by Angel Smits
She harshly signed, “You tell me about them.”
Jason translated. Yep, she’d seen.
Putting her hands on her hips, she didn’t look or move away when Wyatt’s glare turned to her.
“She can read your lips,” Jason supplied. “She wants to know what you mean.”
Wyatt stood there, considering her for a long minute, then nodded. Jason wasn’t sure if he was agreeing with her or himself. “Meanest bunch I’ve ever dealt with. Your father was the worst.” Looked like Wyatt wasn’t going to hold back.
“Not a surprise,” Lauren signed and Jason translated.
Jason surprised himself that he was reading her sign pretty easily.
“He did a-b-a-n-d-o-n me to foster care after my mom died.” Jason had to pause as she spelled then repeated the whole sentence again.
“You were better off,” Wyatt said.
Even Emily gasped at that.
“I won’t sugarcoat it,” Wyatt explained to them all. “She needs to know what she’s up against.” Wyatt looked at Jason then, and Jason recognized that expression—worry. Emily must have recognized it, too, as she moved to stand beside him and put her hand on his arm.
“Tell me. All of it.” Jason spoke for Lauren’s sign.
Wyatt shoved his fingers through his hair in a familiar gesture of frustration. “Last I knew, Pal was under arrest. If he’d lived, he’d be facing trial for theft, accessory to arson and probably murder.”
Lauren stood tall, and while her gaze darted to Jason, she faced Wyatt. She circled her pursed lips with her finger and her hands gracefully turned over in the sign for death. “Who died?”
“One of my guys. A young man whose dad Pal had swindled out of his property.”
Lauren frowned, confused. She turned to Jason. “He what?”
“S-t-o-l-e his ranch.” Jason wondered if there was even a sign for swindle.
“Go on,” she indicated.
“The wildfire they set destroyed nearly half our county. They tried to frame Trey, your nephew, for it.”
Lauren had gone pale, but she didn’t turn away. She stared at Wyatt. Finally, she slowly signed to Jason. “Are the others—T-r-e-y—like that?” She looked so stricken.
Jason hated this. “Your nephew has a good heart. But he’s hurt. Pal Junior—” He looked over at Wyatt and Emily, who shared a glance. They knew Pal Jr. better.
Emily was the one who spoke. “He’s not as mean. But they won’t like that you got something they think is theirs. Greed makes people mean.”
The silence stretched out, and Jason waited for Lauren to respond. She finally signed. “Good thing I’m a R-a-m-s-e-y.” And she smiled, hesitantly, as if it might actually hurt, as if not sure how they’d react to her comment.
Jason wanted to take her in his arms and block out the world. But he knew she wouldn’t want that.
Wyatt was the one to move. He walked toward Lauren. He towered over her, but the concerned frown on his brow seemed to shorten the distance. “I told Jason not to work for Pal. I don’t trust him, even now that he’s dead.” He paused. “I don’t want to see either of you hurt.”
Lauren smiled. Jason saw the way it only lifted the edges of her lips and didn’t light up her face. She looked so defeated, but the lift of her chin made him proud. She turned to gather her things. She shouldered her bag and headed to the entrance. Exhaustion and something he couldn’t identify put a frown on her face. They all followed and waited as she locked up.
Maxine had taken Dylan earlier, but Tina had asked to stay to talk with Lauren. She was quiet now, her eyes wide. She’d heard everything. They all climbed into Jason’s car for the silent ride home.
* * *
EVEN SPENDING THE next day in her office, sorting through and counting last night’s receipts, didn’t erase Lauren’s unease. The success of the fundraiser should have filled her with joy and relief. Instead, the images Wyatt Hawkins had put in her mind overwhelmed her.
Dancing was the only thing that could take her mind off all of it. She turned the music up loud this time.
“Why are you dancing like that now?” Dylan had come through the studio door and stood with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for Lauren to respond.
She stopped dancing, but didn’t turn off the music. Maybe she shouldn’t have shared her secret with him. “Show’s over. It was a success. I can take a break.” She felt the vibration of the song stop.
“Tina told me.” Dylan didn’t elaborate.
The next song’s beat came in, and while Lauren didn’t return to her dancing, she wanted to. Escape was why she was still even here on a Saturday evening. Everyone else had gone home.
“It sucks to have a lousy dad.”
She met Dylan’s gaze. His father was in prison and Dylan would be a grown man before he was released. Both he and Tina understood.
But... At least they’d known him as something other than a criminal. Dylan and Tina both remembered their dad fondly and on occasion were able to visit him.
She had nothing to counterbalance the hurt. And she did hurt. But why? Why did she hurt for a stranger? A stranger who left and never came back.
She nodded, not knowing what, or if, there was anything else to say.
Suddenly, the floor beneath them shook, and not from the music. Dylan stumbled as if someone had shoved him. His eyes were wider than before. There were no further vibrations, just eerie stillness.
Lauren pointed at the door that was oddly closed. It had been open when Dylan had come in. They always left it open, what with the old building’s bad circulation. Dylan ran to it and pushed it open. Black acrid smoke poured in. He hastily backed up.
