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He caught her before she hit the ground. “Want me to carry you?” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her upright.
And place all control in his hands? Not likely. “I can manage,” she said tightly. But the longer she stood here, the more the pain swam through her senses and sent them reeling.
Before she blacked out entirely, she had to get the com-unit.
“Only offering.”
He shifted his stance slightly, moving around to her left side. She noted a little wryly that he had to bend quite a bit to accommodate her height—or lack thereof. The top of her head barely brushed his chin.
She took a deep breath, gathering whatever strength she had left, and hobbled toward the next set of stairs. Though Gabriel was almost carrying her by the time they got to the top, it still felt as if she’d crawled to hell and back.
“Stop,” she managed to gasp.
He eased her to the ground. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall, trying to drag enough air into her lungs and ignore the shaking in her limbs. Maybe Jack’s motto of doing unto others wasn’t such a bad idea. Right now, she’d love to give the bastards who’d shot her a taste of their own medicine.
“The scabs have broken open,” Gabriel said. “You really should have treatment for those wounds.”
She opened her eyes. He was squatting near her feet again, his eyes as remote as his expression. A man well versed in hiding his feelings, she thought suddenly. “I just want to get home.”
“What’s left of it.” He studied her, the green specks in his hazel eyes glittering like jewels in the dusky hall light. After a moment, he asked, “Ready?”
She nodded. He lifted her up again and helped her walk the rest of the way to her apartment. When she got there, she could only stare.
She’d been to more than one bombing, and she knew firsthand the damage they could do. But this time it was different. This time it was her belongings, her privacy, that had been invaded and destroyed.
Pain momentarily forgotten, she pushed away from Gabriel and hobbled into the living room. Everything was either gone or severely damaged. All the books she’d gathered over the years, all the small bits and pieces she’d collected to remember the changes in her life. All gone, or unsalvageable.
Clenching her fists, she glanced to where the com-unit had once stood. Even the sketch of her mother had been destroyed. All that was left were small shards of glass that glittered brightly in the soggy remains of the carpet.
“It’s going to be a few days before State releases these rooms for cleanup,” he said into the silence.
She knew how long the State Police would take, for Christ’s sake. Unable to decide whether to swear vehemently or simply sit down and howl, she did neither, hobbling into the bedroom instead.
Even this room had not escaped destruction, though here, at least, the damage was more from smoke and water. The smell of sodden boxes and wet carpet churned her already agitated stomach. She ran a hand through her sweat-dampened hair, fighting a sudden feeling of despair. God, it would take her days to clean up this mess. And years to replace all that she’d lost. If she could replace it. Her gaze touched the stack of boxes that hid her second com-unit. They looked undisturbed, and relief surged through her.
She looked
over her shoulder and met Gabriel’s gaze. He stood in the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets, his stance casual yet strangely alert. The feeling that this man, her supposed protector, was far more than what he seemed hit her like a punch to the gut. He might have saved her life last night, but she knew absolutely nothing about him, let alone whether she could trust him. And as she stared at him, she again got the impression that he was here for reasons other than his official watchdog duty.
“I’ve arranged accommodation at a small hotel down the road.” His voice was soft, almost soothing, as if she were fragile glass about to break.
The only hotel down the road was the Rosewater, which was posh and very expensive. Well beyond the usual offerings for someone under protection. “And who’s picking up that tab?”
He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “The SIU, of course.”
The SIU obviously had a hell of a budget. “I’ll get some things together.”
She limped to the wardrobe and opened the door. The clothes inside reeked of smoke, and she screwed up her nose. Still, she could hardly keep wearing the things she had on, and smoke smell or not, these were her only option. She grabbed a duffel bag from the top of the closet and shoved in enough clothes to last a week. Surely it wouldn’t take any longer to clean up this mess.
But what if it did? And what if, by some vicious quirk of fate, they actually charged her with Jack’s death? What would she do? God, if the captain didn’t believe her, a courtroom filled with strangers certainly wouldn’t.
Panic flashed white hot through her body, and for a moment, even the simple act of breathing seemed difficult. She couldn’t go to prison. Couldn’t be locked up like that. Not again.
She frowned at the thought, wondering where in hell it came from. The only time she’d been in prison was to question suspects. And she wasn’t going to go to prison now. The truth was out there, and so was the evidence that would prove her innocence. All she had to do was find it—or at least hope they gave her the time to find it.
With the bag almost full, she hobbled across to the stack of boxes that hid her second com-unit. After thrusting the sodden mess to one side, she bent down and disconnected the portable unit from the wall, then put it inside the bag, hiding it underneath her clothes.
When she turned around, Gabriel was at the door, watching her.
