Torin (Hope City #9) - Maryann Jordan Page 0,61

threatening to push their way in, making it difficult to breathe.

“Miss, what do I need to do?”

She turned to see the man from the clothing store standing there, white shirts and neckties still in his hands. The wrinkles on his face were deep slashes as his dark eyes darted around, the corners of his mouth turned down.

“Come with me.” For several minutes, they moved to those who were less injured, applying makeshift bandages and tourniquets. Rescue workers filled the area, assisting those with more severe injuries. She glanced over her shoulder, thankful that the EMTs, paramedics, police, and firemen had managed to get to the gruesome site, all working to stabilize the injured and cover the dead. The jackets were all emblazoned with an alphabet soup of HCFD, HCPD, FBI, ATF, DHS, and several more she didn’t recognize. She had no doubt her brothers, father, and Chauncey were all working to find out what had happened. And she prayed they were the only explosions of the day.

As she stood for a moment, her ears still ringing and her body aching, the storeowner looked down and said, “Take this shirt and tie it around your legs. You’re still bleeding.”

He ripped one of the clean, white shirts in half and bent to wrap each half around one of her legs. Another tear streaked down her cheek at the selflessness of this stranger. The blood continued to soak through, but it would help keep some of the dirt out of her abrasions.

“Oh, God help us,” he whispered, staring to the side.

She followed his line of sight and watched as someone was being attended to, the lower part of their leg missing. She dropped her chin to her chest and drew in a ragged breath. Lifting her gaze, she placed her hand on his shoulder, needing human connection in the middle of human tragedy. “What’s your name?”

“Mr. Tomasi. Renaldo Tomasi.”

Swallowing deeply, she nodded, “I’m Erin. Erin McBride. And Mr. Tomasi, you’ve done all you can. You’ve done more than you should’ve had to.”

He stood tall, his face carved in stone. “I’m Croatian. I fought for my country thirty years ago, then brought my family here. I never thought to see something like this. Not here.”

She blinked and nodded, having no words, tears threatening.

Indecision moved through his eyes until he finally nodded. He turned toward her, deep lines of anguish etched into his face. “God be with you,” he said. “God bless you.”

Numbness crept over her body as he walked slowly away, his shoulders hunched. She cast her gaze around at the gruesome aftermath of the bombing, resembling a warzone that she’d once been intimately acquainted with. Now, the numbness slid over her mind, shutting off the emotions that threatened to drop her to the ground.

“Erin!”

Barely hearing her name through the sirens, shouts, and cries, she jerked her head up, ignoring the pain slicing through her head. The dull ringing still in her ears made it almost impossible to know where it came from, and the crowd around became a swirling mass of indiscernible bodies. Her name reached her again, and her gaze snagged on Rory as he raced toward her, the agonized expression on his face ripping through her as much as the blast. Overcome with exhaustion and emotion, her legs gave out from under her. His arms banded around her just before she crumpled to the ground, crying, “Not again, not again.” Then the world turned black as she gave in to the peaceful darkness she craved.

18

Erin’s eyes fluttered open. A dull ringing filled her ears, making all other sounds muffled. The lights were bright, but nothing came into focus. Her body ached. Every muscle cried out in pain. She blinked again.

“I see you’re waking, Ms. McBride. I’m Carla.”

Her tongue darted out to moisten her dry lips. She moved her head slightly, more pain slicing through. She tried to swallow, but her mouth felt stuffed with cotton balls.

“Here, take a sip.”

A straw was placed between her lips, and she sucked automatically, the cool water tasting sweet. Her gaze followed the hand holding the glass, up the arm, and to a woman in blue nursing scrubs.

“Do you know where you are?”

Her headache continued to pound as she furrowed her brow, trying to discern the answer.

“Do you know your first name?”

“Erin.” The raspy croak of her name on her lips sounded far away.

“That’s right, Erin. Do you know what you were doing today?”

She licked her lips again, casting her mind back. Blue sky. Clear day.