Trial by Fire (40 page)

On a clear day, in dry conditions, she would’ve been able to straighten the vehicle without mishap. But not on what might well be the last day of her life.

Crossing the oncoming lane, the opposite guardrail approached at a terrifying speed. She instinctively stamped hard on the brake pedal, sending the Explorer into a skid from which there was no stopping.

Cori screamed as the SUV rocketed into the guardrail. A deafening explosion of glass and grinding metal drowned out everything else. The airbag deployed in her face, saving her from slamming into the steering column or windshield, but the crash jarred every bone in her body. She sat stunned, unable to move, dizzy. The vehicle seemed to be rocking like a child’s seesaw. She must’ve really shaken her brain. At least the glaring headlights were gone.

Frowning, she turned her head to look out the driver’s-side window, wincing at a stab of pain in her temple. What do you know? The jerk hadn’t even stopped. Unlike the rocking.

Oh, no. The motion wasn’t from dizziness.

Hands shaking, she pushed the deflating airbag out of her face and peered out the shattered front windshield. Horror numbed her entire body.

“Oh Jesus . . .”

Her Explorer tottered just a few feet above the swollen, angry Cumberland River.

Nothing between her and a watery grave except the hand of God.

A-shift had worked some tough scenes over the years, had tread the razor’s edge in some gut-wrenching situations. But as Zack drove the quint past the police barricade and neared the bridge’s summit, Tanner let loose a few creative curses. God almighty, this one was a real bitch.

“We’ll wrap the chain around something solid, like the opposite guardrail or bridge support, then hook it to the rear axle of the SUV, try to stabilize the vehicle. Extract the driver through the back hatch.”

“Yes, sir.” Zack frowned as the teetering Explorer came into view. Recognition dawned, hitting his gut like a fist. “Sonofabitch.”

Tanner snapped his sharp gaze to his FAO’s face. “What?”

“That’s her. The lady I hit on the way to work.”

“Keep your head in the game, kid. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

Zack’s thoughts mirrored Tanner’s. The woman might’ve been more injured than Zack previously believed. She could have passed out. Or perhaps she was rattled from being hit, and a moment of inattention resulted in her current predicament. Either way, the idea he might be responsible for a woman’s life literally hanging in the balance, even indirectly, filled him with horror.

If what happened to Cori Shannon was his fault, Tanner wouldn’t have to fire him. He’d be finished.

Pulling the hat low over his eyes, Zack threw open the door and swung down from the quint, wincing at the pain in his stiffening muscles. The wind howled with frightening strength, the forceful gusts threatening to sweep man and machine right off the structure and into hell. Rain pummeled his body in icy sheets, soaking him to the skin once more and chilling him to the bone despite the thick coat, pants, and hat—in spite of the rising fever he hadn’t told anyone about. He was hot and cold by turns, limbs weighing a ton. Once Miss Shannon was safe and the situation put behind them, he’d collapse on his bunk at the station.

Opening a side compartment on the quint, he and Tanner wrestled out a thick, industrial-strength chain while Eve and Tommy Skyler ran over to the Explorer. Six-Pack and Julian Salvatore hopped out of the ambulance and jogged toward Zack and Tanner.

“Get this wrapped around the guardrail over there,” Tanner shouted at Salvatore above the thunder and lightning.

As Skyler helped Salvatore, Zack hurried to the side of the Explorer, watching his footing. The driver’s door was positioned over open space, muddy water swirling only feet below them. To see Cori, he had to lean forward carefully without touching the vehicle and upsetting it, or losing his balance in the wind and falling off the bridge. With the added weight of his gear, he’d sink like a stone.

He knocked on the window as hard as he dared. “Ma’am? Ms. Shannon?” Slowly, she turned her head to peer at him through the rain-splattered glass. “Sugarland Fire Department. Are you hurt?”

“Hit my head,” she called back, voice barely audible above the storm’s racket. “Nothing’s broken.”

Thank God for that. He tried to sound encouraging. “All right, that’s good. Listen, I promise we’re gonna get you out of there. Sit tight while we secure the back end. Then we’ll bring you out through the rear. Okay?”

After a pause, she nodded.

“That’s my girl. I’m going around to the back and—”

“No! Don’t leave me!” she wailed.

