TITLE: Temporary Girlfriend (15/20)
PAIRING: Lindsay/Cindy
DISCLAIMER: Women’s Murder Club does not belong to me. The characters do not belong to me. They are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. I have no problems with that as long as I can borrow them for short bursts and use them in pursuit of my own enjoyment. I am not trying to infringe. Though, I don’t know why anyone has a problem with fan fic. After all, it really is a compliment. If anyone wants to write fan fiction about my book, feel free.

(Lindsay’s POV)

What were they doing here? Seriously. There was no controlling this situation.

And now, a street fair! Why not? Why not everyone converge on one location that provides no cover, has unlimited points of access, and tons of hiding places?

What she wouldn’t give to be back at the station or out interviewing witnesses, assigned to a nice murder with a clear-cut solution right now.

How exactly did she land this assignment?

Oh yeah, she’d volunteered. Because she’d thought that it would be a good time.

She glanced over at Cindy, who was picking a bite-size piece off a huge sphere of blue cotton candy, the actual flavor of which Lindsay didn’t even want to consider. Cindy put the piece in her mouth, sucking the residue from the tips of her fingers, then caught Lindsay staring and smiled.

Okay, so as far as fun was concerned, the week did have its moments. But that wasn’t exactly grounds for ease either.

She could not believe that she kissed Cindy. And not just once. Twice in one night! And as soon as she’d hung up with Jacobi, she’d wanted to go over to the bed and do it again… and again… Did she have any willpower left at all? The fact that they didn’t have sex following that massage was proof that she did, but still…

Right now, they had enough to deal with, they were here to work, but eventually Lindsay was going to have to answer for those kisses, and she had no idea what she would say when that moment came.

“Hey guys,” she heard Cindy say, and looked over to see Cindy’s friends from the hotel walking toward them.

“Hey ladies,” Jason greeted. “Some celebration huh? I always say, it’s not a party until people get burned and poisoned.”

“Honey, that’s not funny,” Mark lightly scolded him.

“I’m just trying to keep things light. Better inappropriate humor than paranoia right?”

Cindy laughed, and Lindsay suddenly had a deep understanding of why these guys were her friends. It sounded exactly like something Cindy would have said.

“Have you seen the flyer?” Jason continued.

“What flyer?” Cindy asked.

“Someone is passing out a flyer with an earthquake warning on it, as if the threat of a natural disaster is somehow going to send us all scurrying away when the threat of homegrown terrorism hasn’t.”

“Are you sure you want to stay here?” Mark teased. “It sounds like it’s going to be a big one.”

“That’s absurd,” Cindy scoffed. “If there were a big anything coming, they would have predicted it long before today, and I haven’t seen anything about it.”

And if Cindy had seen something about it, she would have certainly remembered.

“Do you still have the flyer?” Lindsay asked Mark and Jason.

“No. I tossed it,” Mark answered. “But they were everywhere. Hold on.”

He started away, and they all followed him over to one of the trash receptacles near a food trailer. He reached in, tossing a few things aside. Lindsay hadn’t actually intended for him to dig in the trash, but she was grateful when he came up with a bright orange flyer for her just the same.

“There’s mayo on it,” Mark warned her, handing it over, “but here you go.”

Lindsay held the flyer in her fingertips to avoid the substance, as well as the slew of germs undoubtedly attached, and read over it.

Does this scare you?

Our prediction: Earthquake! 9 p.m. It’s going to be huge.

P.S. Beware those aftershocks. They can be deadly.

It could have been a real notification, if it were distributed by the national weather service.

It could have been clever advertising for a band or a show with the catchy title ‘Earthquake’ and a pun-filled tagline.

It could have been a random lunatic with an unusual sense of humor.

But the same natural instinct that made Lindsay a good cop made her realize that the flyer wasn’t left by just any lunatic. It was from the lunatic. It was a warning.

She glanced at her watch. 8:56. Of course.

“Lindsay, what’s wrong?” Cindy easily deciphered her expression.

“Move to the middle of the street. We need to stay away from everything,” she said to Cindy, Mark and Jason, then turned to the people buying and selling food at the trailer right beside them. “Get out of the trailer. Move to the middle of the street.”

The people working in the trailer tried to argue the command, but Lindsay was already dialing her phone.

“Just do it,” she told them in a tone that didn’t leave room for dispute.

