Page 91 of Hot Pursuit

His father.

Then Jo.

His father.

Then Jo.

“Not again. Not again!”

Nate blew air into her chest.

He forced her heart to beat.

His blood dripped onto the carpet. His muscles ached. His chest burned. But he wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

“Parker!” Leo’s voice.

Nate had no idea how long he’d been there, kneeling over Jo’s body, willing her back to life. There was only one thing left he could think to try. One thing that might jolt her heart back into motion. “Take over.”

Leo got into position immediately. Nate jumped to his feet and ran inside the cabin of the yacht, making for the hull, searching for the symbol he knew had to be somewhere—a red box with a white cross.

There!

Nate ripped open the latch and grabbed the first aid kit before running back to Jo and Leo. He fell to his knees as he dumped the kit over, letting everything fall to the floor in a jumbled heap. Scissors first, he cut her dress from her body. Then he grabbed a towel and dried her torso and limbs. Leo kept performing CPR as Nate laid out the towel. The two of them gently eased Jo from the puddle of water she’d been lying in, moving her to dry ground. Nate pulled the portable defibrillator from the mess, then attached two pads to Jo’s exposed chest. He and Leo, still sopping wet, stepped back. He pressed the button.

Jo jolted, back arching for a moment.

She stilled.

“Goddammit, Jo. Come on!”

Nate waited for the device to charge.

He pressed again.

One moment stretched to a lifetime as he waited for the charge to hit her heart, to bring her back to him.

Please.

Please.

Jo.

I need you.

I love you.

Her body lurched as the volts of electricity sank beneath her skin.

Nate froze.

Jo came back to life, convulsing as coughs forced their way up her throat, and she vomited a mess of liquid onto the carpet. Nate was by her side immediately, rolling her over as gush after gush of water spilled from her lungs. He rubbed her back, murmured soothingly, pulled her wet hair away, until it was over and she breathed heavily on the floor, blinking with confusion, but undeniably alive.

“Jo,” he said, searching her face for recognition, for understanding. He didn’t know how long she’d been under, what sort of damage might’ve been done. “Jo, are you okay? Do you know who I am?”

The fog lifted, and her eyes cleared to bright emeralds. “Nate?”

“Oh god, Jo.” Nate blurted the words like a confession as he pulled her into his arms, pressing her cold body to his chest to give her warmth, needing her close, needing her beating heart pressed against his so he knew the gentle rhythm was real. He buried his head in her neck, pressing soft kisses to her throat, in time with her thrumming pulse, as her arms came across his shoulders and held him close. He leaned back far enough to press his palm to her cheek. And then he kissed her, soft and slow, gentle and tender, taking his time because they had it, not pressing too hard because she was the strongest woman he’d ever met, but in that moment, she felt so impossibly fragile all he wanted to do was keep her protected.