Part 18 (2/2)
Her voice was hoa.r.s.e, strained. He imagined her throat felt as though it had been scored with a hot poker. ”Is there any water around here? I'll get you some.”
”I'm all right.” She dropped her hands, let her head fall back against the cus.h.i.+on. Now that the sickness was pa.s.sing, fear was creeping in. ”It seemed so fast, so horribly fast. Are you sure it's out?”
”It's my job to be sure.” Frowning, he caught her chin, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face. ”I'm taking you to the hospital.”
”I don't need a d.a.m.n hospital.” In a bad-tempered movement, she shoved at him. Then gasped when she saw his hands. ”Ry, your hands!” She grabbed his wrists. ”You're burned!”
He glanced down. There were a few welts, some reddening.
”Nothing major.” Reaction set in with shudders. ”You were on fire, I saw your jacket catch fire.”
”It was an old jacket. Stop,” he ordered when tears swam in her eyes, overflowed. ”Don't.” If he hated one thing more than fire, it was a woman's tears. He swore and crushed his mouth to hers, hoping that would stop the flood.
Her arms came hard around him, surprising him with their strength and urgency. But her mouth trembled beneath his, moving him to gentle the kiss. To soothe.
”Better?'' he murmured, and stroked her hair. ”I'm all right,” she said again, willing herself to believe it. ”There should be a first-aid kit in the storeroom. You need to put something on your hands.”
”It's no big deal...” he began, but she shoved away from him and rose.
”I have to do something. d.a.m.n it, I have to do something.” She dashed off. Baffled by her, Ry stood and moved to relock the door.
He needed to go up again and ventilate the office, but he wanted her out of the way before he made a preliminary investigation. He tugged off his tie, loosened his collar.
”There's some salve in here.” Steadier now, Natalie came back in with a small first-aid kit.
”Fine.” Deciding tending to him would do her some good, he sat back and let her play nurse. He had to admit the cool balm and her gentle fingers didn't do him any harm, either.
”You're lucky it isn't worse. It was insane, just walking into that room.”
He c.o.c.ked a brow. ”You're welcome.”
She looked up at him then. His face was smeared from the smoke, his eyes were reddened from it. ”I am grateful,” she said quietly. ”Very grateful. But it was just things, Ry. Just things.” She looked away again, busying herself replacing the tube of salve. ”I guess I owe you a new suit.”
”I hate suits.” He s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably when he heard her quick, unsteady sob. ”Don't cry again. If you really want to thank me, don't cry.”
”All right.” She sniffed inelegantly and rubbed her hands over her face. ”I was so scared.”
”It's over.” He gave her hand an awkward pat. ”Will you be all right for a minute? I want to go up and open the window. The smoke needs a way to escape.”
”I'll come-”
”No, you won't. Sit here.” He rose again, put a firm hand on her shoulder. ”Please stay here.”
He turned and left her. Natalie used the time he was gone to compose herself. And to think. When he came back down, she was sitting with her hands folded in her lap.
”It was the same as the warehouse, wasn't it?” She lifted her gaze to his. ”The way it was set. We can't pretend it was a coincidence.”
”Yes,” he said. ”It was the same. And no, we can't. We'll talk about this later. I'll drive you home.”
”I'm-”
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