Lindsay called the station, telling the dispatcher who answered to relay a prompt message to all officers on duty that they should move people away from any kind of structure into the most open area they could find. She kept her eyes on Cindy though. It was remarkable the way Cindy followed her lead and went straight into action, along with Mark and Jason, beckoning people away from buildings and booths.

But it was way too late for real damage control. If it had been an hour earlier maybe…

There wasn’t even time to evacuate the street. If there were really going to be an “earthquake,” people stood a greater chance of getting hurt by fleeing than by staying put.

She walked over to meet Cindy, pulling her back into the middle off the street, and left her hand on Cindy’s shoulder. Whatever happened, she needed to know where she was. She lifted her cell phone and regretfully watched the time change to 9:00.

Nothing happened.

For about five seconds.

Then, the sound jolted them. The ground shook beneath their feet. An explosion. Lindsay knew it would be an explosion. But most people didn’t. Several screamed, and Cindy flinched beneath her hand.

It was only the beginning. Lindsay, unfortunately, knew that too. Ten seconds after the initial explosion, the aftershocks started as promised. They came in rapid succession, blasts smaller than the first swiftly moving in their direction. It all happened so fast, there was no time for fear to really set in.

The front window of a building half a block down shattered, and sent glass flying far enough that Lindsay pulled Cindy into her and tried to shield her with her body.

It was no protection from the blast in the trash receptacle six feet away, though, the same receptacle that Mark had been digging in for the flyer only minutes before. The discharge sent them both flying into the air and Lindsay’s grip failed her. She felt Cindy slip from her arms. The landing jarred the hell out of her shoulder, and when she tried to lift her head, she felt dazed.

Though it seemed an eternity, it really wasn’t long at all before she heard Cindy’s voice calling her name, and then someone was carefully heaving her up.

“Lindsay. Oh my God,” Cindy uttered, reaching out and lightly touching her temple.

When she pulled her hand away, Lindsay saw the blood on Cindy’s fingertips. She reached up to feel for herself, far less gently, and flinched at the throbbing it generated in her head. No wonder she was woozy.

Despite the headache, she quickly remembered exactly what had happened.

An explosion. No. More than one. A lot of explosions. Bombs everywhere.

There was too much dirt and soot on Cindy to tell if she had any injuries.

“Are you hurt?” Lindsay asked, but her voice was barely audible in the screaming and shouting taking place all around them.

Cindy was busy staring in horror at the scene and didn’t hear her.

“Cindy!” Lindsay yelled to get her attention, and Cindy’s eyes shifted her way. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” She shook her head.

The explosions continued, but they were distant now, moving right down the line through the street fair. Small blasts. Probably pipe bombs.

“Where are your friends?” Lindsay asked.

Lindsay watched Cindy turn around to look for them, and then spotted them herself ten feet away. Both Mark and Jason were on their feet and seemingly unscathed. She moved with Cindy in their direction.

“Are you okay?” Cindy shouted.

“I think so,” Jason responded. “You?”

Lindsay scanned the path of destruction with a purpose.

“It should be safe to go where the bombs have already gone off,” she informed the three of them. “I don’t think there will be any more that way.”

Clearly still stunned, Mark and Jason managed to nod their understanding, and Lindsay turned all attention to Cindy.

“I want you to go up to the room and wait for me.”

“Linds, you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” she assured her.

“No,” Cindy stated, shaking her head.

Expecting the refusal, but unwilling to concede the issue, Lindsay took Cindy’s face in her hands, staring into her eyes.

“You promised me,” she reminded her.

She saw the recollection of that pledge register on Cindy’s face.

“Walk her back. Then go to your room and stay there,” Lindsay ordered Mark and Jason. “If you think you’re hurt, there will be paramedics coming to the hotels.”

But they didn’t move. Why would they? They were Cindy’s friends, not hers, and they weren’t convinced that Cindy wanted to go anywhere, which left Lindsay no choice but to throw her authoritarian weight around. She quickly flashed them her badge.

“I’m a cop. Do what I say.”

As usual, it had its desired effect. Mark and Jason grabbed hold of Cindy to lead her back to the hotel, but she broke free of them to surge forward, drawing Lindsay’s head down to claim her mouth in a fierce kiss.

“Be careful,” Cindy whispered, before releasing her and letting Mark and Jason pull her away.

Lindsay put her hand to the wound on her head, trying to stem the flow of blood. It wasn’t a gaping wound, but it hurt enough. She followed the retreat of Cindy and her friends, feeling considerably better once they disappeared from the battle zone.