Then kissed her again, holding. Closed-mouthed and totally appropriate, considering he was holding a kid and she had a snakebitten hand. But there was something special about the kiss, something even more intimate than their out-of-control tongue tangle in the closet at the hospital.
This wasn’t about sex. It was about feelings and connecting, which somehow was a turn-on too. What a helluva time to realize she hadn’t loved her ex-husband nearly as much as she’d thought, because even his best kisses had never touched her heart like this. The ground vibrated under her feet again and she knew this wasn’t an aftershock, but Hugh’s touch rocking her balance.
A new panic settled over her, humming in her ears, growing stronger and louder until she realized—
Hugh stepped away sharply. “Someone’s coming.”
His body tensed with a professional alertness she was learning to recognize all too well.
The sound of an engine carried on the ocean breeze. She searched the water and beach, following the sound down the stretch of sand. A speck appeared from around a bluff, a vehicle of some kind.
Hugh’s hand slid down to his gun. “Take Joshua out of the pack and go into the woods until I see who it is.”
Until they learned if they were being rescued—or attacked.
***
An infant girl cradled in his arms, Liam picked his way down the staggered levels of the collapsed apartment building. Structural engineers had said the place was made from piece-of-shit-quality materials. The slabs of concrete looked like a tilting stack of pancakes heating up in the midday sun. He tucked the tiny weight closer, safer.
“You’re out now, baby girl,” he whispered, her skin soft under all the grime.
He forced his body back on autopilot, training ramping into overdrive because he couldn’t afford to think or he would go f**king nuts remembering what he’d seen down there.
The overall frenzy of noise from early on had dulled to a more despondent, low hum of hailing calls—people yelling into piles of rubble and listening for a response. Fewer and fewer came through anymore, just weak whimpers for the most part.
The stench of decaying remains thickened by the hour.
They couldn’t give up the search for potential live victims. But the wins were such a mixed bag.
After Rachel’s dog got the hit on a live find around what must have once been the third floor, the crews had started digging—a laboriously slow process with everything from jackhammers to pry bars. The voices answering were high-pitched. Kids. A baby girl and her five-year-old brother. Stuck below with the dead bodies of their parents and another brother.
The little girl was in his arms, while Bubbles carried the boy.
An army nurse waited at the base of the rubble with a papoose board and actual transportation. As he neared he recognized her from when he’d gone to the hospital housed in the school. “Lieutenant Gable?”
“Hello, Major. Did you ever find your friends?”
So much for asking her if she’d seen them. He squashed down another disappointment on an already-crappy day. He passed over his charge. “Six-month-old girl, parents died along with one of her brothers. The kid there is the only other survivor in the family.”
Even saying it sliced him through with memories of seeing the dead mother’s body curled around her other son. The father had shielded the two living kids at the expense of his life. His eyes met the tiny girl’s heart-melting gaze that—thank God—could still focus. He forced himself to look away, to disengage.
Or at least try for now, because he knew the faces of this entire family would haunt his sleep later.
Lieutenant Gable took the bloodied infant gently. “I’ll make note of that in her files. We’ll do our best to keep the brother and sister close to each other.”
He stepped away, his body fried from exhaustion as well as the heat. “Thanks.”
Gable hesitated for a split instant. “Did you find your friends?” she asked again.
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Sorry, sir. I’ll let you know if I hear any more from them.” She pivoted away with her patient toward a waiting transport van.
In the distance, a shout went up. “Dog on the pile.”
The call carrying on the breeze made him think of Rachel. He glanced over quickly even though he already knew it wasn’t her. Rachel was sitting off fifty yards away on a tarp, her arm wrapped around her dog, Disco, as she stared off zombielike, not even noticing the water truck stuck in a mob scene so intense the vehicle couldn’t move farther.
Without another thought, he jogged toward Rachel, his jump-worn knees creaking with each step. The closer he got to her, the more he could see how zoned out she was. The Labrador’s ears perked up, twitching in his direction. But Rachel didn’t move.