Chapter 6

"What are we doing here?"

Gabe counted to three and reminded himself that she was as worried about the situation as everyone else, but Tori's voice grated.

"We're waiting and watching." Tess nodded toward the big screen TV over the bar which was running non-stop coverage of the building collapse. They were the only customers left at the tiny restaurant within blocks of the site. Besides the bartender, a lone waitress and a bus boy idled around, their anxious gazes also tuned toward the screen as they went about their jobs.

"You don't even know if they're alive."

"They're alive," JT said, emphatically.

"It's been hours and it's still snowing."

"That's better than raining, actually," Gabe put in.

"How so?" Tori asked, that permanent scowl still on her face.

"Water runs down. With the building open like it is, if it was raining, you'd be able to add drowning to everything else working against them." At her expression, Gabe sighed. Nope. That didn't help things. The look Tess gave him had 'shut up' written all over it.

Just then an announcer came on the screen with inset pictures. "We just got word that a third body has just been removed from the structure. They aren't releasing any names at this time, but did say it was a male in his thirties—"

"Oh, my God!" Tori started breathing hard and everyone at the table turned toward her.

"The man is believed to be the missing kitchen worker, according to sources," the newscaster continued, to everyone's tremendous relief.

"See. It isn't him. It isn't Vincent." It was Blaise who came to the rescue this time. "Babe, come on. Let's go for that walk." He pulled Tori up by an arm. "This could take all night. You need to work off your anxiety."

Amazingly, she didn't balk and followed him out. Tess, JT and Gabe all watched them leave.

"What was that all about?" Tess finally asked the room in general.

"She's understandably upset. We all are."

"With good reason. Our best friends are buried under tons of concrete!" JT added.

"There are plenty of places in that building that they could survive in. Let's not go there."

"Tori's not the only one ready to beast out," Tess quipped solemnly, then turned her thoughts back to the couple that just left. "Is . . . is Blaise safe?" The young blind man's presence had been a surprise to her when she'd arrived at the scene, but JT had filled her in.

Gabe shook his head. "Safer than most," he said cryptically, his gaze on the door through which they'd left, but his thoughts had turned inward. "At first I thought Blaise was like a shiny new toy to her, or a puppy," he murmured. "But now I'm wondering who the real pack leader is." He shrugged. "He seems to have a positive effect on her, in any case. I wouldn't worry."

Blaise hung on for dear life as Tori pulled him down street after street at a breakneck pace. Five blocks away he managed to yank her to a halt. "Stop! I may be good, but I'm not that good. Your faith in my ability to stay upright is endearing, but sheesh, woman, are you trying to kill me? One trip and I'll fall headlong onto the concrete, and then where would I be? Kersplot. Ruined. You have a lot going for you, but this gorgeous face of mine is all I've got."

She pulled them into a narrow alley out of sight of any traffic and set him against the wall, releasing his arm.

"You don't understand," she said, turning away.

Blaise sighed. "I know you're worried about him. Vincent. But he's going to be all right, Babe. Trust me."

She spun around. "Why should I trust you? You know nothing. You can't turn back time or-or pull that four-story building off of him, now can you?"

"No. Superman I'm definitely not. But you have to have faith," he answered, still a light tone to his voice. "Just believe it. You said Vincent's a soldier. He knows how to survive. Besides, bad things don't happen to heroes; this much I know."

She scoffed. If only he really knew. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

"Yeah. But I'm a likeable idiot." He flashed her a grin full of straight, white teeth.

God, he was cute. One corner of her mouth tipped up, despite herself. But joy was fleeting.

"All the people I've ever put faith in are dead, okay? Now, the only man I can really relate to may be, also!"

"Wait. What? Vincent? Honey, I don't mean to make you feel bad, but isn't the guy a little old for you?"

"You just don't get it!"

Blaise pushed off the wall and faced her. "So you said. What is it I don't understand? Because I thought you were my woman and you and he were just friends. Is there something going on between the two of you—"

"No!" She paced away. "No, okay? Nothing . . ." As she heard herself say it, Tori felt the impact of her own words. It was true. There was absolutely nothing between her and Vincent except for their jacked-up DNA, and even that wasn't exactly the same. As much as she'd hoped there would be, he had made it clear some time ago that she wasn't for him. But she still needed him—alive.

An overwhelming feeling of fear threaded all the way through her body and pushed its way to the surface. "Dammit!" she shouted. They were in an industrial area with no one around and she let go. Up-ending a nearby industrial-sized garbage bin, she sent it end-over-end down the alley in a banging roll.

