Protected Page 2

  Her heels clicked along the hardwood floor. Her pulse raced. Her skin was hot and sticky. But she told herself she was safe—Julian couldn’t get to her in this studio. Everything would be okay. If she looked at this logically, she could see his text was actually a good thing. Now she had proof of his threats, and she could get a restraining order against him. Even though she was sure Julian would never act on those threats, at least now she could keep him from messing with her mind once and for all.

  She reached Rachel and Adam on set. Shook their hands. Even managed to make a joke about how clumsy she was. Sinking into her chair, she crossed her legs, remembered to keep her spine straight, and began answering questions about Fashion Week. And from the corner of her eye she spotted Hunt on the fringe of the set and relaxed even more because . . .

  Because he was here.

  He was good at his job. His company was wildly successful and had several big-name clients thanks to the booming film industry in the Portland area. Nothing bad would happen to her because Hunter O’Donnell wouldn’t let Julian anywhere near her.

  “Should we bring out the models?” Rachel asked.

  “Sure.” Pushing to her feet along with Rachel, Kelsey stepped down from the raised set and moved to an open area of the stage, set up like a runway. The first model was already moving toward her. Just as she was about to open her mouth and talk about the model’s outfit, a shiver rushed down her spine, and a feeling that something was wrong hit her square in the chest, stealing the air from her lungs.

  She whipped around and searched for Hunt in the faces on the edge of the stage. But she couldn’t see anything more than bright lights. Perspiration dotted her spine as she squinted to see better, but she still couldn’t find him. Where was he?

  “Kelsey?” Rachel asked. “Uh, the model’s over here.”

  In a daze, Kelsey turned to look at the hosts, both eyeing her as if she’d lost her mind. But the feeling wouldn’t go away. She swallowed hard and glanced past them, looking to the far side of the set for any sign of Julian.

  He wasn’t there. He couldn’t be there. But the feeling was growing stronger. Making her think something awful was about to happen.

  Adam cleared his throat. “So our first model is Claire, right?”

  When a hand grasped her at the elbow, Kelsey blinked and looked up to see Adam standing right beside her, holding her arm and smiling down at her. But his eyes were filled with a pull-yourself-together look she didn’t miss. And in a rush she realized . . .

  This was exactly what Julian wanted. To scare her. To make her look like a fool on live TV. To humiliate her.

  He was playing the bully again, like always, and she was falling right into his trap.

  Straightening her spine, Kelsey blinked and forced a smile for the camera. “Right. This is Claire. What I love most about Claire’s ensemble is the versatility. She’s wearing a deep-blue—”

  The sound registered first—a low rumble that cut off Kelsey’s words and increased in strength until it was a roar in the studio. Eyes wide, Kelsey looked around the room. But before she could even ask what the sound was, the lights went out, and a shock wave jolted the building, nearly knocking her off her feet.

  And as screams rose up around her in the darkness, one thing became clear: the text she’d read only moments before hadn’t just been a warning. It had been a promise. And too late she realized she should have listened to her instincts.

  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?”