CHAPTER TWO
The second he felt the shock wave jerk the building, Hunt lurched forward with only one thought in mind. “Kelsey!”
“It’s an earthquake!” someone shouted.
“Take cover under a desk!” another voice hollered.
“Get to a doorway!”
The shrieks and screams filling the soundstage were drowned out by debris crashing down in the darkness. People streaked past Hunt, trying to get to the exits before the walls collapsed.
Something hard hit him on the back of his head, on his shoulder, and across his left arm, but he ground his teeth against the pain and pushed on.
“Kelsey!” he yelled again, hoping she could hear him, fighting back the panic that wanted to grab hold because he couldn’t see her. “Get to the back of the couch. Lie on your side on the ground next to it! Cover your head!”
More screams reached his ears in the darkness, followed by one faint shriek he recognized. One off to his right, telling him . . . she was there. That she’d moved toward the couch in the middle of the set. That somehow she’d heard him in the chaos.
“Kelsey?” He shifted direction and rushed that way, but his foot collided with something solid, and before he could stop himself, he lost his balance and flew forward.
His body hit the ground with a grunt. The air whooshed out of his lungs. He sucked in a breath but took in dust that made him cough. Flattening his palms, he pushed up and tried to listen. The cracking and rumbling had subsided, and the building didn’t seem to be shaking anymore. He couldn’t see shit in the dark, but there was still air around him, which meant the ceiling hadn’t completely collapsed. At least, not yet.
He struggled to his feet, groaning at the pain in his left shoulder. “Kels? Talk to me? Where are you?”
Silence, then a faint voice off to his right called, “I’m here. I’ll come to you.”
“No, don’t. There’s too much debris. Are you against the couch?”
“Yes,” she answered in a frightened voice. “Was that an earthquake?”
“I don’t know. Stay where you are. You’re safest next to something sturdy. If the walls buckle they’ll hit the couch, which will create a triangular area that’ll protect you. Stay as close to the back of the couch as you can. And keep your head covered.”
“If the walls buckle?” she squeaked.
Shit, he was scaring her. “It probably won’t happen. Just stay there, okay?”
“O-okay.”
A groan echoed somewhere to Hunt’s left. At his back, someone screamed, “Help me!”
Six years as an Army Ranger had taken him into some of the world’s deadliest situations. He’d freed children from bombed-out buildings in Iraq, rescued hostages in Africa, and helped take an entire airfield in Afghanistan from Taliban forces in the dead of night. His instinct was not to leave those in need behind, but he knew if he turned around, if he tried to offer help, he could lose Kelsey in the darkness. There was so much debris in his way—beams, chunks of cement, destroyed camera equipment—he could be lost in seconds. Not to mention if the ceiling did collapse, he’d never reach her in time. She was his focus, not only because he’d been hired to keep her safe but because the McClanes were like family. He’d never forgive himself if something bad happened to her on his watch.
He tuned out the sounds around him and zeroed in on her voice. “Keep talking to me, Kels.” More dust filled his lungs, and he coughed. “So I can find you.”
“I’m here. Here,” she repeated. “Over here.” Another deafening crack echoed from above, growing steadily louder. “Oh, God. What the hell is that?”
Instinct made Hunt look up even though he knew he couldn’t see anything in the dark. The rumble grew louder. His chest constricted when he realized the building definitely wasn’t done settling and that all holy hell was about to rain down around them.
“Cover your head!” He hurled himself toward the last place he’d heard her voice. His right shoulder slammed into something hard, and his body smacked against the floor. Pain spiraled though his arm and torso, but the roar above kick-started his reflexes. Pulling his legs in, he rolled into a fetal position as quickly as he could, covered his head with his arms, and shifted back into whatever object he’d hit.
Please let it be a couch or a table or something strong enough to create a pocket of air.
He barely had time to wish let alone pray. The building crashed down around him in a deafening boom. As cement and bits of metal pummeled his body, he screamed Kelsey’s name one last time.
