Cherry Adair - T-flac 06 (29 page)

Her clothing weighed a ton, but contained enough air to help her rise to the surface in an ungainly, uncoordinated way that was nevertheless effective. Every inch of her body felt as though it were being sliced by pitilessly sharp razor blades as she popped through the opening in the ice.

She sucked great drafts of freezing air into her aching lungs.

"—o me!" She heard in her ear. And realized she still wore the lip mic tucked securely under her hat.

Derek. As close as a voice. Warmth. Light. Hope.

Tears froze on her cheeks. "C-come—"
And get me the hell out of here
!

Eye level with the moonlit frozen river, Lily saw nothing beyond a few feet in front of her. She made a grab for the edge of the ice, but her gloved hands were useless, slapping at the frozen perimeter of the hole with no hope of finding purchase. Where had she fallen in? The ice would be more stable in that direction, she knew. She turned her head and saw where she'd cracked the ice on her way into the water. It looked a million miles away.

"I'll be there in less than a minute," Derek said urgently in her ear. "Are you hurt? Did he shoot you?

Jesus, Lily, talk to me!"

His voice, she told herself. Listen. Concentrate. Cling to the warmth of him and the promise of the cavalry on its way. Lily clamped her lips between her teeth when new pain sliced into her skin as she started swimming to the other side. Shudders racked her body, and her face felt numb and so sore, more tears welled. "F-fe-fell in—"

"Christ. You fell into the water?"

She nodded, realized he couldn't see her and managed to mumble, "C-c-c—"
Cold
. God, it was beyond cold. So cold, she felt almost warm with it and she knew the dangers of that. She had to get out.

Now.

Her brain filled with snow. White and blank. "Cold," she tried again, more to prove to herself she still could than anything else.

"Lily, sweetheart," Derek said urgently. "Stay with me—Where ar—I see you! I see you. I'm coming."

Her leaden arms smacked the water in a clumsy attempt to keep swimming. Beneath her, the current moved, tugging at her like a lover, leading her off to a frozen bed. She refused to go. Wouldn't give up.

Couldn't give in to the numbness dragging her down, making her so tired, so bone weary all she wanted
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to do was close her eyes.

"Lily!" Derek's voice again. And as if he knew what she was feeling, he insisted, "Stay awake! Fight, Lily. Fight hard. I'm almost there, sweetheart. I'll get you but you have to fight the cold."

Fight
. Lily knew all about fighting. She could do this. She'd never quit before. She wouldn't quit now.

Not with Derek so close. So-please-God
close
. She bobbed in the icy water like a cork, but finally managed to hook her elbow onto the jagged rim of shattered ice and hold on. Pain in wracking paroxysms flooded her with agony and convulsed her muscles. Her lungs labored to drag in a breath, as if her chest were too frozen to allow it. Her body ached, her mind spun. There was something important she needed to do. Something…

She rested a heavy head on her wet, crystalline-covered sleeve, realizing with no alarm that her intellect was fading in and out.

Something…

"Hey there, gorgeous. Look at me, come on. Look over here."

With a superhuman effort, she lifted her head, forced her eyes open and there he was. Derek Wright, her nemesis, her lover. Her savior. Larger than life, hot-blooded and sexy as hell. Come to rescue her from a fate worse than death—No, that wasn't right. She stared at him blankly.

Twenty million feet away, he lay flat on his belly and slithered toward her like a polar bear on the ice.

"You'll g-get wet," she told him thickly. Silly man. "Where are your d-dogs?" she asked crossly, breathing in raw agony as the frigid poison of the arctic water squeezed at her lungs.
Tired. So cold. So
tired
. "Bye…"

"Saf—What do you mean,
bye
? Shit!"

Boneless, she slithered right off the edge of the ice and went under the water again. There was peace hidden in the black cold. Peace and sleep and a slow warmth crept into her bones, reaching for her soul.

It's not so bad, she thought.

Then her survival instinct kicked in, splintering the peace and demanding she rise again to the surface.

Blindly, she followed, kicking against the pain of her frozen limbs until she breached the surface. Her skin burned like fire as she gasped for air, throat raw.

"Jesus, woman!"

Tears fell hot on her cheeks, quickly freezing into crisp little icicles that stung. Shards of sharp pain shot into her skin like hooked claws. About eight feet away she saw the bits of scuffed and jagged ice where she'd fallen off the sled.

The unstable ice was directly between her and Derek. He'd fall in—She wanted him here with her. Big.

Warm. Safe—She frowned. No, that wasn't right. They'd both die. "D-don't, D-D-Derek—"

Stop
, she thought. He was too heavy to come any closer. She tried to tell him, but her lips were numb and too thick. "S-st-"

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He swore a blue streak. "I'm not stopping, Lily. I see the bad ice. I'm going to try to go around. Just hold on. That's all you have to do. Just hang on. I swear to God, I won't let anything happen to you. Just.

