Torie had no idea what the sound was. “What’s happening? Why did the windows break?”
The driver looked at her like she was insane. “That’s gunshots, lady.”
“What? Gunshots?”
“Gunshots. I’m a South Philly boy, born and raised. If I tell you somebody’s shooting at us, then somebody’s shooting.”
“Good God!” Torie gasped, frantically looking around.
“Stay down,” the man hissed. “Cops’re coming but we don’t know where this guy is. He may be gone, but we can’t take a chance.”
No sooner had the words left his lips, than another snick and pop sounded, and she smelled a hard, sharp scent.
“Move!” The driver was up and running for the dubious safety of the building. “C’mon, lady!” he yelled over his shoulder. “That hit under the hood, it could blow!”
Blow?
Still dragging her bags, she sprinted after the driver. She stumbled and fell as she passed him, scrambling up to huddle under the metal stairs. Her knees stung, as did her hands, but she dug out her own cell phone. Her fingers were shaking so badly she misdialed four times, but the sound of sirens helped her steady.
“Paul?” she whispered. “Paul, are you there?”
She thanked heaven when he picked up. “What’s up, Torie?” he sounded impatient. “Why are you whispering?”
“Someone shot at us outside the hotel. The driver’s called the police but his car…his car is all—”
The explosion was enormous. From more than forty feet away, protected by the stairs, she could feel the heat. The noise was a terrible roar.
“Torie? Torie?” Paul’s voice seemed to be tiny, mouselike and far away. “Torie! Talk to me!”
“Car blew up,” she squeaked. “Can you—”
“I’m on my way. Sit tight and don’t talk to the police about anything. Nothing. You hear me?”
“Hear you.” Oh, God. Someone wanted her dead. Someone wanted to not only ruin her life and destroy her things, but kill her. She’d done the impossible as well.
She’d called Paul Jameson for help.
“The devil, you know,” she whispered to herself as she watched the flames engulf the car. “The devil, you know.”
“Well, we are certainly not happy to see you again, young lady.” The nurse who had been on duty when she came in before greeted her, pulling the curtain closed. “What’s up this time?”
“Someone, someone shot at the car I was in,” Torie said, her voice hitching. Reaction was setting in. The ambulance arrived before Paul, and the officers and EMTs insisted she be checked out. She’d dragged her luggage to her room, thrown it inside, then gone back downstairs to comply. When they discovered she’d been in the hospital with a concussion, the EMTs loaded her into the ambulance, and sent her to the ER. Torie was too shell- shocked to disagree.
“Shot at you? Good heavens. And weren’t you in a house fire? Girl, you are not in a happy way, are you?”
“Nooooo. I feel like I’m in a movie.”
“A bad one, yeah.” The nurse stepped in to shine a light in her eyes, flicking it to either side. “Do you have any cuts, or bruises? Does your head hurt?”
“No, but my hands do.” Torie held out her palms, which were scraped and scratched. Her manicure was toast. “I fell when I was running away from the car.”
The nurse was cleaning her hands when she heard Paul’s voice outside the curtain.
“Torie?”
“I’m here, Paul.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Attorney.”
“Ah.” The nurse grimaced as she twitched the curtain aside to let Paul in.
“You okay, Torie? How bad is it?” He directed the last question to the nurse. The nurse’s eyebrows winged up, but she kept her voice level as she answered.
“She’s got some scrapes on her palms, but there’s no evidence that the concussion has been triggered again, or that she’s in any pain or distress.”
“Of course she’s in distress,” he argued. “Someone just shot at her.”
The nurse took a deep breath, shooting Torie a look. “Yes sir, but what I meant was, medically, she’s not in any distress.”
“Oh, okay.” The reply was lame, even to Torie’s ears. Before she could think anymore about that, however, he stepped to her side. “Who have you talked to, Torie?”
“No one. I put my stuff away and got in the ambulance. How’s the driver?” This time it was Torie who directed a question to the nurse. “I think he got hit with some flying glass. Is he okay?”
One more person hurt by her curse.
“He’s fine. Hasn’t stopped talking on that cell phone, though. Trying to get the insurance company to come in
