Heaving a slow relieved sigh, she tied Daisy to the post beside Duke.
Ryan had the horse’s hoof in his hand, his gaze meeting hers. “Checking for stones or something that could have him so agitated.”
“I’m going back inside. Everything is shifting and if we don’t get some support posts up, there might not be a loft or roof when we come to work in the morning.”
Nodding, he set the one hoof back on the ground. “I’ll get the jack from the shed, then I’ll call Morgan to come deal with the horses. We’ll probably have to call Adam too.”
Back inside, she grabbed a couple of two by fours off the side and cursed that everyone took their tools home. She wanted to at least screw them together for stronger four by fours. Then again, looking up in time to hear the sharp snap overhead, another beam was splitting. What an unholy mess. Leaning the few two by fours she’d located against the rear wall, she turned to meet Ryan with the jack. Two long strides and that blasted sound thundered above, only this time, when she looked up, she didn’t see a crackling timber, the last few screws holding the wall up gave way. All she could see was a wall of white crashing down around her—oh hell.
Dragging the hydraulic jack across the threshold, thunderous rumble vibrated through the soles of Ryan’s boots like a California earthquake. The sharp, feminine scream that followed sent shivers racing up his spine.
“Nicole!” Heaving the jack aside, he bolted toward the rear addition. A thick, white cloud of dust and pulverized plaster billowed out, choking the air and turning the dim beam of light into a blinding wall of grit. Choking on the chalky mess, he shielded his eyes with one arm and pushed deeper into the debris, a massive mound of sheetrock, wood, insulation, dust, dirt, and rusty nails had buried the woman he couldn’t bear the thought of living without. “Nicole! Talk to me!” He tried for calm, but his voice came out frantic even to his ears.
A muffled cough erupted from the left. Dropping to his knees, bare handed, he frantically clawed at what was left of the partition wall that had pancaked onto the floor. Splintered and jagged edges pointed in every direction.
“I’m,” cough, “here.” The words were quiet and weak, but still music to his ears.
Relief flooded through him with such force his hands shook as he gripped the edge of a heavy header beam. Bracing his boots against the concrete, he heaved the timber upward. The wood groaned, shifting just enough for him to see a flash of dusty fabric and a hint of bare skin. “Stay still. I’m going to get you out.” His heart slamming frantically against his ribs, he shoved more debris aside, ignoring the stabbing pain of wood shards snapping under his weight. He had to get her out. She had to be all right. She had to.
“Ryan.” His name came out more like a moan, or perhaps a prayer.
Shoving even more of the mess aside, he finally revealed enough of her to see she’d been pinned from the waist down by a fallen rafter, her body cushioned by the very stack of two-by-fours she had been trying to use as supports. He grabbed the rafter, muscles in his back screaming as he hauled the weight off her.
“Is anything hurt?”
Blinking away the dust on her face, she slid out from the gap and reached for his hand. “What’s the old joke; only when I breathe.”
“Don’t tease me. Are you all right?”
“I’ve had better days.” She tried for a smile. “Are you going to help me out or not?”
“Are you sure I won’t make things worse? Did you hurt your back?”
“I can wiggle my fingers and toes.” She spread the fingers on the hand she’d held out and waved them back and forth. “See? Now get me out of here.”
He pulled her up and out of the mess, his fingers digging into her shoulders as if to convince himself she was solid.
Her breathing ragged, she leaned against him for a heartbeat.
Wrapping his arms around her, he forced his racing heart to slow. He didn’t want to let go. Ever. Except. He scanned the ceiling above, catching the widening gap where the main loft header met the original oak. The building wasn’t done moving. “No time for the four-by-fours.” Ryan guided her toward the center aisle, his eyes never leaving the stressed timber above. “We’ll just put up some two-by-fours for now. Just enough to stabilize this till morning when things can be done right.” Fury burned through the adrenaline. He looked at the red circles Nicole had drawn, the vivid wax mocking the silver heads of the sheared screws. “When I see George and Jet, I’m going to string them both up by their boot heels.”
Nicole nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah. I think he skipped the lag bolts on the header too.”
“I see it now.” Ryan reached into his pocket and flipped his phone open. His thumb hovered over the speed dial for Morgan. He needed more hands, more wood, and he needed them before the whole damn building became a pile of toothpicks.
Wincing, Nicole tried to stand.
“Take it easy.”
“I’m fine.”
“You just had a wall fall on you. I’m not sure fine is an appropriate word.” Not willing to let go of her, he kept one arm firmly wrapped around her as he lifted his phone to his ear with his other hand, slowly inching away from the debris. He had to get her out of this danger zone, somewhere safe. Then he and his brothers could shore up whatever could be salvaged.
Pressing the button, the call connected. “How’s Duke?”
“Outside. Listen. We need every able bodied brother, and every two-by-four in the staging shed, and the heavy jacks.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
