been in this position to begin with.
“You’re
staying with me,” I decide. “Get your things, you’re
coming home with me right now.”
Zoe
opens her mouth to argue, then closes it again. She nods. That’s
when I know she’s really shaken up, because she doesn’t
put up a fight. “I don’t know if they’ll let me
back up,” she says instead.
“They
will,” I answer grimly. I want to take a look around myself -
and get some answers. “You wait here, I won’t be long.”
I go
find the chief marshal, and convince him to take me up to the scene
of the fire. He can probably tell by my tone, I’m in no mood
for fighting tonight.
The
apartment door is busted down off its hinges, and inside, the place
is dripping wet, charred and sooty. Everything is destroyed.
“We
tracked the source of the fire to a faulty wiring box, here.”
The marshal shows me to a spot in the living room in the center of
the charred wreckage. “Spread to the carpet, the curtains...
Blazes like this can escalate fast.”
“Wiring?”
I don’t buy it. “So it was an accident?”
The
marshal is reluctant to answer. “The junction was jammed. The
wires looked pretty frayed, it could have been wear and tear, you
know, older apartments like this...” he looks away.
“Or?”
I demand.
“Or,
someone did it intentionally. I won’t know until our
investigator does a full work-up. There was one other thing...”
he pauses.
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