The surge had been strong but brief, and as soon as she came down off of it, she realized her mistake. She looked over at Blaise. He hadn't moved. Oh, God!

"Feel better now?" he asked softly.

Had she growled, as well? Oh, what had she done? She looked around for some way to explain it, but there was none—no one else to blame it on this time. They were completely alone and he knew it.

She approached him carefully. He was biting his lip as if in indecision. Yeah, he'd made a mistake in hooking up with her. A big one. Now it was time to pay the piper. "Blaise . . . I'm—I'm sorry you had to see that," she whispered. Crap. "I—I mean—"

"Forget about it," he said automatically. "So I was right. You are Super Chick."

"It's not like that—not what you think."

"Oh? What do I think?"

She looked up at him, at those light colored eyes that held so much light and life in their dead gaze. "I have no idea."

"That's right. So don't go judging me. I may be blind, but I'm not stupid."

It was he who should be judging her! And yet not only had he stayed, he showed no fear.

"I'm a . . . a m-monster." As difficult as it was to say, it felt good to get it out finally.

"Really? Because that's not what I see."

Her head snapped up. "I don't mean to be rude, but you don't see anything."

"Au contraire, my love," he said softly. "I see much more than you think." He sighed and looked away, though what he saw in his minds' eye she couldn't imagine. "That's why it bothers you so much, isn't it? With your strength you could help, but they can't know."

Tori shrugged, then realized he couldn't see that either. "That's why Vincent went in. He's . . . he's like me."

That brought his head back around. "Seriously? A Dynamic Duo! Sheesh, now it all makes a crazy kind of sense. So you and he are—"

"No. We're not. He only has eyes for Catherine."

They way she spewed out the name told him everything. "Ah."

"There's no 'ah' about it. If anything happens to her—"

"So you are concerned about the good detective."

She looked at him belligerently. "If she dies, it will kill him, don't you get it? And then I'd really be alone! And there's not a damn thing I can—"

"Stop." In a flash of movement, he covered her mouth with his before she could go on. She struggled briefly but gave up and leaned into him, soaking up his reassurance like a sponge. Not since she'd come into her strength had she felt so weak.

Blaise spoke to her with his lips, his tongue, coaxing her to change her perspective, to hand over her fear to him. The tears in her voice had made him reach out. Now he tasted them on her cheeks and eyelashes. It took some work but she finally gave in, trusting him. He wrapped his arms around her. "I may lack superpowers, sweetheart, but I've got a good shoulder to cry on. And you won't be alone. I promise. I'm not going anywhere."

Tori slowly relaxed. There was nothing she could do but pray . . . and be thankful for someone in her life who understood. She gradually unthreaded her fingers from his wavy blond hair, but she remained in the circle of his arms.

"So none of the others are like you? Your other friends . . . ?"

"No."

"But they know."

"Yes." And now he did, too.

When he said nothing else, she looked up at him. "Aren't you going to ask any more questions?"

He shook his head. "Not tonight. You'll tell me when you're ready. Just let me hold you."

An unfamiliar sting hurt the back of her eyes. She hadn't cried in a long time. "Don't let go."

"Never."

Long minutes later they sat together on a dry inset staircase, out of the wind and weather. "Why are you always so happy, by the way?"

Blaise turned his empty gaze toward the alleyway. "What's the point in being angry? When I choose to be happy, I'm in control of my life. No one else." He turned to her. "Who's controlling you?"

She shrunk back, surprised at the question. "No one."

"You need to do better than that. Even I can see the chip the size of Texas on your shoulder."

It took her some time to respond. When she did, her voice was low. "There's a man—he did this to us. I wanted to make him pay. But I can't even do that right."

"Will going after him change anything?"

Again, she was surprised by the question. Of course it would! Wouldn't it?

"I mean, if you . . . hurt him, will it make you better? No, don't answer that—it isn't really a question. You know the answer already."

"It would feel really good."

"For a while. But revenge has a bitter after-taste, believe me."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because I know." He stood up, suddenly uncomfortable. He'd never told a soul.

"Blaise?"

"I lied about how I became blind, okay? It wasn't some accident at birth."

Tori gasped. How could Vincent not have known that? Or did he? She hadn't realized she'd said the question aloud until he answered her.

"I've told that story so long I sometimes forget it isn't true. My own father did it. He was an alcoholic, abusive, and a total jerk. He treated my mom like crap and me worse. I guess he didn't like the burden we were. Why she stayed with him, I'll never know. She was weak, but she was still my mom. When I was fourteen, I finally found the guts to stand up to him. For all my bravado, I was pretty dumb, and no match for him, but I was scrappy . . . and afraid to lose. We got in a fight. I don't remember much of it. I must have lost, though, because all I know is at some point he hit me with something really hard. They said the blow caused retinal detachment in both my eyes. It's something that can be fixed, but only if you get treated immediately. I didn't. When I woke up, we were on a train—just my mom and me, and it was days later."

