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With grim determination, the agents headed toward the devastated section of the building. Dust and smoke still billowed and swirled. Firefighters sprayed high-pressure hoses where flames continued to rage. Taking a deep breath, Kyle stepped into the ruins.
It was like plunging into hell.
LAURA STRUGGLED to her feet, coughing and choking on dust and smoke. Her first thoughts were of her father, and she prayed he had been safely evacuated with the governor. Her head throbbed, and although her ears rang from the concussion of the blast, she could hear the children crying around her. Her eyes ran so thick with tears, she couldn’t see the youngsters in the dim light.
Dear God, if she was this scared, how terrified were they?
“Kids?” she called. “Where are you? Are you all right?”
A pair of tiny arms snaked around her hips. “I’m scared. I want out of here.”
It was Tiffany’s voice. Laura stooped down and hugged the child. “Hear those sirens? The firefighters are coming. They’ll get us out.”
A scrambling noise sounded in the wreckage beside her. “Jennifer?”
The other little girl, her body racked with sobs, threw herself at Laura. “I wanna go home. I want my mommy!”
Laura gathered Jennifer against her side. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. Jeremy, are you out there?”
A low moan answered her call. It seemed to come from a few feet in front of her.
“Hold on to my skirt, girls, and stick together. We have to find Jeremy.”
Falling to her hands and knees, Laura crawled toward the sound of the moaning with the two girls close beside her. Debris scraped her knees and tore at her stockings, and she was operating almost blind in the suffocating dust. “I’m coming, Jeremy. Hang on.”
Her outstretched hand touched a boot, and she quickly lifted the little boy in her arms. “I’ve got you now. You’ll be okay soon.”
With Jennifer and Tiffany clinging to her for dear life, she headed back the way they’d come until she felt a solid wall ahead of her. She turned, braced her back against the wall as she sat, and settled Jeremy on her lap. The dust was beginning to settle, and she could make out the outlines of his stark white face.
And the nasty, bleeding gash across his forehead.
Wriggling out of her suit jacket, she took off her white silk blouse and tore a strip off the bottom. She tore a second strip, folded it into a pad and placed it against the gash on Jeremy’s head.
“Be a brave boy,” she murmured to him as she pressed the pad against the wound and tied it firmly with the other strip. “This may hurt.”
Jeremy only whimpered, and she prayed he didn’t have more serious internal injuries. She held him in her arms, crooning reassurances to him, and the girls huddled on either side of her. “We’re going to be all right. They’ll come for us soon.”
As the dust settled, she began to comprehend their situation. The explosion—a gas main, perhaps?—had trapped them in the short access corridor to the ladies’ room. The framing of that alcove must have protected them from falling beams and debris, but their approach to the main hall was blocked. There was a hole large enough to lift the children through, but she had no idea what pitfalls lay on the other side. She didn’t dare send them out alone, and she feared the whole structure might tumble if she tried to clear her way out.
She could still smell smoke, but she could also hear the sirens of the fire engines, the distant shouts of firefighters, and the splash of water from their hoses. If Miss Walker and the rest of her class had escaped the building, the teacher would have alerted the authorities that Laura and the children were still trapped inside.
The only thing to do was wait.
And keep the children calm.
Jeremy lay still in her arms, but his pulse was steady and his breathing even. Jennifer and Tiffany sniffled on either side of her, and her hearts went out to the terrified little girls. She’d be crying herself, but she had to keep up a brave front for the children.
“Miss Walker knows we’re in here,” she reassured the girls, “and she’ll have the firefighters looking for us. We’ll have to make some noise to lead them to us.”
Tiffany wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I can scream real loud.”
“Screaming isn’t a good idea,” Laura suggested with more calm than she felt. “We don’t want to frighten anyone.” Or get you more worked up than you already are. “How about a song we could all sing?”
Jennifer gazed up at her through soot-rimmed eyes. “I know ‘This Old Man.’”
“Me, too,” Tiffany said.
“Good,” Laura said.
In the far distance, blending with the noises of sirens, she could hear people moving through the ruins, shouting to one another. “If we sing real loud, the firefighters will hear us and come find us. Ready?”
Their voices were raspy and thin as they began to sing, and little Jeremy lay entirely too quietly in her arms. But as the singing cleared the dust from their throats, their song grew louder and more steady. They continued gamely, verse after verse.
“‘This Old Man, he played eight—’”
“Hello! Where are you?”