“I’m not leaving you, Cori, you have my word.” He put a thread of steel into his voice, using her first name on purpose. The calm assurance, the familiarity, firefighters were taught to employ to keep a victim from wigging out. “I’m not going anywhere except through the back to meet you.”

Cori was terrified. Depending on him. In that moment, Zack’s problems, the sickness threatening to topple him, vanished. His whole world shrank to a laser point of purpose. Nothing mattered except getting her to safety.

As Zack hurried to the back end of the vehicle, he wondered if she’d recognized him. Probably not, with the storm obscuring her vision and the hat shielding his face. If she was in shock, she might not even consider how he knew her name.

Skyler and Salvatore had secured the chain to the rear axle by the large hook on one end. They’d wrapped the other end several times around the guardrail on the opposite side of the bridge to take out as much slack as possible.

Salvatore waved a hand at the makeshift support. “I don’t like this,” he said. “The guardrail can’t take the dead weight if she shifts.”

“It’s what we’ve got to work with.” The captain jabbed a finger at Howard. “Six-Pack, you’re the heaviest. Your weight will help hold it steady while you take her—”

“No.” That single, sharp command from Zack got the entire team’s attention. Including Tanner’s, who gaped at him. “I promised Ms. Shannon I’d go in and get her, and I’m not about to break my word. She’s hanging by a thread, and we need her calm.”

Tanner’s face darkened with anger violent enough to rival the storm. “Knight, did you hear what I—”

“I heard, Cap, and I’m still going in. Ms. Shannon doesn’t have time for us to stand around arguing about it.” Dismissing Tanner, he turned to Skyler. “Tommy, get the hatch.”

To his credit, Skyler turned and twisted the knob, opening the rear entry without argument. The door gave easily, despite being bent from the earlier wreck. Had to be done anyway, so Zack hoped Skyler wouldn’t catch hell later. His own job, however, was probably toast.

“What’s this? Look!” Crouched by the right rear tire, which was suspended a couple of feet off the ground, Eve pointed to the tread.

“Tire blew,” Six-Pack observed. “That’s what sent her into the skid.”

“Not just a blown tire. A bullet hole.”

Another wave of heat and cold swamped Zack, and he had to concentrate hard not to let his weakness show. A bullet. Jesus Christ, someone shot out her tire! Who would do such a malicious thing?

“Let’s push the vehicle down, get the back tires on the ground,” Tanner said. He positioned himself on the right corner of the vehicle, leaning just inside the hatch, Six-Pack on the left. The two men braced their hands on the lip above the bumper. “Slow and easy.”

When the rear tires met pavement, the captain nodded at Zack. Carefully, Zack popped a latch on Tanner’s side and let down the rear bench seat to clear the path somewhat. Pushing his hat back, he crawled inside. On his hands and knees, inch by inch. “Cori? You still with me up there?”

“Hurry!” Long gone was the cocky attitude of their earlier meeting.

His heart lurched in response to her terror. “I’m here, but you’re going to have to meet me halfway.”

“Nooo! If I move, we’ll fall!”

“If you don’t, we’ll fall anyway. You want me to get you out, right?”

“Yes, but I can’t—”

“You
can
. Listen to me. Unbuckle your seat belt. Do it now.”

She did, taking the strap off her shoulder. “Okay. Now what?”

“Good. Turn your body to your right, nice and slow, so you can see me.” Leather squeaked as she followed his direction, scooting around in the seat. Bracing a trembling hand on the console, she got her first good look at him. Instantly, her eyes widened in recognition.

“You!”

He tried a reassuring smile. “Kismet, huh? Don’t worry. In spite of earlier evidence to the contrary, you’re in good hands.”

She let out a shaky laugh that didn’t quite hide her fear. “So you’re not a
complete
dipstick. Nice to know, Zack.”

He grinned at her, glad she had some sass left, even if the barb was directed at his head. That meant she was thinking clearly, and would help him get her out of this mess.

A groan of metal reached his ears from somewhere behind him, and a ripe curse from Salvatore.

“Move it,
amigo
! She’s not gonna hold for long!”

Amigo?
Since when? Salvatore couldn’t stand him, so he and Cori must be in deep shit. A trickle of sweat streaked down Zack’s fevered cheek as he inched forward. Reached out a hand. “Cori, climb over the console. ”

“Zack—”

“If you don’t, we’re both going to die, because I’m not leaving without you. I promised.”

