by Davis, Jo
Eve paused, then nodded. “All right. You’re welcome to go sit in the ambulance, where it’s dry, or—”
“I’ll stay out of the way.” Cori gestured to a mountain of a man donning a harness with a thick rope attached to it. He’d stripped off his fire department hat, coat, pants, and boots, leaving him in a navy polo shirt and trousers. Two others were checking every square inch of the straps. “Is he going in?”
Eve turned and heaved a deep breath, eyes darkening with worry. “Yes. That’s Lieutenant Paxton. We can all lift or carry a person if necessary, but he’s the strongest in a situation like this.”
Cori studied the giant, hard and popping with muscle. The man looked like he could bench-press a truck, which meant he had a chance of rescuing Zack. Maybe a better-than-average chance. The ferocity of the storm had abated somewhat, and although the Cumberland was swollen to overflowing the banks, it wasn’t a swift-moving river.
Please, let him get Zack out. Alive.
In those couple of seconds, skidding for the guardrail, she’d felt completely helpless. Alone, terrified and at the mercy of fate. Zack must’ve felt that way when he went over the side.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she watched them lower Lieutenant Paxton the few feet to the river. Her head knew the accident wasn’t her fault, but her heart wasn’t listening. If either of these men was hurt, she’d never be able to live with herself.
Leaning over as far as she dared, craning her neck, she noted the metallic red of her Explorer just below the water’s surface. From here, she couldn’t tell whether she was looking at the side or the roof, but the vehicle was jammed against one of the bridge columns. She prayed the vehicle would stay put.
Paxton went in right next to the submerged SUV, tugged on the rope. They gave him slack and he dove, disappearing into the murk. How long had Zack been under at that point? Less than one minute?
The bridge might’ve been deserted, the only sound the dying wind and soft patter of sleet. No one spoke; no one moved. The tension and fear were palpable as everyone waited, practically hanging over the edge, gazes glued to the water. Next to the firefighters, Cori saw two cops she hadn’t noticed before. They seemed nervous, too.
A minute passed. Longer.
The lieutenant surfaced, but had no one in his grasp. He took a deep breath and dove again.
Another minute. The strain mounted in the anxious group. Cori glanced at them to see a Hispanic firefighter tug a gold cross from beneath his coat, clutch it in his palm. No one else noticed, but she saw the handsome man bow his head, lips moving in silent prayer. His entreaty lasted only a few seconds; then he crossed himself, hid the necklace, and resumed his vigil.
Touched, Cori ached with the need to cry. That one act, witnessing a man’s prayer for his missing comrade, and these people became real. These were Zack’s friends, sick with fear. They knew there was a good chance by now that he wouldn’t make it.
“Please,” she whispered, crossing herself, as well. “Get him out.”
How long since the vehicle went under? Four or five minutes? Too long, even if Zack held his breath for the first couple of minutes.
Another squad car pulled up. A cop got out and shuffled over, joining the first two. “The firefighter still under?”
“Yeah,” one muttered, sounding glum. “Looking more like a recovery than a rescue.”
Oh, God! She refused to believe that. Zack Knight couldn’t pay with his life for saving hers. Don’t let it be true.
Paxton’s head broke the surface again—along with the burden in his arms. The lieutenant nodded, and a collective burst of relief from the group was quickly replaced by greater anxiety as they began to haul the men out of the water.
Paxton had both arms wrapped around Zack’s chest, holding the man’s back against his front. The lieutenant gritted his teeth, neck corded, every muscle straining with his friend’s limp, sodden weight.
To Cori, it seemed to take forever for the team to bring the two men up and onto the bridge. In reality, mere seconds passed. Paxton released his burden to the care of his comrades and rolled to his knees, coughing, broad chest heaving from exertion as he watched.
Tanner and the Hispanic man—Salvatore, the lettering on his coat revealed—laid Zack flat on his back. Eve ran for the ambulance, and a fourth firefighter crouched close at hand, letting Tanner and Salvatore take over. The three cops hovered several feet away, obviously wanting to assist, but out of their element. At the moment, no one paid Cori any attention.
