herself shivering and drawing it tighter around herself as she walked, slowly, down the sidewalk into what had been roped off as the safe zone outside of a potential blast radius.
“Leah!” Her mom crashed into her, and wrapped her up with a surprising amount of strength for someone so slender.
Leah hugged her back, breathed in the comforting, familiar scent of her perfume. But she still buzzed inside with numbness.
She’d stood up to three armed men, and offered to be their hostage. Had tried to talk them down.
And then Carter had been there, and he’d killed one. And he’d walked her out, but then he’d disappeared; entrusted her to Tango’s gentle hand on her shoulder, guiding her down the sidewalk. And then the paramedics, and now her mom, crying all over her.
She didn’t think she’d know if she was okay until she saw Carter again.
“Leah.” Her dad, strangely choked. He reached them and put his arms around both of them together. “Oh, thank God.”
Behind her, she heard Ghost talking to someone. “…bomb sniffing dogs?”
“Yeah, just as soon as we get the building clear – oh, someone’s coming out.”
She twisted in her parents’ grip, and managed to look back toward the building, still within the shelter of their arms. It didn’t feel like shelter; felt like it was suffocating her.
She glimpsed three figures exiting the glass front doors, Ian’s long, auburn hair unmistakable in the sunlight, streaming over his shoulders. She recognized his husband, Alec, and his bodyguard, Bruce. They showed empty palms, and made a beeline for the officers on the scene.
Reese and Tenny had found them, then, though there was no sign of those two, in their ill-fitting black uniforms.
She didn’t realize her legs were giving out until her dad said, “Whoa,” and gripped her more securely. She was dizzy, then. When her head cleared, she was sitting on a city bench down in front of the still-boarded-up Bell Bar, and her mom was pressing a fresh latte in a travel cup into her hand. She drank gratefully, and could feel the sugar and caffeine go to work almost at once.
Her mom sat down beside her. “We were so worried, you have no idea – and Ghost showed up – and everyone outside was talking about a bomb – maybe we shouldn’t sit here. Should we go home? Honey, are we safe?”
Her father answered in soothing tones.
Leah sipped her latte and watched the churn of activity. An armored vehicle went past, SUVs labeled “K-9 Unit.” Pedestrians, onlookers, milled and gossiped.
The fire chief went past in his red, white, and tan cruiser. When the car was past, Leah saw a familiar figure standing on the far sidewalk. Carter was back in his jeans, blue t-shirt, and cut.
He looked both ways, then crossed the street to get to her.
It felt like she took her first deep breath in hours as he walked toward her. The numbness ebbed – gave way to a bone-shaking relief, and…yes, a joy. How she could feel joyful after what had just happened, she didn’t know. Could only chalk it up to being alive, and loving, and being loved. The memory of his breath warm in her hair, and his arms strong around her.
Heedless of her parents, she stood, let the blanket fall off her shoulders, and opened her arms to him. He didn’t even slow; walked right into her space and enfolded her, his arms tight, his hand gentle at the back of her skull.
She was aware of her mother saying something soft, and of her parents drifting away down the sidewalk, giving them a moment.
She wanted to kiss him, and reassure him – be reassured in turn. But for now, she could only cling to him, soak up his warmth. She thought the smell pressed into the skin of his neck might be gunpowder.
He breathed out shakily and said, “I love you, too.”
~*~
“There was no bomb anywhere in the building,” Ghost said that evening, all the lamps blazing in the common room, Evan dealing out drinks as fast as they could drink them – which was fast. “The bomb squad went over every inch, and said they’ll look again. For now, it looks like the scare was just a way to create chaos and get Luis inside.”
“Dramatic little shit,” Mercy said with a snort, taking another sip of his Scotch. “Couldn’t just have a back-alley meeting like a regular gangster.”
“That would imply he was meeting a regular back-alley gangster,” Ian said, plucking lint off his sleeve