“We have to get out of here,” Carter shouted. “Where’s the exit?”
Lila pointed to the left. Smoke covered the back entrance and they couldn’t see. The fire alarm screeched in their ears. Carter grabbed her jacket and blouse and his jacket and then took her hand and ran into the hallway. “Maybe we can get out the front door.”
Flames clawed at the front entrance like an angry monster, roaring and destroying what it touched. Carter, still holding her hand, rushed into her office. He looked around. “No windows.”
There was one long window at the top, but it wasn’t a potential exit. The gallery was fully secured. Without a key, there was no way to get in or out.
“Wrap the blouse around your face to protect it and put your jacket on to protect your skin,” Carter said as he wrapped his jacket around his head and covered his mouth. “Try not to breathe too much of the smoke. I called 911, so someone should be here quickly. Just stay calm.”
“Yeah, right.” Her hands shook and she tried to do as he’d asked, but that was impossible. The fire was all around them and no help was in sight.
“What’s on the other side of this wall?”
“It’s the exit that goes out into an alley.”
Carter tapped on the wall. “It’s drywall.” He picked up a stapler from her desk and started hitting the wall with blunt-force blows. The drywall splintered and he pulled away big pieces with his hands.
She reached in to help him until they had a big hole. He kicked the two-by-four out with his foot, taking most of the outside office wall. “Be careful of the wires.”
“You first,” he said. “Fast! The smoke is building in here.”
With the blouse wrapped around her head and over her face, he pushed her through the hole and she tried not to breathe. He tumbled through after her and they faced the big exit door, which was locked. Carter reached up and hit the security pad, and the door opened. They fell out into the alley into a fireman’s arms.
Other firefighters charged into the building. “Anyone else in here?” one of them asked.
“No,” Carter shouted.
An ambulance backed into the alley, and within seconds, she was lying on a stretcher, thanking God for her life and Carter’s.
She looked at him sitting on a bench beside her. He removed the jacket from his head, and a paramedic checked him over and put an oxygen mask on him. She had one, too, and was trying to breathe normally, which was difficult since her heart was pounding in her chest.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. Now that we’re out of there. How about you?”
“I’m good now that I can breathe.” She wanted to say she was sorry and so many other things, but she didn’t know what for. It was all tangled up with the fear inside her.
To make sure they were out of danger, they spent the next two hours in the ER as they underwent tests and X-rays. In the end, the doctor said she was okay, but he wanted her on oxygen for thirty more minutes.
She hadn’t seen Carter and she wondered how he was doing. She’d ask the nurse when she came back. The curtain moved aside, but the woman who came in wasn’t a nurse. It was her mother, Vita. Her brown hair was in a short bob, and the expression on her face was one of those take-charge-mother moods.
“Mom, I told you I’m okay.”
Her mother hugged her and pushed back her damp hair. “Your hair’s wet.”
“I’ve had a shower to get the soot off of me.”
She laid a small carryall on the bed. “I brought you some clothes, so get changed and you can come home with me. I’ll take care of you.”
Lila sighed. “Mom, as soon as I’m released, I’m going back to the gallery. I have tons of things to do, like deal with the insurance companies.”
“It will all be there tomorrow.”
Just as Lila was about to prepare her best comeback, a gray-haired man with a goatee and a big smile walked in. Her stepfather, Rick Yates, kissed her cheek. “How’s my girl?”
“I’m good. I’m just trying to convince my mother of that.”
“Well, she worries, you know.”
“And I love her for that, but I really need my space right now. Please.”
“Well, Vita, I guess we go home and do our thing and let our grown-up daughter do hers. What do you say?”
Her mother straightened the sheets as if they needed it. “You’ll call first thing in the morning?”
“Promise, but I’ll be out late, so don’t expect it too early.”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “There are always conditions with children. Let’s go home, Rick. Love you, baby.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
She jumped out of bed and hurriedly dressed in the jeans and stretch knit top her mother had brought. As she slipped into sneakers, the nurse came in with discharge papers and she quickly signed them. “Do you know if Mr. Finch has been discharged?”
“Yes, I believe he’s already left.”
No! She wanted to talk to him, but she wouldn’t worry. She was sure he would come back. She’d just take a cab to the gallery and get her car. Then she realized she had no money and her purse was in the gallery, probably burned to a crisp. What could she do? She could call her mother, but she’d just made a big deal about needing her space. Her brother, Myles, was probably still working in his law firm. She could call him and wiggle cab fare out of him.