Salvatore checked Zack’s neck for a pulse. Shook his head. “Nothing.”
Tanner ripped open Zack’s coat and Salvatore started chest compressions. Heart in her throat, she wobbled forward on shaking legs. Stared down at the man who’d saved her life.
Black hair was plastered to his skull, his fire hat and glasses gone. His sculpted lips were blue. Long, thick, spiky lashes curled against pale cheeks. The right side of his face bore a raw, scraped imprint where the chain had struck, from his hairline, across his cheek and jaw. He’d have a nasty, swollen bruise for weeks, possibly some broken bones—if he survived.
Eve returned, rolling a gurney with a plastic backboard and a portable defibrillator unit on top.
“Come on, Knight.” Salvatore pumped his chest furiously. “Goddammit, don’t do this. Breathe, you little shit!”
Nothing little about Zack. He was six feet of lean, graceful male. The glasses hadn’t detracted from his appearance, but without them, his good looks were even more noticeable. He’d been blessed with high cheekbones, a sharp blade of a nose leading to full, sensual lips. A strong jaw. His was a kind face, and she prayed he’d open those laser blue eyes and smile at her again.
Salvatore paused long enough for them to quickly slide the backboard under Zack’s body. Cori wondered at this, until Eve grabbed the defibrillator from the gurney and placed it on the ground next to Salvatore. Of course.
They couldn’t afford to waste precious seconds getting Zack settled into the ambulance before jump-starting his heart. With the rain, however, there was a chance of electric current zapping whoever handled the patient. The backboard would keep Zack grounded so this shouldn’t present a danger to anyone else.
Eve handed Salvatore a small pair of scissors, and he cut Zack’s shirt in two up the front, parted the material. Next, he wiped his friend’s chest with the torn edge of the shirt and stuck two pads to his skin, one over his heart and the other to the side of the left pectoral. Wires ran from each pad to the defib box. Cori had seen these new units before, hands-free types that were slowly replacing the traditional paddles used to deliver the shock to the patient.
“Clear,” Eve said.
Salvatore pushed a button on the unit. Zack’s body jolted, then lay unmoving. Eve noted the readout and shook her head. No dice.
“Again.” Her mouth flattened into a thin line.
Another jolt. But the shocks weren’t working. Belatedly, it occurred to Cori that the blow to his temple might’ve killed him outright. That he’d never had a chance at all.
“Again.” Wetness rolled down Eve’s cheeks that had nothing to do with the melting sleet. Her face reflected the entire team’s anguish as the third try met with no success.
No movement. No life.
“Julian, it’s been too long,” the lieutenant said quietly, laying a big hand on Salvatore’s shoulder. His eyes were red-rimmed, his voice breaking. “He’s gone. I’ll call time of death.” The other man shrugged off his touch.
“No! Dios, not yet.”
“Y-you can’t give up! Please . . .” Cori stood riveted in stunned horror. God, this man drowned saving my life. He’s dead.
Tanner wiped a shaking hand down his face. “Howard’s right. There’s not—”
“Wait!” Eve shouted. “We’ve got a faint pulse. Let’s get his lungs clear, get him breathing.”
Salvatore pushed upward on Zack’s diaphragm, shoving the water from his lungs. Murky liquid gushed from betwe
en his bluish lips several times, but Salvatore’s efforts went unanswered.
Paxton, who’d removed the harness, leaned forward. “Come on, buddy, breathe.”
Salvatore spat a vicious curse in Spanish, flung aside his hat. Helpless anger twisted his features, but his attention never wavered from their fallen brother. Moving positions, he tilted Zack’s head back, pinched his nose, and placed his mouth over the other man’s. Gave a couple of puffs of air, sat back.
Nothing. “Dios mío.” He bent, gave two more.
Zack’s chest heaved once. Twice.
His body jerked, and he vomited the river. Coughed a couple of times, and lay immobile. Much too still.
“That’s it, my friend, hang on,” Eve whispered, smoothing back his raven hair.
