Page 6 of Broken

She looked up at him, not letting go of Riker’s hand. “I don’t know who you even are,” she said. “Or why you’re here. But you don’t get to order me around. Go by yourself, if you’re going.”

“My name is… Cole. I’m rescuing you. It would help if you’d cooperate.”

“If you’re rescuing anybody, you’re rescuing us both. Help me get him up.”

She looked up at the man standing over her. He was tough and handsome, his slate-gray eyes opaque. There was no hint of sympathy in his voice. “Look at his breathing,” he said. “He only has another minute or two. But that minute or two could be the difference between us getting out of here—or not.” He moved his shoulders uncomfortably. “There’s more of those creatures on the way. I can feel it.”

“I’m not leaving him.”

“You’re seriously going to risk getting captured to sit here and hold his hand?”

“Well, at least he won’t die alone.”

“But he’ll still die. And if you get captured, he’ll have died for nothing.”

She felt that growl coming on again. “You’re a bastard.”

He shrugged. “Everybody knows that.”

At that moment, Riker took a deep, shuddering breath and opened his eyes, looking into Ireland’s face. “Rye?” he said, his voice a raspy whisper.

That was what he always called her. Rye. She didn’t know how he got that from Ireland, but there it was.

“I’m here.” Her voice shook a bit, and she steadied it. “You’re going to be okay.”

He shook his head fractionally, and winced. “I’m not. You have… to go.”

She closed her eyes. Not dying. He was not dying. But in her heart she knew he was.

She opened her eyes again. “I can’t just leave you here.”

“You got… the book. Save… yourself.”

There was a long moment while she fought to accept the truth. Finally she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He looked up into her eyes. “S’okay. I always knew… it would end this way.” He closed his eyes.

The other man had walked away. Ireland was vaguely aware of him moving around the room, gathering stuff from the Retrievers’ bodies like the vulture he was.

It only took him a couple of minutes. He detoured over to the safe to pick up the bag she’d dropped, and then came back over to her.

Ireland was still holding the bracelet around Riker’s wrist, tears stinging her eyes that she wouldn’t let fall. He was a brave man, and she was going to be brave for him.

Riker’s breathing grew harsher, and then struggled to a stop. Between her fingers, Ireland saw the bracelet light up briefly one more time, and then it died.

And Riker was gone.