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A fist slammed into Baker’s face. Once. Twice.
Lightning struck behind his eyes as a burst of heat expanded out from the blast site, paralyzing him at the realization that someone he cared about had been lost to the cartel all over again.
Chapter Seven
Raisin cookies that looked like chocolate chips was one of the main reasons she had trust issues.
Jocelyn hurled herself through the open patio door.
Barely conscious, she let herself get sucked beneath the surface of the outdoor pool as a wave of flames splintered out from the house.
The explosion punctured deep under the water and pressurized the air in her lungs and ears. Bubbles raced upward from all the nooks and crannies of her gear and tickled her skin along the way. Chlorinated water drove up her nose and into the back of her throat, but she wouldn’t inhale. No matter how much her body wanted to.
A submersive shift reverberated through her as debris rained down from above. Covering her head as best she could, Jocelyn tried to wait it out, but she hadn’t caught a full breath before going in.
Something heavy hit the water.
She forced her head up just before a section of the compound’s protective wall sank directly over her. She kicked as hard as she could against the pool’s bottom to get out of the way, but her gear held her down. The wall landed on her right ankle. Her muted scream echoed in her own ears as the wall’s weight crushed down on the bones between her foot and calf.
Wrapping both hands around her thigh, she pulled as hard as the bullet wound in her shoulder allowed. Flames lit up the surface of the water and highlighted strings of blood floating out of the wound. She’d been hit. Now she was pinned beneath the pool’s surface and running out of air. An entire pool of water battled for domination as she pulled at her leg again. The pain spiraled down into her toes and suctioned a larger percentage of air.
The harder she fought, the sooner she’d drown. Debris settled in the bottom of the pool, and she grabbed for something—anything—she could use to wedge beneath the stone wall. Dirt and rock dodged her attempts to placate her survival instincts. Fire flickered above her as the remnants of the house settled.
Her heart thudded too hard at the base of her neck. Each pulse beat stronger than the one before it until she was sure her chest might explode from the effort. Jocelyn pressed her hands to her vest, searching her own gear. The pain in her chest was spreading. Panic sucked up oxygen in the process. Black tendrils encroached on her vision as her fingers hit something heavy in her belt. Her baton. It was all she could think of.
Frantic to make the agony stop, she ripped the tactical baton free. With too much force. The steel slipped from her grip and disappeared into the inky darkness beneath her. Pinching her eyes closed, she tried to feel for it but met nothing but the coarse coating used to protect pools from cracking. It scraped against her knuckles and lit up her dying nerves.
Her toes had lost feeling. The sensation was spreading up into her ankle and taking hold, but she couldn’t let herself pass out. The moment she gave up, her body’s automatic functions would kick her lungs to inhale. She’d drown within seconds. No. She had to find that baton.
Seconds slipped through her fingers as she stretched her wounded arm. Her fingertips hit something cylindrical and heavy in the initial pass, but it slipped out of reach. The bullet had torn straight through her shoulder. If she could just extend a bit more—
Unimaginable pain ricocheted through her arm and into her neck. She lost the last reserves of air in a silent scream, sinking deeper. She tried to leverage her free foot beneath her, but the angle was all wrong. She had no strength here. Groping for the baton a second time, she couldn’t ignore the crushing weight pressing against her chest.
She was out of time. Out of options.
Jocelyn fought against the drugging pull of heaviness and kicked at the section of wall on her foot. It wouldn’t budge. This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be how she was going to die. Because she hadn’t really given herself a chance to live.
The days, weeks and months after Miles’s death had been spent in pure survival. She’d shut down the part of herself that could connect with others on a cellular level while outwardly portraying a woman who was trying to pull her team together. Truth was she’d gone numb inside a long time ago. But the past twenty-four hours had given her a purpose. Something—no, someone—to focus on. A puzzle to solve. One she wasn’t ready to give up on yet.
Jocelyn leveraged her free foot into the bottom of the pool and shoved off with everything she had left. It would have to be enough. The last few air bubbles shook free of her clothing and escaped to the surface as she forced her arm against the torn muscles.
Her fingers brushed over the top of the baton.
She wrapped her grip around the solid metal and extended it to its full length. There was a chance the steel would crumple under the weight of the wall, but she had to try. She wedged the tip alongside her trapped ankle and, using both hands, forced her upper body to do something impossible.
The wall shifted upward.
Feeling rushed back into her foot, and Jocelyn dragged her leg free. Relief didn’t have a hold on her as the weight of her vest and weapons countered her one-handed strokes. Her insides were eating at themselves, the lack of oxygen shutting down organ after organ in an attempt to save energy for her heart, brain and lungs.
The very same armor she’d donned to protect herself would be what killed her in the end. Jocelyn tore at the shoulder of her Kevlar vest and loosened its hold. Its familiar weight was lost to the darkness creeping along the bottom of the pool. She couldn’t think, couldn’t remember what she had to do next. Her boots felt too tight. They had to go. She let go of the baton and pulled her backup magazines and weapons from her pockets.
In a last attempt at survival, she kicked at the bottom of the pool. The momentum carried her upward with the help of one hand grabbing onto what felt like a thin ladder.
She broke through the surface. And gasped.
Her chest ached under the influx in oxygen. Jocelyn clung to the side of the pool. Exposed skin was instantly assaulted by heat from all sides, but she couldn’t convince her body to move. Someone had shot her and left her for dead. It was only when she’d regained consciousness on the floor of the kitchen that she’d noted the thin wires strung throughout the exposed rafters of the house. The ones connected to a similar device Albuquerque’s bomb squad was currently trying to piece back together.
Only much larger and a whole lot more complicated.