Laura and the girls broke off midphrase at the call. The voice that hailed them was rich and deep and coming from where the main hall had been before the blast.
“We’re in here,” Laura called.
She heard the sounds of debris shifting and someone approaching. A beam of light shone through the small opening that led to the main hall.
Laura blinked in the glare and felt Tiffany and Jennifer cling tighter to her.
The light beam withdrew, and another light, more powerful and widespread than the flashlight, filled the crevice. A big man with wide shoulders thrust his head through the small opening.
Laura caught her breath. He looked like an avenging angel with a hard hat for a halo. Even with smoke and dust smearing his face, she could discern the strong lines of his jaw, the classic slope of his nose and the intense green eyes that glowed with compassion and concern. His expression radiated kindness and a virile gentleness, and she realized with a jolt that there was resolution and incredible strength there as well. His smile melted the icy knot of fear in her stomach and hope surged in its place.
“Don’t worry,” he said casually, as if they’d met in an elevator instead of a bombed-out building. “I’m Kyle Foster, and my friends and I will have you out of here in no time.”
Chapter Two
“You’re an answer to a prayer,” Laura tried to shout, but her voice was hoarse from dust and singing.
Her rescuer’s mouth curved in a slow, sensuous smile that would have weakened her knees—if she’d had any strength left and hadn’t been already sitting. She hoped he was as courageous as he appeared. He’d promised to get them out, but she could hear the building falling around them. Only someone with nerves of steel would risk being buried alive to help people he didn’t know.
“Just keep those prayers coming till we’re out of here,” he called in a deep, resonant voice filled with steady reassurance.
Jeremy stirred in Laura’s arms, and her anxiety for the child increased. “I have a little boy who’s hurt,” she called.
Kyle’s smile disappeared, and concern filled his eyes. “How bad?”
“Don’t know,” Laura replied out of honesty and a reluctance to frighten Tiffany and Jennifer any more than they already were.
“Can you bring him to me?” Kyle said with a calmness that eased her racing heart. “We’ll take him out first.”
Laura struggled to her feet with the boy in her arms. “Stay here, girls. I’ll be back for you.”
She picked her way carefully through the wreckage toward the opening to the main corridor. Stumbling once, she almost fell, and chunks of plaster rained down on her. She hunched over Jeremy to shield him with her body and struggled to maintain her balance in that awkward pose.
The boy roused again and looked up at her through unfocused eyes. “Mommy?”
“No, sweetheart, I’m Laura.”
She thought of his mother, of the parents of all three children and how frantic they must be to have their youngsters out of danger and back in their arms.
And she thought of her own father, waiting outside for her rescue, desperate to see her unharmed.
Soon, Daddy, she promised. Don’t worry about me.
“You’re almost here.” Kyle’s encouraging voice echoed through the wreckage. “Keep coming.”
“My arm hurts,” Jeremy whimpered.
She bit back tears at the little boy’s pain. “We’ll have you fixed up real soon.”
When she reached the opening, Kyle was gone, and she panicked, wondering if they’d been deserted. Debris continued to fall in the stillness of the wreckage, and she feared the rest of the building might collapse any moment.
“Hello? Anyone there?” she called.
Kyle’s handsome face reappeared, and she chastised herself for her lack of faith in him. She should have known from the reliable look in his amazing green eyes that the man wouldn’t desert them.
“I’ve sent my partner after the paramedics and a stretcher.” He couldn’t fit his wide shoulders through the narrow hole, but he thrust his arms, clad in a denim jacket, into the opening. She noted the strong, slender fingers and square nails, streaked with dirt and marred with nicks and scratches from clawing through the wreckage.
“Let me have him,” Kyle said. “We’ll take good care of him.”
“Careful,” Laura warned as she transferred Jeremy. “His arm may be broken.”
With a gentleness she hadn’t expected in such a rugged man, Kyle took the boy in his arms as carefully as if the child were made of glass. A tear slid down the man’s face, but Laura couldn’t tell if he cried for the child or if the dust from the wreckage irritated his eyes.
Jeremy opened his eyes and gazed up at Kyle. “Who are you?”
“I’m helping the firefighters, big guy.” The man’s voice was kind and encouraging. “My friends and I will get you out of here and find your mother.”
Jeremy relaxed in his arms. Kyle maneuvered the boy’s body through the narrow aperture, and the two disappeared.
“I’ll be back for the rest of you,” Laura heard Kyle call.
She returned to Jennifer and Tiffany, grabbed each one by a hand and helped them pick their way through the tangle of beams, wires and drywall to the opening, their only route of escape.