She glanced at his outstretched hand. Read the truth on his face. He’d willingly give his life for hers. His resolve seemed to fortify her own, and she heaved a deep breath.

“All right. Here I come.” Wiggling a bit, she crept forward, squeezing between the seats. One hand over the other.

“Easy does it. Just a little more.”

The truck gave a sudden lurch, nose dipping downward. Cori shrieked, grabbed for him and missed. Metal squealed, the noise deafening as the truck slid, tearing the undercarriage. He didn’t have to look to know the guardrail was giving way. Or that Sean and Howard were no longer holding down the tailgate. The SUV tilted toward the swollen river at a crazy angle.

With nothing to stop him, the momentum sent him into the back of the middle seats. Sweet Jesus. If he went over, he’d crash into Cori and send them both toppling through the shattered front windshield.

The vehicle shuddered and stopped.

Leaning over the row of seats, he reached for Cori once more. “Now or never.”

Bracing her booted feet against the back of the driver’s seat, Cori pushed herself toward him in one last-ditch effort, beautiful face totally focused. Determined. When she grabbed for his hand this time, she didn’t miss.

Zack pulled Cori over the seat, practically threw her toward the open hatch. Bracing himself underneath her, he cupped her ass and shoved her hard toward his team.

Several pairs of hands hauled her to safety, and he exhaled in relief. Cori was out. Following behind, he scrambled toward the opening. His fingers wrapped around the lip and he hauled himself up—

Just as the guardrail holding the chain gave way.

The terrible sound of rending metal filled the air. Lightning split the sky as the rail snapped. The chain whipped, the backlash popping loudly, slamming into his head with the force of a shotgun blast. He flew backward from the impact.

“Zack!”

Shouts, screaming. Drowned by the storm as the truck slid free of its perch. He tumbled with it, falling, falling. Saw the bridge disappear.

The rear door banged shut as the SUV hit the river, hard. He crashed around in the interior, along for the ride, and thought,
Well, shit. There goes my brand new glasses. Will insurance cover a new pair
?

Ice-cold water rushed in, filling the cabin. Dragging at the heavy protective clothing that would serve as his shroud if he didn’t get out. Before the water closed over his head, he managed to suck in a deep breath.

Zack’s head throbbed with intense agony even shock and the freezing water couldn’t blot out. Disoriented, he groped for a window or door handle.

Which way out? Where? Nothing but pitch black.

He searched, running his hand along the interior. Leather. A seat, but which one? The cumbersome gear weighed him down and must come off.
Stay calm. Find the windshield, exit through the busted glass, then discard the coat
. He shoved forward, hands out, but he was swimming blind. He found a side window, the edge of a door.

Zack yanked on the handle, pushed. The door wouldn’t budge. Swiveling in the opposite direction, he tried another escape route. Seconds passed, maybe a minute. His chances were slipping away. He found another door, but by now his lungs burned. He needed air.

He located a different handle. Pulled, pushed. Kicked the glass. All to no avail.

His lungs screamed, his futile efforts to free himself slowing. As reality hit, horror electrified his brain.

He wasn’t getting out of this alive.

Two hours ago, he’d actually entertained giving up. Now he wanted desperately to live. Get involved with life again. To find out who’d taken a shot at Cori Shannon, and why. Maybe get to know her and . . . what?

But fate had stolen those options from him.

Please, God, I don’t want to die! Help me.
. . .

Precious air exploded from his lungs. Unable to stop the inevitable, he sucked in great gulps of brackish water. Clawed at the glass, the door. No use.

His limbs grew heavy, refused to function any longer. His struggles ceased, the fight over. Consciousness began to fade, along with the pain.

Besides his team, who would mourn his loss?

Nobody. Not even his father.

You’re a disappointment, boy. Going nowhere.

If he could, he’d laugh at the irony. His father had been right after all. And he couldn’t even blame his own tragic end on the old fucker’s debt to his dangerous friends.

No time for regrets. No more fear. Only a strange lightness in his body as he finally accepted, let go.

Zack smiled inside, raised a gloved middle finger in defiance.

Get seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars out of that, assholes.