Anything but Mine (18 page)

“That doesn’t sound good, Falconetti,” Reed said. “Come on. We’ll let the crane lift it off.”

“Wait a sec.” She wiggled closer, shining the light into the hole again. “I want to see if I can…”

The words strangled in her throat.

The flashlight beam highlighted Tick’s face. His eyes were closed.

He didn’t move.

“Tick.” Caitlin’s reverent whisper, delivered in a choked voice, washed over him. “Oh, thank God. Are you all right? Are you hurt? We’re going to get you out, but this slab…we might need the crane for that…”

He closed his eyes again, a wave of thankful tears singeing his lids. Hands clenched, he gulped against the lump in his throat. Lord, he’d always loved her voice, but now it was truly the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. He opened his eyes again, the weak tears sliding free. He blinked and squinted, trying to peer through the gloom, wanting,
needing,
to see her.

“Cait?” he asked, his own voice emerging as a raspy croak.

A metal flashlight clanged against rock, the beam bouncing around the space once more. “Yes?”

He slid his hand along the floor, seeking the opening, craving her touch. Concrete scraped his palm. “I love you, precious.”

“I love you too.” Her voice cracked on the words, and he closed his eyes once more, listening to her yell for someone to get him the hell out
now
. A smile curved his mouth, even as a harsh sob shook his chest. He wanted to wipe his eyes, but didn’t have enough room to move his left arm to do so and his right remained trapped by debris and Williams.

“Cait?”

“I’m right here.”

“Jolie Williams is here with me. She…I don’t think she’s in such good shape.” She hadn’t awakened after the second crash, but he’d been able to keep a check on her pulse by twisting his left hand up to encircle her wrist. Each time, he’d found it thready and growing weaker.

“Okay, I’ll…” Her words trailed away and male tones filtered down to him. The light disappeared. “Tick? They want me to move. Botine thinks they can cut through the slab quicker than they can maneuver the crane. I won’t be far away.”

“Okay.” He let his head rest against the hard marble once more. A few more minutes. A little longer and he could touch her, hold her. Minutes. That was all.

The sudden whine of a massive saw cut through the silence and he startled. Williams moaned, but he felt rather than heard it. The noise deafened him and the vibrations ran through his body like a shock. His heart accelerated to a painful speed, his lungs constricting. With fear thick in his mouth, he stared up into the darkness, wondering what would happen if they miscalculated. Would the stone fall in on them? What if they cut too deeply and hit them with the saw? Squirming to move his aching arm, he pressed a protective hand over Williams’ vulnerable head and prayed.

Once the saw stopped, he listened to rescuers scrambling over the debris, moving chunks aside. He didn’t hear Caitlin’s voice again, although he strained his ears for it. The concrete shifted, pressing painfully into his shoulder, and he sucked in a yelp. Lord, they needed to be careful. Just his luck to have one of them send a piece of marble crashing into his head moments before he would have been rescued.

The material shifted, a thin line of light appearing above him. Artificial light, the too-bright glow of spotlights. The voices grew closer and more debris disappeared, the crack widening to a hole, then a larger opening. He closed his eyes on a whispered prayer of thanks. They’d been found; he was moments from safety.

The largest piece of the slab moved. Small chunks of concrete rained on him and he turned his face away.

“Damn, son, didn’t think I’d find you lying down on the job,” Botine’s voice boomed above him.

Tick opened his eyes and managed a weak grin. “Took y’all so long I needed a nap.”

Botine hollered for medics and within moments an EMT slipped into the new clearing. She ignored Tick for the moment, her attention concentrated on Williams. That was fine with him—other than being sore as hell, he was reasonably sure he hadn’t suffered any major injuries.

“Looks like a spinal cord injury.” Urgency filled the EMT’s voice. “Possible internal bleeding. Tell LifeFlight to stand by.”

Tick’s gut twisted. It was worse than he’d feared. Damn it, her body had shielded his from the brunt of the second crash—he knew that.
Lord, please, let her be all right.

