Midnight Exposure (Midnight #1)(48)

A muffled explosion split the air and rattled the windows of the Yukon. Glass shattered somewhere. The scent of smoke drifted to her nostrils on the frigid air. Up the street smoke poured from the front of the old building.

Jayne’s chest tightened as she jumped from the truck. She moved toward the fire, eyes trained on the disaster scene.

Her upper body jerked backward. She gasped as an arm hooked around her neck and dragged her back into the narrow alley between two stores.

Her brain shut down in disbelief for a few seconds before her training overrode the panic.

Jayne tucked her chin to protect her airway. The soles of her boots dragged on the sidewalk as she dropped her weight, making her body heavier, harder to pull. She slammed her head backward. Her assailant grunted as Jayne’s skull connected with his jaw.

But the arm around her neck tightened.

“Do what I say or I’ll hurt you.” The whisper was deep, male, and angry, with an edge of desperation.

Jayne grasped his wrist and elbow, pinning his forearm to her chest. She turned her chin to the crook of his elbow for breathing room. Releasing her left grip, she drilled her elbow straight back into his solar plexus and dropped a hammer fist into his groin.

He doubled over and coughed. “Bitch.”

In her peripheral vision, Jayne caught a flash of blue eyes through the opening of a ski mask. Then she shot her elbow up under his chin.

The pressure around her neck disappeared. Jayne fell forward onto all fours and clutched her throat. Her knees burned on the concrete. Footsteps retreated. She crawled forward out of the alley and gulped cool air in greedy swallows. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that her assailant had taken off. The alley behind her was empty.

Jayne’s heart sprinted as she climbed to her feet. The alley had been shoveled. No footprints. She hesitated. Should she try to follow him?

External noise gradually replaced the sound of her own labored breathing. Sirens. People yelling.

“Call for medevac!”

Jayne whirled.

Reed. Fire.

Her belly clenched as she stumbled up the block. Smoke poured from the municipal building. Firemen doused the buildings on both sides. The double doors were propped open. Hoses snaked inside the smoky hole of a doorway.

Jayne searched for Reed among the milling professionals. He was tall. She should be able to see him. If he was standing.

A great shudder passed over the old clapboard building. Jayne turned. Smoke billowed from the roof, windows, and doors.

Through the thick, black cloud, a fireman jogged from the door. He carried a body draped over his shoulder. The legs were denim-clad. The jacket was dark. Jayne’s heart stopped.

Reed!





CHAPTER NINETEEN


Jayne stumbled forward.

“Give Doc room.” The crowd parted. A tall, lanky man pushed through, black bag in hand. A white lab coat flapped around his legs under the hem of an unbuttoned wool jacket. Kneeling men blocked Jayne’s view of the body in the street. She stood on her toes but still couldn’t see the victim. Trying to get closer, she pushed ineffectually at a row of broad shoulders.

Adrenaline and fear skittered through her veins and a sick feeling gathered in her stomach.

“What’s the ETA on that medevac helicopter?” a soot-streaked fireman shouted back from the inner circle.

A short, stocky man in a tan uniform and dark brown policeissue jacket put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. “He’s gone, Lou. Sorry.”

Silence spread through the men in a devastated wave. Heads hung. Bodies deflated.

“You a doctor, Doug?” The doctor shot the uniform a nasty look.

The uniform shrugged. “It’s obvious.”

Jayne’s chest contracted, squeezing every ounce of air from her lungs. Her throat closed on a choking moan. Smoke burned her eyes. Her knees nearly gave out as she turned away, stumbling.

“Jayne!” Her name cut off on a hacking cough.

Her head swiveled, and her heart stopped.

Reed sat on the back of a fire truck, his green eyes bloodshot over the oxygen mask. Soot coated his face and clothes. Like the dead man, he also wore jeans, boots, and a dark coat. But as Jayne glanced around, she realized that so did three-quarters of the male population not in firefighting gear.

Reed was alive.

It took a few seconds for that fact to sink into her stunned brain.

She rushed forward. Relief bubbled from her throat with a sob. He dropped the oxygen mask to his lap and caught her in his arms. His shoulders were solid and real under her grip as she lifted her face. All thoughts of protecting her heart and Reed’s inhibitions fled as their mouths met. His lips tasted of smoke and sweat and sadness. The kiss was fierce, raw with need. His tongue swept in, hot and demanding, as he claimed her mouth.

She welcomed his invasion, tilting her head back in surrender as his control broke.

He lifted his head. His eyes searched hers, bewilderment and passion both naked in his gaze, before the moment was broken by a cough.

Still numb with disbelief at Reed’s survival, Jayne pressed her face into his throat. His broad chest spasmed. She breathed him in and mumbled into his skin, “I thought you were dead.”

He shook his head and swallowed. A shudder passed through him, then a sigh as he lowered his head. He breathed in her ear, “Hugh.”

Guilt cut into Jayne’s relief. “Oh. I’m sorry.” The police chief had seemed like a nice man, but she couldn’t shake her joy that Reed was alive.