updated.”
Rory nodded in a daze at the officer’s matter-of-fact tone. He probably dealt with matters of life and death all the time. Rory had no idea what she would do if she found out her beautiful man was lying lifeless in a tunnel under her feet. She stumbled to the corner garbage can. Her stomach was suddenly very queasy.
* * *
Spencer’s whole leg was numb. As long as he remained completely still he could be thankful for that, at least. “Where were we?”
“Best vintage Bond flick,” Jack said. They’d already run through best garage band, best Super Bowl, best swimsuit cover model, and best way to eat a hot dog.
“That’s got to be The Man with the Golden Gun ,” Spencer answered.
“Roger Moore? Really?”
“What? That was like forty years ago. Not vintage enough for you?”
Jack laughed. “Guess there’s no accounting for taste.”
Spencer would have jabbed him in the ribs, the way guys do when they’re yanking each other’s chain. He would have caught him right in the solar plexus with a playful tap of his fist if they’d been hanging out over beers on his back deck. He could see them chilling out, shooting the shit with a full belly, gazing out over the valley. He could see it clear as day in the dark and murk of the tunnel.
“Wait, do you hear something?” Jack said, calling Spencer back from the daydream.
Spencer held his breath and listened. There was splashing some way down the tunnel. Spencer clicked on the light and twisted his body to shine it toward the sound. The nerves that had been on shutdown sprang back to life with sadistic enthusiasm, making him grind his teeth. He saw nothing.
“Maybe it was some rats.”
Jack struggled onto his side to see for himself. With bated breath, Spencer bit back pain, praying for any sign of rescue. There was a soft glow in the dark water. Nothing could have been a more welcome sight, except maybe Rory’s face when he finally got home. How long had they been down there? Two hours? Four? Fuck, he couldn’t wait to see her, swallow her up in his arms, and make love to her all night long. He grimaced at the thunderous throbbing in his ankle and yelled out at the top of his lungs toward the light.
* * *
Rory clutched her purse strap in both hands, holding on to it as if it were tethered to Spencer’s fate. If Spencer was trapped down there, how could he have possibly survived? She prayed he was OK, but the water main break happened hours ago; it was such a long shot. Her heart stopped in the moment the first diver climbed back out of the hole. Her fingernails dug into her palms and left tiny little cuts in the soft pink flesh. Please, please, please…
“We need two more air regulators and two cylinders! Now!”
And then he descended back down the hole. Rory tore past Officer Peters, who’d been standing as sentinel since the divers went down. She needed to be closer, needed to see with her own eyes the moment they brought him out.
Officer Peters didn’t try to stop her. She thanked him with a swift glance over her shoulder, mouthing the words. He was busy with the gathering crowd and winked at her in response. It took longer than forever for the divers to resurface. One had his arms around somebody’s chest; the other had the man’s legs in his hands. The rescued man roared out in agony several times before they got him onto the waiting stretcher. Rory peered over him, willing her eyes to see Spencer.
“Hey,” the man said, smiling up at her with a crooked sort of grin. “You must be Rory.”
* * *
Spencer waited for the rescue team to return. It was easy to insist that Jack be the first brought to the surface. He wasn’t looking forward to getting back in the water.
“We’re going to brace your ankle before we make the move,” one of the rescuers informed him upon returning. He set his waterproof torch down and took off his diving mask. Then he gave Spencer a guarded smile. “I
Rory nodded in a daze at the officer’s matter-of-fact tone. He probably dealt with matters of life and death all the time. Rory had no idea what she would do if she found out her beautiful man was lying lifeless in a tunnel under her feet. She stumbled to the corner garbage can. Her stomach was suddenly very queasy.
* * *
Spencer’s whole leg was numb. As long as he remained completely still he could be thankful for that, at least. “Where were we?”
“Best vintage Bond flick,” Jack said. They’d already run through best garage band, best Super Bowl, best swimsuit cover model, and best way to eat a hot dog.
“That’s got to be The Man with the Golden Gun ,” Spencer answered.
“Roger Moore? Really?”
“What? That was like forty years ago. Not vintage enough for you?”
Jack laughed. “Guess there’s no accounting for taste.”
Spencer would have jabbed him in the ribs, the way guys do when they’re yanking each other’s chain. He would have caught him right in the solar plexus with a playful tap of his fist if they’d been hanging out over beers on his back deck. He could see them chilling out, shooting the shit with a full belly, gazing out over the valley. He could see it clear as day in the dark and murk of the tunnel.
“Wait, do you hear something?” Jack said, calling Spencer back from the daydream.
Spencer held his breath and listened. There was splashing some way down the tunnel. Spencer clicked on the light and twisted his body to shine it toward the sound. The nerves that had been on shutdown sprang back to life with sadistic enthusiasm, making him grind his teeth. He saw nothing.
“Maybe it was some rats.”
Jack struggled onto his side to see for himself. With bated breath, Spencer bit back pain, praying for any sign of rescue. There was a soft glow in the dark water. Nothing could have been a more welcome sight, except maybe Rory’s face when he finally got home. How long had they been down there? Two hours? Four? Fuck, he couldn’t wait to see her, swallow her up in his arms, and make love to her all night long. He grimaced at the thunderous throbbing in his ankle and yelled out at the top of his lungs toward the light.
* * *
Rory clutched her purse strap in both hands, holding on to it as if it were tethered to Spencer’s fate. If Spencer was trapped down there, how could he have possibly survived? She prayed he was OK, but the water main break happened hours ago; it was such a long shot. Her heart stopped in the moment the first diver climbed back out of the hole. Her fingernails dug into her palms and left tiny little cuts in the soft pink flesh. Please, please, please…
“We need two more air regulators and two cylinders! Now!”
And then he descended back down the hole. Rory tore past Officer Peters, who’d been standing as sentinel since the divers went down. She needed to be closer, needed to see with her own eyes the moment they brought him out.
Officer Peters didn’t try to stop her. She thanked him with a swift glance over her shoulder, mouthing the words. He was busy with the gathering crowd and winked at her in response. It took longer than forever for the divers to resurface. One had his arms around somebody’s chest; the other had the man’s legs in his hands. The rescued man roared out in agony several times before they got him onto the waiting stretcher. Rory peered over him, willing her eyes to see Spencer.
“Hey,” the man said, smiling up at her with a crooked sort of grin. “You must be Rory.”
* * *
Spencer waited for the rescue team to return. It was easy to insist that Jack be the first brought to the surface. He wasn’t looking forward to getting back in the water.
“We’re going to brace your ankle before we make the move,” one of the rescuers informed him upon returning. He set his waterproof torch down and took off his diving mask. Then he gave Spencer a guarded smile. “I
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