Page 21 of Velvet and Valor (Platinum Security: Shadows of LA #4)

AXEL

I’m jolted out of pitch blackness by the ineffable cold of freezing water. There’s nothing quite like that kind of cold. My limbs flail about on instinct, until my feet scrape on the rocky bottom of the river.

I shove myself for the surface, bursting out and vomiting water and probably some of my breakfast.

The water only comes up to my waist, but the current is strong. I struggle against it as I desperately search for June. Where is she? Was she thrown from the wreck when we rolled down the riverbank?

I need to get out of the river. The current is sapping my strength, not to mention the cold sucking warmth from me like a greedy leech. I stagger toward the shore, but something catches my eye.

The SUV, upside down in the water. I can only see the tires, jutting up into the air. The slick rubber reflects the sunlight filtering through the pine boughs as I surge toward the wreck.

I call June’s name over and over again, even when my throat turns raw. I try the passenger side door, but it’s stuck. The window is broken. I take a deep breath and plunge beneath the water.

God bless the clear mountain water, because I spot June immediately. Her arms float out to the sides, her eyes closed, mouth open. I have to move fast, have to get air back in her lungs…

I try the seat belt release, but it holds fast. My hands tear and pry at the belt itself, but it doesn’t give. In a flash of inspiration, I grab a survival knife out of the glove box. A quick jerk with the serrated edge, and she’s free.

Getting her out of the truck proves harder than I thought. She keeps getting tangled up on parts of the vehicle. I kick and fight and realize I don’t need to free her completely--I just need to get her head above water.

With her lower half still partly wedged inside the truck, I pull June’s head above the water. But she’s not breathing. I can’t pull off a back slap. I try for a reverse Heimlich maneuver, clasping my hands around her back and squeezing her body like a balloon.

It works, and I’m so happy to get that water out of her lungs I don’t even care that she barfs it all over me. She’s still not breathing. Don’t tell me she’s dead. She can’t be.

I press my mouth onto hers. June’s lips are cold, so cold. I breathe into her lungs, careful not to push too hard. My soldier’s discipline kicks in. My fingers find a thin but steady pulse. June hasn’t checked out yet. Her heart is still beating. But she has to breathe.

“Come on, baby,” I gasp, filling my lungs before filling hers. “Come on, breathe, you can do it.”

I’m getting light-headed but I can’t stop.

The freezing water already has my arms weakening.

Soon I won’t be strong enough to hold her head above water.

What happens then? The idea of abandoning her to save myself makes me want to vomit.

No, I will save her, or we will die together. I can’t quit on her. I can’t.

I breathe into her with the last of my strength. Her nostrils flare, and her head lifts up suddenly. June’s eyes snap open and she sucks in a deep, ragged gasp of air.

Then she coughs, and coughs, and coughs. I help her to put her arms around the truck’s inverted front axle.

“Can you hang on for thirty seconds?” I ask, shouting to be heard over the rushing water.

“I think so,” she says in a ragged voice.

“I’m going to get you loose.”

I dive back under the water and instantly realize how much of a toll all that mouth-to-mouth took on me. I won’t be able to last down here long. I’m nearly at my limit. But when you’re a Ranger, you find ways to go beyond your limits.

If I’m not strong enough, then I’m just going to have to be stronger. Simple as that.

I find her pants leg is somehow trapped in the center console. It only takes one finger and a second to open the console lid and get her loose. The second she’s free, June kicks toward the surface on her own, an encouraging sign.

I get back to the surface and spend a few moments gasping, hanging onto the axle as June struggles toward the shore. She stumbles and falls, and the current starts to pull her out toward the middle.

The adrenaline surge is enough to get me moving. I launch myself at her, grabbing hold of her hand and dragging her toward the shore.

My feet slip on the slick rocks by the riverside, and I go down face first. The sharp crack of a rock against my temple threatens to cloud my vision with darkness once more, but I stubbornly hold on. Both to my consciousness, and her hand.

With a final effort, I yank her up onto the bank beside me. June sprawls on her belly, coughing and sputtering and shivering…but alive.

“We have to get dry,” I gasp. “And warm.”

“It’s not that cold,” she says, lips trembling. “Not in the sun.”

She’s right. We’ve had the misfortune to drag ourselves onto a section of the riverbank positively bathed in shade. The bridge casts a long shadow, plunging us into darkness.

I’ve had a few minutes to recover. I think I can stand. Slowly, I push myself to my feet. My legs feel shaky, but steady enough to hold me. I offer June my hand and hoist her to her feet. She falls into my arms, clinging to me tightly.

