Holy fuck, what would she do if he was dead?
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
“Ryder! Dwight!” she shouted again, tapping her fingers lightly on his cheek. “Wake up.”
She ran her gaze over his body and when she got to his feet, she noticed his boot stuck in a crack.
She crawled in that direction and carefully began to unlace the boot that was caught. When she got it loose, she gently pulled on his leg until she worked his foot free.
Once he was no longer trapped, she moved back to his torso and carefully rolled him onto his back.
“Oh fuck,” she groaned. She knew nothing about first aid. He had a gash up near his hair line which was already beginning to swell. And it was bleeding like crazy! “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she muttered. At least he was breathing.
She needed to keep her wits about her and figure out what to do. Of course there was no one probably within miles. So, she had no help. She grabbed for his cell phone which was on his hip, and when she pulled it from the holder, she realized not only was the screen cracked but the body of the phone was crushed. She tried to power it on anyway, with no luck.
She whipped it into the woods with a curse.
His leg didn’t look too twisted, his arms didn’t appear broken, but they had a few scrapes. The half of his face that didn’t have blood running down it, looked fine. The only major injury she could see was his head wound.
But head wounds could be dangerous.
How the fuck was she going to get him back down the mountain?
Should she take the ATV and go get help? Fuck, she couldn’t leave him up there alone. And she had no idea how far the nearest help was. She had no fucking clue where in Kentucky they were. She had no phone. The cabin had no phone.
She tamped down the panic that was rising.
Think, think, think.
First, she had to stop the bleeding. She yanked up the pant leg of his jeans and pulled the tactical knife from its sheath he had strapped to his ankle. She used it to cut off the bottom of her T-shirt. It wasn’t sanitary but it was the best she had.
Once she had a long strip of cotton, she gently wrapped it as best as she could around his head, hoping to at least stem the flow.
Now she had to get him on the ATV somehow and drive him back to the cabin to get the Scout.
How was she going to do that? She couldn’t pick him up or carry him. And she certainly wasn’t going to drag him.
She tapped lightly on his cheek again. “C’mon, Dwight, wake up. Please.”
She lifted his eyelids and saw his pupils were blown.
Was that the sign of a concussion?
She had no fucking clue! Where was Google when she needed it?
After removing her flip-flops, she squatted by his head, hooked her arms under his armpits and pulled on his lifeless body.
Fuck, he weighed a ton.
She gritted her teeth and pulled harder, digging her feet in for leverage.
She landed backwards on her ass. With a curse, she scrambled back up and hooked him again.
She had to do this. She had no choice. He was relying on her to help him.
Finally, he was starting to slide. Slowly, carefully, she pulled him off the boulder and onto the dirt path. She didn’t have far to go around the next boulder. The ATV was parked just on the other side of it. But she was out of breath already.
She couldn’t give up. With a grunt, she walked backwards, pulling his dead weight. It seemed like hours, but it was probably only minutes, before she finally rounded the last boulder and spotted the ATV.
She wanted to cry with relief, but she needed to keep going.
She had no idea how she was going to get him on the ATV. None.
Even if she managed to get him on the back, how the hell was he going to stay on? He’d fall off and crack his head open again.
She chewed her bottom lip as she contemplated their current situation.
She propped Ryder up against the boulder and pulled his T-shirt over his head. With his knife, she cut it in half. She could tie him to her with the shirt.
She squatted next to him, touching his cheek. “Ryder. Please. Wake up. I need your help.”
He needed to wake up. That was the only way she’d be able to get him on the ATV. She might have to wait it out until that happened.
The bleeding from his head wound seemed to have slowed, but the cotton over it was soaked with blood.
He was listing to one side, so she straightened him up and planted her ass beside him. As soon as he became conscious, she’d get him loaded onto the ATV and get him back to the cabin as quickly as possible.
She held his lifeless hand for fifteen minutes before he groaned, blinked his eyes open and groaned again.
“Dwight!” She jumped to her feet. “Are you okay?”
No, dummy, he wasn’t okay. But she wanted to hear his reassurance anyway.
“Where... am... I?”
Fuck.
“Can you get up?”
He stared at her, his pupils still more dilated than normal.
“I have to get you back to the cabin.”
“There’s... two of you.” He almost sounded drunk. He groaned again and reached up near his head wound.
“Don’t touch it. Are you seeing double?”
“Lemme juss shake... it off.”
“You aren’t going to just shake this off, Dwight. You don’t ‘shake off’ a head injury.”
“What happened?”
“You got your boot caught and cracked your skull open on the rock.”
“Been beaned in the head before.”
“With a big rock?”
“Gonna be fine.”
“Well, I doubt you’re going to die.” For fuck’s sake, she hoped not. “But right now you’re not fine.”
He lifted his hand again.
“Don’t! Don’t touch it. You’ll put more dirt in it. You’ve got a gash.” That “gash” was really swollen now and she was sure it was bruising badly under the temporary bandage. “I need you to help me, Dwight. I need you to get on the ATV so I can get you back.”