Over the next twenty minutes, he lay as still as possible, while the EMTs prepared to lift Williams from the hole. Finally, they were rushing her toward the helicopter and Botine tugged Tick to his feet. His head spun and he stumbled, life returning with stinging force to his legs and arms.

Once the fuzziness stopped dancing at his peripheral vision, he glanced around, seeking Caitlin. “Where’s Cait?”

“Agent Taylor pulled her over to the triage tent to wait for you.” Botine cleared his throat. “We…we weren’t real sure what we’d find when we got through all that debris. What shape you’d be in and all.” His eyes crinkled with a smile hidden behind his filter mask. “She bitched at him the whole time too.”

Joy bubbled in Tick’s chest. Yeah, that was his Cait. He stepped up onto the next layer of debris and faltered as his legs trembled, the muscles feeling like overcooked spaghetti.

“Whoa.” Botine grabbed his arm, steadying him. “Let’s go get you checked out.”

Picking their way over the piles of rubble took forever, but Tick rarely moved his eyes off the woman waiting for him on the sidewalk, just beyond the orange barriers. He ached all over, every single muscle in his body protesting something, and blood trickled from the wound at his shoulder. But that was all right…he was alive and Caitlin was here, waiting.

Mere feet from her, he pulled his arm from around Botine’s shoulders, shaking off the other man’s support. Lord, all he wanted was to hold her close, to soak her in, convince himself this was real and not some desperate hallucination.

Two EMTs intercepted him, steering him under a funeral-home tent for inspection. He tried to shrug away, his arms weak. “Guys, come on. I want to see my wife—”

“She’ll wait.” The first paramedic flashed a penlight in his eyes while the second placed a blood pressure cuff around his arm.

“She will,” Caitlin said, hovering at the edge of the tent. Tick caught her gaze, hunger to be near to her beating in his chest.

They cut his shirt away and the first EMT whistled. “Shoulder’s gonna need stitches.”

Tick never looked away from Caitlin’s dark green eyes. “Slap a bandage on it. I’ll be fine.”

“Check out those bruises,” the second EMT said. He prodded Tick’s chest with gentle hands. “Any trouble breathing?”

Searing pain shot across his chest and he gasped, but didn’t drop his gaze from Caitlin’s. “Not until you did that.”

“Bruised ribs.”

“Guys, I’m fine.” Tick shrugged irritably away. “I just need a shower and some food—”

“Let them take care of you.” Caitlin tugged at the end of her lank, messy ponytail. “I’m going to see if I can dig up some clean clothes for you.”

She slipped away and Tick stared after her, incredible frustration burning through him. Damn it.

The EMT brushed disinfectant over the shoulder wound and the stinging took his breath. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, Caitlin was nowhere in sight.

Tick stuck his head under the lukewarm spray, trying to wash away the dust and the memories. The emergency showers, in a trailer partitioned into four small bathrooms and usually utilized during trips to hurricane areas, were on loan from a local church, and although the water pressure wasn’t the greatest, at least he was beginning to feel human again. Like he’d gone twenty rounds with a superior boxer, but human.

The water stung the open cut on his shoulder. The EMTs had wanted him to head over to the hospital for stitches and observation, but he wasn’t having any of it. Not when Autry and God knew who else was trapped in there. Not when he was on his feet, able to help.

Alive.
He closed his eyes, welcoming even the harsh bite of shampoo and soap hitting the gash. Every sensation, painful or pleasant, proved he’d survived.

Rinsing away the last of the soap, he shut off the water and reached for one of the thin towels. Water continued to run in the adjacent shower unit.

He wrapped the towel about his waist and glanced in the mirror. Tiny cuts marred his face and neck and he had a hell of a bruise forming on his jaw. At his ribs, large contusions were red and angry. He ran a hand over his chest. That was gonna hurt tomorrow.

