Without thinking, Kerry reached out, her hand covering his momentarily. “It’s a nightmare. And it’s unraveling by the minute, Corporal Grayson.” Her gesture had been an attempt to try and soothe his obvious shock over the conditions around him. But once she realized what she was doing, Kerry jerked her hand away. Heat stung her neck and flowed up into her face. What on earth was she thinking, touching him like that? Glancing up, she saw his blue eyes suddenly become stormy. What was that emotion she saw for a split second on his hardened features?
Unsure, Kerry said, “Don’t mind me. I’m a toucher. I found out a long time ago that people respond better if you reach out and just touch them. Stabilize them. It sends a message, a good one.”
Nodding, he rasped, “I’m reeling, all right. I won’t tell my men that. I’m sure they’re just as shell-shocked by what they’re seeing right now as I am.” His hand tingled pleasantly where her fingertips had grazed his hairy flesh. Her touch was unexpected. Wonderful. He wanted more. Much more.
“When we’re alone, call me Quinn. Out there—” he nodded toward the blanketed door “—call me Corporal Grayson. And I’ll call you Deputy Chelton.”
“Agreed.” She saw his face thaw a bit. Maybe Grayson wasn’t the unfeeling military machine that he’d projected earlier. He certainly looked like it, but Kerry knew that in law enforcement as well as the military, one had to hide behind an armored facade, show no emotion, and get the job done no matter what.
“Call me Kerry. Formality is necessary sometimes, but not always. We’re a team. I’d like to think of you and your men as friends come to help us.”
Friends. Well, Quinn wanted to say Friends, hell. I’d like to be your lover. Having no idea where all these crazy, intrusive thoughts and feelings were coming from, he quirked his mouth.
“Yeah, we’re one big family in a hurt locker.”
Laughing softly, Kerry said, “Spoken like a marine.” “Hurt locker” was a navy slang term for someone being in a world of trouble. Since the Marine Corps was part of the navy, and because she had worked with military personnel in the past on a number of investigations, Kerry was familiar with the terminology. She saw Quinn’s eyes shine with laughter for just a moment.
“And I have a feeling you’re just one big softy underneath that tough marine-green facade of yours,” she teased gently.
“Humph. We’ll see.”
Kerry motioned to the sleeping child. “She touched you. You knew she was hungry. The first thing you did, Quinn, was try to help her. And me.” Her throat closed up for a moment. Bowing her head, Kerry felt tears jamming into her eyes. Unable to look at him, because she didn’t want him to see the tears, she got to her feet and turned away. If she didn’t, she was going to burst into tears—tears she’d fought off since the night of the quake. And right now wasn’t the time or place to let them flow.
Clearing her throat, she whispered in a rough tone, “Come on. I’ll get one of the women to stay with Petula. I need to show you how things are working around here.”
Chapter Three
January 14: 0950
Sylvia Espinoza, a teenager of nineteen, came to stay with Petula so that Kerry could begin to show Quinn the layout of the area. The sun was shining strong and bright in the eastern sky when Quinn and she left her makeshift home. The day was chilly, and Kerry shrugged into her dark green jacket. As always, she wore her pistol around her waist and kept her flak jacket on beneath her blouse. With Diablo roving around, Kerry didn’t want to take any chances.
As she fell into step beside Quinn, she felt more relief sheeting through her.
“I feel like we’re going to make it now,” she confided to him. Around them, the world was waking up. People slept out in the open on cardboard, with whatever blankets they could find. To sleep in one of the remaining buildings would be foolhardy, given the continuing aftershocks. A roof or wall caving in could kill them.
Quinn glanced at Kerry’s profile, which was set and serious. Her brows were drawn downward, her lips pursed. She had wrapped her arms across her chest, her hands beneath her armpits to keep them warm. January mornings in California were typically cold. Quinn made another mental note to call in for warm clothing for him and his men—and her.
“What do you mean?” Looking ahead, he saw that they were skirting the shopping area and heading toward the distribution center. In the distance, he saw one of his marines standing at ease, M-16 in place, as a long line of people waited patiently to receive bottled water.