“I’m... fine.”
“You’re not fine. Your pupils are blown. I think you have a concussion. But I need you to try to stand up and sit on the ATV.”
She held out her hand and he stared at it. “I’m fine.”
Stubborn fuck!
With another groan, he tried to push to his feet, flopped back down onto his ass and turned his head in time to puke.
Kelsea wrinkled her nose and swallowed hard. Ugh. Someone else puking made her puke, too. She swallowed back the bile that rose. At least they hadn’t eaten yet.
Once she was assured he wasn’t going to puke again, she squatted back down beside him, draped his heavy arm over her shoulder and said, “On three.” She took a deep breath. “One... two... three...” She grunted as he gave her a lot of his weight. But finally he was on his feet, but she was sure not for long. He wobbled a couple of times as she shuffled him the few feet to the back of the ATV and helped him mount it. With one hand on his shoulder to keep him upright, she scrambled onto the front and hurried to wrap his T-shirt around both of their waists tightly, tying it with a knot.
She grabbed both of his arms and wrapped those around her waist. “Lean on me, if you have to. Just don’t puke on me. And, for fuck’s sake, hang on as best as you can.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine!” she screamed and hit the starter. “Hang the fuck on.” She eased the throttle and slowly pulled away, hoping the shirt held. Hoping she didn’t lose him when going over some of the rocks and ruts.
Hoping he wasn’t bleeding internally somewhere.
“Gotta puke,” he grumbled loud enough over the ATV’s exhaust.
She slowed the four-wheeler to a halt and helped him lean to the right enough to expel the remainder of his stomach without them both wearing it.
After a few minutes, he managed an “okay” and she headed ba
ck down the trail, winding their way around the worst of the rocks and ruts.
It felt like hours to get back to the cabin, and she wanted to cry with relief when the small clearing finally came into view. She did it. She got him back to the cabin without him falling off the back. But almost all of his weight was pressing her forward.
She didn’t care.
What she cared about was they had made it. At least this far.
Next step was getting him into the Scout and to the nearest hospital, even though she had no idea where that was.
She pulled the ATV right up to the front steps of the cabin and untied the T-shirt that bound them together. “How far is the nearest hospital?”
“Hour away.”
“I can take you to the hospital. I just need the keys to the Scout. You locked them in the safe. I’ll need the combination.”
Holding him upright again, she got off the four-wheeler and helped him off, sitting him on the deck steps.
He still looked out of it. His skin was pale and his pupils still large. More black than green.
His words were still slurred when he said, “Nothin’ they can do ‘bout a concussion.”
“Bullshit. They can examine you. Sew that gash closed. Make sure that thick skull of yours is still in one piece.”
“I’ll be fine. I just need to rest.”
“If you say you’re fine one more time...” she warned. “What’s the combination?”
“Darlin’...”
“Ryder,” she said between gritted teeth. “What’s the fucking combo?”
He closed his eyes and said nothing.
Was he unconscious again?
“Ryder...”
He opened his eyes. “Don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I... can’t remember it.”
“Can you guess? Is it four-digits? Five? Your birthday?”
“Darlin’, I don’t know. My head’s spinnin’... Just... help me inside. I’m—”
Kelsea lifted her face to the sky and screamed.
“Just help me inside.”
“If you’re fine, do it yourself.”
“Someone needs a spankin’ with that fresh mouth.”
“Good luck with that.”
She leaned over, hooked his arm over her shoulders and helped him back to his feet. They slowly made it up the three steps, to the front door, and finally inside.
They didn’t stop until they reached the bed. She eased him onto it, then pulled off his remaining boot and both of his socks.
The leg that got caught had a swollen ankle and was a bit purple. It wasn’t broken because he put weight on it.
Ice. She needed ice and a first aid kit. And to clean up the gash.
She propped up his head with a couple of the pillows and headed toward the kitchen. Under the sink she found a small first aid kit and she filled a couple Ziploc bags with ice. Finding two small kitchen towels, she took everything back to the bed, where he was leaning back against the headboard with his eyes closed once again.
She helped him out of his jeans, then placed one of the towels over his ankle with the bag of ice, making him hiss.
She eased the piece of her shirt off his forehead since it was now sticking to the wound.
“Are you still feeling nauseous?” Oh, please say no.
“A little.”
“Do you need a bucket or something?”
“Just in case.”
She hurried to the bathroom and snagged the small trashcan, as well as a warm, wet washcloth to clean his wound.
She tucked the can next to the bed, then sat on the edge of the mattress beside him. She gently cleaned the area around the gash.
His eyes were semi-focused on her as she worked. “Are you seeing two of me still?”
“No, but you’re a bit fuzzy.”
“As soon as you remember that combination, you let me know.”
“I’m... Never mind.”
“Right.”
“Nothin’ a little rest won’t cure.”
“You need stitches,” she said, opening up an alcohol swab and continuing to clean his gash. He winced. She was sure it stung.
“Butterfly bandages in the kit.”
