Drake Sisters 04 - Dangerous Tides

chair. I'll get it. It's on the shelf on the other side."

    He was in midstep when a blast blew through the left side of the laboratory, lifting Libby and slamming her backward several feet, shattering the windows and knocking him onto his backside. The concussion was deafening in the confines of the basement. At once flames licked up the walls and danced across the floor. The explosion triggered the overhead sprinklers so that water rained down, adding to the chaos.

    "Libby!" He shouted her name, trying to peer through the swirling smoke and water to see her body. The world seemed to stop. His heart thundered in his ears and deep inside, where no one could hear, he was screaming in protest, in stark ugly fear.

    She lay unmoving, curled up in a ball on the floor under an overturned table. One of the larger pieces of equipment was on its side, leaning against the table she was under.

    "Tyson!" Sam was behind him, struggling down the stairs, holding his ribs, but following his cousin.
    "What the hell happened? Where's Libby?"

    "She isn't moving, Sam." Raw fear edged Tyson's voice as he bolted down the stairs, jumping the last few feet to scramble through the rubble.

    "Don't worry, Ty. We'll get her out."

    "She's not moving," Ty repeated, terror ripping through his body. He'd never experienced panic, not in any situation he'd ever been in, but on some level he recognized he was close. And terror was mixing with rage, a lethal combination. He shook with it, felt it eating at his gut and battering at his mind. This couldn't be happening. Not to Libby.

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    He shoved chairs, a computer, glass even, out of his way to get to her. She lay like a broken doll, hair spilling across her pale face, hands over her head as if at the last moment she flung her arms up to protect herself. Her arms looked singed. Tyson dropped to his knees, uncaring of the glass and wreckage.
    "Libby. Baby. Open your eyes." He ran his hands over her body. She seemed so delicate, so small and fragile. She didn't move, but when he checked her airway, she was breathing. "She's alive," he announced to Sam. There were no visible signs of damage other than a few cuts, none of which appeared deep, and the singed hairs on her arms.

    Sam examined the bulky stability chamber that lay partially across the table pinning Libby's legs. "This is what saved her. It was directly in front of her and took most of the blast. I've never seen anyone so lucky. If she's breathing and her heart is fine, help me get this thing upright. We can lift the table off her and get her out of here. She's moving her legs so they can't be damaged either. I can get the rest of the fire out if we move fast."

    "Derrick?" The basement door opened and feet pounded down the stairs. The police had arrived with Jackson in the lead. "What the hell is going on?" Jackson took one look at Libby beneath the table and signaled to Sam to help him lift the incubator upright.

    It was a struggle to remove the bulky chamber, but they managed to shift it enough to get to the broken table. "Get the fire out, Sam." Jackson crouched down on the other side of Libby, taking her limp hand.

    "No broken bones that I can find," Tyson reported. "I think the blast knocked her out. I can't seem to find any real damage, unless she has a concussion."

    "What about her neck or a spinal injury? Can we move her?"

    Libby moaned, both hands coming up in a defensive position. Tyson trapped her arms to hold her still.

    "You're all right, baby, but don't move. I have to make certain you haven't injured your neck."

    Libby blinked up at him, looking dazed. She struggled to sit up. Tyson pressed her to the floor.

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    "Libby, stay put."

    "I can't hear very well."

    "That will go away."

    "My neck is fine. I have a hell of a headache though and my ears are ringing. What happened?"

    Tyson lifted her into his arms, cradling her close, his lungs fighting for air. He would never get over the sight of her flying through the air to land in a crumpled heap. He knew it would haunt his sleep and eat away at him during his waking hours. "Harry Jenkins was here in the lab just a few minutes ago," he said to Jackson. "And quite a bit of the damage to my equipment was done prior to the explosion by a couple of men Ed Martinelli sent to beat up Sam."

    Jackson turned his cold gaze on