CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IT WAS GETTING crowded in the triage tent.
Sam was still unconscious, his lean cheeks sunken, but Don looked much better this morning. He was awake and alert. “The more the merrier,” he said, watching as Lauren took care of the new admits.
Don was glad to see them alive, not happy they were injured.
She treated Owen first. After giving him some oral painkillers, she numbed the affected area with a local anesthetic. Then she cleaned the cut with saline and closed the edges with a short row of sutures. His other lacerations appeared minor, so she left them alone.
Unlike Owen, Garrett had a serious injury. When she saw what was under the duct tape, she sucked in a sharp breath. “This is a gunshot wound.”
He arched a brow. “Is it?”
She wanted to scold him for not telling her sooner, but she held her tongue. Despite his tough-guy sarcasm, he was hurt and it showed. His face paled as she cut off his shirtsleeve and peeled away the soaked fabric.
Relief spilled over her, because the wound was superficial. The exit and entrance sites were small, and the trajectory went straight through the muscle. “I think you were hit by a piece of shrapnel, not a bullet.”
He glanced down at his arm, lifting it to get a better look. The simple motion made him grimace in pain. “It felt like a f*cking bus.”
Although the wound had bled profusely, and damaged some subcutaneous tissue, it didn’t need aggressive treatment. Many gunshot injuries were bandaged and allowed to heal without major surgery or flesh debridement.
Following this conservative approach, she injected him with lidocaine and irrigated the area thoroughly before applying a dressing. The injury would give him a lot of discomfort, but it wasn’t life threatening, and he’d make a full recovery.
He was lucky to be alive. After hearing the gunshots, she’d been frozen with fear, half convinced he was dead. She didn’t want to relive those dark moments. Since Mrs. Engle died, she’d been terrified to bury anyone else. She couldn’t handle the emotional toll.
Lauren wasn’t used to caring this much. Her job was to transport patients as quickly as possible. She always moved on before she could get attached. The ambulance had to get to the next scene, and the next, and the next.
Now she was stuck in an ongoing emergency, and she couldn’t escape her feelings. This motley crew of survivors—Garrett especially—had stolen her heart. She didn’t know how to deal with the unwanted affection, or how to evaluate what was real. Maybe the danger and trauma had heightened her senses and created a false bond. She felt so vulnerable.
While Lauren wrapped gauze around Garrett’s upper arm, Owen updated Don about the morning’s events.
“How many bullets do you think Jeb has left?” Don asked.
“I don’t know,” Garrett replied, “but I’m pretty sure I dislocated one of his kneecaps. It’ll be hard for him to sneak up and take shots at climbers.”
“You can’t climb with one arm,” Lauren pointed out.
“I can climb,” Owen said. “I have an idea for breaking through, too.”
“What’s that?” Garrett asked.
“My dad used to always complain about something called spall. It happened when he was doing heavy torch work. The garage floor would get really hot, he’d hose it down and the concrete would flake away.”
“The heat weakened it?”
“I think it was the combination of heat and water.”
“We don’t have water,” she said.
“Anything wet will do the trick. Radiator fluid, windshield cleaner. Even piss.” He gave Lauren an apologetic glance for his rude suggestion. As if she cared.
Garrett nodded, seeming impressed by Owen’s logic. The young criminal wasn’t as stupid as he looked.
She secured the bandage, not bothering to voice her strongest concern. They still needed drinking water to survive. Owen couldn’t climb without Garrett’s help, and their injuries would slow them down. They were all exhausted.
“How do your arms feel?” Garrett asked.
“Not bad,” Owen said.
Lauren rolled her eyes at the obvious lie. “You should rest.”
“We don’t have time to rest.”
“No, you only have time to die,” she snapped. “You’ve been in a hurry to do that from day one.”
“She’s right,” Don said, finally backing her up. “It’s foolish to rush.”
“You could lose your leg if we wait.”
“Better my leg than his life,” he replied, jerking his chin at Owen.
“Without food and water, we’ll all die.”
Don dragged a hand down his haggard face. She had barely enough morphine to keep him from suffering, but he hadn’t complained. He was tough as nails, stoic and sweet. “I hid a few cans in Cady’s suitcase.”
Garrett’s jaw tightened and he glanced away, torn by Don’s confession. Lauren knew exactly how he felt. Her stomach ached from hunger, but it sickened her to contemplate using supplies that a grandfather had set aside for a child.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the tent. They listened to the faint sound of Sam’s breathing, which served to punctuate the gravity of the situation. It was far too easy to imagine a slow, helpless mass death.
