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“O’Shea, I think I know my job,” he said pointedly. She knew the drill. Once the interior of the garage was inspected as fully as possible, the surrounding area was to be rechecked and victims attended to. A command post had already been set up across the street. The EMTs on Joe’s crew were taking care of victims. “All I need from you—” he looked from O’Shea to Spike “—is a canine as soon as one comes available.”
“With all due respect, sir,” O’Shea retorted, not missing a beat, “I’d prefer to join you in the search. Spike here can take care of that call.”
She wouldn’t like his decision, but Joe wasn’t about to risk another life when chances were good that anyone left in the parking garage was already dead.
He would do this alone.
SHE WAS DREAMING of him again.
She knew better…but she dreamed anyway.
Dreamed of making slow, sweet love.
Dreamed of all the fantasies that he’d instilled deep within her heart during their short time together.
Dreamed of picket fences and the pitter-patter of little feet.
Lisa Malloy stirred…the hard facts of reality prodding her from the dreams she so wanted to believe could come true.
But Joe Ripani wasn’t a forever kind of guy. He wasn’t even a real relationship guy. He was more about instant gratification—grab all you could get before it was too late.
And he definitely wasn’t the marrying type…much less the fatherly type.
Lisa moaned softly and tried to surface from what had turned quickly into an unpleasant nightmare.
She wanted to cling to the hope that Joe would somehow morph into the kind of man she longed to spend forever with, but deep inside she knew the truth. Their short affair—and that’s the only thing she could call it, since their time together had been spent mainly in his bed—had been all they would ever have. End of subject.
Her head hurt.
Or maybe it was her heart…or both.
She had to wake up. There was a very good reason she shouldn’t be sleeping right now.
Something was very, very wrong.
Wake up.
Another groan seeped past her lips. Why couldn’t she wake up? Why did her head hurt so badly?
Wake up!
She had to take the first step…had to open her eyes.
“Mmm,” she murmured softly. God, what was that pounding in her skull?
Lisa’s eyes fluttered open, seemingly of their own accord, since she didn’t appear to possess the necessary strength to lift those incredibly heavy lids.
She never took afternoon naps.
What was wrong with her?
Surely this wasn’t another symptom of…
Her gaze focused on something in front of her, drawing her full attention in that direction.
Steering wheel.
Windshield.
Cracked glass.
What the…?
The memory of her SUV shuddering beneath her…the odd up-and-down motion that felt as if she’d been driving over a bumpy road when she hadn’t even started the engine…zoomed into her head with a sensory detonation that made her groan even louder. She’d gotten into the vehicle after her visit to her tax accountant’s office. She remembered closing the door. And then the sudden vibrations…
The distinct whine of metal made her breath catch.
Lisa’s gaze jerked upward.
It took a full five seconds for her brain to absorb and comprehend what her eyes saw.
The roof of her SUV was dented…jutting downward…only inches from her head.
How was that possible?
Her vision blurred and she squeezed her eyes shut to slow the spinning inside her head.
Pull it together, she ordered her mind, which instantly tried to go fuzzy on her again.
Had she been in an accident?
Earthquake. The word surfaced through her confusion, and she knew without further examination that one had occurred. That’s why she’d felt the vehicle moving even before she started the engine.
But she was safe…inside the parking garage.
Something that sounded like an explosion rent the air. The SUV creaked and groaned, the sounds nearly deafening.
“Think, Lisa,” she muttered. “Pull it together.” She sat up a little straighter, careful not to bump her head against the roof of the vehicle. Taking a deep breath for good measure, she focused on her surroundings.
Her heart rushed into her throat when she realized that the garage had collapsed around her. She could barely see between the piles of rubble. She couldn’t make out any other vehicles. But there had to be others. She remembered clearly noting several cars when she’d emerged from the stairwell onto the third level.
The response was automatic. A woman, whether it was daylight or dark, never entered a parking garage without taking stock of her surroundings. It was just common sense.
The pounding in her chest brought her attention back to the immediate problem. How to get out…
She tried the driver’s door. Grunting, she pushed with all her might. The door didn’t budge. She didn’t even bother with the passenger side. A huge concrete pillar had blocked that side of the vehicle. She shivered. A few more inches to the left and it would have completely crushed her car.
“Think!” She had to get out of here. Chunks of broken concrete had smashed the car’s hood inward. No doubt the engine was damaged beyond repair. The windshield had cracked. She surveyed the roof of the SUV again. It had caved inward, which meant there had to be more rubble on top. She felt certain that every second she remained in the vehicle put her in more danger.
The weary echo of the fatigued structure that had only hours ago been a four-story parking garage punctuated the thought. She had no doubt that whatever remained intact would soon collapse completely. She had to get out!
Ignoring the throb in her skull, she scrambled over the seat and tried the door behind the driver’s. It opened, but only a few inches. Not far enough for her to squeeze out.
