Authors: R.L. Mathewson
She placed her flashlight on the floor
against the opposite wall with the beam of light pointed on the
crates. With a resigned sigh, she set to work moving the top crates
first. The crates were empty and she was able to move them quickly
and stack them on the other side of the room. When she had the
crates cleared at chest level she squinted her eyes, trying to see
what she was dealing with. She was almost positive that it was-
"This ends now," Connor suddenly said,
scaring the living hell out of her.
Rory whirled around, hand to chest, heart
pounding violently as she fought to calm her breathing. "What in
the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded, taking a deep breath to
calm herself as she looked at Connor.
The man stood in the doorway with a
flashlight in his hand and even in the dim light she could tell
that he was having a hell of a time stopping himself from crossing
the small room and throttling her. She had to give him credit,
because if she was in his place there would be no stopping the ass
whooping that he would have had coming.
"You went over the line today with that
bullshit, Rory," he said, taking a step into the dark room.
She had to roll her eyes at that. "You're
only pissed because you didn't think of it first," she said,
turning her back on him and effectively dismissing him. She didn't
have time for his whining today. She needed to make sure that the
whole wall was made of wood and then help the guys with the
roof.
"That's bullshit," he snapped. "You chained
me to a toilet, Rory, and took away any way to call for help. What
if there had been a fire?" he demanded.
"I paid Mr. Henderson fifty bucks to watch
the house and keep an ear out for you," she said in a bored tone as
she started hefting more crates over to the other side of the
room.
"Mr. Henderson is ninety years old and wears
a hearing aid the size of my fist. How the hell was he supposed to
hear me screaming for help over the garbage you left blasting?"
She picked up a crate and moved it to the
other side of the room as she said, "He had his binoculars."
Connor snorted in disbelief. "Of course he
had his binoculars! He can't see without them!"
"Obviously nothing bad happened," she said
with a shrug as she grabbed the second crate from the top, not
mentioning that she also paid Katie, her seventeen year old
neighbor who specialized in babysitting, fifty bucks to also keep
an eye on Connor's house. Then again, she wouldn't be paying Katie
the extra fifty dollars to call her and alert her when Connor broke
out.
Oh yes she would, she realized a moment
later, sighing as she reached for her cell phone and remembered
that she'd put it down on her desk when she changed her shirt and
forgot to put it back on her belt. Damn, a warning would have been
nice, too.
"What about kicking my men off the site?
What's your excuse for that?" Connor demanded, sounding truly
pissed.
"You mean the men standing around and
getting in the way?" she asked, wondering when he was just going to
give up this line of questioning and seek his sad little
revenge.
"I don't care what they were doing-"
"Well, you should," she said, cutting him
off as she reached for another crate.
He simply continued as if she hadn't spoken.
"Those men work for me. If there's a problem then I'll handle it,"
he said tightly.
"But you weren't here," she pointed out in
an innocent tone that she knew would drive him crazy. It was
probably wrong of her to enjoy tormenting him, but she didn't care.
It was one of the few pleasures in life that she allowed
herself.
"If it hadn't been for you, I would have
been here and my men wouldn't have been delayed," he snapped,
sounding more irritated.
With a sigh, she removed the final crate and
brought it over to the other wall. "You shouldn't have to babysit
your men, Connor. It's a waste of time and resources," she simply
said as she walked back to the area she'd just cleared and
inspected the wall.
The wall was made of wood, rotting wood, but
that would work. She frowned as she looked down at her feet.
Although the area matched the rest of the room's floor, dirt mixed
with a heavy layer of dust, it didn't feel like dirt beneath her
feet. Was it a wood floor, she wondered idly as she dragged her
foot across the surface, shifting the dirt and sand to the side to
reveal old rotting wood.
"Don't tell me how to handle my men, Rory.
In fact, I'd appreciate it if you just stayed the hell out of my
way completely," Connor snapped.
"That's going to be kind of hard to do with
us working together, don't you think?" she mused.
"We're not working together, Rory. I'm
running this site with the use of your men and equipment. You’re
going to stay out of my way. If you can manage to do that and cut
the bullshit like this morning then you'll come out of this a very
rich woman," he said, ramming his fingers through his hair in
frustration.
She ground her teeth together as she
reminded herself that she had to play nice, well, at least while
they were at work. Outside of work she didn't have to take his
bullshit. "We signed that contract together, Connor, so whether you
like it or not I will be working on this project and if you don't
like that then you can-"
She never finished that sentence as the
sounds of planks cracking cut her off. Before she could move so
much as a muscle, the floor beneath her gave way and she found
herself falling into darkness.
"Rory!" she thought she heard Connor yell,
but she wasn't really sure since she couldn't hear much of anything
above her own screams of agony.
Chapter 10
"Rory!" he yelled again as he gripped the
edge of the splintered wood floor and pulled, uncaring that the dry
rotting wood was tearing into his hands as he widened the hole
she'd just dropped through. "Answer me goddammit!"
Nothing.
"Shit," he muttered, yanking his two way
radio off his belt. He knew that he should call 911, but he needed
help now. Besides, he wasn't about to leave Rory wherever the hell
she just landed, alone, so that he could run outside and try
getting a signal on his cell phone.
"Andrew!" he said, clicking off and dropping
the radio by his side so that he could widen the whole while he
waited for a response. When one didn't come quick enough he tried
again with the same results.
Cursing his foreman to hell,
he switched the radio to the channel he knew the James brothers
used. "Craig, I need someone to call an ambulance and I need help
down in the basement, fourth storage room to the right," he said,
releasing the button with a
click
and praying that someone heard him.
"Connor, what the hell is going on?" Craig
returned almost immediately.
"Rory's hurt. I need an ambulance and help,"
he said, quickly releasing the radio to set back to work on the
hole.
