Rory (Hope City #7) - Maryann Jordan Page 0,59

she pushed up and leaned against the pillows. “I thought you deserved some pampering.”

Her face softened as her warm gaze landed on him. “Oh, Rory, you didn’t have to do this.” She took a bite of a piece of bacon and grinned. “Although, this is good.”

He kissed her lightly, loving the smokey, salty taste of her lips. “Can I ask you something?”

“Honey, you can ask anything you want.”

He sucked in a deep breath, hesitated, then blurted, “Did you get counseling after what happened?”

Her gaze dropped to the plate of food resting on the bed between them. Her voice was small as she replied. “No.” She looked up at him and said, “Honey, really, I’m fine. I work. I enjoy my friends. I’m not some hermit afraid to go out into public. I’m good.”

“Babe, you almost shut down over what you witnessed at the Cock. I think that you’re a survivor and doing great, but I think that you could benefit from talking to a professional about the experience.”

She didn’t deny his suggestion but held his gaze for a long moment. “Harper used to beg me to see someone. I just didn’t want anyone else to know.”

“And now?”

Sighing heavily, she nodded slowly. “Seeing the other woman… it did bring back memories.” She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and shuddered. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should.”

He leaned forward and kissed her again. “I think that’s a great idea. And if you want support, I’ll be right there with you.”

“Just having you here is all I could need,” she said, smiling.

His gaze dropped to her crooked smile beaming at him, and he decided he’d do whatever he could to keep that smile on her face.

19

Sixty-two-D-one. Sixty-five-D-one. Fifty-eight-B-two.

Jumping into the ambulance, Rory pulled out of the station after the ladder truck. Shania checked the GPS and radioed their ETA.

“Police are at an apartment building on Sanderson and Thirty-First Street. There’s a report of a small child alone on a third-floor balcony.”

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath. “Where are the parents?”

“Your momma keep up with you every second of the day? You and that big-ass family?” she asked. “Hell, I’m not making excuses, but I’m telling you kids can get in weird-ass predicaments in the blink of an eye.” She sighed. “God, I hope this isn’t a neglect case. I hate those. They pull at my heart.”

He tossed his tough-as-nails partner a sympathetic gaze before carefully moving through an intersection. She was right. With six kids in his family and five in the King family next door, the eleven kids were hardly watched every second of the day. Probably why Sean and Tara are so responsible. They had to be.

“Oh, Christ.” He parked just behind one of the police vehicles, his gaze sweeping the scene. A multi-storied brick apartment building filled the entire city block. The outside was dotted with small, metal-railed balconies. Upon closer examination, he could see they were more of a place to set a plant, not hold a person. In fact, only a window, and not a door, led to the space. On one, a small, diapered toddler sat screaming. No adult from the apartment was visible. The rail would hold the child in place as long as he remained seated, but the railing was not very high.

“Ladder thirteen, move in.”

“Team two, go from inside.”

“Get the ladder up there.”

“Team four, underneath.”

As the captain yelled the orders, the firefighters efficiently extended the ladder, maneuvering it to the balcony. Still crying, the toddler grabbed onto the short rails and stood, wobbling on his stubby legs. Rory watched as a firefighter scrambled up the ladder to the child. Heart in his throat, he watched as the firefighter lifted the child in his arms, tucking him close.

As soon as he was within reach of another firefighter, they safely transferred the child, allowing the first firefighter to return to the top to unhook the ladder from the railing. The police had just gained entrance to the apartment, one of them lifting the window to peer out, making sure the child was safe.

Rory raced to the bottom of the truck and took the child from the firefighter’s arms. The child was cold, screaming, face red with tears and snot running down his cheeks, chin, and chest. Bobby threw a blanket around the child, and Rory shifted his hold to keep the child wrapped. Moving to the back of the ambulance, he stepped up and lay the child on the gurney. Pulling out his stethoscope, he began listening