And hoped that wherever she was, she was safe.
It was dark. So dark Kelsey couldn’t even see an inch in front of her face. And cold. The kind of cold that seeps into the bone and makes a person think they’ll never be warm again.
“Hunter?” she whispered, shaking in the darkness. “Someone? Anyone?”
For the hundredth time, no one answered. Nothing moved around her. No sound met her ears but her own labored breaths as she struggled to hold back a sob.
She had no idea how much time had gone by, but it felt like an eternity. Once the debris had settled, she’d found herself wedged into a two-foot wide, four-foot long space against the back of the couch. Some kind of ceiling beam had crashed down on top of her during the building’s collapse, but it had hit the back of the couch, forming an angled, protective barrier above her. She wasn’t sure how Hunt had known she would be safe beside a piece of furniture rather than under a table or desk as she’d always been taught, but she was thankful he’d called out to her in the chaos. Even more thankful she’d listened.
“Hunt?” she called again, coughing over the word from the dust in the air. She was desperate to hear his voice. To know where he was. To find out if he was okay or if he was trapped under something and needed help.
Not that she could help anyone in her current situation but . . . she needed to know.
“Hunter O’Donnell!” she screamed.
Still no response.
Fear pushed in, condensing in her chest until she couldn’t breathe. Gasping caused her to shift in her confined space, which only sent dust into the air that made her cough harder. She fought through the hacking spell and mentally told herself to calm down. Panicking wasn’t going to help. But as her coughing subsided and silence filled the space around her, a new sense of dread took hold. One that told her she had no one to blame for this situation but herself.
If she’d stayed in New York for the rest of Fashion Week, or even if she’d traveled to Orlando with her parents and siblings for the big family trip to Disney World they’d all planned, she wouldn’t be here. She’d be somewhere else, smiling. Maybe even laughing in the sunshine. But instead, because she’d been so caught up in her blossoming career, because she hadn’t been able to say no to free promo, she’d agreed to this interview and flown home early. And now, all thanks to her laser-focused drive—something Julian had once told her would be her downfall—she might never be found. Everything she’d worked so hard for the last few years was on the verge of being snuffed out. She could very well die down here in the dark alone, and she would never have a chance to say goodbye to the people she loved.
“Hunter?” she called again.
Still nothing.
Keep it together. Stay strong. You will get through this.
She repeated the words in her head, over and over, until they ran like a loop in her mind. But each second the silence stretched in the dark, the harder it was to believe them.
A muffled sound dragged Hunt from the silence. Followed by a groan somewhere close. Forcing his eyes open, he blinked several times into utter blackness that caused his lungs to constrict with a quick shot of panic.
His breath caught. The groaning stopped. Which told him . . . the sound had come from him.
Slowly, his senses righted, and he tried to figure out where he was and what had happened. Memories flashed in his mind—the morning-show set, watching from the sidelines, a loud boom, complete darkness, and searching for Kelsey in a sea of screams and crashes and complete pandemonium.
That panic came back full force, lodging beneath his breastbone. Pulling his hands in front of him, he tried to push his body up so he could go find her. “Kels—”
Dust immediately filled his mouth, and he coughed. He rolled to his stomach as best he could and tried to pull his legs beneath him, but they wouldn’t move.
As his hacking and wheezing died down, he pushed up on his hands and tried to glance down his body, but it was so dark he couldn’t see even an inch in front of his face. Something was definitely blocking his movement. Rolling to his side, he felt another solid object wedged at his back, and when he lifted his hands out in front of him he registered beams and slabs of concrete on all sides.
Panic wrapped around his chest and squeezed like a boa constrictor, but he forced his mind to stay calm, knowing he was safe for the moment with a pocket of air around him. If he gave in to the fear and freaked out, he could use up all his oxygen. He’d been in enough tight spaces to know losing control wouldn’t accomplish anything but making him crazy. Focusing on his leg, he braced his hands against the concrete at his front and pushed, trying to pull his lower half from whatever held him in place, hoping he didn’t dislodge something that would put him in a worse situation.
