Chapter 7

Hawthorne Emerson? Jazz's favorite author was standing in front of her?

But it couldn't be him. Here, at her fair. In real life. Looking at her. Waiting for…What was he waiting for?

And what had she just said? Something inane about him not being a security guard.

Heat blazed into her cheeks too quickly to douse. But maybe it didn't matter she'd look like a tomato now. Maybe he wasn't the Hawthorne Emerson.

"Are—" The word sounded like a croak. She swallowed. "Are you really Hawthorne Emerson?"

A small smile angled his mouth. "That's what my birth certificate says."

"I think she means, are you the author?" Molly put her hand under Jazz's arm as if she thought Jazz might faint. She might not be too far off, though it'd be the first faint of Jazz's life. "Yes, dear. He is."

"You're him?" Jazz heard her own voice lift to a high, airy pitch.

"Yes, ma'am. I write thriller novels."

"Jefferson Hall and Carson Steele. Carson's my favorite. I love him. I mean, I love you." She stuck out her hand. Had he offered his for a handshake before?

His warm grip slipped around hers. Goodness. His hand was large and strong but gentle. She was touching Hawthorne Emerson.

And she'd just blurted that she loved him. "Your writing, I mean. Your stories. I love your stories." More heat surged into her face. She probably looked more like a beet now. "They're amazing."

Was she pumping his hand too hard? She dropped her hold and yanked her hand back. "You're a terrific writer. My copy of Seconds in Shadow came last night. I wanted to start it right away, but…" She stopped before she spilled that she was attacked and all of the weirdness of her life he didn't need to know.

In fact, he didn't need to know any of whatever she'd babbled about. And probably didn't want to. She was rambling like an idiot. "I'm honored to meet you." She firmly shut her mouth. Hopefully, that was a more rational thing to say.

Though deciphering what was rational with a breathless, swoony sensation spiraling through her body might be impossible. How had she not recognized him? Her favorite author in the world?

She tried to casually study his face while Molly said something.

The beard. His photo on the back cover of all his books showed him with a beard. He looked so different without it. Even more handsome, if that were possible. With only the little bit of stubble he had now, she could see the shape of his strong jawline that had been hidden in his photo.

But she should've recognized the eyes. Except that the photo made them look simply blue. They were so much more vibrant in person. The photo didn't capture their electric intensity, their vivid teal color.

The swoony faintness seemed to be increasing. Good thing Molly still had her hand under Jazz's arm.

And Flash chose that moment to brush against her leg. Probably getting concerned about the weird flood of chemicals rushing through her body.

"I have a question for you." His deep voice seemed to surround her in this dream she must be having.

"You do?"

He smiled. "I was wondering if—"

A boom punctured the air.

It took Jazz a second to be sure the sound wasn't her mind exploding from the realization she was standing in front of her favorite author.

Flash's barks helped. Along with Hawthorne and Molly spinning toward the sound.

Smoke rose from the area of…the Giant Slide?

Jazz and Flash took off, sprinting toward the smoke at the same time as Hawthorne. She pressed the button to activate her coms set. "PT3 to Base. Explosion at Giant Slide. En route to site. ETA one minute." She couldn't see the slide above the cattle barn and horse arena that stood between them, but she knew the layout of this fair as well as she knew her own name. The smoke was from the slide, no doubt.

Hawthorne outpaced her, an advantage to Jazz since he cleared a path through the crowds.

Flash strained at the leash, eager to outrun her and Hawthorne.

Jazz picked up her pace. She swung off into the shortcut around the feed shed and through the indoor horse arena, which would be empty right now.

Sand kicked up around her feet as she and Flash darted across the large arena and flew out the opening at the other end.

The smoke was fading as she locked eyes on the Giant Slide.

It teetered, listing to one side. She forced herself to keep breathing and closed the remaining distance, scanning the area.

"How did you—" Hawthorne ran up behind her as she slowed. But his question hung unanswered as they stared at the wreckage.

People scattered the grass beside the huge slide where it leaned precariously. Had they fallen off with the explosion?

Other people were at the bottom of the slide, some lying on the pavement and some sitting up.

Crying filled the air. A child calling for her mom.

"S4 to Base." Hawthorne's firm tone duplicated in Jazz's ear over coms. "At scene with PT3. Need nurse and medics. Ambulance. Also crew to stabilize the slide."

"Mommy!"

Jazz homed in on the source of the cry.

A little girl, lying on the grass next to the partially collapsed slide.

Jazz and Flash hurried to the child. "Are you okay, honey?"

Brown hair stuck to tears on the girl's cheeks as she sat up and aimed big eyes at Jazz. "I want my mommy."

"Okay. We'll find her. How about we see if you're hurt?"

"Doggy?" The girl locked her gaze on Flash.

Perfect. "Yes." Jazz smiled. "He's a very nice doggy. Would you like to pet him?"

"Uh-huh."

Flash followed Jazz's cue he was free to visit and approached the girl, gently ducking his head and smelling her face as she put her small hands on his ears.

Jazz carefully palpated the girl's arms and legs, bare beneath her short-sleeved T-shirt and shorts. Some scratches but nothing broken. And no pain response. It would take a real EMT to be sure.

"Hayley!" A woman rushed toward them with her arms outstretched, tears on her cheeks.

"Mommy!" Hayley kept her hand on Flash as the woman reached them.

The mother engulfed Hayley in a gentle hug. "Are you hurt, sweetie?" She pulled back and looked at Jazz.

"I don't think so. Other than some scratches. But—"

Movement caught Jazz's eye. Dark curls, red T-shirt, and a rottweiler mix alongside.

Relief relaxed Jazz's insides as Nevaeh and Alvarez made their way to her.

"Here's an EMT. She'll be able to tell you for sure." Jazz stood, returning Nevaeh's grim nod as she gave her friend room to work.

Jazz walked along the tilted slide to check the other people on the grass. Most of them were on their feet and moving away. A good sign they weren't badly injured.

Marisa DeShae, the onsite nurse, squatted by a victim. Judging from where he or she lay on the grass closer toward the upper half of the slide, the person may have fallen forty feet.

"Everything okay here?" Jazz and Flash paused behind Marisa.

She glanced up from splinting the leg of a boy who looked to be about sixteen. "A fracture, but otherwise, we're fine." She gave a reassuring smile to the guy who grimaced but didn't make a sound. She angled her head to catch Jazz's gaze again. "I canvased the others. One adult with bruised ribs. This leg appears to be the severest injury."

Jazz nodded, not wanting to say more in front of the boy. Never could tell who would sue these days.

A fraction of the tension clenching Jazz's muscles eased as she stepped away, lifting her gaze to the slide. Lucky the injuries weren't worse. The whole side tilted dramatically. Good thing there were short walls along both edges or more people probably would've been thrown off. And it was fortunate this had happened early in the day. There could have been more visitors going down at one time in the afternoon or evening. And if the explosion had happened on the other side, where visitors lined the staircase, she didn't want to guess the number of casualties they'd have.

At least she and Hawthorne had gotten there quickly. Where was Hawthorne? She scanned the area.

Butch Klika, other security guards, and the onsite cops had arrived and started guiding people off the grass onto the main path.

But no tall, distinctively attractive guy with sandy blond hair.

Weird. Jazz had assumed he would help the injured like she did when they'd arrived on scene. Yesterday proved he wasn't squeamish or cowardly. So where had he gone?

Suspicion tingled at the back of her neck. Two catastrophic accidents in two days. And Hawthorne had been first on scene for both.