She dropped the extinguisher and grabbed David's arm, hauling him toward the edge. "Jump!"
They went over the dock edge together into Pacific water so cold it stopped her heart.
The shock was total. Instant. Every nerve in her body screamed. Salt water burned her throat as she gasped involuntarily. Above them, Hale's gun fired—once, twice, three times. Bullets slapped the water around them with sounds like wet slaps against concrete.
She pulled David down, fighting his panicked struggle. Under the dock where pilings provided cover. Barnacles scraped her shoulder raw as she pressed them both against the wood. Her lungs burned. The cold was already making her limbs clumsy.
David flailed beside her, fighting to surface. She held himunder, held them both under until black spots danced in her vision and her lungs screamed for air.
Gunfire erupted above. Three shots, four, five. Wood splintered above them, raining down into the water.
Cara kicked hard, sending both of them toward the other side of the dock where the boat’s dark hull waited. As the dark spots overtook her vision, she shot toward the surface, pulling David with her.
41
Gabe couldn't move.
A steel beam pinned him across the chest, pressing him into rubble and broken concrete. His ribs screamed with each breath. Dust filled his lungs. Blood ran down his face from somewhere he couldn't identify.
But none of that mattered.
Cara was in there. David was in there. Somewhere in the wreckage or beyond it, and he was trapped under debris while they?—
"Gabe!"
The voice came from above, distant and muffled by ringing ears.
"Gabe, can you hear me?"
Footsteps crunched across rubble, getting closer.
Then a face appeared above him through the dust and smoke.
Tyler Price.
His friend's eyes went wide with shock, then flooded with relief. "This is good."
Price's voice cracked on the words, like he'd been preparing himself for the worst.
"Get it off." Gabe tried to push at the beam. His arms had no strength. "Get it off me. I have to?—"
"Hold still." Price was already moving. "Sullivan! Riordan! I need two more on this beam!"
Two State Police officers appeared. Young. Strong. All three of them positioned along the steel.
"On three," Price said. "One. Two. Three?—"
They lifted.
The weight came off Gabe's chest in a rush. He gasped, tasting blood and concrete dust.
Price grabbed him under the arms and hauled him clear of the debris, lowering him carefully onto less-damaged flooring.
"Don't move. Let me check you." Price's hands moved with practiced competence, checking for broken bones, spinal injury, internal bleeding. "Can you feel your legs? Wiggle your toes for me."
Gabe moved his feet. Everything worked. Everything hurt, but everything worked.
"I'm fine. I have to—" He tried to sit up.