Giving a short laugh, Kerry said, “Oh, I know this is going to sound stupid. Naive, really. I’m a police officer. I know better.” She held his sharp blue gaze and her smile faded. “But just having you and your team here makes me feel better.”
“In what way?” Quinn hoped she wasn’t expecting miracles they couldn’t deliver. There was just too much devastation and not enough people power to rescue even those most affected.
“Oh,” Kerry murmured, “for two weeks I’ve shouldered all the responsibility of trying to set up a logistical network to help people. I did receive training in disaster relief for our county, and it sure has come in handy. Without it, I wouldn’t have had a clue what to do first.”
“You’ve handled this area single-handedly?”
“Yes.” With a sigh, Kerry whispered, “When the quake hit I had just gone out to my cruiser in the parking lot at the back of the sheriff’s building, Quinn. I remember hearing this god-awful roar—like a freight train bearing down on me. I looked around, but it was dark and I couldn’t see a thing. I didn’t figure out what was happening until the first shock hit.”
Quinn slowed his pace and stopped, turning to face her. The emotions and pain in her expression ate at him as she stopped before him, looked down and began gnawing on her lower lip, obviously struggling not to cry. Without thinking, he reached out and slid his hand down her arm.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. As a trained EMT, he knew the effect touch and a gentle voice could have on someone who was in trauma. It was obvious to him that Kerry was still in shock. Deep shock. She refused to look up at him. He wanted to touch her again, so he rested his hand lightly on her slumped shoulder and stepped toward her until their bodies were nearly touching. What she needed, he realized, was to talk it out, to get some of those nightmarish memories out of her in the same way a sick person needed to discharge an infection in order to feel better.
“Tell me about it?”
The deep, concerned tone of Quinn’s voice tore away the last of Kerry’s defenses against the horror she could still see, even with her eyes tightly shut. His hand resting on her shoulder sent warm, wonderful sensations lapping through her. His attention, his obvious care, dismantled her monumental efforts to put a lid on the boiling cauldron of trauma she carried daily within her.
“I don’t know if you’re ready to hear it,” she said unsteadily.
Quinn patted her shoulder awkwardly. Hell, if he was honest with himself, he really wanted to open his arms and draw Kerry against him. That’s what she needed most. With all the people around them, however, Quinn knew that wasn’t wise. She was a leader and needed to be seen that way by the people of the area. And he didn’t want his stature as head of the fire team to be compromised, either. So he remained where he was, even though his heart was crying to him to embrace Kerry. Hold her, rock her and ease the awful pain he saw revealed in her pale features.
Biting down hard on her lower lip, Kerry tried to control her escaping emotions. “Oh, this isn’t going to be good, Quinn. I don’t think you want a crybaby on your hands right now….”
Chuckling softly, he said, “Listen, Kerry, I’ve seen horror. I know trauma. I think I’ve got an idea of what you’re going through. One thing I found out a long time ago was that it helps to talk it out with someone you trust. Someone you feel safe with.”
Lifting her chin, Kerry tried to smile, but failed. “You make me feel safe, Quinn. I can’t explain it. The moment I saw you come off that Hue
y, I knew everything was going to be okay. Maybe that’s foolish and idealistic, but that’s how you impressed me.” Easing her hands from beneath her armpits she waved them helplessly, her voice wobbling as she said, “The sheriff’s building collapsed in on itself, Quinn. All three stories.” Kerry shut her eyes. Hot tears scalded her eyelids. She felt his hand grip her shoulder more tightly, as if to buttress her against the pain she was sharing with him.
“Go on…” Damn, it was tough just to stand here and not hold her. Quinn watched as two tears wound down her pale cheeks, leaving a silvery path in the light film of dust on her skin. How badly he wanted to give Kerry a warm, luxurious bath, so she could relax. She needed to clean herself up to feel halfway human again. He was glad she’d said he made her feel safe. His heart had soared at that whispered admission, and emotion still vibrated in his chest, like a flower that had discovered the glory of the sun. She made him feel good about himself as a man.
