Blue Smoke

okay.”
    “Oh God, Xander. He burned you out. He’ll come after you, after all of you if we don’t stop him. O’Donnell was the next thing to family. He knew that. He had no part in what happened twenty years ago. His connection to me, not revenge, is why he’s dead. I don’t know how to stop this. I’m scared to death.”

    The shaking started in her toes, worked its way up so she gripped his hands as if to keep herself from shaking to pieces. “I don’t know what to do. Xander, I don’t know what to do next.”
    “We need to go home. We just need—”
    He broke off, and both of them looked over as Bo pushed and shoved his way through people and barricades, shouting for her. She gained her feet, teetered a bit until Xander steadied her.
    “Wait here. I’ll get him.”
    “No.” Reena trained her eyes on Bo. “I can’t just sit anymore.”
    She moved as quickly as she could, but it was like swimming through syrup as Bo struggled with two uniformed cops who restrained him.
    “He’s with me. It’s okay. He’s with—”
    Bo broke free, smothering the rest of her words as he grabbed her up. “They said you went in.” His arms locked around her, stole her air. “They said you went inside. They said a cop went down. Are you hurt?” He yanked her back, his hands running over her. “Are you hurt?”
    “No. O’Donnell.” Her vision blurred with tears. “He . . . he’s dead. He’s dead. Joey rigged an extinguisher, it blew up in his hands. It blew up, and the fire . . . I couldn’t save him.”
    “O’Donnell?” She saw the fear in his eyes go to grief. “Oh Jesus. Jesus, Reena.” He dragged her close, held hard. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Oh God, Mrs. M.”
    “What?”
    “His sister.” He rocked her as they stood there, in the street, with death and smoke everywhere. “Reena, I’m sorry. I’m sick and I’m sorry.” And so glad it wasn’t you. Relief tangled with grief had him clutching her tighter. “What can I do?”
    “There’s nothing.” The dullness was creeping back. The empty sorrow. “He’s gone.”
    “You’re not.” He drew her back to look at her face. “You’re alive. You’re here.”
    “I can’t think. I don’t even know if I can feel. I’m just—”

    He cut her off again, this time blocking words with his mouth on hers. “Yes, you can. You’ll think and you’ll feel, and you’ll do what you have to do.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “That’s all there is.”
    We save what we can, she thought. And with that, she found her balance.
    “You level me out, Goodnight,” she murmured.
    “What?”
    She shook her head. “What are you doing out here? Running down the street like a crazy person. Doesn’t anyone listen to me?”
    He kept touching her, her hair, her face, her hands. “I’m younger and faster than your father. I got by the cops at the house. He didn’t.”
    “Hell.” She turned, studied the scene.
    The fire would take the top two floors. It would nibble at the neighboring houses, scar lives. But it wouldn’t take any more tonight, not here. And it was done with her, for now.
    That’s the job, O’Donnell had said. It was her job to do something. To study, observe, dissect. To find the why and the who, not to sit on the curb and shake with shock and grief.
    “Give me a minute.” She squeezed Bo’s arm, walked back to Younger, who’d come when the news of O’Donnell’s death had hit. “I’m going to go reassure my family, check in there. If he calls again, I’ll let you know.”
    “Took one of ours now.” His face was cold as winter. “Took a cop. A good cop.” He looked up at the sky. “He’s walking dead now.”
    “Yeah. But he may not be done with us. We’ve covered everything. I want to clean up.” She unfastened her jacket. “Clean up, clear my head. If you want to do the same, stay close, you can use the facilities at my parents’.”
    “I may take you up on it. Captain’s on his way. I’ll update him, post guards.”
    “Appreciate it.”
    He put a hand on her arm as she turned. “He was a step ahead of us, Hale. He, by God, won’t stay that way.”
    Couldn’t he? Reena thought. He was a fucking cobra, just as patient, just as lethal. He could go under, go into the wind for years and slither back out whenever he wanted.

    She took a last look at the house as she walked away. No, that was wrong thinking, that was exhaustion and discouragement thinking. He’d gone too far to stop