Breaking (Fall or Break #2) by Barbara Elsborg Read Free Book Online Page B

He ignored the little dog bouncing around at his side as he waited for his heart to slow and his breathing to ease. He was shaking with the intensity of how cold he felt, and the pain in his lower back and legs made him want to howl. He leaned to check on the guy lying next to him. Still alive, eyelids flickering, chest rising and falling erratically. Good, because Conrad wasn’t sure he had enough breath for CPR no matter how tempting the guy was.
    Actually, he was tempting. Dark hair, long thick lashes and—
    Think! And not of sex.
    He pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked around but the beach remained deserted. He could leave the guy lying on his side, search for his crutches, assuming they hadn’t washed away, or try and manage without them and get back to the house to call the emergency services. That sounded like the best option until he felt a wave wash over his feet. The fucking tide. If he left the guy where he was lying, he’d drown.
    He crawled back to the surfboard now floating in the shallows, flipped it over and dragged it to where the guy lay. The little brown dog licked the surfer’s cheek, turned to Conrad and whined.
    “I’m doing the best I can.”
    With some difficulty, he rolled the guy onto the board then had to stop to catch his breath. Now what? Wait for the sea to float him up the beach? It wasn’t a bad plan but Conrad’s fingers were white with cold, his teeth chattering. He’d have to stay in the water to steady the board and he wasn’t steady himself. Plus it would take too long.
    It even felt like too much effort to travel the ten yards or so to where he saw his coat lying, but he still crawled to get it before it was soaked by the sea. He draped it over the guy, then sitting with his back to his house, he grabbed the fin on the board and pulled. He was almost shocked when it slid a short distance along the wet sand. All that hauling himself upright must have increased his upper body strength, though hadn’t the Egyptians used wet sand to shift heavy stones when they were building the pyramids?
    He shuffled back and repeated the same maneuver while the dog barked encouragement and ran from side to side. At one point, it jumped on the board and Conrad glared. “Really? As if he’s not heavy enough?”
    The dog jumped off again and Conrad continued. When it began to hurt too much to pull, he tried pushing. He could feel the tide racing in behind him, hear the crash and slither of waves. He gritted his teeth and kept going. Once he’d reached dry sand, he could risk leaving him and going to call an ambulance.
    In an attempt to distract himself from the pain biting at his body he stared at the guy’s face as he lugged him up the beach. He looked a little like an older version of Malachi. Same scruffy dark hair and dark stubble. Good-looking. There was something about him that made Conrad think he might not be English. Blood smudged the board around the man’s head but at least it wasn’t pumping out. There was no visible injury so Conrad guessed he’d smacked his skull on the board and become untethered.
    When he felt dry sand beneath him, Conrad collapsed back with a groan. “Shit, shit.” He wanted nothing more than to just lie there but he couldn’t. He checked the guy’s breathing again and made sure he was in the recovery position before he set off. When the dog tried to follow, he waved him back.
    “Stay with your master. I’m going for help.”
    Conrad crawled as far as the gatepost, pulled himself up and, taking a deep breath, shuffled back up the path to the house as fast as he could. He stumbled into the kitchen, grabbed his phone and tapped in 9-9-9.
    After he’d given the operator the details, he sagged with relief. Part of him felt he ought to go back to the guy, the other part of him wanted to stand under a hot shower for at least three hours. Concern the surfer might stop breathing before the paramedics arrived drove Conrad out of the house. He