There were no joyous cries, no relieved faces. He wasn’t responding as they’d hoped. Cori knew the survival rate on revived drowning victims wasn’t good, and during nursing school, she’d known a handful of them to come into the ER during her required rotations. More than half hadn’t made it. Knight wasn’t out of the woods by a long shot.
“He’s breathing, but his pulse is too weak,” Tanner said as he and Salvatore lifted the backboard and Zack onto the gurney. “Salvatore, you’re the acting FAO.”
A ripple of shock seemed to bolt through the assembled group at this announcement, but they recovered quickly. Cori wondered what on earth an FAO was and guessed the title used to belong to Zack. Poor man.
“Six-Pack, ride in my place on the quint. I’m going with Knight, and Eve’s driving. Let’s get him rolling! Go, go!”
“Sterling’s the closest,” Eve said, expression tense. She looked at Cori. “I recommend you get checked at the hospital. You can go with one of the officers and make your statement, or we can transport you in the ambulance with Knight, but we can’t just leave you stranded here.”
“I’ll ride with Zack,” she replied firmly. At Sterling, she could keep tabs on the man’s condition through the doctors and nurses she’d soon be working with. A no brainer.
“Could get rough.”
Meaning, her rescuer could still die. The emotional consequences didn’t bear thinking about. “Rough is what I do best.” The woman had no idea.
Zack was strapped in, ready to go. Eve and Tanner quickly slid the gurney into the waiting ambulance. The others sprinted for the quint, where they’d follow Knight to the emergency room. The cops and another engine company would handle the remaining mess out here.
Tanner climbed in the back of the ambulance. Cori scrambled in after him, taking the opposite seat. Eve slammed the back doors shut, and Cori winced inwardly at the ominous sound.
As the vehicle began to move, Tanner laid a hand on Zack’s shoulder. Sorrow and regret swam in his green eyes. “I’m sorry, Zack,” he said hoarsely. “Please forgive me.”
Cori’s throat burned as she lowered her gaze so the man wouldn’t see how his words affected her. What had happened between them for Zack to forgive?
She studied her rescuer’s pale face, painfully aware of the faint blip of his heartbeat on the monitor. Fighting for his life.
The ultimate price of selfless courage.
This morning, Zack had been a stranger. A nuisance who’d caused her an inconvenience. Now he was a hero.
No. A man like Zack was a hero every day of his life. She’d just been too blind to notice.
Oh, God, she had some apologizing of her own to do.
She only prayed he lived to hear it.
Eyes closed, coat wrapped tightly around her body, Cori huddled in a corner of the ER’s waiting room, trying to stave off an unearthly chill from more than just her wet clothing.
“She’s so upset,” Eve murmured quietly to her companion in the opposite corner of the room.
But not quietly enough. Cori knew she should sit up, let them know their conversation wasn’t private, but she was too tired and heartsick to care.
Salvatore snorted. “You would be, too, if the cops claimed some asshole tried to murder you.”
Possible attempted murder. The police officer’s stunning, impossible words returned with a vengeance. Made her curl into a tighter ball, wishing she could disappear.
God help them all if her brother found out.
“Allegedly. Could’ve been random.”
“Either way, the deal sucks.”
“You’re so eloquent, Salvatore.” Cori pictured the woman rolling her eyes.
Ignoring the gibe, Salvatore sighed. “We should tell her what the doc reported about Zack. No point in her waiting around if she’s not going to get to see him anytime soon.”
News of Zack roused her to sit up and look around. The other firefighters were haunting the hallway off the waiting room. She blinked at the approaching pair. Their faces were solemn, guarded. Salvatore spoke first.
“Ms. Shannon—”
“Cori, please.”
He nodded. “Cori. I’m Julian. We know you’ve been waiting for word about Zack, so we wanted to let you know what the doctor said. He’s stable, but hasn’t regained consciousness.”
“He’s got brain activity,” Eve said, trying to sound positive. “We won’t know whether he sustained brain damage or the extent until he wakes up.”
Their grim expressions mirrored the curl of dread in Cori’s gut. Her rescuer, reduced to a vegetable. The tragic loss didn’t bear consideration.
“What about his head?” The blow he took to his face wasn’t a concern to be taken lightly.
