Search and Rescue by April Wilson
Chapter 10
Killian Devereaux
As night falls, so does the temperature. The cabin is dark and quiet when I put on my winter gear and step out onto the porch. It’s well below freezing. I glance out at the yard around the cabin and see nothing but snow with a few tracks to and from the porch.
Owen is doing his rounds and making sure no unwanted company sneaks up on the shack.
A moment later, a dark figure drifts up onto the porch to stand beside me.
“All clear?” I ask him unnecessarily.
He nods. “I checked the ravine. The snow is over two feet deep in places. The rescue crew’s going to have a hard time getting a gurney up here.”
“I was afraid of that. We need some other way to get her off this mountain.”
“How’s she doing?”
“She’s hanging in there. That woman is tough, I’ll tell you that. She’s in a lot of pain, but she tries not to let it show.”
The cabin door opens and Maggie stands in the doorway, a blanket wrapped around her, over the top of her coat. Her gaze connects with Owen’s first, but she doesn’t say anything. Then she turns to me. “You need to come back inside, Killian.” Frowning, she glances back toward the bed. “She’s not doing so well.”
With a curt nod, Owen steps off the porch and disappears into the darkness. I step back inside and close the door behind me, barring it.
I hang up my coat and stand beside the bed to assess Hannah. There’s a painful tightness in my chest when I watch her clutching the wool blanket to her chest. Her eyes are closed tight, but what worries me most is how badly she’s shaking. “Damn it.” I lay my palm on her forehead. “She’s burning up. We need those damn antibiotics.”
Hannah’s shaking so badly, I’m afraid she’s going to hurt herself. She could be cold—after all, this rickety shack isn’t airtight. Frigid wind blows through multiple loose wall boards and beneath the door. Or, it could be hypothermia setting in, or fever. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was in shock.
Making a quick and practical decision, I strip down to my boxer-briefs. Then I climb onto the far side of the bed, behind Hannah, and slip beneath the wool blanket and the sheet. I press my body against hers and wrap my arm around her waist, careful not to touch her wounded arm or jar her ankle, and basically spoon her from behind. I tuck my Glock under the edge of my pillow in case I need it.
“I’ve got you, love,” I murmur against the back of her head. “I’ll keep you warm.”
My body heat, combined with the insulating properties of wool, helps raise the temperature beneath the blanket considerably. Maggie puts more wood in the stove and uses the poker to stir the coals and stoke the flames.
She smiles as she watches me holding Hannah. “I’m glad you’re here. Hannah talks about you a lot.”
“She does?” That surprises me.
Maggie nods. “I think you’ve made quite an impression on her.”
I chuckle. “Could’a fooled me.”
“Hannah’s a complicated one, you know? But she’s worth it.”
I nod. “I come from a family of strong, complicated women, so I can respect that.”
Maggie glances out the window. “I hope Owen’s okay out there.”
“He’s a tough one, so doan you worry.”
She doesn’t look happy.
“Maggie?”
“Hm?”
“We need to find another way to get Hannah off this mountain in the morning. Owen says the snow is piling up in the ravine. It’s doubtful the medics will be able to get a gurney up here. I could carry her out, but it’s risky.”
Maggie stares off at the window, lost in thought, before she snaps her gaze back to me. “I might know a way. Micah—my friend Ruth’s brother—owns a helicopter tourism business. There’s a flat area just downstream where he might be able to land his chopper. It’ll be risky because of the snow, but Micah’s a damn fine pilot.”
“How far downstream?”
“Half a mile or so.”
“Grab the radio and hail Owen. Tell him you know someone with a chopper.”
She calls Owen and gives him the information.
Owen confirms, saying, “I’ll contact Jake and let him know to set up the exfil.”
Sharing my body heat with Hannah has definitely helped her sleep more comfortably. She’s not shaking quite as badly now. She’s still out of it, though. As I hold her against me, I try not to enjoy the contact. I’ve never been this physically close to her before, and I doubt she’d appreciate it if she weren’t impaired. Occasionally, she stirs with a pained moan, and that reminds me of how much she’s suffering.
I press my lips to her hair and whisper to her. “Hang in there, love. It’s gonna be all right.” And I swear to god, she clutches my arm and holds it to her chest.
Sometime later, the radio crackles with an incoming call. “Killian, do you copy?” It’s Jake.
Maggie hands me the radio. “Yeah, I copy. Over.”
“Micah will fly his helo into the valley at first light to pick up Hannah and transport her to the hospital. He’ll bring a medic with him. Seating is limited, so some of you will have to hike out.”
“Copy.” I damn well plan to be on that helo, too. I’m not leaving Hannah’s side until she’s stable.
“The sheriff has had his men up and down that ravine all night,” Jake says, “and they haven’t seen anyone else up there.”
“They were close by earlier. We heard gunshots.”
Jake mutters a curse as he ends the call.
Maggie makes decaf tea with the water in the kettle, and after it cools, we succeed in getting Hannah to drink some.
After Hannah’s had enough to drink, Maggie returns to the rocking chair and dozes off while I stand guard.
It’s just after midnight when a shot rings out in the distance. Maggie jerks awake in the rocking chair, and I’m already climbing out of bed, careful not to disturb Hannah, who’s still sleeping. I dress quickly and pull on my outer gear before grabbing my handgun.
“Stay here,” I tell Maggie as I unbar the door. “Lock this after I’m gone and see to Hannah.”
“Will do,” Maggie says as I slip out the door.
The moonlight is blocked by an overcast sky. I walk to the end of the porch and listen. Another shot rings out, and although the sound reverberates in the valley, I think it’s coming from the ravine.
I step off the porch and melt into the shadows beside the shack. I can’t leave the women undefended, but I need to know what’s going on.
Owen signals his presence as he slips up behind me. “Two men to the north,” he says, his voice low and succinct.
“The poachers?”
“I’d bet money on it.”
“Have they seen the shack?” I ask him.
“Unlikely. They’re still at least a klick away. After I spotted them, I hustled it back here to give you a heads-up. I think they’re mostly stumbling around in the dark.”
The temperature is brutal cold, and Owen’s been out here for hours. Every man has his limits. “Why don’t you go inside and warm up? I’ll take watch.”
Owen shakes his head. “It’s better if I stay out here.”
I’m not sure what he means by that, but I don’t press him. He’s a grown man, and he knows his own business. If he wanted to come in, get warmed up, and eat or drink something, he would. “The offer stands. If you change your mind, let me know.”
As I pass the front window, I catch Maggie’s eye. At first, I can’t tell what the hell she’s doing. She’s leaning over Hannah, helping her to sit up. I watch for a moment, honestly curious, until I see the portable potty chair beside the bed.
Oh.
When Maggie helps Hannah transfer to the bedside commode, I turn my back on them to give Hannah some privacy.
Of course she needs to pee. I’ve been plying her with fluids all night. Thank god Maggie’s here. As hard as it must be for Hannah to need help to perform basic bodily functions, she’d be mortified if she’d had to ask me.