Undercurrent. Sara K. Parker

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СКАЧАТЬ people with several dozen onlookers from above. Six points of entry, ten including the elevators.

      He looked up, slowly scanned the faces of the people looking over the railings upstairs. The volume was intense, voices chattering, piano clamoring, china clinking from a nearby restaurant.

       Pop!

      That one sound carried over all the others. Sparks flew from the chandelier above the piano and smoke poured from the ceiling.

      The music stopped.

      Hundreds of people pushing, running. Screaming.

      He saw her, the woman in the sapphire gown, right as her eyes drew upward, horror written on her face. Instinct and training carried him to the stage as the pianist fumbled to escape, tripped up by her gown. A loud crack. A burst of flame. The chandelier broke away from its mount two stories above the center stage just as Sam’s feet hit the marble.

      * * *

      Kat’s heel caught the hem of her gown. She fell to her knees, scrambling to get away. From the rocking chandelier, the raining sparks, the thick smoke.

      Strong arms wrapped around her, everything a blur as she rolled from the stage. A deafening crash, and screams and chaos erupted all around. She was pinned, facedown, by a complete stranger, smoke stinging her nose and filling her lungs.

      She needed to get out. Now. She jerked upward, the back of her head making contact with a hard jaw. Pain seared through her, and the man stood, dragging Kat to her feet.

      His hand held firmly onto her arm, urgency etched in the taut lines of his face. “Are you hurt?”

      “No,” she managed, willing her body to steady itself. A firm arm wrapped around her back.

      “Come on!” The man tugged her away from the crowd of fleeing people and back toward the piano, the smoke, the shards of chandelier.

      Fear paralyzed her, memories of another fire reeling her back, and Kat tried to yank away from his grip, but he wouldn’t let go. Smoke billowed through the cavernous room; flames licked the ceiling. And she was back in her bedroom months ago, trapped by fire scorching the walls, clawing for her, bright, hot, ravenous.

      “The other way is too crowded!” the stranger shouted over the chaos in the atrium, and Kat forced herself to focus on him. “This is the safer route.”

      He was right. Most people had run from the crash toward the stairwell and elevators. Hundreds clogged the exits behind them, shoving and pushing and panicking. They could more easily exit through the art gallery or one of the restaurants on the opposite side.

      The stranger guided her carefully and quickly along the edge of the atrium, just yards away from the chandelier, broken into millions of shards of crystal and metal. It had obliterated the Steinway grand. The bench Kat had been sitting on moments before had simply disappeared into the rubble.

      An alarm sounded. Loud, repetitive, painful. An announcement, urgent, echoed throughout the ship. She couldn’t hear the words over the alarm and the panicked voices ringing around her.

      Harsh smoke enveloped them, mingling with a sharp chemical scent and the foggy mist from the sprinkler system. Kat coughed against the acrid smoke, eyes burning.

      “Use this, and stay low.” The man at her side thrust a cloth napkin into her hands and pulled her into a crouch as they maneuvered toward an exit.

      Kat held the napkin to her face and followed, pushing back images of that fiery night in March, flames clinging to her pajama pants, the walls of her parents’ house buckling around her.

      She’d lost her heels, and her bare feet slid along the now-slick floor. Their path brought them past toppled chairs and purses left behind, coffee spilled and cameras abandoned on tables.

      “Almost there,” the man said, his tone calm and even.

      If he was scared, he wasn’t showing it. As a matter of fact, she had the sense that he knew what he was doing. That he’d done it before or had trained for it. He made no missteps, didn’t hesitate, just led her efficiently out of the area and into the art gallery. The smoke wasn’t as thick there, the air clearer.

      Kat chanced a look back. Security officers descended on the scene as fire crew swarmed in from all directions, aiming a hose and extinguishers at what remained of the flames. The fire was contained.

      They were safe.

      Kat had escaped death. A second time. She should feel relieved, but a shudder coursed through her, dread in its wake.

       TWO

      “Grandma!”

      Kat jumped at the barked shout and felt the grip on her side loosen. But the man didn’t release her.

      “Over here!” he called.

      She followed his gaze. A trim older woman wearing a very large red hat hurried toward them. She looked to be in her early seventies, and her eyes were lit with interest rather than fear.

      “Sam, I’m so glad you’re all right.” Her gaze cut to Kat, and she smiled. “You’re Kathryn Brooks. I heard you playing earlier—just beautiful music!” She glanced past Kat’s shoulder. “Looks like the piano didn’t survive. What happened?”

      Good question. Kat had no idea.

      “We need to keep moving,” Sam said, taking his grandmother’s arm. He started walking, his hand still gripping Kat’s wrist. She pulled away.

      “I’m okay now.” She could make it back to her room without help.

      Gray eyes turned to her, assessing.

      “Your color may be coming back, but I’d like to stay close until you’re settled in your room.”

      His gaze lingered a moment, and Kat’s cheeks heated in response as she made a mental note of the details she would relay to Morgan once this nightmare was over. Eyes the color of steel. A couple days’ worth of growth on a strong jaw. And biceps that stretched the edging on the sleeves of his black polo.

      “Really, I’ll be okay getting to my room,” she murmured, tempted to accept his offer but not wanting to impose on Sam and his grandmother. In truth, she’d rather not be alone after what had just happened.

      “Humor me,” Sam said, and Kat wondered if he could read the fear in her eyes. “I’d like to make sure you get back to your cabin in one piece.” He didn’t leave room for argument, turning abruptly and leading his grandmother through the narrow gallery.

      Kat followed. They were heading for the stairwell she needed anyway.

      “How in the world did that chandelier fall?” Sam’s grandmother asked.

      “It didn’t fall,” Sam said. “It exploded.”

      Kat shivered. “And landed right where I was sitting. Your grandson saved my life,” she added.

      She СКАЧАТЬ