Nothing budged.
Sweat slicked his skin, and the effort made him draw deep breaths that caused him to cough all over again. Knowing he needed to conserve energy, he gave up the fight and concentrated on sucking in air through his nose so he wouldn’t take in too much dust. As his lungs slowly relaxed, he took stock of his body, searching for any major injuries. He was sore in places, and the back of his head hurt like a motherfucker, but one touch of his hand confirmed he hadn’t cracked his skull open. His legs, on the other hand, were definitely stuck. They didn’t hurt, but he couldn’t be sure that was good news. Either something had his pant legs pinned, holding him in place, or he’d snapped his vertebrae when the ceiling had come down and was now paralyzed.
“Better fucking be the pant legs,” he muttered. He had not survived three tours with the Rangers in the world’s deadliest hot spots only to lose his legs now.
Dust filled his mouth once more, making him cough harder. And shit, he needed to get control of that, or he was going to black out.
“Hunter? Oh my God, Hunt, is that you?”
He swallowed the coughing fit the second he heard Kelsey’s voice. Lifting his head, he struggled through his lungs’ attempt to expel the dust and strained to listen, hoping he hadn’t hallucinated the sound.
“Hunter?” Kelsey’s voice lifted an octave in obvious panic. “Hunter, answer me!”
Relief spread through his whole body. She sounded close. Really close. As if he could reach and touch her. “I’m here,” he managed, willing his lungs to relax. “I’m right . . . here.”
“Oh, thank God.” Her voice was muffled but strong, and he took that as a good sign. “I’ve been calling and calling for you. I was sure you were dead.”
“Not dead.” Definitely not dead, and for that he’d never been more thankful. He cleared his throat to keep from coughing once more. “Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so. My left hip is sore. I got hit by something when the walls came down. Whatever it was, it landed against the back of the couch and didn’t crush me. It’s cold and metal. I think it actually kept other things from hitting me.”
He breathed easier, relieved she’d listened and reached the couch before the building had collapsed.
“What about you?” she asked. “Are you hurt?”
“I don’t know. My legs are stuck.”
“Oh shit.” Her voice rose again. “Are they broken?”
“I don’t know. They don’t hurt.”
“Well, that’s good.”
He hoped like hell that was good. But considering she sounded as if she were fighting the edge of hysteria, he decided not to tell her the other option.
“How did you know we’d be safe against the couch instead of under a desk or table?”
“Experience.” His muscles slowly relaxed. Hearing her voice, knowing she was safe, eased his greatest fear at the moment. “When I was a Ranger, every person we pulled alive from any kind of rubble was found next to something solid instead of under it. I have a friend from the military who now heads an international rescue team organization. They respond to natural disasters all over the world. They’ve seen the same thing in numerous disasters. When buildings collapse, the people who took cover under something solid usually wind up dead because objects will collapse under heavy weight.” He paused to cough again, then added, “But those who get trapped next to a solid object survive because the object won’t completely compact. It creates a pocket of air near the ground and a protected space just big enough for a human to survive in.”
“Oh my God,” she said in a low voice. “I was just about to dart under the newscaster’s desk before I heard you yell for me to find the couch.”
His chest pinched, but he told himself she was safe. She was okay. That she’d listened. “It’s a good thing you didn’t.”
Silence settled between them.
Unsure what she was thinking, he shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it was virtually impossible with his legs immobilized. He finally gave up, knowing conserving energy was more important. Remembering his phone, he patted his hip pocket and silently rejoiced when he found his cell. He tugged it out and hit the button to turn it on, but no light filled the space.
“Shit.” One touch told him the screen was shattered and the casing was cracked.
“What was that?” Kelsey asked.
“Nothing,” he said quickly, not wanting to upset her. “Just trying to find a comfortable position.”
“You won’t find one.”
He didn’t like how bleak her voice sounded. “Have you heard anyone else?”
