Page 108 of Jameson’s Salvation

But he wasn’t paying attention—all Jameson could think about was Kennedy’s final words.

It can’t be over. No fucking way can it be over.

“Fuck!” Nix shouted and grabbed the wheel, jerking it hard right just in time to prevent the near head-on collision. “Pull the fuck over and let me drive.”

“No time,” Jameson grunted, eyes now focused on the road.

“We’ll have no time if you kill us all.”

A sign for Lake Shore Drive caught his attention, but he skidded to a stop as a black Buick turned in front of him.

“Do you think that’s the car?” Weston asked.

“What are the chances—?”

“Let me out. I’ll run the rest of the way to the house.” Weston already had the back door open and was jumping out. He rounded the bed of the truck and in a full sprint took off down the street. Jameson hit the accelerator to catch up to the Buick as it turned onto a gravel access road.

Rocks were shooting out from under the car’s rear tires as the Buick picked up speed.

“What the fuck is she doing?” Nixon snarled. “She needs to slow down.”

Please, God, don’t let Kennedy be in the car.

Deloris Marshall was driving straight for a boat ramp and not slowing down.

“Fuck!” Jameson roared as the car splashed into the water.

He slammed on his brakes, jammed the truck into park, and anticipation surged as he ran toward the water. By the time he made it into the water, the front end was already sinking and the car was filling up at an alarming rate.

Don’t be in there.

Jameson was waist-deep with only the ass-end of the Buick bobbing when he dove underwater, Nixon right behind him. His boots were so heavy it felt like he had bricks tied around his ankles and his clothing caused drag, slowing him down more than Kennedy had time for.

His hand hit the metal fender of the Buick and he popped up, took a huge gulp of air, and dove back down.

Uncaring that debris was burning his eyes, he peered into the car and pushed through the open window. Kennedy was floating face down in the back of the car, her beautiful blonde hair flowing around her. His gut churned and for a moment panic and fear paralyzed him.

Nixon bumped his leg getting his attention and pulling him from his stupor, and determination kicked in. He would not let his woman die in a watery tomb. He kicked his feet, propelling him farther into the car and he grabbed Kennedy’s bicep.

Nixon wrapped his arm around Jameson’s middle, and with a shove off the car, yanked both Jameson and Kennedy out the window.

Jameson adjusted his grip around the woman who had changed his life and kicked as hard as he could to the surface. This was not how their story would end. He’d never recover, never get over the loss of her. She had to live—there was no other option.

His head came up out of the water. He turned Kennedy to her back and Nixon was there at his side checking for a pulse.

“No pulse,” Nix announced.

Three minutes. They had three minutes before brain death occurred.

“Do it,” Jameson demanded, and Nixon lowered his mouth to hers.

Jameson watched in horror as Kennedy’s cheeks puffed out as Nixon attempted to breathe life into her. They’d been too fucking late. He should’ve known she was in trouble earlier. He shouldn’t have been so wrapped up in work and lost track of time. Thirty minutes sooner and this wouldn’t be happening.

If he’d just taken the goddamn day off and helped her work her field, none of this would’ve happened.

“Stop,” Nixon barked as he lifted his head. Had he said something out loud? “Relax and turn her back toward me.”

Shit, he hadn’t realized he had been fighting Nixon’s efforts.