As they fell, Briar's training kicked in, and she shouted to Ashley over the noise of the explosion. "We have to roll! I need you to help me!"

      She wasn't sure whether he heard her over the chaos surrounding them, or if he had simply come up with the same idea, but he gripped her tightly as she used their momentum to begin rolling their bodies away from the falling debris, with Ashley continuing the motion when he had rolled far enough to gain purchase on the slick marble floor, removing one of his hands from Briar's waist and using it to push off with, as she pistoned her legs to increase their speed. Ignoring the pain caused by the debris that was pelting them, along with everyone else in the area, they continued to roll, one over the other, until they slammed into the base of the bar and could go no further.

      Ashley draped himself over Briar's back as her face was pressed against the bar, bringing his arms up to cover their heads, and they lay there for what felt like hours, but was most likely only a minute or two, until the vibrations died down. At that point, the cacophony of shattering glass and splintering wood were replaced by the sounds of frantic cries and whimpers of pain and shock, along with the sound of sirens, distant, but growing louder by the second.

      He cautiously rose to his feet, and reached out to Briar, to help her off of the floor, noticing, as she stood, a rapidly darkening bruise on her cheekbone, and blood trickling from her lower lip. He also felt a nagging pain near his collarbone, and as he reached up to investigate it, he was startled as Briar slapped his hand away. "Don't touch that, leave it alone!" she ordered, as he stared at her in utter confusion.

      "What the hell are you talking about? Leave what alone?" he inquired.

      "Ash, you have probably at least a four-inch piece of glass stuck in your neck, and no way to tell how deep in it is. A guy I work with had something like that on set once, and made the mistake of pulling it out. He nicked an artery and almost bled to death, so just don't bother it until the EMT's show up."

      He simply gaped at her, unable to form words, until she motioned for him to turn around. He did so, and when he stopped, she said, "Well, it looks like they're gonna be picking some splinters out of your back, and you've got another piece of glass in the back of your left shoulder. Does anything feel broken?"

      As emergency vehicles began to appear in front of the building, he carefully moved his limbs, exhaling a sigh of relief as everything seemed to be in working order. "No, I think I'm good there," he informed her.

She began a slow turn in front of him, saying, "Well, I'm pretty sure I've got a couple of busted ribs, but do you see anything else?" He looked her over as police and paramedics began swarming into the building, and informed her that nothing was obvious other than the injuries to her face.

      "I'm sorry about your ribs, I guess I was a little too rough when we hit the floor," he apologized, earning himself a faint smile and a squeeze of the hand.

      "You don't have anything to apologize for, Ash," she informed him, inclining her head in the direction they'd come from. "A broken rib or two sure as hell beats the alternative."

      As one of the paramedics approached them, he glanced over and immediately went cold when he saw that a large section of wall had collapsed on their table, and that a bent and twisted section of the steel that had framed the windows had pierced completely through her seat. "Holy fuck!" he whispered.

      "Yeah, I know," she responded, and squeezed his hand again.

      The EMT finally made his way past the rubble, and stood in front of them, inquiring, "Are you two able to walk? The fire department wants everyone who can be moved out of the building, apparently there's a question about its stability."

      "Yeah, I have a couple of broken ribs, but I think we can both walk," Briar answered. "But my friend has some glass stuck in him, so he needs to be careful."

      After a quick examination, the first responder said, "Yeah, he sure does. Be careful and try not to bump anything, that one in your neck especially needs to stay put until we can get you to the ER. So watch your step, and lets get out of here."

      One of his colleagues came over, and helped guide Briar and Ashley through the maze of broken booths and fallen brickwork to the exit, where they were greeted by the sight of Ashley's car, burning furiously alongside the twisted remains of the Pacer, as was the van in the slot in front of it. "Shit! My fucking car!" he hissed.

      "Better your car than you, buddy," one of the paramedics retorted. "I know it sucks, but that's not exactly the big picture here." 

      Ashley sighed, then nodded, acknowledging the point, continuing toward the ambulance. Just as he started to step inside, he saw Briar, who was walking on his left, turn her head rapidly. "Officer Belmont!" she shouted, which caused a blocky, muscular patrolman to glance in their direction, and jog rapidly over to meet them.

      Stopping in front of Briar, the officer fired off a rapid series of questions. "Is that you, Ms. Malveaux? What's going on here? Did you see what happened?"

      Pointing toward the mangled hunk of smoldering metal in front of the restaurant, she simply said, "That was it."

      He appeared to be puzzled at first, but then his eyes widened, and his voice took on a more urgent tone. "The same car you told us about last night? Are you sure about that?" 

      "She told me the same thing, just before it blew," Ashley chimed in. "I think that's the only reason we got out of the way in time."

      "Damn!" Belmont growled, and sprinted back toward the other officers at the scene, gesturing wildly, as he shouted to his colleagues. Briar and Ashley stepped into the ambulance and took the last available openings on the bench seat, next to several of their fellow diners. The last thing they saw before the doors closed was Officer Belmont dashing across the parking lot toward a black SUV which had just pulled in, shouting something unintelligible to the familiar-looking redhaired man who had opened the driver's- side window.

            *******************************************************************

8:55 PM

      Garrett Sanger sat in his living room, his wife next to him on one couch, and his sons draped over the other, enjoying the football game unfolding itself on TV, when his phone rang. He sighed, then picked it up to accept the call. "Sanger here."

      Quentin Tate's voice poured through the speaker into his ear. "Yeah, Lieutenant, we have a bit of a situation here. There's been an explosion at Bertolucci's Ristorante, looks like a car bombing."

      "How many dead, Quint?"

      "Nobody yet, but there's one who most likely won't live through the night, and at least twenty people came out with varying degrees of injury. The building has been declared dangerous, and the gas company just got here to shut off the mains in the area. But none of that is what I called you about."

      Nora gave him a concerned look as he tensed, and then her phone began to ring as well. She stood up to retrieve the device, and then left the room to take the call. Sanger sighed, and said, "What is it this time?"

      "Well, I have good news, and bad news, Garrett. The good news is, we found your Pacer."

      "And the bad news is?"

      "It's spread out across Bertolucci's parking lot," Tate said flatly. "From the looks of it, the damn thing must have been packed with explosives. And there's something else, too. One of the patrol officers, Danny Belmont, asked me to give you a message. He said I should tell you that the girl from last night was here, with some long-haired biker-lookin' guy, and they both saw the car. Apparently the EMT's hauled 'em off to Cedars just before I showed up."

     "Shit!" Sanger exploded, earning startled glances from his sons, Jeff and Adam. "How bad were they hurt?"

      "From what he said, they were both walking to the ambulance, and talking to him, but that's all I know. I need to go, and start questioning witnesses. I'll keep you posted," Tate said, before ending the call.

      Nora rushed back into the room as he turned the phone off. "There was an explosion at a restaurant, and they've called everyone in to help deal with the victims," she announced. "I'm not sure what time I'll be home."

      "Well, we might as well ride in together," her husband informed her as he lifted himself to his feet. "It seems that I have some people among the walking wounded that I need to converse with. Apparently, this one's gonna be a long night for both of us."