Gale Force Page 0,10

forget) that Lewis and I had once been . . . close. Not for ages, but still. It hadn't been the kind of one-night stand you forget.

Even so, the two of them were friends, if cautious friends. And they respected one another.

"Everybody okay here?" Lewis asked. I gave him a silent thumbs-up, not quite daring myself to speak. He looked - well, like Lewis. Drop him in the middle of Manhattan or in a forest in the Great Northwest, and he basically remained unchanged. Blue jeans, hiking boots that had seen miles of hard use, brown hair that shagged a bit too much, a three-day growth of beard on a long, angular face. Almond-shaped, secretive dark eyes. "Jo. We're setting up a staging area. I'm on my way there now. If you're done here - "

"Yeah, I'll come with," I said. I'd had a purse at some point, and I went back into the changing room to hunt for it. Good thing it was a hobo bag. I felt as if I matched it nicely, what with the rumpled clothes, sweat, and plaster dust.

When I turned, David was right behind me. He steadied me with big strong hands, looking into my eyes, and I couldn't resist an audible gulp. He just had that effect on me.

"Be careful," he said, and kissed me. It was probably meant to be one of those gentle little pecks one partner gives another casually, but it turned into something else as our lips warmed and parted and made pledges to each other we couldn't really keep at the moment.

When we parted, I felt significantly more alone, and I could see he did, too. David tapped me on the end of my nose with one finger, an unexpectedly human sort of gesture, and gave me a heartbreaking smile.

"I almost lost you," he said. "I hate it when that happens."

He'd really, truly lost me a couple of times. Once, he'd broken the laws of the Djinn and the universe itself to bring me back. I was well aware how much he'd risked for me, and how much he'd risk again if he had to.

I had to be more careful. Losing myself was one thing. Losing David was an unacceptable something else.

Cherise was still in the main room, hanging up gowns and dusting them off, shaking them out. The clerk, who looked pissed now rather than shattered, was muttering under her breath as she checked each dress for damage. I gave Cherise the high call-me sign, and she flashed me a grin and mouthed, You owe me lunch, bitch!

Cherise was the fastest rebounding human I'd ever seen. And that was only part of the reason I loved her like a sister.

Considering my actual bitchy, whiny, double-crossy, drug-addicted sister . . . better than my sister.

Lewis had a Hummer. I hated Hummers, but I had to admit, it suited him - and he was probably one of the few Hummer drivers who actually used it as God and Jeep intended, to be driven over hard terrain. It looked it, too - muddy, dented, cheerfully well used.

I came to a halt, staring up at the passenger door. "I swear," I said, "if I split these jeans climbing into your damn truck - "

"Need a boost?" Lewis asked from behind me. And I had a terrifically tactile premonition of his big hands going around my waist and lifting me up. . . .

Bad for my discipline.

"As if," I said, and, with a mighty effort, levered myself up to the step and into the cab of the truck. It was like an eighteen-wheeler, only with better upholstery. As I got myself strapped in, Lewis swung in on the opposite side with the ease of long practice, and longer legs. I sniffed. The truck smelled like mud, leaves, wood smoke, and mildew. "You ever get this thing detailed?"

"What would be the point?" Lewis put it in gear, and the tank began to roll. He drove slowly, negotiating around stopped cars and people still standing in the middle of the street. Normal life was starting to reassert itself. As we got farther from the dress shop, I saw that the damage appeared limited to broken windows and overturned shelves in the stores. It looked like New Orleans after a really rocky night of Mardi Gras. "Okay," Lewis said, drawing my attention, "so give me the bullet points."

I ticked them off, a finger at a time. "One, I was minding my own damn business, trying