Concrete Savior Read Free Page B

gain on their part, or some kind of reward, for doing something. Wait and see if this ‘hero’ doesn’t turn up on some radio talk show, or on an Oprah spin-off in a few days. One way or another, he’ll spin it so that it works to his advantage.”
Brynna’s eyes widened at the bitterness in Eran’s voice. Sometimes—like just a few moments ago—he seemed so different from the hardcase detective who’d thrown her in jail after she’d stupidly swatted him on the wrist. At other times, that familiar and strictly logical cop snapped to the surface so completely she couldn’t help wondering if the softer side of him was nothing more than a clever charade. “I thought I was the one with very little faith in mankind,” was all she said. “You sound like a poster boy for pessimism.”
Eran had the newspaper back up, hiding his face. “Do I? Sorry.”
A coping mechanism, Brynna decided. That’s why he was talking this way—it was how he was dealing with what he perceived to be her rejection of him. She thought she’d avoided the issue, but she’d misjudged. It was nothing but a stalemate, with her thinking she’d sidestepped but him letting it happen. In another minute, he got up and went into the oversized bathroom, where she could hear him talking softly to Grunt. In response, his Great Dane made a low sound that was halfway between a whine and a groan, and Brynna felt her stomach twist in unexpected sympathy. Grunt had tried to defend Brynna in the fight with the Hunter and gotten burned for it, literally. The dog had been born deaf and couldn’t hear anything Eran said, but she was clearly comforted by his presence as he checked her bandages and petted her.
Brynna’s gaze went back to the article, which stated that the man who’d fallen on the tracks, Glenn Klinger, had been the victim of some kind of seizure. They didn’t have a statement or any further information on him because he’d been rushed to Cook County Hospital, although the reporter did mention the people around him said he was dressed like a blue-collar worker, in a uniform with his name sewn on the shirt pocket. That made him sound like a regular guy, nothing more than your average Joe Citizen on his way home from work. Brynna was willing to bet there was a much deeper story here, but she thought Eran was wrong; it could rest with either the unidentified hero or this Klinger guy. The first question was obvious: why save this particular guy? Was there something special about him? The second was one that only someone like her, someone Highborn , would ask.
Was the mysterious rescuer a nephilim, the offspring of a human mother and an angel father? And if so, was saving the life of this man, Glenn Klinger, the single divine task for which he had been born? Which simply circled back to her original query about Klinger being special for some reason.
Maybe . . . on all accounts. The movies that Eran watched all the time on his DVD player had plenty of heroes in them, but a man who would truly risk his life for that of a stranger was a rarity in real life. And unless the hero showed up again for . . . What had Eran called it? His public pat on the back . Yeah, unless he came back for that, Brynna would never know the answers to any of her questions.

T hree
     
“ I did it,” Casey Anlon said. He was smiling so widely that he felt like his face might crack. “And it worked—I mean, of course it worked, or I wouldn’t be sitting here with you, right?” He and his girlfriend, Gina—okay, so maybe she wasn’t really his girlfriend, not yet—were having lunch at the McDonald’s on Clark and Monroe. She was watching him with rapt attention, her brown eyes wide in her pretty face. Impulsively he reached over and touched her hand. “And it’s all thanks to you. You know that, right?”
She smiled and picked up a napkin so she could wipe her fingers. “Don’t put all the credit on me, Casey.” She was careful to keep her voice low enough