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CHAPTER 9

It took hours before they had any answers. It wasn’t his parents’ hospital that had taken a direct hit. It had been Finley Creek Gen, three blocks to the south. Closer to Boethe Street. His parents should be safe now.

Boethe Street, a highly populated, lower socioeconomic residential street that turned into commercial and business district near the north side of the city had been hit hard. Some were saying up to half of that street was just gone.

The TSP building was in that area.

Houston was trying not to panic. Reports were coming in that people were trapped. People were dead.

And he couldn’t get ahold of his brother Mike or his sister A.J.

He wanted to go to them. To find them himself. But he couldn’t. He had a responsibility to communicate with the city around them. To stay calm and reassuring and informative. To help guide those in the midst of one of the biggest crises to have ever hit the city.

He was needed. He couldn’t fall apart now.

No one said much. Houston had taken a moment to tell Hoby to keep himself at the controls, and make damned sure not to screw anything up tonight.

He’d kept himself between Brooke and the other man. When all he wanted to do was rip the man to shreds.

He’d seen the rude gesture the bastard had made to Brooke when he thought Houston’s back was turned. He’d seen her flinch, too.

Hoby was enjoying terrorizing her.

As soon as he could, Houston was going to show the man how that felt—from the other side.

Finally, they needed a break. He put on a five-minute public service announcement about staying off the roads and where the injured could go for help, and stood. “Come on. We need to stretch a bit.”

He stayed close while she slipped into the tiny restroom at the end of the hall. He was leaning against the wall when Hoby came out to grab a soda from the fridge.

“See you and the queen bee are getting all cozy.”

Houston resisted the urge to growl. “I know what you’re up to. Leave her alone.”

“What are you going to do about it? You need me tonight.”

“Tonight, yes. But don’t tempt me to tear your head off your shoulders first chance I get. I’m not in the damned mood.” He infused his tone with as much six-foot-four former college linebacker pissed off as he could. “Not tonight, got me? Get in there and do your damned job. If you want to keep it.”

The restroom door opened. Brooke stepped out.

She was right between the two of them.

Hoby reached out, brushed her shoulder. Brooke flinched back immediately. Houston wrapped his fingers around her elbow and pulled her closer.

This time, he did growl.

He had had enough. “Get back to work, Hoby. I mean it.”

The man just smirked in his face. “She’s that good, then? What’s the little ho been telling you tonight to get you all twisted up? She promise to show you a good time? I bet she’s really good at it, too. You found out yet?”