“Will he come back?” Jennifer asked, once again sniffling with fear.
“He’ll be back.” Laura placed a supportive arm around the girl’s shoulders. She didn’t have to fake confidence. Something about the man, the assurance in his eyes, the tenor of his voice, told her Kyle Foster was a man who didn’t make empty promises.
A horrific boom reverberated behind them in the rest room, and a major portion of the ceiling gave way and crashed to the floor. The girls screamed, and Laura jumped. If they’d stayed where they’d been earlier, all of them would have been crushed. What remained of the building was deteriorating fast, and if Kyle didn’t return soon, they might be buried alive.
She pulled the girls close to bolster their courage and tried to squelch her own rising panic. “He’ll be here any minute now.”
True to his word, Kyle thrust his face through the opening. Laura had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. How could any man look so damn sexy with so much dirt on him and seem so at ease with a building raining down around his ears?
“Who’s next?” he asked.
Laura felt Tiffany stiffen against her. “You go, Jennifer,” the little redhead insisted. “I’m older. I’ll stay here and look after the lady.”
“You’re not older.” Jennifer sniffed. “We’re both six.”
“I’m six and a half,” Tiffany said in a superior tone.
“You’re both coming,” Kyle said. “I have people with me to carry you out.”
The urgency in the look he threw Laura set her into instant motion. She scooped Jennifer into her arms and handed her to Kyle. He threaded the girl through the opening as if she weighed no more than the dust that swirled around them, a testament to the strength in the well-developed muscles of his arms.
“What’s a good-looking kid like you doing in a mess like this?” he asked Jennifer. She responded to his teasing grin by throwing her arms around his neck and holding tight.
With a tenderness that brought tears to Laura’s eyes, Kyle patted the girl’s back, then handed her off to someone behind him. He immediately shoved his arms through the opening again. “Next?”
Laura picked up Tiffany. The girl leaned back in her arms and looked at her. “Aren’t you coming?”
“In a minute,” Laura said.
“But the hole’s too small.” Tiffany locked gazes with her, eyes filled with worry, as Kyle took the girl from Laura’s arms. “How will you get out?”
“Don’t worry.” Kyle spoke to Tiffany but his eyes met Laura’s. “We won’t leave your friend in there.”
He disappeared for a moment. When he returned, he thrust a hard hat and his own denim jacket through the hole toward Laura. “Put these on and move as far from the opening as you can. We’re going to frame some supports before we tear open this hole.”
Only then did Laura realize she’d been standing there the whole time in only her bra and skirt. She’d thrown aside her jacket, now buried beneath the wreckage behind her, and used her blouse to bind Jeremy’s wounds. But Kyle Foster had acted as if finding a woman only half dressed in the halls of the capitol building was nothing out of the ordinary.
She tugged on his jacket, still warm from his body heat, and was inundated with a melange of scents: sunshine, meadow grasses, saddle soap, leather and a pleasingly masculine musk. As she slid her arms into the sleeves, it was as if Kyle Foster had wrapped his arms around her, a comfortable illusion. The thought and the jacket warmed her. She hadn’t realized how hard she’d been shivering until she stopped. Caring for the children, she hadn’t had time to think about herself. Now, the solitude and vulnerability of her situation hit her full force.
Her distress must have shown in her eyes, because Kyle reached out through the opening, his eyes fierce with emotion, his jaw set with determination, his lips curved in an encouraging smile, and ran his fingers down her cheek in a tender salute. “You’re a hell of a brave lady.”
She didn’t want to move, to break the warm, heartening contact of his touch. She wanted to lean into the cup of his hand, the only place in this hellhole of a building she felt safe.
He patted her cheek and gently shoved her away. “Move. Now,” he ordered.
Jamming the hard hat on, she scurried back against the wall of the access corridor.
“Don’t be alarmed,” Kyle spoke through the opening. “You’ll hear a lot of noise out here, chain saws and jackhammers. We have to clear a path for you. There’ll be some debris shaken loose. Hunch down against the wall and keep that hard hat on.”
“I understand.”
“Hey.” He took off his own hard hat and thrust his head through the opening. His forehead was tanned above the line of plaster dust and his hair a golden brown, a perfect complement to his eyes, the deep green of summer leaves. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll get you out.”
This time he didn’t smile, but there was intensity and solemn promise in his expression.
His confidence was infectious. She nodded and huddled closer to the wall.