“Let’s never do this again,” she says, teeth chattering.

“Right,” I say, too tired and freezing to be witty. We manage to stagger most of the way up the riverbank, until the road is only a few feet away.

“Wait,” she gasps. “What happened to the other truck?”

Damn. I should have thought of that. We might be about to walk into a trap. I cast my gaze about, trying to discern where our enemies have gone.

The tire marks on the road spell out the story of the wreck.

A long pair of black bars, burned rubber from the other truck’s tires.

I slowed down to take the turn. They didn’t and careened out of control around the corner and slammed right into us at nearly top speed.

The tire marks are a legacy of their vain attempt to stop in time.

So, if we went off the bridge, where did they go? I follow the likely trajectory and then spot the truck. Or, more aptly, what’s left of it. It’s wrapped around a tree trunk so intimately you can barely tell it used to be a vehicle at all.

“It’s safe,” I say, pulling her along behind me up the hill until we stand on the asphalt. I find a nice, sun-warmed boulder with a reasonably flat top and hoist her up onto it before dragging myself up beside her.

“Oh god, the sun feels so good,” she gasps, sprawling out to get maximum surface area exposed to the warm sunshine. Her soft eyes turn toward me. “You saved my life.”

“Barely,” I say.

“I’m not going to sweat the details.” June puts her hand on her stomach and grimaces. “Ugh, I think I swallowed half the river. Please don’t find me gross forever if I wind up puking.”

“I could never find you gross, June.”

She cocks an eyebrow, and points at the truck suspended twenty feet in the air, its shredded mass tangled in the branches of the tree.

“Even if I’d been in that thing when it hit?”

“Those guys are basically jelly,” I admit. “Man. Could have been us. I should have done a better job keeping you safe. I nearly lost you.”

I form my hand into a fist and beat the top of my thigh. I’m not trying to punish myself, though I probably deserve it. I just have to hit something and I’m the only valid target at this time.

“Hey, it’s okay, you didn’t lose me.” She rolls over onto her side and smiles, her face beautiful in spite of the streaks of mud.

“You shouldn’t be reassuring me for god’s sake, you’re the one who almost drowned.”

“But I didn’t. It’s not even the first time I almost drowned,” she says. “I had a bad experience with a boogie board when I was twelve. Got caught in a riptide, and if it hadn’t been for a Coast Guard ship I wouldn’t have made it back.”

“Man, that’s dicey. Especially for a kid that young.” I sit up, feeling much stronger. It’s as if the sun is giving me its strength. Or maybe I'm just not frozen to the point of weakness any longer. “You’re strong, June. Stronger than me.”

“Damn right I am,” she says with a wink. “And don’t you forget it.”

Her face twists into a grimace.

“Holy shit, is that my purse?”

“What? Where?” I ask.

She points at the black Gucci bag hanging from a tree branch about twenty feet off the road.

“My purse!”

June, spurred on by hope, slides off the boulder and walks unsteadily to the hanging purse. She pulls it down and opens it.

“Why in the world would they even bother?”

“Is your phone still in there?” I ask, trying to anticipate the disappointment if it’s not.

June looks inside the purse, grimaces, and then closes it. She clutches the purse to her chest as she comes over to my side.

“Oh no,” I say. “Not in there?”

June pulls the phone out and sticks her tongue out at me. I soon join in with her wicked laughter.

“You had me going, not gonna lie,” I say.

“Well, I’m not sure who to call. A tow truck? A taxi?”

“I’d say Platinum Security. Someone will come and get us…assuming they can find us. I’m not even sure where we are at this point.”

“We’ll figure it out…”

She groans.

“I’ve got no bars. Wait, one bar….no, yes, one bar.”

“The fake cop’s GPS was working before,” I say. “I think it’s because we’re down in this gully. If we get a little higher, we might be able to get a strong enough signal to make a call. Or even just a text.”

She nods, and we walk up the road. It’s not nearly as steep on foot as it had seemed in the car. I guess everything is relative.

Sure enough, we have plenty of bars once we get out of the valley. She hands the phone to me, and I wait while it rings. And rings. And rings.

“Platinum Security, VIP Clients a specialty, fees negotiable. How may I assist you?”

“Dane?” I say. “You sounded, like, professional, man.”

“Axel? That you?”

“Yeah, barely. We ran into some trouble.”

“Not good.” I can almost picture his steely eyed gaze on the other end of the line. “How’s your client?”