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D.C. paralegal Jezebel Stone's tardiness often gets her in trouble, but this time it leads to meeting her dream man. Her choice of metro seats places her on track for finding love again. But when their ride ends in a fiery crash, their separation sends her on a mission of reuniting with him and finishing their fateful trip.
But instead, it entangles Jezebel in the twisted lives of those determined to destroy each other. This prickly path also holds the potential of leading Jezebel to an unlikely place of joy. Finding joy seems impossible when life is literally exploding all around her.
Page Count: 360
Word Count: 90535
As I pushed back the fluffy floral comforter, an urgent knock sounded against the door.
“Jez, can I come in?”
“Yeah, sure,” I answered uselessly since Cala had already entered.
Cala had tilted her head around the semi-open door and announced, smiling, “I called around to a few police stations and they recovered your briefcase. Your train car never burned, but it did get wet. We’ll head down there in the morning.”
“Thanks, Cala. I didn’t even think to call about it. I assumed it burned.” Typical Cala, I thought, always taking the extra step.
“There was a fire from the electrical fixtures inside the tunnel. I guess after the initial impact of the trains, your train hit an electrical box of some sort, and then maybe the ceiling of the tunnel. The fire burned most of the first car but they got it out before it spread to your car.” As Cala reported her findings, I recalled the impact, the pain and the noises, assigning a new meaning to the sounds.
“Get some rest. I’ll be back in an hour to wake you.”
“Thanks, Cala.” It was in times like this where my sister’s maternal ways came in handy.
Cala smiled a sympathetic grin, and lightly closed the door.
Orange, angry flames flashed inside my closed eyes. I heard the yells, the smashing of the cars, remembered the pull of my rescuer into Hell. Brown smoke, more yells, filled my anxious mind. Hot fire. Cold water.
Opening my eyes wide, I allowed them to adjust to the darkness as I had done in the tunnel. Light trickled in from under the door. I inhaled, remembering the smells; I remembered his cologne, his laugh, his smile, his body rolling over the seat. I was used to losing things, but I had never misplaced a whole person before. Inexplicably, I was overcome with an urge to find him. I needed to find him. Perhaps it was our chemistry. Perhaps it was just a need to make sure he was okay. My wallet had survived, I had survived—Magic 8 ball had survived—I was certain he had as well. I wanted, I needed, to finish our ride.
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