“His skull isn’t cracked, but his cheekbone is,” Julian said. “There’s swelling and deep bruising, but that will heal fine. The real threat is a bad case of pneumonia clogging his lungs.”
“What! How’d he get sick so fast?” A ripple of fear went through her. People of all ages died of pneumonia. But the infection could swiftly overcome a victim of a near drowning.
Julian ran a hand through his black hair. “Zack was already ill and kept it from everyone.”
Cori sat up straighter. “Zack could still die.” A conclusion, not a question.
A flash of pain darkened his eyes. “We’re hoping for the best. He’s on massive doses of antibiotics and being monitored closely. His chances are good.”
“I know. I’m a nurse . . . or I will be in May. Thanks to your friend.” Her lips trembled and she brushed at an escaped tear, but held it together.
Julian tried to sound reassuring, bless him. “I’m sure you’ll be a good one, and you’ll get your chance to thank Zack. In the meantime, why don’t you go home and get some rest? You know the drill. He won’t be allowed visitors for a while yet.”
“No, I’ll wait a bit longer, see if there are any new developments. I appreciate your concern, and for filling me in on his condition.”
The pair in front of her knew a firm dismissal when they heard one. Cori hadn’t grown up in a house full of stubborn, overbearing brothers to learn nothing.
Julian’s lips curved into a small smile. “No problem. We—”
The crackle of his and Eve’s radios interrupted the conversation. The dispatcher relayed another traffic accident, the freezing rain taking its toll, and getting worse.
“Here’s my card,” he said, digging one out of his breast pocket. “My cell phone’s listed. If you hear something before we get back, would you—”
“You got it,” Cori replied, snatching the card. “Go on.”
“Thank you.”
He and Eve hurried for the exit, joining Tanner and the others. In two seconds, they were gone.
Cori stared at the nearly empty waiting room, discomfited by the tomblike silence left in the wake of their departure. The picture was no longer complete and she couldn’t help but wonder at the sudden sense of loss. As though she’d sort of bonded with them over Zack’s near tragedy, and now she was alone to endure the unnerving wait.
Alone. Her brows furrowed. Where was Zack’s family? None of the firefighters had mentioned anyone, but his loved ones were probably ru
shing to get here and worried sick about him.
“Corrine? How’s your head?”
Startled from her musings, Cori looked up at the young Asian doctor she’d seen speaking with the firefighters a couple of times since Zack had been brought in. She’d worked with him on rotation, though she didn’t know him well. He hadn’t treated her, but his colleague had obviously filled him in.
“Tylenol saves the day.” She gave him a weak smile.
“Any dizziness? Blurred vision?”
“No, I’m fine. I’ve got a hard head.” She didn’t want to talk about herself. “I know I’m not family, but . . . can you tell me how Zack is doing? The man saved my life,” she added when the doctor hesitated.
Just when she thought he wasn’t going to answer, he did, with some reluctance. “Mr. Knight is in ICU, still critical. He can have one visitor at a time, but I see his friends had to leave. Would you like to sit with him?”
“Yes! I would, very much.” Glancing around, she frowned. “I don’t want to intrude on his family’s time with him. Surely there’s someone here by now?”
“No, there isn’t. There won’t be.” The doctor’s eyes filled with compassion—and regret. “I understand Knight doesn’t have any family.”
Zack wanted to stay dead, but nobody would let him.
No matter how hard he strained toward oblivion in a desperate bid to escape the fire licking his entire body, the awful, suffocating pressure on his chest, they—whoever they were—pulled him back from the edge.
Let me go. God, please, make them let me go.
God wasn’t listening. Neither were they.
Stick a fork in good ole Zack, ’cause he was done. He refused to survive this hell one more second. Somehow, he’d find a way out—
“Zack? Can you hear me?”
Miraculously, the chaos in his brain quieted. Her voice again. Low, throaty, and lovely. Familiar. Who was she?
The woman didn’t want him to leave this world, and his lack of cooperation was getting to her. Every time she spoke, her emotions battered his resolve. Worry, frustration . . . guilt.