“No. It’s been quiet for a long time. I called and called for help but no has answered. I . . .” Her voice wavered. “I think we might be the only two left alive.”
He could tell she was right back on the edge of panic. He needed to focus on keeping her calm so she didn’t give in to fear. “Don’t waste your energy yelling. All it will do is increase your heart rate and make you breathe harder. There’s a lot of dust in the air.” And toxic fumes, but he kept that to himself too. He coughed once more. “You don’t want to take too much of that in. Besides, we need to conserve energy for when we’re found.”
“But what if . . .” Her voice grew so quiet he had to strain to hear the rest of her words. “What if no one ever finds us?”
Something in his chest squeezed tight. Something he only felt when he was around her. He’d always had a soft spot for Kelsey McClane, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because she was the outcast in her family, always making choices no one approved of. Maybe it was the way she dove into her work, sometimes at the expense of her own personal life. And maybe it was the tough-girl persona she showed the world but which he sensed was a façade. Whatever the reason, he’d known there was something special about Kelsey the first moment he’d met her, even all those years ago when she’d been nothing but an awkward teenager trying to hold her own with rambunctious brothers who didn’t have a clue what to do with a little sister. Which was why hearing her so frightened now tore at something deep inside him.
“They’re coming, Kels,” he said softly. “Don’t worry. A million people saw this building collapse on live TV. It’s just going to take the rescue workers a while to get to us. There’s probably other damage in the area from the gas main eruption, and streets might be blocked. The best thing we can do is sit tight and wait. But I promise, someone is definitely coming for us.”
“You think it was a ruptured gas line?”
“That’d be my guess. When I came in this morning, I noticed they’re building on the lot next door. I saw a backhoe and construction workers messing with the gas lines. There’s no fire here, which means it had to have been next door. A gas main explosion can level an entire block.”
When she didn’t respond, his brow wrinkled. “It definitely wasn’t an earthquake, if that’s what you’re thinking. There was an explosion first. I’m not sure if it was in the basement of the building or outside, but I recognized that sound.”
“I know. It’s just . . .”
“Just what?”
“Just . . . before we heard the explosion, I got a text.”
He couldn’t see the connection between any text she might have received and the explosion, and he was just about to say so when a memory flashed behind his eyes. One of her standing in the wings of the morning show, seconds before she was about to go on, staring down at her phone. Followed by the full-on panic in her soft brown eyes when she’d lifted her gaze to his.
“A text from who?” he asked. “About what?”
“From Julian. Telling me that in a matter of minutes I was going to be dead.”
For a heartbeat, Hunt wasn’t sure he’d heard her right, but then her words sank in, and every muscle in his body contracted in understanding. “Do you have the phone? Can you turn it on? Read me exactly what it says.”
“I don’t have it.”
“What do you mean you don’t have it? It was in your hand. I saw you looking at it before you went on.”
“I don’t have it,” she said louder. “The production assistant ripped it from my hand just before she pushed me onstage. And don’t you think I would have tried to use my phone already to call for help if I had it right now?”
He was getting worked up. She was growing agitated because he was on the verge of freaking out. Drawing a deep breath through his nose, he reminded himself to stay calm. But, holy shit. If what she said she’d read was true . . .
“Tell me exactly what the text said. Everything you can remember.”
She audibly exhaled, and the sound told him she was fighting hysteria again, but he had to know. “It came through just after the hosts introduced me. It said that I think I have everything but that soon I was going to get exactly what I deserve. It said I was nothing but a disappointment. That he knew the real me, and this—I guess he meant the designer, public part of my life—wasn’t it. It said no one wanted me. That”—she hesitated—“that my own mother hadn’t wanted me.” She paused again. “Then it said the world would be a better place when I was dead, and that in a matter of minutes the world could thank him for making that happen.”
Disbelief turned to a red-hot rage that curled Hunt’s hands into fists. “And it was from Benedict? You saw his name on your screen?”