"If you hurt her, I will-"
"I didn't hurt her!" he snapped, feeling his
patience fray as his body shook. Please let her be okay, he prayed
as he ripped another chunk of wood away with one hand. "Call a
fucking ambulance and send some men down here now!" he snapped,
tossing the radio down and promising to kill the bastard if he
didn't move his ass.
Not even a minute later he heard the sounds
of men running in his direction.
"Rory!" he heard Bryce yell.
"In here!" he answered as he ripped another
piece of wood off, but it wasn't wide enough.
Shit!
He tore off another piece and then another
until he was sure the space was big enough for him to fit through.
He grabbed her flashlight and aimed it into the hole and squinted.
He couldn't see anything but a set of stone stairs
"Rory!" he called down, but there was no
answer.
"Shit!" he snapped as he dropped down onto
his ass and shifted until his feet were in the hole. He shoved the
flashlight in his pocket and moved to go after her.
"Where the hell is she?" Sean asked as he
ran into the room with three of his brothers close behind him. He
didn't need to look to know that Craig wasn't with them. The last
he'd seen of the oldest brother he'd been on the roof tearing it
apart. He also knew that Craig probably wasn't too far behind
them.
"Rory crashed through this hole. Make sure
they send Fire and Rescue with that ambulance," he said as he
lowered himself into the hole, quickly, ignoring the sharp shards
of wood that sliced through his clothes and skin as he went.
"Get the hell out of there and let one of us
go. It's our sister down there," Johnny said, reaching to grab his
arm and yank him out of the hole.
"Back the fuck off. I've got this," he said
as he sucked in a breath and worked his way through the opening.
Johnny paused in surprise just long enough to give him a chance to
work his shoulders through the hole and when he dropped down, he
released his hold on the splintered wood and did his best not to
fall down the stairs and land on Rory.
With a grunt, he landed on his feet and
quickly righted himself before he toppled over into the pitch
black. He yanked the flashlight out of his pocket and turned it on,
chasing away the darkness. He aimed the beam down the stairs and
nearly dropped to his knees when he spotted her.
"Oh god......," he mumbled even as he raced
down the stone stairs. "Rory? Rory!" he said, trying to keep the
panic out of his voice, but failing miserably.
He dropped by her side, careful not to brush
against her and quickly looked her over with the flashlight. She
was on her side. Her left arm was obviously broken, blood trickled
down her forehead and onto the dirt floor, forming a small pool of
blood beneath her head and she was out. He wasn't sure what else
was wrong with her so he didn't dare move her.
"Rory? You have to wake up," he said gently
as he pressed his fingertips against the cut on her temple, careful
not to apply too much pressure and hurt her.
"Is she okay?" Sean yelled down the
hole.
"Her arm's broken, she has a head wound and
she's unconscious," he yelled back, never taking his eyes away from
her.
He heard her brothers arguing about who was
coming down, but he didn't pay much attention to them as he placed
the flashlight on the ground with the beam pointed at her. With a
shaky hand, he pressed two blood stained fingers against her neck
and searched for a pulse.
When he didn't find it, he promised
everything that he had and was if she would just be okay. Hell, he
couldn't imagine a world without Rory in it, didn't want to think
about that happening. The moment his fingers came in contact with
the proof that she was still very much alive, he nearly sagged with
relief.
"Connor?" Rory said weakly.
"I'm here," he said softly as he let out a
shaky breath. She was going to be okay. He'd make damn sure of
it.
"We're all coming down!" Johnny yelled.
"She's awake!" he yelled back, noting Rory's
cringe. Her head was probably pounding, he realized and having five
brothers fussing over her and bickering wasn't going to help with
that. "Stay up there and make the hole big enough for the stretcher
and EMTs!"
There was a short pause before they started
bitching, but thank fucking god they did as they were asked. He
looked back at Rory and even in the dim light cast off by the
flashlight he could tell that she was pale. Her mouth was pinched
tightly and he had no doubt that she was struggling not to scream
or cry.
"Where does it hurt, Rory?" he asked
quietly, trying to keep his tone soothing even though he was
panicking on the inside. What the hell was he supposed to do? He
didn't know jack shit about first aid. The one and only time he
attended a class on first aid hadn't ended well.
Then again, if the instructor had read the
memo the school gave her, she wouldn't have made the mistake of
placing them in the same class. She certainly wouldn't have ignored
the other students' pleas, shouts and warnings about placing them
together in the same group. Of course, he could have said something
and Rory sure as hell could have said something, but they'd both
been more than eager for a little payback after the incident at the
convenient store the night before. It really shouldn't have
surprised anyone when a demonstration in the Heimlich maneuver
turned into him on his back with Rory straddling his waist and
trying to shove a fistful of gauze down his throat or him flipping
her off of him and onto her stomach and hog tying her with medical
tape.
He still wasn't sure why the principal
kicked them out of the class or blamed them for the woman's
meltdown. It's not like it took her an hour to spit up all the bits
of gauze that Rory managed to shove down his throat. Curling up
into the fetal position beneath the desk had been a bit much for
something so minor. Clearly the woman had no business teaching kids
if something like that would set her off into full blown panic
attack that needed five teachers, four cops and the paramedics to
get her to come out from beneath the desk.
Now he was regretting not taking that course
they offered every year at the community center. After this
incident he was going to damn well make sure he went and he'd make
his men do it as well. It was stupid not to have all his men
trained in first aid, he realized as he grabbed the flashlight and
ran it over Rory's body, taking a closer look to make sure that
there wasn't any other damage.
"I think my arm's broken," she said, sucking
in a breath before she continued, "and a few ribs might be
bruised."
"Well, then try not to move," he said
lamely, feeling like an idiot.
"Yeah, I'll get right on that," she said
dryly as she noticeably cringed.