Chapter Eighty-Six

Rory and Nina hit the water sideways as the powerful boat spurted away, spraying saltwater high.

The ocean swallowing them whole made Rory lose his hold on her. A violent current, caused by the spinning rotor blades, pulled at them, but they managed to escape its drag.

For several endless seconds, they were held in suspended tranquility. Muted sounds of gunfire joined with the distant rumble of the speedboat’s engine, but underwater it was deceptively quiet. Through a blur, he could see Nina surrounded by swirling bubbles, struggling to find purchase, as he was, in a world that had turned liquid. At last, the whirling water calmed.

Together they came up, the afternoon sun welcoming their return as they sputtered for air. From the pier, the thunder of gunfire dwindled. Creed’s vessel was heading south at top speed, cutting through the waves.

Treading water, Rory looked over at Nina. “Jesus, Nina. You’ve got to stop doing this to me.” He coughed up water. “I thought you’d lost it.”

Nina’s breath wheezed as she sucked down air. “We told you we had her under control.”

She was still here, still with him. Still alive. That was all that mattered. Almost giddy with relief, he could only stare as she impatiently brushed hair from her eyes. He reached for her, needing to be sure she really hadn’t been hurt.

What would he have done if he’d lost her?

In the distance, the speedboat suddenly exploded, ripped apart in a blinding flash and a deafening roar. Debris flew high and wide. The sheer force of the explosion indicated that a full fuel tank must have gone up. Creed’s chances of survival were minimal.

As the rush of adrenaline subsided, Rory felt the beginnings of a nagging throb in the center of his chest. He dismissed it and steered Nina toward the dock.

The admiral appeared overhead. “You two all right?” he called, and dropped a heavy rope over the side. Behind him, the marines were a blurry backdrop of motion.

“Yeah,” she answered, and reached for the rope.

Rory released his hold on her. In a matter of seconds, the throb transformed into straight-out agony. Around him, the water turned murky.

A bleary glance down made him blink. Right. So that last bullet hadn’t missed, after all. An odd kind of detachment grew within him, his mind slowing, becoming almost liquid. He coughed, and the tangy taste of blood filled his mouth.

“Rory?”

When he didn’t respond, she dropped back into the water. “What’s wrong?” she demanded, paddling closer.

Lethargy dragged heavily at his limbs. He started to slide under the water.

“Rory!”

She reached him just as he was about to go under. With both hands, she grabbed hold of him and kept his head above water. Good thing. He was starting to fade.

“You’re shot!” she hissed, shocked. “Help!” she called frantically, her feet scissoring to keep them both from submerging. “He’s been hit. Somebody help!”

Amazed at the vulnerability in her voice, he could only stare at her dazedly…or was that the blood loss? Her face, though pale and taut, was still so damn beautiful. And he was so damn grateful that Ada had not won, that she was Nina. That she was alive.

He was only half aware when Cade and a couple of marines appeared around them, taking his weight from her.

“Oh, God! Rory.”

Her hands found the wound and sent a shaft of intense pain through his chest as she applied pressure to the bullet hole. Everything around him blurred and faded.

“Look at us, O’Donnell! It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay,” she told him, an intense look of fear on her face.

The others were only distant shadows. He did his best to stay focused.

“Stay awake, you hear? We’re getting you to a hospital. You’ll be all right.”

He was barely conscious as they got him onto the pier and laid him on the rough boards. All he knew was that he felt adrift and cold. But Nina, his beacon of light and warmth, was near.

“What were you thinking, you idiot?” She came into view, her face wreathed in a frown.

The world spun. Why was she angry? Didn’t make any sense.

Never did.

“Keep you safe,” he said, his voice slurred, trying for a semblance of a smile.

She glared at him. “Well, don’t do us any favors, O’Donnell.” A cold drop of water slid down her nose and splattered in his face. “What is it with this hero complex of yours, anyway, huh?”

The bite in her tone reminded him of Lena.

“D’you think you’re made of Teflon? We need something to put on this wound. Quick! He’s bleeding all over the place, dammit!”

Something fluffy and white fluttered past.

“How long until the ambulance…”

Her voice and the shadows moving beyond her drifted out of focus. He blinked sluggishly. Pain cut through his hazy senses like a jagged knife, then.

Sucking in a faltering breath, he forced his eyes open. She was applying pressure to his wound again.

Fucking hell! It was a good thing he loved her.

“Get those medics here, ASAP,” roared Admiral Creighton, sounding close enough to pop an eardrum. Rory almost winced… Almost.

“Hold on, Rory.” Her bloody hand came into view, then he felt her warm palm cover his cold cheek. “You’re going to survive this. You hear? We’re not going to let you die. Understood?”

“Sure,” he spluttered. The coppery taste of blood was overwhelming. He couldn’t lift his hand to brush the tendrils of hair from her face, the way he wanted to. Needed to.

He did love her. A lot.

Why had he been so afraid of that? Of forgiving her? He couldn’t remember.

Darkness was crowding in, making her face the center of his view. “Tired”…even that single word was too much of an effort.

Everything faded to black.

So, this was what it felt like to die…

“No! You stay awake!” Her fingers tightened on his chin. “Look at us, O’Donnell. Look at me, dammit!”

A firm shake brought his eyelids back up, showing her beautiful face once more.

“Bossy,” he whispered. The pain was becoming less, the worry in her expression more. Strange… He fought against the powerful exhaustion that lured him toward sleep.

“You bet. We keep what we take, O’Donnell. You remember that. Where’s that fucking ambulance?” There was anger and fear combined in that desperate demand, her eyes shiny with barely controlled emotion.

“Nearly here,” the admiral said from behind him. “Hold on, son.”

In a fleeting moment of lucidity, Rory mustered the energy to ask, “Creed?”

“Blown to pieces. You just concentrate on surviving.”

How he wished he had the time to say goodbye…to his family…to Nina. Especially Nina.

“Rory! Open your eyes!” Her voice got through to him even before he noticed that he’d closed his eyes again. She forced him to meet her gaze.

So tired.

The way he figured, he was going to die. Soon.

Least he could do was tell her what it had meant to him to have found her— all of them.

“Loved…know… you.”

No. That wasn’t right! Why couldn’t he say it right?

Her frown deepened. “You don’t. Not yet,” she denied, a sob escaping. “You have to stick around to really know us.” Her fist tightened on his shirt collar, and she shook him.

“‘T’was…pleasure.” The words came out all garbled, even to his own ears. Colors faded. Sounds turned monotone.

Distant shouts told him the medical team had arrived.

No. He had to finish. “Think I…love…you,” he mouthed, fearing that she would not hear.

She gave another sob. “Oh, querido. We love you, too.”

Warmth filled him at Octavia’s familiar endearment.

“You’re not hurt, O’Donnell. It’s barely a scratch,”

Joey?

“You’re a big strong man, remember? You can survive anything as long as you fight. So fight, dammit! Do it for us!”

“Try…” But the word was less than a whisper on the last breath that passed his lips before sweet oblivion swept him away.