so hard her teeth rattled. It felt as if she were having a seizure. Eyeing the bottle of bourbon on the counter in the kitchen, he wished he could pour her some to sip on. Warming her from the inside, as well as the outside, would hurry the process up, but he didn’t risk letting go of her.
Rubbing his hands over her back to create some slow friction, he found himself humming an old Frank Sinatratune. Beneath his hands her back muscles started to relax. Oddly, he felt his own heart rate slowing to a normal one.
Sounds came from the kitchen door. He lifted the gun from the table.
Steadily, he watched the back door as Jake and Sami Carlisle came inside.
“Frank?” Sami called.
“In here,” he answered, setting the gun back on the table.
“What happened?” she asked, hurrying to the sofa and turning on the table lamp, the expression on her face clearly illustrating that she was quickly assessing the situation. She sat on the sofa next to him so she could face Sydney, who still had the side of her face pressed right against where his heart beat.
Jake came to stand nearby. His mouth in a grim line, the look of a wary professional lawman on his face.
“Her house burned down,” Frank said, staring straight into the other man’s eyes. Then he switched his focus over Sydney’s head to Sami. “I think she’s in shock. She was so cold, I had to try and get her warm.”
“Sydney, can you hear me?” Sami stroked some the blonde hair that had come out of the bun back from her face. “Can you look at me?”
Sydney shifted in his arms, her head moving slightly away from his chest. He resisted the weird urge to pull her back.
“Jake can you put on some water to boil, and bring her something strong to drink?” Sami looked up at Frank in question.
“There’s bourbon near the electric wine opener on the counter,” he called out.
“Got it.”
A moment later, Jake handed the glass tumbler with a finger’s worth of the Kentucky bourbon to his wife, then headed back into the kitchen to follow her other instructions.
“Take a little sip,” Sami said, as she took one of Sydney’s hands in hers and wrapped it around the glass, then helped her bring it to her lips.
Sydney did as instructed, then grimaced. “Yuck.”
Sami smiled. “I know, I’m not a whiskey drinker, either, but it will warm you from the inside.” She pushed on the glass and Sydney took another, bigger drink.
“That’s nasty.” She made a face at Frank. Her eyes less dazed, the pallor of her skin less frightening, as she gave him a you’re-crazy-to-like-this-stuff look.
“Excuse me? That’s my very expensive bourbon you’re drinking, finest there is, in fact,” Frank defended his choice of liquid libation.
“Still sucks,” Sydney muttered.
“It’s an acquired taste,” he muttered back.
She took one more sip, made the same grimace, and pushed the glass towards Sami, shaking her head. “No more, please.”
Sami, who seemed to be trying to keep from laughing, set the glass on the table. “Do you have any tea, Frank?”
“Yeah, all kinds.” He kept all his safe houses and his home stocked with different kinds of teas, coffees and pops, just in case a witness voiced a preference and he needed them not to leave the premises.
“Why don’t you go make Sydney a cup?” Sami said, gently pulling the afghan off them and helping Sydney off his lap as he eased out from beneath her. Once he was standing, she wrapped the afghan around the photographer and held both her hands, gently chaffing them to continue the warming process.
In the kitchen, Frank busied himself finding a mug and pulling out the box of assorted teas from the cupboard. Setting it on the counter, he opened the lid and stared at all the individual packets. “Which kind?”
“Lemon ginger,” Jake said, leaning in to pick the light-yellow-and-orange packet and hand it to him. “Sami gives that to the kids when they’re sick. Says it boosts the immune
Rubbing his hands over her back to create some slow friction, he found himself humming an old Frank Sinatratune. Beneath his hands her back muscles started to relax. Oddly, he felt his own heart rate slowing to a normal one.
Sounds came from the kitchen door. He lifted the gun from the table.
Steadily, he watched the back door as Jake and Sami Carlisle came inside.
“Frank?” Sami called.
“In here,” he answered, setting the gun back on the table.
“What happened?” she asked, hurrying to the sofa and turning on the table lamp, the expression on her face clearly illustrating that she was quickly assessing the situation. She sat on the sofa next to him so she could face Sydney, who still had the side of her face pressed right against where his heart beat.
Jake came to stand nearby. His mouth in a grim line, the look of a wary professional lawman on his face.
“Her house burned down,” Frank said, staring straight into the other man’s eyes. Then he switched his focus over Sydney’s head to Sami. “I think she’s in shock. She was so cold, I had to try and get her warm.”
“Sydney, can you hear me?” Sami stroked some the blonde hair that had come out of the bun back from her face. “Can you look at me?”
Sydney shifted in his arms, her head moving slightly away from his chest. He resisted the weird urge to pull her back.
“Jake can you put on some water to boil, and bring her something strong to drink?” Sami looked up at Frank in question.
“There’s bourbon near the electric wine opener on the counter,” he called out.
“Got it.”
A moment later, Jake handed the glass tumbler with a finger’s worth of the Kentucky bourbon to his wife, then headed back into the kitchen to follow her other instructions.
“Take a little sip,” Sami said, as she took one of Sydney’s hands in hers and wrapped it around the glass, then helped her bring it to her lips.
Sydney did as instructed, then grimaced. “Yuck.”
Sami smiled. “I know, I’m not a whiskey drinker, either, but it will warm you from the inside.” She pushed on the glass and Sydney took another, bigger drink.
“That’s nasty.” She made a face at Frank. Her eyes less dazed, the pallor of her skin less frightening, as she gave him a you’re-crazy-to-like-this-stuff look.
“Excuse me? That’s my very expensive bourbon you’re drinking, finest there is, in fact,” Frank defended his choice of liquid libation.
“Still sucks,” Sydney muttered.
“It’s an acquired taste,” he muttered back.
She took one more sip, made the same grimace, and pushed the glass towards Sami, shaking her head. “No more, please.”
Sami, who seemed to be trying to keep from laughing, set the glass on the table. “Do you have any tea, Frank?”
“Yeah, all kinds.” He kept all his safe houses and his home stocked with different kinds of teas, coffees and pops, just in case a witness voiced a preference and he needed them not to leave the premises.
“Why don’t you go make Sydney a cup?” Sami said, gently pulling the afghan off them and helping Sydney off his lap as he eased out from beneath her. Once he was standing, she wrapped the afghan around the photographer and held both her hands, gently chaffing them to continue the warming process.
In the kitchen, Frank busied himself finding a mug and pulling out the box of assorted teas from the cupboard. Setting it on the counter, he opened the lid and stared at all the individual packets. “Which kind?”
“Lemon ginger,” Jake said, leaning in to pick the light-yellow-and-orange packet and hand it to him. “Sami gives that to the kids when they’re sick. Says it boosts the immune
Similar Books