Panic and smoke clogged Lauren’s throat, and she saw it reflected in Dylan’s eyes. More smoke came in from under the locker room doors. Thicker. Darker.
They had to get out of here.
The only way out was the door. There weren’t even windows in the locker rooms. She yanked Dylan’s gym bag off his shoulder and pulled out clothes. “Cover your face,” she signed and pushed him toward the door.
It only took an instant before she felt the burning sting in her eyes from the smoke. It was strong and she tugged the shirt up over Dylan’s face to protect him.
She struggled to breathe and they both coughed. Each breath hurt. At the door, beyond the smoke, she felt cooler air, not the heat of a fire. “Go.” She waved and pushed him. He yanked off the shirt and ran.
She was right behind him until something hard hit her from behind. Her knees slammed into the wood floor, sending her sprawling. Even as she cried out, she knew Dylan couldn’t hear her.
A hand yanked her braid and pulled her head back. She saw a man’s face, blurred through the smoke and the tears burning her eyes.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“BOSS?” SUSAN RAPPED on the door frame, which was strange. Normally, she had no concept of barriers.
“Come on in,” Jason said.
She stepped into the room and sat down gingerly on the edge of a chair. “I need to talk with you.”
He tried not to get his hopes up that she was quitting or had found a new job.
Jason leaned back in his chair, watching and waiting.
“I was wondering.” She fidgeted with the hem of her blouse, then looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t think I need to keep taking the sign language classes.”
“Really?” He tried to keep his temper at bay. She might not need the skill on a day-to-day basis, but it was important training in understanding others. “Why do you think that?”
“Well, the only person I’m sure I’ll ever need it for is that one woman.” She sat up straighter. “And she’s not even really a client.”
“No, not technically, yet. But Maxine Nightingale
?” He leaned forward now. “She was her foster mother, and has a great fondness for her. And Dylan? The young man from last week, he’s a part of her life as well as being deaf himself. So she’s not the only one.”
“Chloe is handling that case. So, we won’t work with them much, I’m sure.”
“Them? Why would you think that?”
“I just don’t think we should—”
“Stop.” He cut her off. “Think before you say anything more.”
Susan’s eyes grew wide, and she leaned back in her chair as if he’d moved toward her.
“If your reasoning has anything to do with not wanting to work with people who are different or have disabilities, I don’t want to hear it.”
“But—”
“Yes?”
She glared at him then stood and walked out of the room. “Fine,” she said, more to the lobby than him.
Susan had come with the job. When the firm had hired him, they’d given him this office and introduced her as his admin. She’d been friendly and accommodating, until about twenty-four hours into their partnership. She’d been one of the many challenges he’d faced trying to get his foot in the door here. Reaching partner seemed more elusive each day.
“You handled that well.” Chloe’s voice came in the doorway, and she walked in without waiting for an invitation.
“Thanks. I think.”
She laughed and took the seat Susan had just vacated. “She’s part of the gauntlet, you know.”
“What?”
“We’ve all had to deal with her. So far, you’ve lasted the longest.”
“What do you mean?” Someone had actually managed to get rid of her?
Chloe laughed as if she could see the wheels turning in his head. “Most of us foist her off on the next new guy who comes along. Lucky for you, there’s a new recruit coming in next week.”
Why did that make him feel uncomfortable? “Is there a reason you dropped by, Chloe?”
“Yeah, actually there is. I just heard from the DA. Your friend, Dylan? They’re dropping all charges.”
“That’s great.” What a relief. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, but the facts of the case were what did it. He didn’t do what they claimed. Plain and simple.” She stood and headed out. “We just proved it.”
He half expected her to pump a fist in the air. At the doorway, she stopped. “New recruit’s name is Jim Ryan. You might keep that in mind.” She tilted her head toward the lobby and Susan.
Once his office was empty, Jason texted Lauren and saw the message from Wyatt. He and Emily had arrived home just fine. Staring at it, he felt the distance. And suddenly he knew that he wanted to give Lauren and Dylan the good news in person. He glanced at the clock. Hopefully, he could get to the studio before she headed home.
“I’m leaving now,” Susan said from the doorway, her jacket over her arm and a purse hanging from her shoulder.
“Have a good evening.” He didn’t say anything else.
“Yeah.” She disappeared, and he heard the elevator open and close. He wasn’t far behind her, heading out of his office and driving to Lauren’s studio.
Part of the reason Jason had started picking her up at night was because so many of the streetlights in the studio’s neighborhood were out. It wasn’t quite dark yet, so the lights hadn’t come on. The quiet, empty eeriness of the street only intensified his concerns.
Was this the same street that just last night had been lined with cars? Turning the final corner, Jason slammed on the brakes.
Flames shot into the sky from the back of the studio.
Jason parked almost on the curb, his phone already to his ear. He noted the glass shards scattered on the sidewalk. The front door was nothing but an open frame.
“9-1-1 operator. What is your emergency?”
“There’s a fire at—” Jason stepped back to look at the numbers screwed to the front of the building and read out the address.
The woman on the other end of the phone asked him questions, which he automatically answered, but didn’t remember the instant after he spoke.
