Page 37 of One Last Stand
And the water wanted him, the rapids tugging him. His grip loosened?—
“I got you!”
He looked up, searched for the voice, tried to make out the person in the darkness, but his rescuer wore night-vision goggles. The man leaned out from the rock, one foot on the log, and grabbed Shep’s jacket. Then he grabbed Shep’s wrist and hauled him out of the water, onto the log. He kept hold of his jacket and helped Shep work back to the shoreline.
Shep dropped onto the rocky embankment, drew his arms around himself, and started to tremble. No, he’d call this shaking. Violent shaking, his teeth rattling, his body out of control.
“I know, mate. It’s cold, and now you blew up our shelter, so we’re in a fix.”
No. What—no—Shep opened his eyes, stared up at the man.
Tomas?But he still wore NVGs, so?—
The man stood up then and hustled back out to the tree. Shep rolled over as the voice lifted over the rush. “I got you, lovely. Don’t fret.”
Then his rescuer hauled another person from the water. Sopping wet, wearing a wool cap, boots, a thin shirt. Shep made out . . . curves?
His attacker?
The man who could be Tomas pulled the woman to the boulder and dropped her next to Shep, behind him.
Shep rolled over, his body breaking apart with the cold, but who?—
Then the man took off his goggles. “Told you she wasn’t dead, mate.”
Wait—what?
The woman was trying to get to her knees, and now Tomas—yep, the jerk had saved him—knelt and helped her, unzipping his jacket and putting it around her shoulders.
Then who’d nearly drowned him?
The woman looked at Shep, and even in the dusty light, he could make out her features, her eyes, that set of her mouth.
No . . . no . . . he must already be dead, because—it couldn’t be.
He’d thought he couldn’t turn any more brittle, but when she sighed and opened her mouth, he simply shattered. London.London.
“Shep. Are you okay?” She crawled over to him, put her hand on his chest as if to confirm his heartbeat.
He just stared, because despite the shouting inside, his mouth opened but no words came.
“He’s sliding into hypothermia,” said London, her own voice breaking with cold. “He needs a blanket, and we need to get him someplace warm.”
“How about the cabin the bloke just blew up?”
Shep looked at Tomas, back to London.
Tomas didn’t look in the least surprised to see her, which madeShepthe chump among them.
Maybe he wasn’t as cold as he thought. “I’m fine,” he finally roughed out. Not even a little, but . . . yes, hours ago, he’d dreamed of this moment, of seeing her again, telling her that he loved her, that he was sorry he’d waited too long to tell her, that if he could do it all over again . . .
Instead, “You lied to me.”
London looked at him, and her mouth opened. Then closed. “I can explain.”
“Youliedto me!”
Overhead, a light skimmed the surface of the river, the thunder of the chopper drowning out her words, the turbulence of the river. Shep spotted Axel again at the door, now waving.