The door opened and Caitlin eased inside, a bundle of clothing in her arms. She met his gaze in the mirror, her eyes wet. “You wouldn’t believe what I had to do to get—”

Spinning, he jerked her into his embrace, mouth covering hers. She moaned and wound her arms around his neck, the clothes dropping about his feet. Pressing closer, she opened beneath him and he plunged his tongue between her lips, ravenous for the taste of her. They clung, her palms sliding over his back and waist in desperate caresses. Assuring herself he was real. He knew it because he was doing the same thing, roaming from the small of her back to her hips, along the curve of her waist to her ribcage.

Hungry, he explored the familiar depths of her mouth, drinking in her dark taste. Her hands moved lower and the thin towel joined the clothes at his feet. She clutched his hips, fingers digging into his flesh when she surged tighter against him. He squeezed his eyes closed, fighting the tears that lay too near the surface.

His lungs ached and he slid his mouth from hers, trailing kisses over her jaw while he caught his breath. With the sweet, salty smell of her filling his senses, emotion squeezed his throat. “Cait, precious, I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

Arms about his waist, she turned her head and sought his mouth. “I love you.” Her hoarse whisper feathered across his lips. “I thought I’d lost you…” She brought her arms up, hands tangling in his wet hair. A husky laugh puffed against his throat and she pulled his head back so she could meet his gaze. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

He stared at her and slipped his hands beneath her T-shirt, rubbing his thumbs over her spine. Even coated with a layer of dust and dried sweat, her skin remained the softest thing under his touch. With his tongue, he moistened lips dry and chapped, still able to taste her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his throat so constricted that even the torn whisper hurt. Having her close wasn’t soothing the need in him. He wanted her closer, wanted everything. He needed
her
. “About this morning. About the baby and—”

“Don’t.” She wound her hands tighter in his hair. “You don’t have to. I should have listened to you, talked to you. All I could think about while…while you were down there…”

Her voice broke and he lowered his head, kissing away the pained words.

“Shh. Hush,” he murmured against her lips and nuzzled her temple. She urged him nearer and found his mouth, her kiss full of the same wild need he couldn’t shake.

“Touch me.” She whispered the words into his mouth, hands tugging at his hair. “I need to feel you, Tick. Make me believe it’s real.”

The need arrowed into his gut and he ran his palms under her shirt and up her sides, cupping the firm curve of her breasts. Her deep moan of relief rewarded him and he let the craving take over.

Breaking their kiss, he fisted the edge of her T-shirt and yanked it over her head. Gaze locked on hers, he tossed it aside. Want and desire settled in him heavily, but this went beyond passion or even making love. This had more to do with claiming and being claimed, assuring themselves he was alive and they were together once more.

Still watching her, he didn’t bother with the clasp on her bra, but jerked it over her head as well. He pulled her into his arms, chest to chest, skin against skin. His shoulder protested the movement, but he ignored the discomfort. All he wanted was her.

She buried her face against his throat, mouth and tongue moving over his skin, sending tingles racing over his nerves. When she touched him, hands skimming over his ribs, down his hips and finally around his erection, he groaned. His knees wobbled and a rough laugh escaped him.

She stroked him, sensation shooting through him, and he reached for her wrists. “It’s too much.” He kissed the sensitive skin below her ear and released her hands to fumble with the button on her jeans. “I need you.”

With a soft laugh, she pushed his fingers away. “You’ve got me. You always have.”

The rasp of her zipper filled the sudden silence left by the shower next door stopping and sent urgency zinging through him. He shoved the denim out of the way, taking the delicate silk of her panties with the jeans. Smothering her mouth with his again, he lifted her to sit on the edge of the cheap vanity. His heart thudded and sensations skittered through him with each touch, each kiss, each sigh.

He ran his hands along her thighs, long, lean muscles quivering under his caresses. His mouth left hers to nip kisses along her jaw, down her throat, and he slipped a finger between her legs to find her ready for him. His turn to moan, the overriding urge to be inside her, to prove to both of them he remained, wringing the sound from him.

“Holy hell, I love you.” Speaking hurt, his ribs aching, but the only things that mattered were her, in his arms, and being alive.

“I want you,” she murmured, teeth scraping his throat. “I
need
you, to know this is real, that you’re here.”