Smoke and flames lit up the night and Jason tried to see through the thick cloud of smoke streaming out the doorway. Where was Lauren? Had she already left? He glanced at his watch. What time did she leave when she didn’t have the late class? He cursed.
Movement inside the smoke made Jason run to the door. He called for Lauren, then felt stupid. She couldn’t hear him even if she was fine. “I think there’s someone inside,” he told the dispatcher.
“Sir, don’t go into the building.” The woman’s voice rang out through the night. “Assistance will be there momentarily.”
Jason saw a shadow. Lauren? “Like hell.” He stepped through the shattered door, pulling his jacket collar up and across his face as best he could.
Light flickered ahead. The main studio? The auditorium? What was he seeing?
Dylan stumbled out of the smoke just then, coughing.
“Where’s Lauren?” Jason asked, making sure Dylan could see his face.
Dylan coughed hard, bending over and pointing behind him. Jason directed him out the front door. “Go!” To the dispatcher, Jason said. “One person’s out. I’m looking for another.”
“Sir, you really need to stay outside.”
At the next doorway, Jason looked around. Nothing. Wait. Further back, on the other side of this smoke. Two figures.
Who the hell? “Hey!” Jason yelled.
The man suddenly turned and leapt through the smoke. He ran straight at Jason, and slammed into him. Taken off guard by the impact, Jason slipped on the polished floor. His phone went flying, clattering on the wood and skittering away. He registered the sound of the dispatcher’s voice sliding away into the smoke.
Lower to the ground now, below the smoke, Jason saw her. On the floor. Crawling in the wrong direction. His heart froze. Lauren!
His original intention of chasing the attacker gone, Jason prayed Dylan was out where the man couldn’t find him. He hurried across the floor to Lauren. She was leaning back now, her hands over her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks. As he reached for her, her bloodcurdling scream shattered the air.
She fought him. Kicking and trying to bite him. Thank goodness for all the roughhousing he’d done with his siblings. Lauren gave him a pretty good thrashing before he got his arms around her, pinning her between his chest and the floor.
She squirmed, until suddenly, she froze. Something about him must have registered as she reached for him and held on tight. He tried to ease away from her, but she flung her left arm around his neck, nearly strangling him in her panic.
Jason had to get them out. Heat against his back told him to move. Fast. His eyes burned from the smoke. Carefully, he loosened her arm and scooted away, never letting go. He couldn’t tell her his plan to get out and with the smoky haze, she’d never see his lips or his sign.
He stood, trying to help her to her feet. The air was so thick with smoke, he nearly considered crawling out, but couldn’t take the time to explain such action.
He grabbed her other arm to guide her and they both nearly fell to the floor when she crumpled in pain.
Ah, hell. Jason scooped her up, each breath agony. They were running out of time. She didn’t protest as he ran toward the door.
Fresh air slammed him in the face as he reached the shattered door. His lungs burned, and he fought to control the hard cough that threatened to send them both to the ground.
Jason sucked in air, hoping and praying he didn’t stumble. He had to get her farther away. Away from the smoke and the burning building. He spotted Dylan sitting on the curb across the street and headed toward him.
Blue lights strobed the night. The wail of sirens pierced the silence. He tightened h
is arms around Lauren. She’d burrowed into his chest, hiding her face against his shirt. Her left hand curled into his jacket collar, holding on for dear life. Her other arm she kept tight to her side.
A harsh cough took him by surprise. He jarred them both.
The fire truck he’d heard approaching pulled to a halt nearly in their path. Half a dozen suited figures jumped out, yelling orders, grabbing equipment, creating even more chaos in the night. Jason went around the truck and crossed the street, letting the fire crew have the whole mess.
He knelt down and carefully settled Lauren next to him. She didn’t let go.
A young man, wearing a paramedic’s uniform, carrying what looked like a tool box knelt before them. A woman stood behind him, an oxygen tank in hand. “Here.” She handed Dylan the mask, helping him put it on. Then turned to Jason.
“She needs help first.”
“We’ll take care of her.” The man reached for Lauren, only to be met with the same fighting, biting woman Jason had found in the studio. Her fear vibrated through her, shaking Jason to the core.
The fingers of her left hand were flying. Jason recognized the sign for Dylan’s name.
He pulled back, hoping that the dim streetlights and strobing emergency lights would help her see what was happening, help ease her fears. She fought his attempts to pull away. He ached to talk, wished she could hear him.
“Hey,” Jason said softly, hoping she’d at least feel his voice vibrate in his chest. “He’s right here.” Carefully, he put her uninjured hand on Dylan’s shoulder. The boy reached up and covered her hand, squeezing briefly. She relaxed slightly, still burrowing her face in Jason’s shoulder.
Jason tried to pull back, but she clung tight, shaking her head in refusal. Something wasn’t right. He leaned back and gently cupped her chin. He gasped, and despite her protests, carefully turned her toward the EMT. “What the hell?” Jason asked.
The EMT cursed as well. “Those are burns. Chemical, I’d say.” He hollered over at the fire crew. One of the firefighters came over. “Hey, you guys need to know. There’s some type of chemical in there.” He showed the man Lauren’s burns.