Outside, a gentle thrumming began. Not another aftershock. Something less ominous.
Owen scrambled to his feet, ducking through the tent flap. She went after him, and Garrett followed close behind. Owen ran toward the climbing rope and lowered the dummy from the ceiling to the ground. He stood underneath the crevice, holding out his palms. “It’s raining!”
Although Lauren recognized the patter of raindrops, she almost couldn’t credit her ears. Heart racing, she rushed to Owen’s side and touched his upturned hands. They were wet. More drops fell from above, moistening her hair. When she looked up, her mouth open in wonder, rain splashed her face.
The elements that had trapped them inside so cruelly worked to their favor now. Rain coursed down the sloped angles outside, pouring through the cracks and crevices at the top of the collapsed freeway.
“It’s raining,” Owen repeated, as if he couldn’t believe it.
She threw her arms around him, laughing in delight. “It’s raining!” He hugged her back, laughing along with her. Tears of hope rushed into her eyes. If it continued to rain, they could gather and store drinking water. And, judging by the number of drops she’d already felt, it wasn’t just raining. It was pouring.
Releasing Owen, she turned to Garrett, her heart in her throat. He was just watching them, enjoying the moment. She wanted to give him a big kiss on the mouth, but she limited herself to another friendly hug. His body felt warm and strong against hers. All trespasses were forgotten. They were going to live!
Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she let him go. His eyes lingered on her face, and she got the impression that he was committing the image to memory. A sad smile played on his lips, as if the sight pained him.
“We need clean containers,” he said, glancing toward the RV. “Anything that hasn’t been used to store chemicals.”
They raced around crazily, collecting receptacles of all sorts. There were dozens of empty cans and bottles scattered about. Owen used a knife to convert them into open cups. The RV yielded two plastic buckets, several large storage bins and a collection of pots and pans. Mother Nature did the rest.
At the upper corner of the structure, there was a rift that worked as a rain gutter. Water traveled along it and spilled over the edge, onto the ground. They placed the empty containers beneath it and watched them fill up.
By noon, they’d collected several gallons of water. If it continued to rain like this, they might have to worry about flooding, rather than dehydration.
Leaving a large bucket to gather more, she took some water back to the RV to boil. Cadence was in high spirits, but Penny looked tired.
“How’s Cruz?” she asked.
“He’s sleeping.”
“And eating?”
“Yes,” she said, sighing. “Every hour, it seems.”
Lauren wasn’t sure if that was cause for concern. She’d been told that newborns should nurse frequently in the first few days.
She checked the supplies, her own stomach growling. They had one last soda, and a small amount of peanut butter and jam. Before she’d even decided to ask Cadence about the extra food, the girl brought it to her.
“My grandpa forgot about these,” she said, handing her a can of Spam and stewed tomatoes.
Lauren accepted the offerings with reverence. Right now, a can of protein was worth more to her than a brick of gold. She also knew that Cadence was sharing the food by choice. “You’re a treasure,” she said, dropping a kiss on her forehead.
The girl wrinkled her nose. “I don’t even like Spam.”
Laughing, Lauren ruffled her hair. She boiled more water and found a box of penne pasta that had been overlooked before because there was no way to cook it. She made a hearty soup with the Spam, tomatoes and pasta. For the first time in days, there was enough food and water to go around. Everyone drank and ate their fill.
The meal reenergized the group, and the rain offered a much-needed respite, but it also put a damper on Garrett’s escape plans. Owen couldn’t operate the cutting torch in a deluge. Now they had no choice but to wait.
Over the next few hours, Lauren and Cadence collected as much water as possible, transferring it from containers to storage bins. For dinner, she cooked rice with peanut butter. She was glad they wouldn’t go to bed hungry again. The previous night, she didn’t think Garrett had slept at all.
She made a last visit to the triage tent and gave Don the final dose of morphine. Tomorrow, she’d have to manage his pain with Tylenol. Cadence wanted to sleep in the back of the semi again, which was fine with Lauren. She tucked her in and locked the door, telling her to honk the horn if she needed anything.
Lauren gathered a handful of toiletries and a roomy sweatshirt with the intention of washing before bed. The excess rainwater was just pouring onto the cavern floor. She could stand under the stream and get clean.
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she cast a hesitant glance toward the front of the RV. Garrett was sitting in a lawn chair next to Owen. They were resting, but alert. She wondered if they planned to keep watch all night.
“Can I borrow a flashlight?” she asked.
