Your Heart, My Home Page 3

  Of course, she could have hailed a cab. Or maybe she had a bike, or some other motorized contraption she used to go places. "Let's hope she likes to save money and used her own vehicle. Or walked, if luck is with me."

  He didn't pay any attention to what was roiling overhead. He had no need to. He'd weathered storms before. Which was why he never expected the bolt of lightning hitting him with a force that shut him down in the blink of an eye.

  Unconscious, Quazar fell nearly a hundred yards to land in a crumpled heap on the gravel rooftop below.

  Chapter Five

  Bolt

  Sherandar hurried into the apartment building's front door before the first huge drops of rain started to pelt the city. Sighing, she decided against taking the rickety old elevator, and trudged up the three flights to her loft.

  There had been just enough money in her account to let her buy a dozen eggs and a four-pack of yogurt. But it would have to do until her next payment arrived, hopefully before the rent was due.

  Sticking the food in the fridge, she walked over to the big kitchen window to stare out at the gathering storm, but her thoughts were on what she'd heard at the news conference.

  "So the police have bupkis. Big whoopty surprise. But they'll try to pin the blame on you somehow, Sher. You can count on it. Which means my whole focus will have to shift from fly boy to dirt bag, and discover who's trying to frame me...if I'm being framed."

  Her reflection in the window frowned back at her. Although it sounded like she was being set up big time, she honestly didn't believe this was the case. For one thing, if someone was trying to imitate her style, they were doing a piss-poor job of it. Even with a minimal amount of research, they would know she wasn't the blow-up type of girl. Cause a major blackout—hey, that was right up her dark alley. But she damn sure wouldn't have used an explosive.

  "Maybe a relay switch of some sort," she muttered, gnawing on a fingernail. Snorting, she crossed her arms over her breasts. "File that one in the futures drawer, girlfriend. First things first. Get the bastard who's really behind this."

  The sky rumbled, drawing her attention back to the storm. Sherandar frowned. She'd watched the weather report last night. There had been no mention of the possibility of rain today. No hurricane crawling through the gulf. No hot and cold mass conversions shaking hands in the stratosphere.

  "Then where the hell did you come from?" she softly demanded.

  As if in answer, a bright luminescence flashed with the putrid gray clouds. It outlined a tiny object flying below them. At first she thought it was an airplane or helicopter hurrying on its way to reach shelter before the worst of the badness hit, until it turned slightly.

  "Jesus! Quazar! What the hell are you doing?"

  The answer was immediately obvious.

  "Are you searching for me?"

  She remained glued to the dark figure that was gradually becoming more and more invisible against the rapidly boiling clouds.

  The bolt of lightning appeared from out of nowhere, slicing through the thunderheads like Zeus's fire to strike Quazar with an ear-shattering crack. Sherandar was barely aware of the scream ripping from her throat as she watched the figure crumple, to plummet down onto the roof of the building a block away.

  Fear galvanized her, breaking her away from the window and making her leap down the stairs as she headed for the front doors. Pausing a split second to get her bearings, she rushed down the sidewalk, dodging people hurrying to get home. When she reached the corner, she glanced both ways, then ran through the red light, narrowly being hit by a speeding delivery truck.

  She knew the building where he'd fallen. It was another old factory and warehouse from the 1950s, which had been converted into rent-controlled apartments like hers.

  Once she reached them, she gave herself a moment to catch her breath as she stared at the double set of doors at its entrance. If they were like the ones at her place, and she had no reason to believe otherwise, the inner doors would be locked, requiring someone from the inside to buzz them open to let her inside.

  Quickly, she pounded up the stoop and went in where the mailboxes were located in the entry. "Torres, Arian Montelli, The Cardisons, Drury. Ah! B. Templeton." She pressed the button, and a female voice answered.

  "Yes?"

  "Babshire Floral here. I have a delivery for a Miss Templeton in Four D."