Tori searched his face. He spoke without inflection, as if he were reciting facts, not a devastating life event. "What happened then?"

"She took care of me as well as she could, but life was hard. One day she simply didn't come home. I think it was just all too much for her. I learned some time later she died.

"I'm so sorry, Blaise."

He shrugged. "I'm just sorry I wasn't with her. Too many bad choices, and some of them mine."

"But your father—"

"After a while, I got my feet on the ground, got some public aid, and at nineteen I had one goal in life. I went looking for him."

"Revenge."

"It isn't as sweet as you think."

"You found him?"

"In a bar. Where else? He didn't even recognize me, but he was still a mean bastard willing to take advantage of anyone, even a young blind kid. I flashed some cash at him, acted naive, and lured him to an alley where he thought he'd make an easy buck. But I was prepared. I'd spent the last five years of my life doing nothing but working out—getting strong—and planning my revenge. Blind as I was, he was no match for me. I beat the crap out of him until he begged for mercy. That's when I told him who I was."

"That must have been a shock."

Blaise laughed. "Wish I could have seen his face. All I know is, one minute he was laughing—in a humorless kind of way—the next he was gasping for air. He died of a heart-attack at my feet."

"At least you didn't kill him."

"I might have. I don't know. The point is, dead or alive, I was still blind." He turned as if to look at her.

"You rid the world of a miserable human being. That's all I want to do."

"And another one will take his place. It doesn't end, Tori. You can't fix the world. Bad people exist out there and they always will. You can only control what you become. Who do you want to be? It isn't easy to give up your anger, but it's the only real way to beat him."

"How can I do that?"

"By living. By conquering this thing, despite what he's done. See, I'm pretty smart, aren't I?"

The familiar cockiness was back in his voice. That kiss and their revelations to each other seemed to have empowered him. She should knock him down a notch, but she didn't have the heart.

"You're still an idiot."

"But a loveable one. Come. Let's go back to the bar. It's freezing out here. Maybe there's been some good news about Vincent and we can all go home."

"And Catherine. I really don't want her to die."

He left an arm around her. "I know."

It was with the first rays of morning light that Vincent noticed the change. Or was it morning? There seemed to be more light in the crumbled space to see by now. The bulldozer's grind and screech had been their constant companion through the night, but now the sounds were louder with voices mixed in. When had he fallen asleep? And for how long? He quickly turned to look at Catherine. The light illuminated her face in a deathly pallor, but her heart still beat. "Catherine?"

He couldn't rouse her. "Catherine?" Sometime in the early morning hours she had slipped into unconsciousness. Even if he he'd been able to keep his eyes open, he knew there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. Her body was simply shutting down. That didn't make the pain any more bearable.

He tried for several more minutes to awaken her, desperate to see those eyes on his again. Nothing. Despite the warmth of his body next to hers, she was still so cold. He touched her face, her hands, her hair—willing her to hang on. He sent one last prayer heavenward.

Minutes later he heard them break through the wall. Time was short. "In a few minutes, Catherine," he whispered to her unconscious form, smoothing a handful of dust-spattered hairs away from her face, "I'm going to have to step away from you, okay? I don't want to, but I won't be far and it won't be for long."

When she didn't respond, he scanned her broken body once more then searched her face. She'd stayed with him so long already. God wouldn't be so cruel as to take her from him so close to rescue, would he? Fear for her made it difficult to breathe. "The people are here to rescue you, sweetheart, and then you'll be safe and warm again. Please . . . keep fighting. For us. For me."

He didn't want to withdraw the insulated jacket he'd wrapped her in, but he needed to hide before they entered the room. He waited until the last second, not wanting to expose her to the cold, then gently unwrapped her and skittered away under the cover of shadows to the darkest corner of the room.

As soon as they broke through, he fell in behind them as one of the crew. If they didn't see her immediately, he would be there to point her out.

"You should go home. You look pretty beat."

Tess looked at JT. "Thanks a lot. You don't look so good yourself."

She always had a way of making him sound like an idiot. "I just meant, you should get some rest." He nodded toward her leg and the set of crutches leaning against the side of the bar. "I'll call you if there's any change."

"Yes, Tess," Gabe agreed. "No need for all of us to hold vigil. Who knows how long it will take? When they bring her out, you'll be the first to know. You'll want to be well rested."