Sniffing, Kerry wiped her eyes self-consciously. Raising her head, she looked around, worried that others might see her crying. In the two weeks since the disaster, she hadn’t shed any tears. People were looking to her for strength, for answers and for organization. They looked to her for help. It was a horrible burden to carry alone.
“This is tougher to talk about than I thought,” she admitted, taking a short rasping breath.
“I’m here for you, Kerry. Just talk it out. That’s best.” And it was. To get a victim of trauma to talk was part of the healing process.
“Well…” She looked up at him and was stunned to see the tender flame burning in his blue eyes. That hard, armored marine mask had dissolved. The man who stood in front of her now took her breath away. His well-shaped mouth had softened, his lips slightly parted. The gentle strength she saw in his face made him even more handsome.
“I’m listening….”
“The building collapsed, Quinn. I was thrown off my feet and rolled around in the parking lot. The cruiser I was going to climb into flipped. I was lucky I wasn’t crushed. I remember seeing the back end of the car suddenly shooting upward. The streetlights went off. Everything went black. So black…The roar around me was incredible. I’ve never heard anything like it before. I remember getting thrown against the cyclone wire fence—smashing into it. I heard the building going down. Dust…dust was everywhere. I was choking on it. I couldn’t see. I was covered with it. I don’t know how long the shock lasted….”
“The initial quake lasted two minutes.”
“It felt like hours,” Kerry whispered unsteadily. She blinked back the tears, mesmerized by his tender expression. How badly she wanted to take one more step toward him and sink into his arms. Somehow, Kerry knew that Quinn Grayson would hold her. Hold her, help her and heal her. Right now, her heart was wide-open and she was feeling so many emotions for the first time since the quake. It was him, she realized belatedly—his care, his attention, the touch of his hand resting gently on her shoulder, that had allowed her this moment of healing.
“Hours…” she repeated, and slowly shook her head.
“Then what happened?” Quinn asked, trying to keep his voice steady. He saw the ravages of horror in Kerry’s wide, tear-filled eyes. Her mouth was a slash against the awful feelings she held within her, and it hurt him to see her suffering. How much he wanted to take his thumbs and erase the tracks of those tears. But Quinn knew the value of letting a person cry. When he’d worked as an EMT, they’d had an old expression: better out than in. In other words, it was better to cry, scream or talk about the incident rather than hold it inside. If a victim tried to suppress the hurt, it became like an ugly infection that would debilitate the person sooner or later.
“The building collapsed,” Kerry said, all the energy draining out of her as she stood with that cold January sunshine against her back. “Do you know how many people died in there, Quinn?”
He shook his head, seeing the grief now shadowing her face. “No…no, I don’t, Kerry.”
“I—I had so many friends in there, men and women I’d worked with for years…. Since Lee got killed, they’d rallied around me, helped me so much through that hellish year after I lost him….” She stopped and sniffed. Embarrassed, she raised her hand and tried to wipe away the tears. It was impossible. They were leaking out of her eyes steadily now. She felt as if a huge volcano of grief was imploding in her chest. A lump was forming in her throat, keeping her from saying anymore at the moment.
“Lee?” Quinn asked, stymied.
“My husband. He was a sheriff’s deputy, too….” Kerry took a ragged breath. “I was married to Lee for three years. H-he was killed in the line of duty. He didn’t like to wear his flak jacket under his shirt, so he rarely did. He got a call one night on duty, and when he went to the scene, a gang member shot him point-blank in the chest. If he’d had his vest on, it would have saved his life. But he didn’t….”
“Damn,” Quinn whispered, his fingers digging momentarily into her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Kerry. Really sorry.” And he was. It was obvious she loved her husband. Quinn could see the warmth burning in her tearful gray eyes when she spoke of him. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if some woman loved him that way? Yes, but it was never going to happen.
Pushing aside his own problems, Quinn focused on Kerry. She lifted her hands and wiped her face. All the gesture did was spread the dust, leaving muddy smears. Withdrawing his own hand, he groped for the canteen and a cloth he carried in one of the pockets of his uniform.