  "Come on up," the woman happily answered, and the inner door buzzed open.

  Sherandar threw it open and headed straight for the stairs, leaping them two at a time as she aimed for the roof. Praying she wouldn't find what common sense was telling her she'd find.

  Please. Don't be dead. Be alive, you son of a bitch. You'd better be alive.

  By the time she reached the top floor, she was heaving for breath. She cursed herself for her poor physical condition, and promised herself to start trying to get in a little more exercise in the future. Maybe she could build herself a tread climber or something.

  The stairs leading to the roof were narrower and made of steel rather than cement. A single light bulb jutted horizontally above her head when she reached the steel door opening onto the roof. Fortunately, it wasn't chained or locked, and she forced it open.

  The wind kicked up, nearly tearing the door from her grip. She managed to prop it back against the short wall, but she knew with the gale forces building in strength, it wouldn't stay open long.

  She found him unconscious, or dead, at the northern edge of the roof. He was lying on his left side, arms and legs sprawled at awkward angles. Dropping to her knees, she placed a hand on his cheek, but his skin was cold and stiff, raising her alarm a notch higher. Neither could she detect any breathing.

  "Oh, shit, shit, shit. Don't do this to me, Sparky!"

  Thunder rumbled overhead, and fat drops began to fall. Rolling him onto his back, she grabbed him under the arms and tried to pull him into the stairwell, but his arms were like gelatin, and slipped out of her grasp.

  "Shit!"

  Well, if one end wouldn't cooperate, she figured the other end would. This time, she managed to drag him slowly but surely toward the open doorway with his booted feet under her arms. Once she got him to the entry, it became a matter of rolling him over the lip and onto the concrete floor inside. A brief battle with the elements, and she managed to shut the heavy door behind her.

  Breathing hard from her exertions, she leaned her back against the inner wall. A quick glance over at the crumpled figure lying between her and the stairwell showed he hadn't moved. If he could move.

  Sherandar crawled over to check for a pulse. But this time, when she moved him, she saw his eyelids flutter, and an immense wave of relief washed through her.

  She reached to turn him over, when her hand felt something wet. In the dim light coming from the bulb, she could see the hand-sized wound above his right hip. It was hard to tell how bad the wound was, but she was certain that was where the freaky lightning had struck him.

  Quazar grunted softly. She remained nearby, watching and waiting for him to regain consciousness. Inevitably, he moved his arms and legs, testing them, adjusting to this new location and the fact he was no longer airborne. Presently, he turned his head in her direction, and his eyes widened in surprise. Before she could say anything, he lifted a hand at her. A gathering fireball glowed in his palm.

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa, cowboy!" She held up her hands in surrender. "I'm a good guy this time around."

  The fireball dimmed but didn't disappear. "Where?" His voice was hoarse. He tried to continue, when a loud boom drowned him out. The repercussion rattled the heavy steel door, followed by the sound of rain hitting the metal so hard, it sounded like a barrage of bullets.

  "You were struck by lightning," she told him, loud enough to be heard. "I saw it when it hit you, and you fell."

  "Where...am I?"

  "At an apartment building off East Third."

  His eyes narrowed. "Why are you here?"

  "Like I said, I saw you ge
t hit. I thought you were dead...at first." She couldn't tell him how close they were to her own apartment. Or that she'd watched him get struck from her kitchen window. It was best he think she was on the street when she witnessed the incident.

  "You came to rescue me?" He tried to sit up, but failed. The pain that flashed across his face told her how much he hurt. Getting to her feet, she went over and grabbed his arm to lever him upward. Once that was accomplished, he closed his eyes for a moment to recover.

  She went back to where she'd been sitting, aware of how her hands were tingling from the contact. She kept her head bowed until she could regain her composure. When everything inside her was jumping up and down for joy that he'd survived, she couldn't let him see her jubilation.

  "You said...you saw me when the lightning hit?" His voice echoed slightly inside the landing.