On the way to the nurses’ station, she stopped short. Carter was there in scrubs and leaning on the counter, talking to a nurse. She should have known women liked him. She thought of her dad for a brief moment. He cheated on her mother constantly and had several children outside the marriage. She probably would never marry because of the scars from her childhood. How could she really trust a man?
“Hey, I was just looking for you. Do you need a ride back to the gallery?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“I called a cab. It should be here any minute.”
As they walked out the door to the yellow cab, she said, “Love the outfit.”
“It’s better than soot-covered clothes. I’m thankful the doctor was so generous.”
Carter opened the door, and she slid into the back seat and made no effort to move over. Carter sat right next to her, almost together, as one. She didn’t want to move away. She needed this closeness. She needed someone. The fear was still very real, and she needed to be with someone who didn’t know her well enough to know that she was about to fall apart.
They didn’t speak all the way to the gallery, but he gently touched her hands, which were gripped together in her lap. “Are you okay?”
“No.” She was as honest as she could be. “But I have to see what’s left of the gallery and all the months of work I put into it.”
“From the insurance, you’ll be able to recoup and start over. You can hold my hand if you want.”
She wasn’t afraid to grab it quickly for support. The cab stopped in front of the gallery and they got out. All she could do was stare at the blackened rubble that once was her beautiful gallery. The roof had caved in, and the whole place was just a charred mess. Somewhere amid all the ashes were treasured pieces of art. Her eyes strayed from the building to her car parked in front. She gasped. Part of the roof had fallen through her windshield into her car and the tires had been burned off. It was totaled. She was totaled. She had to get away from here.
By the expression on Lila’s face, Carter could see she had reached her limit. He had to take her home. Before he could offer, a man walked over to them and held out his hand. “Frank Richards, chief arson inspector.” The man was tall and his slacks and shirt were wrinkled, as if he hadn’t been out of them in a couple of days.
“Do you think it was arson?” Carter asked.
The man shrugged. “We’re not sure, but we have to check everything. We’ll let you know when we’ve finished the investigation.”
“Thank you,” Lila replied. “Do you think you can see what’s left of my purse? My identification is in it and I’ll need it if it’s still usable.”
The man thought about it and Carter knew he didn’t want anyone to disturb the scene, as most firemen would.
“What would it hurt to let her have her identification?” he appealed to the investigator. “Just her ID.”
The man sighed and hollered at one of the firemen to do as she’d asked.
“It’s on a chair in my office,” she said.
In a few minutes, the man came out with her wallet and handed it to her. “It’s kind of warm, so be careful, but everything is intact.”
“Thank you.”
A Lincoln Navigator swung into the parking lot. A bald guy with a little extra around the middle got out. “What the hell happened here?”
“Somehow the gallery caught fire,” Lila told him.
“I told you about all that wiring. Every month it’s something about the wiring. The electrician put new lights in this week and probably overloaded the breaker, which caught fire,” the man said.
The arson investigator shook his hand. “We’ve already checked the breaker and that wasn’t it. I’m assuming you’re the owner of the building.”
“Yes. Lou Rossini.” He pointed to Lila. “She’s responsible for this and she’s going to pay for everything.”
“Hey, you don’t know that.” Carter stepped in. “You don’t know what started the fire, and until they do, I’d advise you to keep your mouth shut.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “And who are you?”
“Carter Finch, insurance investigator. The insurance companies are involved now and will make a decision on who pays for what.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Rossini. I don’t know how the fire started.”
When Lila spoke, the man seemed to calm down. “The insurance people will sort it out. I’ll talk to you later.”
Lila wrapped her arms around her waist and Carter realized she was trembling. He touched her arm. “Come on. I’m taking you home. Do you want to go to your mother’s?”
She blinked. “How do you know my mother?”
“I heard her in the ER.”
She brushed her no-doubt messy hair behind her ears.
“Oh. You know that saying about always listening to your mother because she knows what’s best for you? I should’ve listened, but right now all I want to do is go home to my apartment and let the wounds heal. My mother would smother me with love and kindness, and I don’t need that right now. I need to be strong to get through this. It’s my problem, not hers.”
He admired her courage, but she really shouldn’t be alone. “Do you have a sister or brother who I could call for you?”
She linked her arm through his. “Wait until you hear about my convoluted family and then you’ll understand when I say no. I’ll do just fine by myself. I could call my sister-in-law, Faith. We’ve always been close, but she has her own problems right now. I could call Savon, but she’s having the time of her life and I won’t bother her.”