She dug through the box and found four. Once she had him cleaned up and bandaged, she stared at him.
And he stared back at her.
She lifted her hand and held up four fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Three.” Before she could drop her hand, he snagged it and pulled it into his lap. “You did good, darlin’.” His words were still a bit slow and sluggish but his pupils were beginning to recede.
“Why don’t you lay down so I can put ice on that gash to reduce the swelling?”
He didn’t let her hand go. “You did good, darlin’.”
She stared at their clasped hands and nodded, swallowing back the lump that had risen in her throat.
“Better than most. Most would’ve panicked. You kept your shit together.”
“I’m not sure about that.”
“I am. You used your head.”
“You did, too, to cushion your fall. Please don’t do that again.”
“You got it.” His thumb brushed back and forth over the back of her hand as he held onto it.
“I was scared.”
“Yeah,” he answered.
“I didn’t know what to do.”
“Yes you did. You did what you needed to do. You persevered and got it done. That’s all that’s asked from any warrior.”
“I’m not a warrior.”
“Yeah, darlin’, you are. You’re stronger than you know.”
She dropped her gaze from his. “You need to lay down and ice that hard head of yours.”
He gave her a crooked smile and he let her help him lay flat on his back. She placed the towel and second bag of ice on his forehead, again pulling another wince from him, then sat back and studied the man in that bed.
“Guess I’m getting out of making you breakfast. I doubt you want to eat anything right now.”
“I’ll eat later when my stomach isn’t doing somersaults. But don’t think you’ll get out of making me breakfast tomorrow.”
“We’ll see.”
“Yes, we will.”
Chapter Fourteen
Between his ankle and his noggin, he wasn’t leaving that bed anytime soon. But he was okay with that.
He now remembered the combination for the gun safe, but he wasn’t ready to give it to her. He needed her to believe him when he said he didn’t need to go to the hospital. What she did by patching him up was the same thing any ER would do. Wrapping his ankle would’ve only made it swell worse. She had propped his foot up on a spare pillow and iced it. Enough said.
The butterfly strips worked just as well as stitches. He’d used them plenty of times. Not only on himself, but his fellow Rangers.
His fellow Shadows, too.
As for the concussion, he just needed to wait out the symptoms.
The dizziness and nausea came and went in waves. He hadn’t puked again, but he also hadn’t been able to eat. She insisted he drink water. Which he did. He managed to at least keep that down.
Now the cabin was quiet with neither of them saying much.
With one hand holding a half-melted bag of ice to his head, he turned it to stare at her. She laid in bed next to him on her side, her head propped in her hand, her eyes closed.
She had checked on him several times during the night, getting him more ice when the previous batch melted and letting him lean on her during the short trip to the bathroom when needed. He couldn’t put his full weight on his ankle yet. And he still had bouts of dizziness.
He wasn’t sure just how much sleep she got, so he wouldn’t be surprised if she recently drifted off.
With his free hand, he reached out to brush her long blonde hair off her bare shoulder, letting his fingers trail along her smooth skin. She was once again wearin
g just a pair of his boxers and one of his white tank top undershirts.
She looked way better in them than he did. She looked even better out of them.
He needed to get his brain back in full working order so he could get to town and buy those condoms. There was no way he was taking her back to Shadow Valley without fucking her at least one more time.
Because once they got home... It would be best if that never happened again.
But... did he trust her enough to send her into town without him?
Did he feel comfortable enough to send her without any kind of cell phone? What if something happened to her along the way?
What if she got a hair up her ass and bolted with his Scout, leaving him stuck with just his ATV?
Her blue eyes opened and she smiled.
Jesus fuck. He couldn’t think of any better way to wake up with that smile pointed at him. Well, maybe if she was smiling at him while riding his cock.
He pressed his palm against his morning wood. Her eyes automatically went there.
“Guess something is working properly this morning.”
“The day it doesn’t, I might as well just throw in the towel.”
“They make pills for that.”
“So I heard,” he grumbled.
She laughed. “Studs like you think you’ll never need them. That it’s a sign of weakness.”
When the fuck did she suddenly go from acting like she was barely twenty-one to her actual age of almost thirty?
He wasn’t going to question her sudden onset of maturity. Could be just being away from the losers she was hanging and partying with. Could be her system becoming free of any unnatural substance.
Could be from his little “mishap” and her being forced to make mature decisions.
He was proud of her. While he thought he told her that yesterday, he needed to tell her that again. And again.
“We’re human and we all have weaknesses, darlin’. Even me. Even your cousin, Diesel.”
“Jewelee and his daughters are his weakness.”
“Understandable.” And that was why the big man kept those three females so close. As soon as he “claimed” Jewel, her ass was working at In the Shadows Security, helping D. Then once his girls were born, he hardly ever let them out of his sight.
Some might think he was too protective. Ryder understood the need to protect them. Jewel, Violet and Indigo were now the blood that kept that man’s heart beating. If anything happened to them...
Guts & Glory: Ryder (In the Shadows Security Book 2) Page 14
