Page 115 of Ricochet

Patting down the body, I reached the legs and, finally, the boot that’d gotten caught between the ladder and a pipe.

Gripping tight to the boot, I pulled, twisting as I tugged. It wouldn’t move.

With seconds ticking by and a frantic trembling beating though my body, I fumbled at the laces, loosening them, and slipped the foot out of the boot. At once the body went limp, and I lifted what I hoped was Aubree to the surface, gagging and coughing when our heads breached the water.

Up the ladder, I dragged her silent form through the hatch and back down the staircase, nabbing my coat along the way. Lying her on a bed of dirt, I tilted her head back, opened her mouth, and listened.

No breath.

Placing my lips to hers, I forced air inside of her mouth, then pulled away and pushed my palms against her chest, in quick compressions. Another blast of air and more compressions. I stopped and listened. No movement. No air.

“Don’t you fucking die on me, Aubree! Don’t you fucking die!” Another round of air and compressions. Pause. Air and compressions. Pause. “No, no. C’mon, stay with me, stay with me, please!”

My soul withered with each failed attempt. Numbness spread from my heart to my limbs, and blackness narrowed my field of vision. I felt light, as if I’d detached from my body, floating above the scene, urging the man performing CPR to keep going, don’t give up, because fuck if I knew what I’d do without her. I was touching her but couldn’t feel her, as if our connected souls had somehow peeled away from one another, leaving only shells.

As I leaned down to press my lips to hers, I stopped just short, gripping her jaw in my hands. “Don’t do this. Don’t fucking die. I won’t have anything left if you die!”

Cold spikes of pain stabbed my heart. I forced another round of air and pressed into her chest, mentally counting off, as each second beat a reminder in my head that she was slipping farther out of my grasp. The watery blur in my eyes made it damn near impossible to see her and I frowned, concentrating on her face, searching for any sign of life.

Still nothing.

No. No fucking way. Violence and madness crept my spine, numbing my body. The world spun around me, and I screwed my eyes tight, but the image of her cold, pale face burned inside my head.

Five minutes must’ve passed. Who the fuck knew how long she’d been trapped before I found her? That old familiar sensation of hope fading before my eyes hit my chest and clutched my heart.

One more time. C’mon, Nick. Save her.

I bent forward and kissed her cold lips. “Please,” I whispered against them, then I blew a mouthful of breath into her lifeless body.

Did she move? Fucking blur in my eyes made it difficult to tell. I blinked them, and her eyes flinched, mouth gaped, but only her neck bobbed, as if a cough sat trapped at the back of her throat. My chest expanded with a captured breath.

Ten seconds passed in an eternity, while her body spasmed. When her brows came together at last, water burst from her mouth on a wet cough, and I turned her to her side, while she choked and gagged, working the fluid from her lungs.

A crazy surge of laughter bellowed out of my chest, like I’d suddenly lost my mind. Maybe I had. I could hardly breathe myself. All I wanted was to scoop her up into my arms and squeeze the shit out of her, but instead I let her work the air back into her lungs.

She rolled onto her back, and her eyes appeared heavy, still caught in a haze before realization must’ve struck. Hard. Her gaze fell to mine, and she broke into tears, lifting her arms out to me.

Her body shivered in mine. I shivered against her, too, but dragged my coat up around her shoulders, wrapping her in what little warmth it offered.

“Thought I lost you, Pistol Lips. Fuck.” I kissed her on the forehead and pushed the hair out of her face. “Don’t ever scare the hell out of me like that again.”

Frowning, she let out a breathy laugh like it hurt, and she tucked her face down into my coat.

A shot rang out, and I snapped my attention back toward the tunnel where I’d left Culling and DeMarcus . “Stay here,” I whispered, planting another kiss to her temple.

Her ice-cold grasp tugged my arm, and when I glanced back, she frantically shook her head, a look of terror crossing her face. “No!” A cough followed the rasp of her words.

“It’s okay. I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

Wrenching my arm free, I took off back through the tunnel.

Grunts and scuffling told me I was close, and I stumbled upon DeMarcus slumped against the wall, gripping his arm.

I crouched to the police officer. “You shot?”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” he said, his voice straining. He nodded toward a door that led back into the Ironworks basement. “He went that way. He’s got my gun.”

“Back through the tunnel. Aubree needs help.” I didn’t wait for him to answer, but raced after Culling. “Get an ambulance!” I called over my shoulder.