Read Damaged for Free Online Page B

down here before you had a chance to catch your breath.”
    “I’ll be fine. Maybe some good strong coffee.”
    The door to the lounge opened and a doctor in blue scrubs leaned inside, eyes urgent, not taking the time to enter.
    “Captain, we’re losing another one.”

SUNDAY, AUGUST 23

CHAPTER 8

    SUNDAY MORNING
HARTSFIELD-JACKSON INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
ATLANTA, GEORGIA
    Maggie’s 6:00 AM flight put her in Atlanta just before eight. Under two hours and it was still enough to rattle her composure. She hated flying—not the crowds, not the inconvenience, not even a fear of heights, but rather being trapped at thirty-eight thousand feet without any control. Even the upgrade to first class that Wurth managed to snag for her had done little to help.
    He was waiting in baggage claim. For a small man he could deliver a body-crushing hug.
    “Easy,” Maggie told him. “What will people think?”
    “Oh, it’s okay here in Atlanta,” Wurth countered. “But don’t touch me once we leave the city and head into the South. You may even have to sit in the backseat so I can pretend I’m driving you.”
    She rolled her eyes. She knew he was joking, but at the same time she knew there were still pockets in the South where a black man and a white woman in a vehicle together might draw some looks. But it couldn’t be anything close to what they had already been through.
    Maggie and Wurth had shared a terror-filled weekend last November. On the Friday following Thanksgiving, three young college students carrying backpacks loaded with explosives had blown up a section of Mall of America. Maggie and Wurth were dispatched to sort through the rubble and had tried to stop a second attack. In the end they had bonded against an unexpected and powerful enemy. It had been the beginning of Maggie’s tumultuous relationship with her new boss, Assistant Director Raymond Kunze, and Charlie Wurth ended up becoming her ally, stepping in to defend her when Kunze would not.
    “That’s it?” Wurth said when she showed him her small Pullman. Dragging it behind her, she started leading him to the claims office to retrieve her firearm. “O’Dell, for most women I know, that teeny thing would be their handbag.”
    “Guess I’m not most women.”
    “You’re what we men call low maintenance. I’ve heard stories about low-maintenance women but I’ve never known one until now.”
    With her gun safely holstered, Maggie followed Wurth outside to a black Escalade parked at the curb. An airport security officer had been watching over it and now opened the back while Wurth took Maggie’s Pullman and lifted it in.
    “Thanks, man.” Wurth reached up to pat the officer on his shoulder. He was at least a head taller than Wurth.
    “You be safe,” the officer said as he opened the passenger door for Maggie.
    Inside, the vehicle was spotless except for a pile of CD covers scattered in the console between them.
    “I didn’t realize rental places had these luxury SUVs anymore.”
    “Oh, they probably don’t.” Wurth turned the engine and blasted the AC. “This one’s not a rental. It’s mine.”
    “You’re driving your personal vehicle down into a hurricane?”
    “It’s not about that.” He smiled and shook his head. “We goin’ down South, cherie . Into the middle of hurricane frenzy. A scrawny black man with a beautiful white woman—I’m packing all my necessary documents: registration, license, and proof of insurance, along with my badge.”
    She laughed but Wurth wasn’t laughing.
    “You’re serious.”
    “As a heart attack.” He punched a couple of buttons on the dashboard and the sound of soft jazz filled the interior. “We’ve got about five hours of interstate. How ’bout we hit Mickey D’s drive-through for a couple of sausage biscuits?”
    “In an Escalade with soft jazz? Sounds perfect.”
    “Low, low maintenance,” he said. “I’m liking this.”
    She let him maneuver his way out of Hartfield-Jackson before