Search and Rescue by April Wilson

Chapter 16

Killian Devereaux

Once Hannah’s doctor releases her, a nurse brings a wheelchair to the room. It’s hospital policy—she has to be wheeled out. Her Jeep is waiting for us in the parking lot, and I have a set of keys.

I hold the wheelchair in place as she transfers herself from the bed to the seat. I’d offer to help her, but je ne suis pas couyon.I’m not stupid.

If I so much as tried to help, she’d bite my head off. Instead, I stand there ready to catch her if she falls. She sways a bit, but she manages just fine.

Once she’s safely settled in the wheelchair, she holds her crutches while I wheel her down to the front entrance. Her Jeep is parked halfway across the visitor lot, thanks to Owen and Maggie dropping it off for us this morning. I wrangle a young hospital staffer to follow us out there so that, after I put her in the vehicle, he can return the wheelchair to the hospital for us. I’m not leaving her alone for a second.

My Spidey senses are on overload, and Owen didn’t help matters when he told me he spotted a suspicious individual in the parking lot this morning who matched the description of the blond guy I spotted scoping out hospital rooms.

If those poaching motherfuckers come after Hannah, they’ll have to deal with me.

“Ready?” I ask Hannah as she buckles her seat belt. She’s in the front passenger seat. I’m driving, of course, since she can’t shift gears with a cast on her foot.

She nods. Then she tells my phone where we’re headed. According to the navigation app, we have a twenty-two-minute drive to her cabin in Bryce.

“Anything you need to pick up on the way home?” I ask her. I’m thinking food, medicine, beer. Okay, the beer is for me.

As she scans the parking lot, I wonder if she’s feeling a bit exposed out here.

“No, I’m good,” she says, sounding distracted.

I reach over and clasp her hand. “Relax, love. You’re safe.”

“I’m fine,” she says, clearly lying.

“Didn’t your doctor give you a prescription for some pain medicine? Do you wanna fill it?”

“Nope. I have over-the-counter pain medication at home.”

“That’s not quite the same thing.”

“I’m not taking prescription painkillers.” She shakes her head. “It’s fine.”

“Maybe just for a few days—”

She shoots me an irritated scowl. “Are we going to argue about every little thing?”

I try not to smile. “Probably.” God, I love her fire. I try not to think about how that would play out in bed. If I ever got so lucky as to be in her bed, she’d have me by the balls in no time.

“Killian, just drive, will you?”

I start the engine and throw the Jeep in gear. “Fine. No pain meds, but don’t come crying to me when you’re suffering needlessly.”

As we pull out of the parking lot, I notice she’s typing a message on her phone.

When she spots me watching her, she explains. “I promised my mom I’d let her know as soon as I was released from the hospital.”

I pull out onto the main road and turn right. We drive through a small suburban town until the houses quickly disappear, and the road is bordered on both sides by pine forests. It sure feels good to be out of the city and back into the wilderness. Even though I’ve been gone from Cajun country for seventeen years, it’s still a huge part of me—the language, the people, the food and music. It’s still who I am at my core—a Cajun through and through.

I’m reminded that I need to call my Mama. She knows where I am and why, and she’ll want to know if I found the jeune fille—the young lady. She’s heard me talk about Hannah plenty times before. Even though she’s never met her, she’ll be worried.

Twenty minutes later, we pass Emerson’s Grocery store in Bryce. Owen’s rented SUV is parked out front in plain sight. I imagine he did that on purpose—making his presence known to scare off potential intruders.

Hannah glances at the store, and I wonder if she’s missing her friend. “Do you want to stop?”

She shakes her head and sighs. “I tired. I just want to get home.”

“Sure thing.” I know she’s probably hurting as well. A little rest will do her good, as well as a hot, homecooked meal. I’ll see what she’s got in her pantry.

I turn off the main road and drive up a paved lane that leads to the turn off to Hannah’s place. Her driveway is at least a half mile up a winding gravel road, bordered on both sides by dense, pristine forest. “Beautiful place.”

She nods. “I fell in love with it the moment I saw it.”

The lane brings us to a clearing in front of a modest one-story log cabin with a front porch. There’s a small shed off to the side. But other than that, it’s pretty bare-bones.

She checks her phone, reading a text message. “Maggie and her sons will stop by this evening to bring Scout home.”

“Your dog?”

She nods. “He’s just a year old, but already, he’s a wonderful watchdog. He won’t let anyone sneak up on us.”

I step out of the Jeep and walk around to the front passenger door to help Hannah out, but she’s already got her door open, both crutches planted on the ground, and she’s in the process of stepping down from the vehicle with her good foot aimed at the ground.

