With a growl of irritation, Hugh felt around the inside of the elevator shaft until he found the internal access handholds. Before he could talk himself out of it, he swung himself into the darkness.
“What the hell are you doing?” the woman shouted up as he started to climb down.
“My damn job, thank you very much.” Hugh groped for the next handhold. It was as black as the devil’s own armpit down here. “Which you aren’t helping with.”
*What on earth are you doing?* Dai’s telepathic voice demanded inside Hugh’s head. *What’s all that shouting?*
*Little busy right now!* Hugh sent, and slammed his mental walls up. He couldn’t risk getting distracted, and he didn’t want to divert Dai and John from the equally important task of getting the elevator door open.
He jarred his foot unexpectedly against the roof of the elevator cage, and bit back a curse. The single, overstrained support cable groaned in answer.
“Watch out!” The woman sounded simultaneously pissed off and frantic. “You’ll bring it down!”
“Do I look like an idiot? I’m not going to put my weight on it.” Bracing himself on the access ladder, Hugh stuck his other arm out, groping for the woman in the darkness. “Come here. I’ll get you to safety.”
She scrabbled away from his searching fingertips. “Don’t touch me!”
“I’m not trying to feel you up, woman,” Hugh snapped in exasperation. “Just take my hand.”
“I can’t. I lost my gloves.” Her voice came from low down, as if she was on her knees. “And I can’t get this bastarding access hatch open!”
Despite the swearing, her voice was trembling on the verge of tears. Clenching his jaw against expected pain, Hugh reached out again. The tips of his fingers brushed a denim-clad shoulder.
“Huh,” he said in surprise.
How about that. She’s a virgin. Practically rarer than I am.
She flinched from his touch. Typical. The first adult in months who hadn’t given him a screaming headache on contact, and she was as evasive as a buttered ferret.
He tightened his grasp, not letting her slip away. He could feel her jerky, labored breaths as she fought to contain her sobs.
“I promise, everything will be all right,” he said more gently. “My friends are getting your sister out. I can tell that they’ve nearly got the door open.”
She went still under his hand. “Really?”
“I promise.” From her scent, she was a shifter, though he couldn’t tell what kind. “We’re all shifters too. I can sense them telepathically. They’ll have her out in just a second.”
An ear-splitting screech echoed up the shaft. Hugh steadied the woman as the elevator cage shuddered underneath them.
*We have her, shield-brother!* John’s telepathic voice was a deep, triumphant chord, like a mix of cellos and bassoons. *She is shaken, but unharmed.*
*Let me be the judge of that,* Hugh sent back. *I’m on my way.*
“Your sister
’s out of the elevator,” he said out loud. “But I want to check her over. I’m a paramedic. My colleagues are excellent firefighters, but considering they tend to view broken bones as minor inconveniences, you really don’t want to rely on them for medical advice.”
“Hope’s safe?” Naked relief was clear in her voice.
“She’s safe.” Hugh squeezed her shoulder in reassurance. Maybe it was just the fact that he could touch her without pain, but he felt a sudden, deep surge of protectiveness toward her. “Now let me take care of you.”
Always, his inner unicorn whispered.
What? Caught off-guard by his animal’s unexpected comment, Hugh blinked. He was very aware of the heat of the woman’s body, even through her thick clothing.
“I can take care of myself,” the woman said, though there was something less certain about her tone, as if she too had felt that peculiar spark of connection. “Move out of the way. You’re blocking the ladder.”
Hugh cleared his throat. “Yes. Right. Well, at least let me help you up.” He struggled to reclaim his usual ironic detachment. “I can’t be the only firefighter who doesn’t rescue someone. It’ll look bad on my mid-year appraisal.”