  "Yeah." She managed to turn her smile into a teasing grin, and looked up at him. "Guess you do have an Achilles heel after all."

  Quazar slowly shook his head. He reached behind him to test the wound, and drew back a blood-smeared hand. "Funny. I've been hit by lightning before, but it never affected like this. In fact, I sometimes recharged from it."

  "Not this kind of lightning," she told him.

  "What do you mean?"

  The sky cracked as the storm continued to rage. With a boom like a cannon shot, the sole little light went out, throwing them into pitch black. After a moment, a small glow of light arose from his hand where he rested it on the floor. From where she sat, he appeared to be sleeping, until he spoke.

  "What do you mean, not that kind of lightning?"

  "I meant, I'll bet you've never been struck by black lightning," she quipped. "I didn't even know such a thing existed, and I gotta admit, that was a first for me."

  He mulled over her remark. "Black lightning."

  "Yeah."

  "You're certain it wasn't white reflecting the color from the clouds?"

  "Listen, fly boy. When lightning is white, white, white, then all of a sudden a freakish jet black, like someone flipped the negative, it's kind of hard to miss."

  "Like a negative, huh?"

  She got the impression his question was less a response to her remark, and more of a verbal thought for him. Lifting her knees, she locked her arms around her legs. "Bet you're in a world of hurt," she commented in a softer voice.

  "Why did you come to save me?"

  This one she already had a pat answer for if she ever needed to use it. "Hey, if you die, who am I going to torture? It's no fun creating havoc if there isn't anyone around to appreciate the effort."

  He opened his eyes enough to squint at her. "You came to gloat?"

  "Gloat? Oh, hell no! Like I told you earlier, I switched hats this once. I'm trying to do you a favor, asshole. Now, do you want my help or not?"

  "How about...not?"

  The glow went out. Presently, she heard him struggle to stand. Going over to him, she tried to help him to his feet, but he brushed her away.

  "I can make it," he angrily informed her.

  It was enough to rile her. "Oh, yeah? You can make it? The way you managed to keep yourself from becoming a wet mark on the streets? Well, listen, jerk-off. If I hadn't hauled your cute ass in here, you might have been struck again by one of those freakish lightning bolts. Or maybe more than one. And if one managed to knock you on your keister, imagine what another one or more could have done!"

  There was another long moment of semi-silence. Sherandar watched as a tiny spout of light appeared, and quickly grew in intensity. Within seconds, Quazar's entire body radiated a warm, yellow aura. He looked at her intently.

  "Thank you for risking your life to save mine. It was very...fortuitous that you would be the person who found me."

  She gave him a quizzical stare. "How's that?"

  "I was looking for you when I was struck."

  Her heart did somersaults in her chest until cold fear made her step back. She misjudged her action, and the heel of her boot met air as she missed the stairwell. Sherandar felt herself begin to fall down the narrow flight, when a strong arm slipped around her waist, preventing her from tumbling headfirst.

  Time froze as they stared at each other, their noses almost touching. She was acutely aware of his body where it pressed against hers. His nearness, like a soothing blanket of warmth, firmly laid along her abdomen and thighs. Her hands were touching his upper chest, her fingers splayed across the spray of stars that glowed in his light.

  She could hear him breathing. Feel him breathing, as his eyes bore into hers. Their lips were less than two inches apart. At that moment, she never wanted so much to kiss the man as she wanted to melt into him. To feel him inside her. To have him make love to her, until her bones radiated light from within.

  Slowly, carefully, he leaned away from the stairwell, keeping her within his embrace, until she was far enough away from it. Then he released her.

  "You." She swallowed, or tried to. Her body was still jumping from his touch. It was all she could do not to throw her arms around the man's neck and kiss him. To beg him to hold her again.

  But he doesn't care about that, her mind screamed at her. He doesn't see you the same way you see him. Remember that. He is your enemy.

