Natalie leapt from the tub, stepped over the body of the man Gabe had killed, and ran down the stairs—then stopped, stunned by the carnage. Black-clad bodies lay strewn about, blood in pools on the floor. Furniture was shredded, bullet holes in the walls. Lying in the middle of the room was Quintana, shot in the head. And nearby . . .
Head bowed and shirtless, Zach sat bound to a kitchen chair by silver duct tape, which Marc and Gabe were tearing off in handfuls. Even from a distance she could see the burn marks on his skin.
“Zach?” Natalie’s stomach fell.
“Ease him down.” Gabe held Zach’s head while Hunter helped lower Zach to the floor. Then Gabe pressed two fingers to Zach’s carotid artery. “He’s got no pulse. I think he’s in V-fib. Hunter, get the AED out of my pack. And someone call LifeFlight.”
No pulse?
The breath left Natalie’s lungs, her heart seeming to stop, legs with no strength left in them somehow carrying her across the floor. And then it all became a blur.
Marc tearing through Gabe’s pack. Gabe starting chest compressions. SWAT officers cuffing and patting down survivors.
“Zach?” Tears stinging her eyes, Natalie knelt beside him, touched her hand to his cheek, to the deep bruise on his temple, to the hair that lay across his brow. “Zach? Please don’t die! Don’t go! I love you! I love you so much!”
She didn’t hear Gabe tell her to move, didn’t realize what was happening until she felt arms surround her, Marc pulling her back.
“Clear!”
Gabe pressed the AED paddles to Zach’s still chest.
Zap!
Zach’s body jerked.
Gabe felt for a pulse again, his expression grim. “One more time.”
Marc held Natalie back as the defibrillator charged.
Gabe pressed the paddles to Zach’s chest once more. “Come on, McBride. You’re young and strong. You can pull through this.”
Zap!
Once again, Zach’s body jerked.
And then . . .
Gabe pressed his fingers to Zach’s throat. “I’m getting a pulse.”
“Oh, thank God!” Natalie pressed a hand against her lips, trembling with relief.
“It’s weak, but it’s there.” Gabe ripped open a package of nitrile gloves and slipped them on. “I’m going to get a couple IVs going, get some fluids in him. We need to get him to the ER as soon as possible. He’s alive, but I can’t guarantee he’ll stay that way. There could be trauma to his heart or other internal organs.”
“Thank you, Gabe. Thank you both.” Natalie took Zach’s hand, bent down, pressed her lips to his forehead. “Can you hear me, Zach? We’re going to take good care of you. Just stay alive.”
JOAQUIN WALKED IN off the patio to a scene he would never forget. Bodies and blood everywhere. And there in front of him, Natalie, still soaking wet, bent over McBride, her hands stroking his face, her cheeks streaked with tears.
Natalie looked up, saw him. “Joaquin?”
Then Marc was on his feet. “Jesus H. Christ! I reallyamgoing to kick your ass. How the hell did you get in here?”
“Same way you did.” But with blisters. He hadn’t been wearing gloves, and the rope had done a number on his palms.
“Stay the hell out of the way—and no photos!”
He nodded, then looked over at McBride. “Is he going to make it?”
It was Rossiter who answered, his gloved fingers busy inserting an IV needle into McBride’s arm. “I think so.”