"How could I possibly sleep?" she asked passionately. "I am not leaving here! If there's any chance—" An anchorwoman interrupted their conversation and they all turned to the TV.

"We've just learned that a woman has been found alive inside the basement of the building, and the emergency team is bringing her out!"

The four of them all screamed at once.

"We believe this will be the missing detective, Catherine Chandler," the anchor continued, "who is thought to have been instrumental in alerting the Indian delegation of the threat and getting most of the people out of the building before the first explosion."

Tess hopped up and down on one leg as they all did a happy dance, then they followed the action on the screen. Catherine, wrapped head to toe and unmoving, was carefully being carried out to an awaiting aid unit in the driving rain.

"She may be hurt, but she's alive," Gabe reassured them.

It was JT who frowned first. "What about Vincent? He has to be there, too!"

Tess and Gabe turned to him, their joy turning to concern. The devastation on his face was palpable. On the screen, a dozen or more yellow-jacketed rescue workers swarmed the scene. "JT—"

"Wait. There!"

"What?" There'd been no other announcements, no shout of another discovery. Gabe and Tess studied the screen, trying to see what he was so excited about.

"Behind that other guy, following the gurney—in the yellow jacket. That's Vincent!"

Sure enough, a tall, dark-haired man with a familiar gait followed closely behind and anxiously looked on as the team moved Catherine to the emergency vehicle.

"Let's go!"

Vincent sat on the edge of the bed. He knew he shouldn't crowd her so, especially with her injured leg, but he couldn't help himself. The single chair supplied by the hospital in the tiny room was too low, and he needed to touch her. The monitors on the rolling table next to him streamed a constant chatter of beeps and pings, displaying her pulse and oxygen levels—all steady and within acceptable limits, if not tremendously strong—but it was the mesmerizing sound of her heartbeat that drew his constant attention. Catherine was still unconscious and not completely out of the woods yet, but it was induced now to enable her body to heal. Nevertheless, he kept up a constant dialog.

The others had long come and gone. He'd had to have Tess clear him to remain after visiting hours because he promised Catherine he wouldn't leave her side, and he intended to keep that promise no matter what. Since Tess was just as adamant and stubborn, they'd agreed to take shifts. Last he checked she slept now, curled up on a bench seat in the waiting room down the hall.

"When you asked me to let you go, I couldn't do it," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Catherine. I just couldn't. I need you too much." He looked at the foot they had set in a plaster cast. Thank heaven, she hadn't lost it. Even the doctors were amazed. The fracture would heal with time, and she was alive. That's all that mattered.

He ran a hand from her foot up her leg, the length of her arm, and then to her face, every inch of her precious to him. "You know, one day we're both going to be old and gray and one of us might make that same request. Just telling you now, I won't be able to do it then, either. You and me, we're a team. We stay together. I just got you back. I'm not about to lose you again. So you fight, Catherine. Fight and become strong again because . . . I need you, sweetheart-your strength. Please come back to me."

"Hi. My name is Heather Chandler, and I understand my sister is here—"

"Heather?"

Standing at the nurse's station, Heather swung around at the sound of Tess's familiar voice. "Tess!" She leaned in to embrace her, then stopped short when she saw the crutch. "Oh, my God! Were you injured in this accident, too?"

"Oh. No," Tess blushed. "Just slipped on some ice."

"How is she? Where is she? I came as fast as I heard. Well, actually, I had trouble getting a flight out of the Bahamas where I was working an event, but Jason called and told me what happened, and I thought I was going to die waiting to get off the island. Then the snow caused my flight to be delayed. I came straight from the airport. Didn't even take time to pack. I arrived with only the clothes on my back—"

Tess smiled. Only lightly snoozing on the uncomfortable bench, she'd recognized the high-pitched voice immediately. Heather hadn't changed a bit. Bouncing on high heels and dressed to the nines, she was still as flighty and chatty as usual, although this time her nervous chatter was filled with anxious concern. "It's fine. She's fine. And you're welcome to stay at my place tonight."

"Oh, thank you! I hadn't even thought past getting here. Where's Cat?"

"She's resting comfortably, but still unconscious. It's medically induced, though, so no worries." She hadn't seen Vincent in hours. He'd no doubt sought his own bed long ago. She gave Heather directions to the room around the corner and limped back to her spot on the bench. It would be a good long while before Cat's little sister would want to leave her side. She might as well try to make herself comfortable again.

Heather counted the door numbers as she made her way down the silent hall. A few rooms were open and she could see patients resting in the low lights of the nightshift. Finally, she got to room 4E. The door was open but a privacy curtain had been pulled across the entryway. She took a deep breath and was about to push it aside when she heard a man's deep voice coming from inside.

