Into the Fire

(From soon to finished WIP Race)

We heard her before we saw her reaming the security guard who’d put up one hand in defense and cocked his head in an attempt to cool the lady’s rapid fire repartee. Her arms wind-milled around pointing into the victim’s room and encompassed the shedrow. Neither of us moved for at least 30 seconds, watching the breeze catch her Farrah Fawcett hair and play with it. Finally the guard pointed toward us and the woman stomped her brown leather boots and sprayed on designer jeans in our direction. Her Levi jacket hung open exposing a pale pink form-fitting scooped-neck top which drew our eyes to the tan flesh protruding and bouncing with each stride. I sensed Jesse throw a quick glance my way and I stepped forward into the shedrow to greet who I assumed must be Mrs. Trainer in a tizzy. Also a potential suspect now that I could see what she looked like.
    

     “Speak of the devil?” Jesse said softly, barely moving his lips.

Apart from you, I can do nothing. Thank you is never enough, Lord. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.