“No. I mean, I didn’t see his name. I blocked his number several months ago, but I know it was from him.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“Because he’s been harassing me since I filed for divorce. I haven’t been able to prove it because he keeps doing it from different numbers. My attorney thinks they’re burner phones. You know, those throwaway cell phones you can buy preloaded with a certain number of minutes? We’ve never been able to track the calls back to Julian, which is what I needed to get a restraining order, but I know it was him. He’s been sending me threatening texts for months.”
Hunt wanted to jump on blaming Benedict—he’d never liked the asshole, not just because Benedict acted like he was the shit, but also because the dick had treated Kelsey like a second-class citizen all through their marriage. Only experience told him to consider all the possibilities. “Alec told me some of what’s been going on with Benedict. Tell me about the other messages he’s sent you. Were any others like this?”
“They were pretty similar. He liked to point out how useless I was. That my business was going to fail. That my designs sucked. That no one wanted me or my clothing line. That I’d come crawling back to him like a dog before long, and that when I did, he’d have to think long and hard about how he was going to make me pay for humiliating him.”
Hunt’s jaw clenched down hard. The urge to slam his fist through Benedict’s face was stronger than ever. So strong the muscles in his arm ached from contracting.
“I just ignored them, you know?” she went on. “I thought if I did, the texts would eventually stop. They slowed down a little, but my brothers were still worried, which is why they asked you to keep an eye on me while they were gone.”
Hunt knew that. Her brother Alec had told him Benedict was being an ass about the divorce and that they were worried he might do something to retaliate. But Hunt had never expected something like this. To orchestrate the take-down of an entire building, all to get back at her . . .
His mind raced. Julian Benedict was an investment guy. He worked for some big financial company in the city. No one would suspect him of knowing anything about bombs or how to rupture a gas line. But Hunt remembered something Kelsey had told him when he’d first come home from the military and discovered she was dating Benedict. That the guy had double-majored in college—in finance and chemistry. That he’d hoped to work in pharmaceuticals but had found a job in investments that had paid too much to turn down.
Chemists knew about bombs and gas lines. And hell, these days if you didn’t already know that kind of stuff, you could find it on the fucking Internet.
A sniffling sound met Hunt’s ears. And realizing Kelsey was crying hit him hard, like a punch right to the stomach. Enough to calm the storm brewing inside him.
“If he’s the one who did this, Kels, the Feds will find out. They’ll get him, don’t worry.”
“I know.” She sniffled again. “I just . . . I can’t stop thinking about the other people who were in the building with us. The ones we haven’t heard from since everything happened.”
Hunt’s memory flashed back to someone calling for help in the darkness, between the first shake and the second that had brought the ceiling down. Even though he knew he’d made the right choice, guilt twisted in his gut. “This wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. Do you hear me? You didn’t cause any of this to happen.”
“I could have prevented it, though.” She sniffled again. “If I hadn’t been so hell-bent on coming back here for this stupid interview, those people would all still be alive. I-if I’d stayed on the East Coast with the rest of my family, you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t have felt obligated to babysit me, and you definitely wouldn’t be trapped in the dark with your legs pinned or”—her words faltered—“or broken.”
His chest squeezed tight again. “Kels, listen to me. First of all, we don’t know where anyone else is. Just because we can’t hear them doesn’t mean they’re dead. People were running toward the exits when the walls started to go. They could be buried too far away for us to hear them. They could already have been rescued for all we know. Don’t assume the worst right now, okay? I need you to think positive. Second of all, I’m fine. I’ve been through way worse than this, trust me. I could tell you stories from my time in the military that would make this look like a party. But more than that, I want you to know that I’m here with you because I wanted to be here. Not because I felt obligated. Not because your brothers forced me to babysit. Because you matter. I’d do whatever I could to keep you safe.”
She sniffled again. And the silence that followed was more deafening than the roar of the building coming down.
“You would?” she finally said.
