Burn (Heat #1)(25)

My gaze drops to the man's shoes. They're designer, expensive. They give him, and his rouse, away.

"Not today," I say as I begin to push past him.

"You look like you had breakfast," he spits back at me. "I haven't eaten in days."

I turn around. He chose the wrong day. This isn't the day to goad me. It's definitely the wrong day to confront me about the fact that I have money.

"You ate a sugar donut." I twirl my index finger in the air near his face. "There's powdered sugar all over your lips and you smell like a rich roast blend that's been harvested from somewhere in South America."

"I found a pastry and coffee in the garbage," he begins to explain. "That only took the edge off. I'm starving."

"Sell your shoes." I glance down. "Those are worth at least four hundred dollars new and from the looks of the ones on your feet, they're less than a month old."

He parts his lips as if he's going to say something but he doesn't. He turns on his designer heel and sulks off down the street.

I curse under my breath. Snapping at a stranger on the street isn't who I am. I give freely. I help as much as I can but only those who actually need it. That man is taking from people who may not have as much to spare as he does. It rubs me wrong. It pisses me off.

I draw a deep breath as I walk toward the subway. I rush down the stairs while I dig for change at the bottom of my purse.

***

I feel the heat the moment I ascend the stairs of the subway. I'd rushed off the train, and ran across the platform before I bolted up the concrete steps two at a time. I'd tried calling both Tyler and Brendon while I waited for the train at the station by my apartment. There was no answer from either. None of the text messages I'd sent had been read.

Nova is a half-block from the subway station. I'd timed the trip twice before I started there, wanting to make certain that I gave myself enough time to get to work before my shift began.

I try to push through the gathered crowds to get to the restaurant, to get to Tyler. I think about his beautiful brown eyes as I brush past a woman pushing a stroller with a crying toddler inside. I imagine his lips as I step off the curb and onto the street in an effort to sidetrack the wall of people standing in place.

I hold my purse close to me, guarding the tablet he trusted me with last night before he made love to me, before he called me Chef.

I finally look up at the building even though I know what I'll see. I heard a woman talking about it when I exited the train. Other people's tragedy so easily becomes small talk between strangers.

A hand stops me as I try and cross the street. "You can't go there, Ma'am. You need to stay on this side."

I turn to look at the man touching me. He's dressed in a NYPD uniform, his expression stoic even though hell feels like it's broken loose on this street in the middle of Manhattan.

"I work there." I point at the restaurant. "I'm looking for someone."

"I'm sorry," he says with no compassion at all. "Stand here and wait."

I search for Tyler, scanning the faces of the people who are standing against the wooden barriers that are in place. Their eyes are locked on the restaurant as if it's the next blockbuster movie complete with stunning special effects.

There are no special effects. You can't turn this off with the flick of a switch.

"There's someone trapped inside." A deep voice bellows.

The words roar above the noise of the sirens, and the sounds of the people around me.

I look toward the voice. I see three men, each wearing heavy gear. Their names are spelled out in bold black letters on the back of their navy blue jackets.

TRUMAN. JOHNSON. BECKETT.

They rush toward the restaurant, toward Tyler's dream.

I watch as they tug masks over their faces before they run in the direction of Nova's entrance.

They don't make it.

The three fireman fall to the ground, their arms bolt up to shield their helmet-covered heads, when the windows of the restaurant shatter as a wall of fire blasts out.

I look up, tears clouding my eyes, as the building, engulfed in flames, collapses.