“Okay, okay.” His hands trembled still as he brushed the hair from her cheeks. “It’s all right, you’re all right.” He wanted to drag her up, hold her, rock her to him until this greasy sickness in his gut passed.

He knew better than to move her, even with thoughts of aftershocks spinning in his head. He knew he had to check the extent of her injuries before he risked shifting her.

Concussion, broken bones, internal injuries. Christ, paralysis. He couldn’t get his breath and had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment and force air in and out until he was calm. He made himself move slowly, carefully. Lifting her eyelids to check the pupils, gently moving his hands over her head, gritting his teeth at the blood that smeared on his fingers.

Her shoulder—she’d dislocated it, he realized as he probed. It would be screamingly painful when she woke. Dear God, he wanted her to open her eyes. His breath came fast and harsh as he continued to check her. No breaks—a lot of bruises and some bad cuts and scrapes, but nothing was broken.

He agonized over her back and neck, knew he had to leave her to call for an ambulance. And the thought of leaving her alone there on that ledge, knowing that if she woke it would be to terror and pain, ripped him.

“It’s going to be all right.” He took her hand, squeezed gently. “Trust me. I won’t be long. I’ll be back.”

When her fingers flexed in his, relief burned through him in cold fire.

“Laura, can you hear me? Don’t move, baby. Open your eyes if you can hear me, but I don’t want you to move.”

Her world was white and thick and cold, so cold. Then there were shadows, shifting, receding, voices whispering under a brilliant roar. Then his face, close to hers, dark eyes so blue they burned.

“Michael?”

“Yeah.” He had to swallow, couldn’t. Fear had dried up every bit of the saliva in his mouth. “Yeah. You’re going to be all right. You just took a little fall. I want you to—”

“Michael,” she said again, then her white world flashed red. Pain sliced through her, long, ragged blades of it that had her crying out, rearing against his hands.

“Stop. I know it hurts, but I don’t know how bad it is. You have to lie still. Lie still.” But the way she’d already twisted terrified him. “Look at me. Look at me. Tell me if you can feel this.”