Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
I couldn’t help the feral growl that escaped my throat.
How fucking dare Jake Mason? He’d drugged Wolfe, imprisoned him, and left him to the elements for hours?
If Wolfe was even one-tenth less strong than he was—
Clay’s eyes met mine like he understood exactly what I was feeling. But when he spoke, it was to Wolfe, and his voice was serious and kind. “Acetaminophen will probably be fine. But we have a bus at the bottom of the hill. Let’s have the EMTs check you out and take any samples we need, and they can let you know what’s safe, okay?”
Wolfe nodded. In the meantime, I pulled out my own water bottle and handed it to him. He took it without hesitation and took several deep gulps.
Clay slung his pack back over his shoulder and stepped closer. Wolfe immediately stepped back and nearly tripped over my boot. Thankfully, my arm was already around him, so I was able to keep him from hitting the dirt.
“Sorry,” Wolfe apologized immediately. “Maybe I’m still a little loopy.”
Clay held up his hands. “No, I should’ve warned you before I moved. I was going to offer to take a spell with the assisted walking to give Trace a break.”
“No,” I said quickly. “That’s okay. I have him.”
The idea of another man touching him right now sat as uncomfortably for me as it seemed to for Wolfe.
“But you can take one of our packs?” I suggested.
“Not mine.” Wolfe turned pleading eyes up to me. “Please.”
I shrugged. I couldn’t imagine what was so important about his pack, but if it meant something to him, that was enough for me.
I handed my pack off to Clay, who took it with a nod.
To my surprise, after a moment of consideration, Wolfe did remove his pack. “You can carry it,” he said, not quite looking at me. “Easier walking when I can hold the strap.”
Then we were off, making our way slowly down the mountain with Clay’s nonstop chatter keeping us company and keeping any potential wildlife away.
Wolfe finally relaxed enough to start asking Clay questions. How he knew me. Jobs we’d been on together. Stories of me on rescue missions.
Clay was only too happy to share, which made the rest of the slog go by a little more quickly.
When we finally made it back to the vehicles, I felt Wolfe’s body deflate in relief. “Felt like we were never going to make it,” he confessed softly.
I squeezed his side. “You did it, Wolfe Marian. Now you’re going to have one jacked quad and glute while the other side’s going to atrophy away.”
Clay let out a boisterous laugh.
Wolfe’s face split in a smile, and for the first time in too many hours, my heart rate kicked up for a reason that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with how fucking handsome the man was.
The EMTs converged on us immediately, pulling Wolfe onto a waiting stretcher under a halo of lights from the back of the ambulance. After a few minutes of them fussing over him, I noticed the back of his thumb rubbing the far side of his index finger.
“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” he said, the knuckles on his other hand white where he kept my hand in a death grip as the techs peeled him out of his wet gear to get his vitals.
Thankfully, the rain had stopped enough to assess him without us all standing around in misery. Blood samples were secured, his ankle was declared a probable sprain with advice to follow up the next day with a set of X-rays just to be sure, and Wolfe was declared well enough for me to take him back to the campground.
One of Clay’s fellow SaR team members came jogging out of the woods after us with a bouncing headlamp and a big grin. “Been a long time since I did a wet trail run in the rain. Never done a solo one in the dark, though.”
Just when Clay was about to respond to her, his radio squawked. He apologized and stepped back toward his vehicle to take the call.
The EMTs finished up with Wolfe and had just helped me settle him in the passenger seat of my rental when Clay came back over and squatted down next to the open passenger-side door.
“That was local dispatch. Officers apprehended Mr. Mason a few miles up eighty-three. His truck was broken down on the side of the highway. He was taken into custody and will be held while we wait for the bloodwork to come back. I’m afraid we’re going to need you to make an official statement, Wolfe.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow?” I asked, knowing how this worked.
Clay nodded. “Come see me in the morning at the Montrose County Sheriff’s Office.”
After we thanked everyone and said our goodbyes, I drove slowly back to the highway, already planning our next steps. “We’re showering in the campground bathroom before heading to your van. No arguments.”