“Did you lose all your friends in there?” he asked, as he uncapped the canteen and poured some of the precious water onto the dark green cloth in his hand.
“Y-yes. Every one of them. We had a shift change going on at the time. After the first shock ended, I got to my feet. I was stunned. It was so dark. There were no lights. The quake had torn up the lighting system and it was awful. I managed to find my flashlight and started back toward what I thought was a building.” Opening her hands, she looked down at them. Her nails were jagged, and her hands were dirty and covered with cuts.
“I tripped and fell so many times in that chewed-up asphalt parking lot, Quinn. It was pulverized rubble, just like you see here at the shopping center.” She swept her arm around them. The once smooth surface was now a vast stretch of jagged chunks of asphalt and dirt that looked more like a plowed field than a parking lot.
“But you got to the building?” Quinn capped the canteen and hung it back on his web belt.
Kerry nodded and sighed heavily. “Yes, I managed to get over to it. But I could smell natural gas. The lines had been broken. I knew I was in trouble. As I got closer to the building, I couldn’t believe it. All three stories had pancaked down upon one another. Three stories had become a half story of concrete, steel and glass rubble.” Shaking her head, she whispered, “All I could do was stand there. I just couldn’t believe it. I didn’t hear anyone crying out for help. Nothing. I felt so helpless. So very helpless. I stumbled and staggered all around that building, but there was nothing left of it. Over a hundred people were in that structure…so many of them my friends….” She covered her face with her hands.
How alone she was, Quinn realized, her grief reaching out and grabbing him hard. To hell with it, he thought, stepping closer and putting his arm around her shoulders. “Come here, Kerry. Let me clean you up a bit.” And he raised the dampened towel.
When she lifted her head in surprise, he smiled at her. It was a smile, he hoped, that said Relax, I’m going to help you.
With the first stroke of the soft terry cloth against her cheek, Kerry released a tremulous sigh. She stood very still against him while he cleaned her face as if she were a lost child in need of care and love. Every stroke was gentle. The coolness of the cloth against her skin felt good. Cleansing. Quinn was so close, and so pulverizingly male to Kerry. It took everything she had left, emotionally, not to turn and lay her head against his strong, broad shoulder. Somehow, Kerry knew Quinn could handle big loads and heavy responsibilit
y. He was built for it not only physically, but emotionally, too.
His gentleness was surprising and unexpected, however. All too soon, he was done cleaning her face. Stepping away, he dropped his arm from her shoulders. Inwardly, Kerry cried over the loss of his nearness, his care. Opening her eyes, she fell captive to the smoky blueness now banked in his eyes as he studied her in silence. For the first time in years, Kerry felt another stirring deep within her heart and lower body—the start of desire for a man. For Quinn Grayson. Even though he was a tough, no-nonsense marine warrior, he had an incredibly surprising and wonderfully tender side to him, too. It was a beautiful discovery for Kerry. Right now, after the last two hellish weeks, she needed someone exactly like Quinn.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really a mother hen in disguise?” Kerry tried to keep her voice light and teasing, for if she didn’t, she was going to break down in unrelenting, body-shaking sobs. She hadn’t yet cried for the loss of all her friends, and the emotions threatened to hit her hard now.
Grinning crookedly, Quinn handed her the damp towel. “Yeah, I’ve been accused of that by my fire team from time to time. It’s my job to care for my people.”
“You’re good at it,” Kerry whispered shakily. She took the towel and rubbed her hands free of dirt. “And this is a wonderful gift…. Thanks for listening to me, Quinn. And thanks for the spit bath. I know I’m dirty as all get-out. There’s no water to waste. But I long so badly for a hot bath….” She sighed. “Now, that’s a dream. A faraway one…”
Quinn said nothing, watching as she scrubbed her slender wrists and artistic fingers free of dirt. Once they were clean, he saw many fine pink scars across them, as well as healing cuts. “What are these from?” he asked, pointing to her hand.
The Will to Love Page 4