Shattered (LOST #3)(40)

I’m coming, Molly. I’ll find you.

THE NEW ORLEANS airport was filled with people. So many folks coming and going. Weary passengers. Excited kids.

Victoria held her ticket as she glanced around the terminal. Her flight was going to leave in the next thirty minutes. She’d be back in Atlanta, back in her little house, that night. Then she could lock the doors, shut the blinds, and try to forget what it was like to be sealed up in a body bag.

Her phone rang. Frowning, she glanced down. Gabe’s photo and name flashed across the screen. She answered immediately. “Boss, what’s up?” Not a body. Don’t have found that poor girl’s dead body. This time, this case . . . Victoria just needed a win for LOST. They were supposed to be making a difference in the world. That was why she’d joined them. They weren’t supposed to just be watching the body count rise.

“Okay, first, you need to know that Wade’s all right.”

She nearly dropped the phone. It was never good to begin the conversation with words like that. Because using first sure implied there was going to be a second that might not be so good.

“He’s in the hospital, St. Dominic’s, and he has a concussion, but the guy is tough as nails and he’ll be on his feet in no time.”

That was supposed to reassure her. “What happened?”

“The guy who took Molly set a trap for Sarah and Wade. The building they were searching—it exploded.”

OhmyGod. Her knees were feeling very jellylike. “They were in the building when it exploded?” She turned away from the terminal and began walking toward the exit. Her left hand curled around her bag.

“No, no? they hadn’t gone inside yet. It was a damn near thing.”

So Sarah and Wade had both nearly been blown to hell and back?

“But we’ve got a new lead on the perp. The search teams are going in now and we think we’ll find the girl.”

“Alive?” she forced herself to ask.

“She was alive just a few minutes ago,” Gabe said, his voice flat. “And we’re busting ass to get there now.”

She could hear voices talking behind him. Hear the wail of sirens.

The sliding doors at the airport’s exit opened for her.

“Viki, I just wanted to update you. I’ll call again when I think your plane has landed.”

“Forget that,” she told him bluntly. “I’ll be at the hospital with Wade. If you need me, you call.” Because she wasn’t going to run away when all hell was breaking loose on this case. She also wasn’t going to leave Wade on his own. He’d been there for her when she needed him.

It was time for her to return the favor.

Gabe ended the call, promising to update her.

Victoria lifted her hand. “Taxi!”

“JUST DROP ME off at the scene,” Sarah said, her gaze on the road. “I’ll join Gabe and the cops on the search. You don’t have to stay.”

He didn’t respond.

She glanced over at him. His hands were tight around the wheel. “Thanks for all you’ve done,” Sarah rushed to say. “And—”

“The guy wants you dead, Sarah. The last thing I’m going to do is leave you unprotected on that jerk’s turf.” He shook his head. “I’m not dropping and ditching you, that’s for sure. Consider me your personal guard.”

And he’d done it again. Surprised her. She just couldn’t get a handle on him. Everything she’d read in his background said he was dangerous. A man you didn’t want as an enemy. But he wasn’t an enemy or any threat to her. He was . . . a protector.

“How did you even get out of jail?” Sarah asked him as her brows snapped up. In all the chaos, she hadn’t even asked him. “I thought they were booking you for assault on Ron Tate.”

“Well, as for that . . .” He turned right and slanted a fast glance her way. “Seems that—before my lawyer even had the chance to throw his weight around—someone got the witness to recant her statement. Ella Jane pressed charges against Ron, and she said I was her hero.” His lips quirked in a faint smile. “I’m sure the cops nearly shit themselves at that, but she was singing my praises when I left the jail.”

And he was a free man.

Sarah considered him. He hadn’t fought the cops at all when he’d been taken back to holding. In fact, he’d almost seemed . . . pleased . . . with the situation. In his mocking I’m-Jax-Fontaine-kiss-my-ass way. “You wanted to go back to lockup, didn’t you? So that you could talk with Eddie?” If she looked deep enough, she could almost see the layers this man possessed.

“Yeah, about that . . .” He expelled a quick breath. “What with the explosion and psycho calling, I didn’t get to tell you sooner, but Eddie Guthrie is in the hospital. The guy you’re looking for—I think he pumped the kid with drugs, then sent him your way.”

Sarah’s cheeks felt too hot, then icy cold. “I . . . I thought he was a user.” Longtime, an addict.

“First-timer, unless I’m wrong. Not usually wrong, though. Not about that. I’ve seen too many drug heads in my time.”

She wasn’t usually wrong, either . . . but . . . Did I miss this? That wasn’t like her. Her fingers fiddled with her seat belt.

“He’s on a bad trip. The guy was convulsing the last time I saw him.”