He handed her the camp lantern. “Where are you going?”
“To rinse off in the rainwater.”
His eyes traveled down her body. He made a noncommittal sound, pulling his gaze away. The waterspout wasn’t visible from the RV, but it was within screaming distance. She didn’t have to worry about Jeb sneaking up on her.
“You should come,” she said. “Your clothes are covered with infectious waste, and you have open wounds. It’s a health risk.”
He straightened, glancing down at his filthy pants. They had blood and grime on them. On rare occasions, contact with dead bodies could spread diseases like hepatitis. Even so, he seemed reluctant to get clean.
“You’re contaminating your hands every time you unzip your jeans,” she pointed out.
His mouth went slack with understanding. She’d finally found something that scared him: the idea of corpse germs on his manly parts.
Owen scooted his chair a little bit farther away.
“I’ll wash up after you’re finished,” Garrett said.
“How will you manage, with one arm? You need help.”
Scowling, Garrett rose to his feet. He moved slowly to avoid jostling his arm. She’d already offered him more painkillers, and a sling, both of which he’d declined. His reluctance to let her wash him wasn’t surprising. Although he tolerated pain well, he was a poor patient, borderline noncompliant.
If he was trying to avoid sexual temptation, he needn’t have worried. He was injured. Seduction was the last thing on her mind.
Not that she didn’t want him anymore. Assuming they were rescued, and he worked out his relationship issues, she’d be interested in dating him.
Lauren wondered what would have happened if she’d met Garrett while she was still engaged. Would she have noticed him in the same way, and felt the same irresistible pull? She couldn’t imagine not feeling it.
Then again, trauma brought people together in odd ways. Under less extreme circumstances, she might not have found Garrett so fascinating. Maybe the draw between them was just intense sexual chemistry combined with the fear of dying.
Troubled by her thoughts, she searched the supplies for a change of clothes for Garrett. The dummy’s coveralls looked large enough to fit him. Grabbing them, and a wool blanket, she gestured for him to follow her.
At the waterspout, she placed the lantern on the hood of a nearby car. “I’ll go first.” He averted his gaze politely while she stripped down to her bra and panties. Leaving her undergarments on, she stepped into the falling water.
She yelped as it streamed over her hair and shoulders.
Garrett turned at the sound. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s cold.”
He glanced away—but not before getting an eyeful.
Shivering, she wet her hair quickly and lathered it with hand soap. Then she scrubbed the rest of her body. Making sure he wasn’t looking, she slipped her hand into her wet panties and washed between her legs. When she felt clean enough, she rinsed as best she could and moved out of the stream, her teeth chattering.
He kept his back to her while she removed her undergarments and put on a roomy sweatshirt. It covered her to midthigh.
“Okay,” she said, signaling that she was decent.
His injury would make this process difficult. She knew he could unzip his pants, but he’d left the top button undone. He couldn’t unlace his boots or take off the rest of his clothes without assistance.
Pushing up the sleeves of her sweatshirt, she motioned for him to come forward. He did, leaning his hip against the side of the car as she helped him out of his T-shirt. Although she was gentle, he clenched his jaw in discomfort. She got the impression that he felt weak or helpless, like a victim. But that was hardly the case, from her perspective. She had to smother a gasp as she revealed his upper body.
Good Lord. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. Just muscle. He radiated power, from his large hands and strong forearms, to his bulging biceps and the hard wall of his chest. His stomach was flat and subtly ridged.
Lauren had known he was built. She’d felt his torso against hers, and bandaged his impressive biceps just a few hours ago. But real life was even better than her imagination. She drank him in greedily, her gaze drifting lower.
Moistening her lips, she brought a trembling hand to his fly.
He caught her wrist. “Leave it.”
Walking toward the water, he stuck his head in the stream, letting it flow over his neck and down his good arm. He made a sound of relief, as if the cold felt soothing. When he looked sufficiently wet, she approached with the soap.
He glanced over his shoulder warily. Wearing a guarded expression, he allowed her to shampoo his hair. While he rinsed, ducking his head forward once again, she studied the slick expanse of his back, mesmerized.
He turned, catching her in the act.
She tried to focus on the task, instead of his amazing physique. Squeezing more soap into her palm, she applied it to his chest. Oh mama, he felt good. She lathered his armpits, which were dense with hair, and his smooth, hard pecs. His nipples were tight. His stomach was tight. Everything was tight.
He had more hair on his belly, a sexy strip that led into his waistband. His jeans were soaked, hanging dangerously low on his hips. His internal obliques were amazing. As was his erection, straining the wet denim.