Hang. On."

Easy for him to say. Oh my God. I'm going to die here, Lily thought, hearing Derek's voice as if in a dream. In the middle of Alaska. In—bullshit, Lily Marie! Get out of the water. Now!

She needed something to anchor into the ice, something she could use to pull herself out. Something…

her knife!

She jackknifed her right leg up, and fumbled with uncoordinated fingers to feel for the small whittling knife in her boot. Her face went into the water as she struggled to pull the knife from the scabbard attached to the outside of her boot.

She choked and gagged, but managed to liberate it, then used both hands to bring it to the surface, terrified she'd drop it into the water because she had no feeling left in her fingers.

She looked across the white expanse of moonlit ice. Derek was gone. Had he really been here, or was that wishful thinking? Had her imagination conjured him when she needed him most? Was her brain dying and firing off last-minute hallucinations?

Fourteen

Lily sobbed with frustration as she attempted to get both hands high enough out of the water to plunge the knife into the ice to get purchase.

"Clever girl," Derek said from behind her as she hacked into the solid crust. "Kick your feet like you're swimming. Harder. Yes! Keep at it, sweetheart. You're amazing."

His voice. God, his voice
. Yes. She could do it. She'd help him help her. Lily anchored the knife to the hilt with all her strength, then used it to drag herself, inch by agonizing inch, up over the lip of the hole.

Her arms strained, her chest screamed, her mind went blessedly blank. And at last, she made it. Out of the water. But not out of danger. She lay there panting, muscles stiff and clumsy, vision blurred, wheezing for breath.

"A little more. You're almost to me," Derek encouraged. She turned her head and could just see the top of his head. He was
miles
away. She'd be an iceberg before she ever reached him. "Come on, sweetheart. Get cracking. It's cold as hell out here."

Well, yes, it is, Lily thought crossly. But he didn't need to sound so darn cranky about it. She was the wet one. She stabbed the knife in the ice again, and dragged herself across it with both hands.

Derek eyed the thirteen feet or so separating them. The ice was thin enough here to see the shadow of deadly water beneath. He dared not go another inch. He'd flattened himself as much as possible, spread his limbs out to distribute his weight, but he wasn't able to get any closer.

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And somewhere on the riverbank, a sniper could be watching them right now. His shot hadn't offed Lily as planned. But it had scared the dogs and caused Lily to fall into the water.

Although his blood boiled with rage, he couldn't worry about the sniper right this second. If he didn't hurry, hypothermia would finish what the sniper had started.

The shot could prove fatal after all.

He slowly reached down into his pocket and took out the belt he'd stuffed in there while running. "Lily.

Grab on to this." With a flick of his wrist he tossed the buckle end to her.

Chin on the ice, she gave him a blank look from under her ice-encrusted lashes. The metal clicked inches in front of her hand. She didn't blink.

Shit.

"Grab the belt, Lily. Grab it and hold on," he told her calmly while his heart pounded inside his chest at how close he was to losing her. "Come on, sweetheart. Grab it and let me pull you to safety."

"D-don't n-n-need you t-to watch out f-for me. Saved mys-self."

Derek chuckled. "Hardheaded as always. Yeah. You did. Finish saving yourself so we can get you warm." He was seriously considering risking it and going in to grab her.

The only way she could've moved faster was if she were in reverse. Hypothermia had set in, she was uncoordinated, her breathing was too slow and she was clearly disoriented.

"Lily, see the black belt right there in front of you?
Other
right in front of you, sweetheart… Yes. There. I want you to put out your right hand—okay, that one will do, too. That's a girl. Now grab hold of the belt.

Hold it tight. Now bring your other hand up and hold on tight with that one too—Leave the knife. Leave.

The. Knife."

She lay there staring at him blankly through glazed eyes, the belt held limply in one hand, her whittling knife in the other. She blinked uncomprehendingly at him.

"Goddamn it, Lily Munroe," Derek yelled, fury masking his terror. "Drop the fucking knife and hold on to the belt with both hands. Do it
now
."

She gave him a wounded look, but she managed to get both hands firmly on the end of the belt. He gave an experimental little tug. She slid forward. "Hold tight." He tugged again. Another precious few feet. And again. And again.

The second she was close enough, Derek grabbed Lily's wrist. Without wasting time, he hauled her toward him, sliding her parallel against his body. Clasping her tightly in his arms, one hand cradling her head, legs entwined with hers, he rolled away from the fragile edge of the hole as quickly as he dared.

The danger was still too real. The ice was thin and now with both of their weights combined, they took a risk with every roll. But there was no other way.

Jesus.
Jesus
. So close. A heartbeat later and—

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Hypothermia had sapped her strength, willpower and problem-solving ability. Thank God she'd had enough wherewithal for those few moments to use her knife to get out of the water, because there'd been no way to get close enough to grab her. A few more seconds and it would've been over.