“Slow down, fille,” I say as I reach out to catch her. “Let’s not break your good ankle before you even get inside.”

“Did you just call me girl?”

I laugh. “No. It can mean woman, too.”

She looks skeptical. “I warn you, you better watch what you say. I took two years of French in high school and two years in college. I remember quite a bit. And for the record, I can get out of the Jeep on my own.”

She lowers herself to the ground, landing on her good foot and nearly falling forward in the process. I catch her and set her upright. Her jaw clamps shut as she refrains from crying out.

She’s a stubborn one.

“What’d I tell you?” I swing her up in my arms and carry her toward the porch.

She holds her crutches tightly. “I can walk, Killian,” she insists.

I ignore her. “Where’s the key?”

“In my backpack.” She fishes it out once I set her down on the smooth oak boards.

I take the key from her and unlock the door. Then I reach inside my jacket and pull the handgun from my chest holster. “Wait here while I check the inside. It’ll just take a second.”

Leaving her leaning against the exterior wall, I step inside and flip the light switch, which turns on a small pendulum light fixture hanging over a small square table with four chairs. There’s not much else to see—a small kitchen with white appliances, an even smaller pantry; and a living room with a sofa, rocking chair, woodstove, and stone hearth. It’s sparsely furnished, but it’s tidy and homey looking. There’s a good-sized dog bed in front of the hearth. That must belong to Scout. Lastly, a rear hallway leads to a bathroom and the only bedroom.

“All clear,” I say as I join her on the porch. Before she can say a word, I swing her up in my arms and carry her inside, setting her down gingerly on the sofa, lengthwise. I tuck a throw pillow under her cast. “Doctor said you should elevate it to reduce swelling.”

“Thanks.”

I help her shuck off her coat, gloves, and hat, and then I take those things to the small closet and hang them up, along with my own. “Are you hungry or thirsty?” It’s well after lunchtime.

“Thirsty,” she says, sitting up and swinging her good leg to the wood floor.

“Hold your horses, McIntyre,” I say when she reaches for her crutches. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the kitchen.”

“I’ll get your water.”

“Killian, you’re not here to wait on me. I can—”

“If you say you can manage on your own, I’ll take you over my knee and spank you. You’ve been out of the hospital for less than an hour. It won’t kill you to let me fetch and carry for you.” I locate the glasses in a cupboard over the kitchen counter. “How do you want it?”

“There’s a water pitcher in the fridge.”

I pour her a glass. “Do you want ice?”

“Yes, please.”

I pull an ice tray out of the freezer, dump in a few cubes, then return the tray. “Here,” I say as I hand her the glass. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She tries not to smile. “Thanks.”

I allow myself a moment just to drink her in. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be here with her, in her home, just the two of us. “You’re welcome.” I take a seat on the sturdy wooden coffee table in front of the sofa. “Now let’s go over the ground rules.”

Her brown eyes narrow on me. “We already did that in the hospital.”

“I have a few more. Just some basic safety issues. One, you stay off your foot for a few days and give it a good head start on healing. Two, you stay inside the cabin. If anything needs to be done outside, I’ll do it. Three—”

“Three, you stop babying me,” she says. “Remember, that was one of my rules.”

“Three, you stop arguing with me about every little thing. I’m here to help you, McIntyre, so let me do my damn job.”

She starts to come back at me with some undoubtedly witty retort, but she stops herself. I’m sure this isn’t easy for her. She’s used to doing for herself.

“It’s not a weakness to accept help when you need it, Hannah.”

“Fine. I’ll let you help me.”

“C’est bon.” That’s good.

“I’ve never heard you speak so much French.”

“That’s ’cause you’re hardly around me more than a few minutes at a time. It slips into my vocabulary a lot, especially when I’m irritated.”

Wisely, she doesn’t comment on that. “I guess there’s a lot I don’t know about you.”

I smile. “Looks like we’ll have plenty of time to rectify that over the next couple of months.”

She surprises me by reaching out to take my hand, her expression suddenly serious. “Thank you, Killian, for everything. For finding me, for getting me to safety. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I could have died in that ravine.”

My heart stutters painfully for a moment, and then I shake it off. “You’re too ornery to die. And there’s no need to thank me. I was just doin’ my job.” I pat her good leg before standing. “I’m parched. I think I’ll get some water, too.”

As her gaze follows me across the room, I wonder if she knows I just lied my ass off. She’s a lot of things to me, but a job sure as hell isn’t one of them.