Chapter Eighty-Seven

“He’s not breathing!”

Panic momentarily immobilized Nina as she stared down at Rory’s ghostly pale features. He seemed so lifeless. Dead. That possibility energized her into motion, even as she exclaimed a desperate “No!” and scrambled to start CPR compressions.

She wouldn’t let him die.

“Dammit, Rory. Don’t do this to me!” This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t lose him. She loved him too much to let him pay for her fucked-up life.

Behind her, she could hear the admiral shout for the paramedics. Still dripping seawater, Cade dropped on his knees on Rory’s other side, tipped up his chin and started mouth to mouth.

Breathe! Breathe! Breathe! her mind chanted.

Her uncontrollable shivers making her motions jerky, she frantically pumped his chest. She tried not to think of his wound, still oozing blood. There was nothing she could do about that now.

Across from her, Cade forced air into Rory’s lungs again.

Breathe!

“Dammit! Come on, O’Donnell! Breathe, damn you!” she screamed, bringing her fist down hard on his chest. “Don’t leave me!”

Again.

“Breathe, you son of a bitch!”

Nothing. Not even a flinch. She resumed her frantic attempt at resuscitation.

“Please.” It was a plea now. Much softer, as helpless tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked.

He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. Not like this. Not to save her. Not when her manipulation had put him in this untenable position in the first place. Never had she considered this terrible outcome of her careful plan to get Creed. Not really. Not consciously.

She had been so arrogant, always thinking she was better than Creed and could keep Rory safe.

Sobbing, she continued chest compressions until she was physically removed from Rory’s side. She didn’t notice that it was Cade who picked her up. Didn’t feel Morgan’s comforting embrace but struggled to get back to Rory, even as the paramedics descended on him.

They ripped through his clothes, took up resuscitation with a small pump, attached wires to his skin.

“Clear!” Equipped with a beeping defibrillator, they wasted no time.

How long had it been since he’d stopped breathing? Since his heart had stopped beating? She couldn’t remember. Couldn’t think.

She flinched as she watched Rory’s body jerk violently from the jolt. The paramedic checking his pulse shook his head morosely.

God, no!

“Again. Clear!”

Eyes swimming, she could only watch as they fought for his life. Could barely breathe until she saw, finally saw, his chest come up in one weak breath that had the paramedics act in a flurry of motion as they prepped him for transport.

“Nina. Are you listening to me?”

Slowly, she tore her gaze away from Rory, his body being lifted onto the gurney.

Morgan, one arm warm and strong around Nina’s shoulders, shook her.

“What?”

“Breathe, sweetie. He’s alive.”

It almost hurt too much, but she did, one heaving breath after another as she held onto her old friend, her eyes focusing back on the man she loved. Willing him to live.

“He’ll be okay.” This from the admiral, his voice confident and brusque. “O’Donnell’s strong, and he’s in good hands. We have to get you someplace safe.”

She wasn’t reassured.

Her jaw clenched, her resolve straightening her spine. “No.” She locked her gaze onto the admiral’s and said. “Until I know without a doubt that he’s going to make it, I’m staying with him.”

And she would. Come hell or high water.