Page 43 of Full Throttle

“We’re going to the movies. There’s a double feature of two old classics Hannah loves. She switched shifts to help out a coworker, so we thought we’d take advantage.”

“Cherry saw the advertisement for that. I thought I’d take her next week. It’s still playing, right?”

“Yep. Every Tuesday for a month. She’d enjoy it. They both love the old classics.” He paused. “Hannah worries about her mom alone all the time.” He glanced at me with a sly smile. “You plan on changing that, Dom?”

I sat back, lacing my fingers behind my head and meeting his gaze. “I might be. How do you think Hannah would feel if her mom were closer?”

“She’d love it.”

“I want Cherry to move in with me. I want to buy a bigger place. Have room for her—and hopefully Josh.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

“How does Cherry feel about that?”

I grinned. “I haven’t brought that up yet. I’m waiting for the right moment.”

“The way you two spark, that should be a fun conversation.”

“One I plan on winning.”

He stood. “I live with her daughter. The stubbornness runs deep in those two. Good luck with that.”

He left and I chuckled. I had a feeling when it came to Cherry Gallagher, I was going to need all the luck I could get.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Dom

About half an hour later, I was restless. Edgy. Figuring a drive would help, I grabbed my keys. I headed toward Toronto, deciding I would check on Cherry and, if she felt better, take her out. If not, I would go across the street and bring back some soup from her local Chinese place, then tuck her in for the night. But I wanted to see her. I needed to see her. She would help ease the restlessness I was feeling.

It was overcast and misty as I drove, the weather suiting my mood. The street was mostly deserted, the rain beginning as I turned onto the street where the salon was located. The area around me was foggy, the damp of the rain all around. Down the block ahead of me, I saw a small crowd. At the same time, I smelled it.

Smoke.

I parked and jumped from the vehicle. The rancid smell got stronger, and I realized the fog was more than fog.

The salon was on fire.

My heart plummeted when I realized how thick the smoke was.

I raced toward the side, shouting at the crowd. “Did anyone call 9-1-1?”

A woman responded with a yes. “They’re on their way.” She waved toward the building. “The salon is closed.”

“The apartments,” I snapped. “Are the occupants out?”

“We hammered on the doors, but no one is home, thank goodness,” someone else said.

Cherry’s words came back to me. “The Gravol makes me sleep hard…”

She was up there. Asleep. I knew it.

I raced down the back to the steps, taking them two at a time.

I heard someone behind me. “We checked!”