Thinking a doctor or nurse was attending Catherine, she waited silently at the door for a moment and listened. What she heard took her aback. This was not the conversation of a doctor to a patient, but a man in pain.

Carefully, she peeled back an edge of the curtain and saw a dark-haired man leaning so far over her sister their heads nearly touched. With the proprietary way he held Catherine's hand, it was blatantly obvious he was no hospital worker. Though she really needn't have looked. She recognized that rough, deep voice right away. Vincent Zalansky.

Heather let the curtain fall back into place, hopefully unnoticed. His words to her sister were so personal she felt like she was intruding just listening to them. She was about to step away from the door when she heard him mention Tess. She barely had time to flatten herself against the wall when he threw back the curtain and walked out, never seeing her.

She waited for a count of ten then ducked into her sister's room. A half-hour later, Tess joined her.

"Is she still asleep? They said she might awaken any time now. I thought—"

"Vincent was with her before I came in—Vincent Zalansky—but she was still asleep."

"Oh." Tess's groggy brain searched for the correct response. Yes, Heather had met Vincent at one point, but that was a long time ago.

Heather shook her head. "I thought they broke up."

"Um. They did, actually. Then they reconnected recently, and . . . ."

"I should have known. Jason never said anything to me, but I had the feeling he and Cat hadn't jelled like he'd hoped when he visited her over New Years. Now I know why. I didn't realize he was still around. He's 'ass,' you know."

Not wanting Cat to overhear their conversation, Tess pulled Heather outside the room.

"Cat might have something to say about that," she said, her voice low. "Listen, Heather, like it or not, Vincent is still around. And that's Cat's choice. He's saved your sister's life—and mine—more than once. And if you ask me, he's the only reason she's alive today."

"What do you mean? He rescued her?"

Tess considered before answering. "Sometimes when people have something to live for, they fight harder."

"You mean, because of him, she wanted to survive?"

"You'll have to ask your sister about that, but my guess would be yes."

Two days later Catherine was awake and the subject of a lot of local interest. The fire chief was one of the first to greet her.

"I don't know how to thank you," she said humbly.

"From the sounds of it, you're the real hero here, Detective," the chief, a rosy cheeked man in his mid-fifties, patted her hand in a fatherly way. "You sounded the alarm that got those people out."

"I'm just sorry not everyone got out alive."

"One life lost is one too many in my book," he said, "but it could have been much worse. I'm more surprised you weren't another victim. Are you sure no one was down there with you?"

"What . . . do you mean? As in . . . an angel or something? Nope. It was just me and the terrorists. And they weren't exactly rooting for me to survive."

"Your body was a lot warmer than it should have been in those conditions. Strange. And the odd way you managed to be in an area so well protected. To be honest, I hadn't given you very good odds."

Catherine laughed and fished around for an appropriate response. "I'm sure stranger things have happened. I mean, I once thought I was saved by a mysterious beast. And well, we all know that's impossible . . . ." She sobered. "I suppose I did feel a . . . presence with me."

He nodded, satisfied. "Indeed. Someone was obviously looking out for you."

Yes, he was.

"You really don't have to carry me, you know. This cast is made to be walked on."

"Don't deny me the pleasure of holding you, smiling, in my arms once again," Vincent said, carefully stepping over the threshold to her apartment.

Her stomach did a funny little backflip at that remark. "Okay, but I don't need to be babied. I'm stronger than I look."

He set her gently on her feet. "Yes, you are, and every day I'm thankful for that."

"I even braved a whole room of reporters, you know. I just feel bad that I couldn't tell them how you saved me. Muirfield is gone, my father is locked up. Vincent, you don't have to hide anymore."

He shrugged, still holding onto her. "I felt it would create too many questions. Why was I there? How did I get in there? I did steal a rescue jacket, you know."

"Not really a criminal offense, given the circumstances, I don't think." She spread her fingers across his cheek. "I just know I couldn't have made it without you. Even the fire chief said the odds were not in my favor. You saved me, once again."

"As you've saved me more than once. Let's just call it even. In fact, let's call out for pizza."

She laughed. "I'm good with that, but you know Heather said she'd stop by this evening. I want you to stay, but—"

"But Heather is not really sold on me, so yeah. I get it. I'll order something in then go back to the club tonight."

"Maybe you could come back later tonight. You know, use the fire escape?"

His dimples deepened. "Hmm. Been awhile since I've done that. I've gotten used to being a front-door sort of guy now."

"I'll take you anyway I can get you. As long as you come."

"Then count me in."