  "You said you were looking for me?" She gave a breathy little humorless laugh. "Hey, I probably just saved your life, and you want to repay me by turning me over to the cops?"

  "On the contrary, Sherandar. I was looking for you because I want to offer you a proposition."

  Her insides did back flips again, and she scornfully berated the sexy images that popped into her head at the word. Her eyes darted to that area between his muscular thighs to see if she could spot anything notable, but the bulge there was too symmetrical to be natural. Guy probably wears a cup or something, she regrettably deduced. Putting on her best no-nonsense face, she perched her hands on her hips.

  "What kind of proposition?"

  "I believe you," he stated bluntly.

  She didn't realize her mouth had popped open from his statement until she started to answer him. "You believe what?"

  "That you didn't cause the blackout." The tiniest ghost of a smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. "Although I wouldn't have put it past you to try something like that."

  She gave him half a grin in return. "It's crossed my mind," she admitted. "So what's the proposition?"

  "The substations were deliberately sabotaged, as I suspected. Whoever is behind it used C-4 to blow the terminals. But he used just enough to make a statement. Are you getting my drift?"

  She did. "If he used enough of that stuff, and knew where it would be most effective, he could have taken down the whole city for week, or longer."

  Quazar nodded. "Precisely."

  "But I don't know explosives. I mean, I know about them, but because I know how tricky it is to use them, I prefer not to."

  "Which is why I don't believe you caused it," he reiterated. "That's why I'd like to propose a short truce between you and me."

  She snorted. "You want the both of us to work together to get this guy? Is that what you're trying to spit out?"

  This time, his smile was genuine. "Well? Think it could happen?"

  Once again, common sense was shaking its fist and yelling for her to make a run for it. Yet, at the same time, her heart whispered, What if?

  "Okay," she told him. "Truce. But on one condition!"

  "That being?"

  "No holdsies."

  He looked perplexed. "No what?"

  "No holdsies. Whatever you find out, you share with me, and vice-versa. No secrets. No keeping information to yourself. Otherwise, the deal's off. Okay?"

  "Okay," he agreed without hesitation. "Oh, and one more thing."

  "What?"

  "No calling me any more derogatory names while we're in this together."

  "Why? Did I hurt your feelings?" she smiled teasingly at him.

  "Just...lay off the insults. Deal?"

&
nbsp; "Whatever you say, fly b-...Quazar," she hastily corrected herself. "So, what's the first item on the agenda?"

  He straightened, and the glow from within him faded. "First, I go check to see how much damage I sustained from that bolt. Then I want to check out those transformers for myself. Want to meet up at the Westbrook Hills substation, say, in two hours?"

  "Will do," she told him.

  There was the sound of the steel door opening, letting in a few rays of sunlight coming through after the departing storm. Sherandar followed him out onto the roof where he flew away without a goodbye. She remained there, watching him until he disappeared from view.

  It wasn't until she started down the stairs that she realized she wasn't wearing any concealment paint on her face. Quazar now knew what she looked like, and with a little effort, he would soon know her real identity.

  She gritted her teeth, vexed with herself, but it was too late to correct that mistake. Worse, once this whole whodunit was over, chances were they'd go back to being arch enemies. So unless she planned on having plastic surgery anytime soon...

  "Guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I come to it," she admitted aloud, and proceeded downstairs, no longer feeling as lighthearted as she'd been moments earlier.

  Chapter Six

  Strike

  Once he knew he was out of visual range, Quazar landed on the next rooftop and dropped to his hands and knees. His back was a solid wall of agony. Breathing was a major effort as every lungful of air stabbed his muscles, slicing into them until they shredded.

  He couldn't let her see him this weak. He couldn't let her know how badly he'd been hurt. If she had any clue, there was the chance she would try to use it to her advantage. Yes, they had declared a temporary truce, but how long would it last? And how long could he trust her to fulfill her end of the bargain?