He relaxed a little because in those two simple words, her voice had sounded stronger. If he was going to get her through this, he had to keep her focused on something other than her fears.
“Of course I would.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because you’re family. I’ve known you almost as long as I’ve known Alec.”
“So you’d do whatever you could to keep me safe because you see me as Alec’s annoying younger sister and you feel what . . . responsible for me?”
Relief made the corner of his mouth turn up. This was the Kelsey who could drive him wild. The smart, snarky, teasing woman he’d watched spar with her brothers more times than he could count. “Trust me, I don’t see you as an annoying younger sister at all.”
“You don’t?”
“No. Believe me when I say you are only an annoying younger sister to your older brothers. To every other guy who meets you, you’re an incredibly attractive woman with an amazing talent.”
She was silent so long, he wasn’t sure she was still there. “Kelsey? Did you hear me?”
“I heard you,” she said softly. “I just . . . I never thought you noticed when I was around.”
His stomach tightened all over again. Man, Benedict had really done a number on her. The urge to find the son of a bitch and pound him into the ground whipped through Hunt once more, but he focused on keeping Kelsey calm and distracted. Told himself that was all that mattered right now.
“Of course I noticed. I always noticed. I mean . . .” Shit. He had to phrase this right. “When I first met you, you were only like thirteen, and I didn’t notice you were attractive then. I mean, you were cute but . . . young. Innocent.” Holy hell, this was totally coming out wrong. “I mean, I didn’t look at you like a guy would then. That would have been creepy because I was like nineteen. And I’m definitely not into, you know, that.”
“I get it,” she said with a smile in her voice. “Keep going. You’re finally getting to the good part.”
“The good part?” Shit, he was sweating. He lifted a hand and swiped his forehead, dragging dust and tiny bits of rock across his skin in the process. How the hell had he gotten himself on this topic?
“Yes, the part where you tell me what you thought of me when we met.”
“I thought you were sweet. I liked you. Like a friend,” he added quickly so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea.
“And what about later?”
“Later?” Fuck, did his voice just crack? He shifted uncomfortably, knowing he was screwed if he didn’t steer the conversation in a different direction fast.
“Yes, later. You didn’t see me for a long time. After you graduated from college you joined the military. The few times you visited my family when you were on leave, I was away at college. You didn’t see me again until I was like twenty-two. What did you think of me then?”
Perspiration dotted his spine, and he swallowed hard because he remembered exactly what he’d thought then. He’d thought she was the hottest woman he’d ever seen. Taller than he remembered, curvy in all the places she’d been straight before, with thick, blonde hair down to the middle of her back, tempting pink lips, and insanely long eyelashes framing her deep-brown eyes. The only part of her that had looked the same was the spray of freckles across her nose. Everything else had been all woman. And after he’d spent some time with her, he’d realized she wasn’t just another hot chick. She’d been smart and witty, mature in ways other twenty-two-year-old women he’d encountered were not, and as sweet as sugar.
All of it had thrown him for a loop. Somehow, in the six years he’d been away, she’d transformed from that awkward, shy teenager with braces he remembered into his ideal version of the perfect woman. And he’d been seconds away from asking her out.
Then Julian Benedict had blown into the McClane house as if he lived there, dropped down beside Kelsey on the couch, wrapped a possessive arm around her shoulders, and made it more than clear that she was off-limits. Which Hunt would have been able to accept if he hadn’t seen her stiffen under that arm. In a heartbeat, she’d shifted from a clever, sexy, confident woman who’d made him want things he’d never wanted before to one who was nervous, self-conscious, and afraid to do or say the wrong thing in front of Benedict.
His jaw tightened once more because he should have realized Benedict was a threat back then. He’d been too disappointed in the fact Kelsey was already taken to waste much thought on Benedict, though. And now, because he hadn’t done a damn thing to stop the son of a bitch when he’d had the chance, Kelsey’s life was in danger, and innocent people could be dead.
The only way he could make up for it was to ensure the fucker never hurt another person again.