“Damn it!”
The power windows wouldn’t work. No surprise there, considering the condition of the hood.
The rear hatch.
Clambering over the seat and into the cargo compartment, she shoved against the hatch door. No luck.
Panic slid through her, making it nearly impossible to think clearly. She had to concentrate!
She kicked at the window in the hatch. It opened separately from the door. That might be her only chance of escape. The latch was on the outside. From what she could tell in the dim lighting, there was enough space for the window part to lift up. All she had to do was get it open. She kicked at it again. It didn’t budge.
She needed something to break the glass.
Lisa tamped down the rising panic and fumbled with the carpet beneath her feet. The spare-tire compartment would have a jack. She could use that. Her fingers felt numb and wouldn’t work properly.
“Hurry…hurry,” she urged, knowing that she was quickly losing the battle with her fear.
A sound like thunder rumbling in over the ocean jerked her attention upward. The whole parking garage shuddered.
She had to get out of here.
She needed help.
Her cell phone.
Lisa scrambled back to the front seat and found her purse. By the time she found her phone, her fingers were trembling and her throat had gone so dry she wasn’t sure speech would be possible. She had to let someone know she was in here before she did anything else.
Closing her eyes, she held the phone a moment and took a deep, halting breath. She had to calm down. Time was running out; she had to make herself clear. She couldn’t screw up what might be her last chance at rescue.
Focusing on the small keys, she entered the three most significant numbers known to any American alive.
911.
A new knot of panic tightened in her throat as ring after ring shrilled in her ear.
Why wasn’t the operator answering?
Was the whole city damaged so badly that even emergency services were out of commission?
Dear God, she hadn’t thought of that.
What about her family…the clinic?
The animals?
Greg?
What about…Joe?
He would be in the middle of the devastation, attempting to rescue victims like her.
“911. What is the nature of your emergency?”
Tears stung Lisa’s eyes.
“I’m trapped,” she managed to say past the lump in her throat. “I need help.”
“Give me your location, ma’am,” the operator said with amazing calm.
“I’m…I’m…” For just one moment her mind went blank. Lisa clamped down on her lower lip and stemmed the tears that tried to flow. Calm. She had to be calm. “I’m in the parking garage.” She gave the address.
“Yes, ma’am. We already have a rescue team there. Can you tell me which level you parked on when you entered the garage?”
“I parked on the…” Another moment of uncertainty. “The third level,” she said quickly. “The rubble is all around my car. I can’t get out. It…” More creaking and groaning tugged at her attention. “It sounds like the whole thing is going to collapse. Please.” She couldn’t hold back the emotion from her voice this time. “Help me.”
CHAPTER TWO
“CAP’N!”
Joe turned as Spike double-timed it over to his position. “What’s up?” If this was another attempt to talk him out of going in again, Spike might as well save his breath. Every instinct warned Joe that there were more victims trapped. Victims still breathing. He had to do all he could to see that everyone got out safely.
It was more than just his job…it was the right thing to do.
“Dispatch’s got a vic on the horn,” Spike explained. “She called in on her cell phone. Says she’s trapped on level three, far side.” His gaze focused solemnly on Joe’s. “There’s rubble all around her vehicle, a gray SUV. The power windows have been disabled and she hasn’t been able to kick her way out.”
Damn. Joe shook his head. Women should always carry a brick in their cars for that reason. If the power windows failed, they could break the glass.
“All right,” he told Spike. “That’s where I’m headed.”
“Cap’n.” O’Shea pushed her way into the discussion. “Going back in there now would be suicide.”
Leave it to O’Shea to state the obvious so plainly. “And if I don’t, the lady dies,” he countered.
His loyal firefighter glanced away. “I know.” Her gaze swung back to his, renewed determination there. “Then we’ll both go in. You’ll need backup.”
He was shaking his head before the answer had time to form on his tongue. “No way. I’m not taking anyone in there with me.” Quickly he checked his gear. Getting back out might not be easy. With O’Shea shadowing his step, he headed back to the truck for a rappelling rope. “Get a canine over here and find out how soon we can have some heavy equipment on-site. Just in case,” he added over his shoulder as he checked his communications mike.
A few other members of his squad had gathered around him by then. All knew exactly what his last comment meant. The heavy equipment was in case he didn’t make it out and they had to start searching for bodies, including his own, rather than survivors. Backhoes and the like were the least desirable method for uncovering survivors.
“I think we should check with the ICS commander before we—” Spike began.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” Joe challenged, “we’re in the middle of a crisis here. There’s a lot more damage than just this parking garage. Those in charge have their hands full. We’ll do this my way. The situation is far too unstable to risk any more lives than absolutely necessary. No one follows me in unless I call for help. No one.” He looked from O’Shea to the others, making eye contact with each one, leaving nothing to speculation. “Is that understood?”
A rumble of reluctant Yes, Cap’n’s went through the group.