Jesus. How could he, in this cold?
Her startled gaze flew up to his face.
“I’ll take care of the rest.”
Heart racing, she gave him the soap. “I can untie your boots, if you want. That way you can just...finish up.”
A muscle in his jaw clenched. “Go ahead.”
She dropped to her knees before him. The cold concrete bit into her tender skin, and her fingertips trembled as she worked on the laces. She was intensely aware of her suggestive pose, the heat of his body and his aroused state.
It was easy to imagine him unbuttoning his fly and threading his fingers through her hair, bringing her forward.
She wouldn’t need coaxing.
Her face flamed as she struggled with a knot in the shoelace. When it was free, she loosened the slack so he could kick off his boots. His jeans weren’t snug, so she didn’t think he’d have a problem stepping out of them.
Finished, she sat back on her heels and glanced up. He was watching her intently. His face was so taut it looked like it might break. Of their own volition, her eyes traveled back down his torso, settling on his distended fly. He seemed to swell further under her half-lidded gaze. She moistened her lips, smothering a moan.
Although she hadn’t made a conscious decision to cross the line with him, she was ready, at that moment, to do whatever he wanted. He was visibly in need. She would take pleasure in pleasing him.
Her morals and standards went out the window. The vow of abstinence just evaporated, like the moisture rising from his jeans.
Instead of taking advantage of her unspoken offer, he pulled her to her feet. Their gazes locked and her heart thumped wildly inside her chest. What did he think of her? If he found her unappealing, or lacking shame, he didn’t say. He just stared at her mouth, breathing hard, his face just inches from hers.
Her lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears.
“Don’t,” he said, cupping her chin.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t feel bad. You know how much I want you.”
She had a pretty good idea, if the size of his erection was any indication. He was close enough that she could feel the warring sensations of cold denim on hot skin. Behind him, the water continued to rush down the wall.
He traced her mouth with his thumb, brushing back and forth. She parted her lips, trying to draw him in. Groaning, he dropped his hand and stepped away, shoving his head under the stream to drown his desire.
She retreated, her pulse heavy. He hadn’t watched her shower, so she turned her back, giving him the same courtesy. After a few minutes, she heard him step out of the water. When he cleared his throat, indicating that he was ready, she glanced over her shoulder. He’d managed to pull up the coveralls to his waist. Bending down, he removed a few items from the pocket of his wet jeans.
She was still shivering, from cold and uncertainty. She’d practically begged him for sex, and he’d declined.
This was humiliating.
He looked into the backseat of the car before opening the door. It was the same one Owen had camped out in, and relatively clean inside. “Will you let me hold you?”
Nodding, she grabbed the blanket and climbed into the backseat with him. He put his good arm around her and she covered them with the blanket. They cuddled together, generating body heat. She pressed her face to his throat and tried not to cry.
“Are you warm now?”
She lifted her head. “Yes.”
He cupped her face again, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. His gaze was on her mouth. It hadn’t escaped her attention that he was still aroused. Need for her radiated from him. She felt a matching sensation, curling in her belly. After a short hesitation, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers.
She was too numb to respond, at first. He kissed her slack lips, the corner of her mouth. A tendril of wet hair clung to her chin. He brushed it aside, tasting the track of moisture there. When his mouth returned to hers, she moaned, parting her lips. His tongue swept in and his thumb pressed to her cheek. She kissed him back tentatively, lifting her hands to his damp head. The wet heat of his mouth felt delicious. Life affirming.
He broke the kiss, panting. “I want to make love to you.”
“You do?” It seemed obvious, with his hard length prodding her hip. But he’d refused her just moments ago.
“I want it to be good for you, too,” he explained.
“You didn’t want—”
“Of course I did. But I want this more.” He put his hand on her thigh, stroking. “I want to touch you and kiss you and make you come.”
She groaned, bringing his mouth back to hers. Their tongues met, tangling together, seeking heat. His hand flexed on her thigh, sliding from her knee to the hem of her sweatshirt and down again. Although she hadn’t shaved her legs in a few days, he didn’t seem to mind. “Your skin is so soft,” he said, between kisses.
She’d never been this turned on in her life, and they’d barely started. Even so, she needed to ask him something before they continued. “Wait,” she said, moving her hands from his hair to his face. His coarse stubble prickled against her fingertips. The light from the lantern, still on the back hood, made his green eyes gleam.
“Tell me this,” she said, searching his gaze. “Do you love her?”