Small chunks of rubble were piled around him. He tugged his left arm, finally freeing it from the loose concrete, but the rubble demanded its price. His arm burned where the rough edges had ripped off the suit sleeve and scraped skin off.
Ignoring the flame of pain shimmering across his forearm, Killian tucked his arm close to his chest. With his left side free, he rolled as far as he could in the other direction. Although he didn’t move far, it was enough to see why he couldn’t move his arm—Portia.
Powdered concrete coated her skin and in the emergency lighting, she looked like a corpse.
Tears welled in his eyes. “Please don’t be dead,” he begged.
This was all his fault. If he hadn’t demanded that dance. Hadn’t encouraged her to stay at the party.
He tried to wiggle his arm, hoping the movement would wake her. Nothing happened. His arm wouldn’t move.
Shit.
Muscles quivering, he lowered himself back to the ground, sucking in another mouthful of grimy air. He coughed, nearly choking on the fine particles.
“Portia!” he wheezed when he could breathe again.
No response.
With his arm pinned by Portia and the rest of him anchored down by the steel beam, there was nothing to do until help arrived. Unless…
He levered himself up again, his stomach muscles burning with fatigue. What was immobilizing his lower body? Grasping the far edge of the beam with his free hand, he pulled himself up as far as his trapped arm would allow.
It wasn’t the steel support that held his legs down. It was a chunk of concrete several feet wide.
Killian lay back down. There had to be a way. The rescuers hadn’t been back this way. Were they rescuing other people, like the pretty courier?
Irrationally, he hated the thought of her being trapped alone.
Don’t be stupid, Killian.
He shouldn’t even be thinking of her. Freeing himself and Portia had to be his priority. Then finding Tommy.
WherewasTommy? Had he made it out? Was he buried under the rubble somewhere?
Killian forced the worry away. He had to focus on the things he could control. Right here. Right now. That meant moving the slab of concrete.
There might be a way. A really stupid way.
He couldn’t lay here and do nothing.
Hoping he wasn’t about to make a fatal mistake, Killian released his breath and shifted until he was flat on his back. If he could move the slab out of the way, he might be able to slide out from under the steel beam.
By leveraging the power in his cyber leg, he might be able to get enough thrust to shift the slab and free them from this mess without waiting for rescuers who had already passed them by once.
Killian steadied his breath and blocked out all the distractions. The panic and terror. The overwhelming worry for Portia, Tommy, and himself. Even the ringing in his ears and the agonizing throb of pain from his entire body.
He forced it all out of his mind and concentrated on his left leg. Did he have enough range of motion to make this work? Straining, he rolled his ankle, tapping the side of his foot against the rubble. Sensation traveled up his leg.
That was good. That meant the circuitry was transmitting from his artificial leg to his nervous system and back again.
He exhaled in relief. Step one complete. If his cyber leg had been damaged, the whole plan would have failed.
Now the tricky part. Focusing on his knee, he pulled it toward his body. This was a finesse move. He bent his leg slowly. The metal might be willing, but the flesh around it was weak.
The line between shifting the concrete and undoing the painstaking cyberwork connecting his leg to his body was a fine one. One he couldn’t risk crossing.
The knee joint creaked and rattled as his leg took up more of the weight of the concrete. Nothing to worry about. Yet.