He helped her into the car, which he didn’t have to do, but she didn’t say anything, just clutched the wallet to her chest. “Where to?” he asked as he slid into the driver’s seat of his rental. She gave him her address in Lincoln Park. It was a town house and not too far away.
“Why don’t you come in,” she said as he stopped in the parking lot. “There’s no need to go back to your hotel.”
He was thirty-four years old and he was pretty good at reading women, but this one flew right over his head. He didn’t know what she was thinking, but he knew what he was thinking.
“Why?” he asked. “We barely know each other.”
“I feel like I’ve known you for a very long time and—” she rubbed the leather on the wallet “—I don’t want to be alone tonight. And, yes, I’m fine,” she added quickly. “Don’t read more into this than there is.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He grabbed his briefcase and suitcase and followed her into the town house. It was a two-story with a living/kitchen area downstairs and the bedrooms upstairs.
With her foot on the bottom step of the stairs, she said, “There’s a small bedroom to the right and a small bathroom that you can use. I have a lot of paintings and artifacts in there, but you can get to the bed and the bathroom.”
“Thanks.” If he had any wild notion how this night was going to go, she had just disillusioned him. She really didn’t want to be alone and he understood that. He settled into the room and stared at all the paintings stacked against the wall. They were all by the same person and she was probably going to have a show for that person. There were several small sculptures and vases in a corner. On the desk were hand-drawn pictures with an old Wild West flavor. He pushed them toward the back and laid his laptop there. On the bed he opened his suitcase and put away his clothes in the chest of drawers and closet. There were also paintings in the closet, but he had enough room for his clothes. He sat on the bed and took a moment. What was he doing here?
He liked her. He liked her a lot, and if she needed someone, he was willing to be that person. Truth was, no one had ever really needed him. As a child, he’d spent more time with the lady across the hall than he had with his own parents. They were social people and went out several nights a week, and he was left to be entertained by the neighbor.
He stretched. The day had been a killer. He smelled like smoke and his muscles ached. Escaping a fire was not in his job description. He had to get all this information to Neil, but first, he needed to shower and change clothes. Then maybe he would feel better.
Nothing could change the outcome of the fire. There would be some rough days for Lila and he would stay as long as he could. His work was on the road and he would have to leave as soon as he sorted through the Tinsley debacle.
Lila felt much better after she had a shower, and she smelled better, too. She heard the water running and knew Carter had decided to take one, too. She went downstairs. Why had she asked him to stay? The answer was very simple: because she wanted him here and, yes, maybe she was a little afraid, but not of the darkness or the fire, but of being alone. She’d had that fear most of her life, and today she really couldn’t shake it and she couldn’t explain it.
Carter came into the kitchen in pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. Her heart accelerated at the sight of him. His wet dark hair clung to his scalp and a five-o’clock shadow enhanced his sexy masculine look. There was another reason she wanted him to stay. She was thirty years old and attracted to him, and she was old enough to act on that attraction.
“You seem better,” he said, eyeing her from head to toe in the short bathrobe. Her senses spun with an almost forgotten delight of being with a man.
She swallowed hard. “You look better, too.”
He walked toward the refrigerator. “You have anything in here to eat? I’m starving.”
“I ordered pizza.”
“Great. Just what the doctor would suggest.” The doorbell rang. He went to get the pizza, and they sat at the island in the kitchen.
“You can’t stay in Chicago and not eat a deep-pan pizza.”
“It’s delicious, but you’re not eating very much.”
“Nothing seems real.” She laid her pizza piece in the box. “I think I’m going up to bed. I want to be at the gallery early in the morning.”
“I’ll clean up down here and probably go to bed, too.”
She paused on the stairway, wanting to say something to explain her strange actions. “Have you ever been afraid to be alone?”
He took a sip of wine. “Everyone has. Even big old guys, so don’t beat yourself up about being afraid. It’s a normal reaction.”
“Nothing stays the same. Everything gets shattered and broken, and I don’t know how to put my life back together without crying my eyes out.”
“Then cry your eyes out. Do whatever it takes, and I promise you tomorrow everything will look better.”
“You’re no help.” She ran up the stairs. How could she expect him to understand? He didn’t even really know her or about her childhood of broken dreams and broken promises. Everything changed on a regular basis, and maybe this time it was just too much.