“Is she alive?”
“I've got a pulse but it’s weak,” he replied.
“Ambulance is already on the way,” Matthew replied, moving down the hole to dig out the rest of Rylla’s body so they could get her out of the hole.
Nate cradled her head in his hands. She was still, her eyes closed, dirt streaked her face and rested on her long eyelashes. He checked her head and neck but couldn’t see any injuries.
“Rylla? Can you hear me?” he asked.
She didn't respond.
Beneath the dirt her skin was hot to the touch, chances were wherever Beau had shot her the wound had become infected.
“Rylla, come on, honey. Answer me,” he begged.
“She’s free,” Matthew announced, scooping enough of the dirt off her that they could get her out of the hole.
Nate gathered her limp body into his arms and picked her up, carrying her out of the garage and laying her down on the grass outside. Now that she was free, he could see a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around her left thigh. Matthew knelt beside them and unwound the tattered material to reveal the gunshot wound, the edges of which were red, and ragged, and enflamed.
“She’s going to need to go straight on antibiotics.” Matthew stood. “I'm going to grab water from the car and clean out what dirt I can.”
Rylla was so still. And she looked so frail and vulnerable lying on the grass in her dirt-stained shirt and shorts. Nate had to put his hand on her chest so he could feel her heart beating and her chest rising and falling with each breath, to try to convince himself that she was in fact alive.
“Wake up, Rylla,” he begged again. “Come on, honey, you're scaring me. Wake up. Please, honey, wake up now. I love you, Rylla, you have to wake up now.”
Matthew returned with a bottle of water and fresh clean bandages, and began to pour water on the angry looking wound, cleaning it as best he could, then winding a long compression bandage around it.
Then finally, beneath his touch, she began to stir.
“Rylla, it’s Nate. I'm right here, baby.” He wanted his voice to be the first thing she heard so that she would know she was safe. “You had me so scared.” His voice was stark, the fear hadn’t left him yet, as the adrenalin drained out of his system, realization of just how close he had come to losing her began to really sink in.
She began to cough and gag on the dirt that was still in her mouth and throat, her dirt laden eyelashes began to flicker.
“Don’t open your eyes yet,” he cautioned, holding out his hand to Matthew for some of the water. Matthew handed over a bottle and a square bandage, and Nate tipped some over the material, soaking it, then using it to clean away the dirt from her face so that it didn't get into her eyes.
“You love me?” were the first words she spoke. Her voice was rough from the dirt she had inhaled, but it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.
“For years now,” he told her, pulling her into his arms.
“I love you too,” she said, and snuggled further into his hold.
He’d been wrong, her voice wasn't the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, the woman he loved telling him she loved him too was. And then the second most beautiful sound filled the air. Sirens. Help was here. Rylla was alive and was going to be okay, and she was his, all his.
* * * * *
4:53 P.M.
Rylla’s first concern when she woke was that it had all been a dream and she was going to find herself back in Beau’s creepy castle.
But then she felt Nate’s presence.
It hadn’t been a dream.
She was alive.
He had saved her.
Her eyes felt heavy, but she opened them anyway. She didn't want to sleep anymore, she’d been asleep ever since she had been bundled into the ambulance. Now she wanted to be awake, she wanted to revel in the amazing feeling of being alive.