by Anna Martin
Logan took deep, steadying breaths as Kit started to clean away the dried blood and dirt that still clung to his skin. It was going to hurt more when Kit started disinfecting it, but there was no point in reminding Logan of that just yet.
“The carnotaur caught me peeing, like I said. Probably took the whole ‘urinating on his territory’ thing as a challenge—I totally wouldn’t have done it if I’d known it was his territory, by the way. I’m not an idiot.”
“Right,” Kit said. “Breathe.”
“I’m breathing,” Logan said around the mask. “Fuck!”
“Keep talking.”
“Tried to stare him down, which didn’t work, then tried to scare him off. That didn’t work either. Then I ran. It was only a few yards or so to the truck, but he caught me, so….”
The cut on his back, Kit decided. It was consistent with a carnotaur attack.
“He knocked me down, kicked me about a bit. Then I managed to get into the truck. I was afraid he was lurking in the bushes, ready to finish me off.”
Kit gave another wry laugh.
“Did you send an SOS?”
The glare he received was almost upsetting, except it caused Logan enough pain that Kit just felt bad for him.
“I sent five,” he bit out. “No one answered.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I fucking wish. I’ll be reviewing how that fell apart, don’t worry. Though it probably would have taken a rescue mission longer to get to me than it took me to get back, so I don’t know if I can be too mad.”
“We have checks in place to make sure you’re safe out there,” Kit said. “If something happens and those checks fail, then we’ve all failed.”
Logan grunted. With his skin now clear of blood and grime, Kit could see what he was working with. Nearly all of the wounds were beyond his skills in first aid, but he was all Logan had for now, so he sucked it up and moved on.
“Then the oviraptors found me.”
Kit looked up sharply. “What do you mean, they found you?”
“The whole fucking truck is covered in blood, Kit. They probably smelled it. I was trying to stick to the roads, but the concept of roads out there is pretty sketchy. Sometimes you have to just wing it and go through the jungle, so fuck, my blood is probably everywhere out there, fucking everything up.”
“Don’t worry about that now,” Kit said. “We can do some reconnaissance, see if there’s been any effect.”
“Well, when you do your reconnaissance, you’re going to find a big fucking pool of my blood in quadrant six.”
“The oviraptors attacked you?”
“Yeah. I guess they noticed that I was injured. I dunno. They’re not scavengers, Kit. They know how to coordinate an attack.”
That explained all of the defensive wounds on Logan’s arms and face. It probably hadn’t helped his twisted ankle either.
“Keep going,” Kit murmured.
“I passed out when I got back into the cab. I think I lost a lot of blood.”
“I think you did too.”
“I guess I managed to lock the door because the fuckers were headbutting the fucking doors when I woke up. I might have hurt one or two when I drove off.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
Kit didn’t press for more details when Logan fell silent again. He’d needed to hear Logan’s version of events, but it had clearly taken it out of him recounting the story. Logan probably hadn’t slept much since he left for his trip, and considering the amount of blood he’d lost too, he was going to be in bad shape for a few more days.
“You’re still with me?” Kit asked.
“Yeah. It hurts, Kit.”
“I know. I’m sorry. There’s a doctor coming.”
“Okay.”
“I just need to make sure everything’s clean and that you’re not going to start bleeding out of these cuts. You’re already starting to scab up, and if there’s dirt in those scabs, that’s just a recipe for infection.”
“I don’t want an infection.”
“I don’t want that either,” Kit said with a smile.
He finished flushing out the wounds and carefully applied gauze and tape to the gash on Logan’s back, which was definitely the worst. It needed more than paper stitches, really, considering how deep the wound was, but Kit knew an inexpert effort could be worse than leaving it alone. At least it wasn’t bleeding anymore.
How Logan had escaped the oviraptors with little more than cuts and scrapes was a miracle, especially considering how he was already injured. But they’d sensed that. They’d known he was weak. They’d tried to pick off a weaker animal as an easy meal.
Kit forced himself to think of something else.
“How are you temperature-wise?” he asked.
“It’s warm in here.”
“It is,” Kit agreed. “I don’t know if I should let you sleep. Do you have a concussion?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Me either. I didn’t hit my head. One of the oviraptors clocked me in the jaw, though.”
“I think you’ll be fine. I’m not sure how your nose is going to set, and you’ll probably end up with a few more manly scars to add to your collection.”
Logan looked down at his chest and huffed. “That’s a good thing, right?”
Kit rolled his eyes. “I’m done,” he said, pulling off his gloves. Only now did he allow himself to look at Logan with anything other than a purely professional eye. Logan had one of his nipples pierced with a shiny silver hoop. Kit swallowed hard.
“Uh-huh. Me too.” Logan fell silent and closed his eyes, setting the mouthpiece for the Nitronox aside. “Cougar.”
“Sorry?”
“Cougar,” Logan repeated. “I got the scar from a cougar. I worked at a wildlife rescue center for a few years when I was in college. They told me she was tame.” He stopped talking to just breathe for a moment. “She wasn’t tame, Kit.”
Kit laughed.
“Thanks, by the way.”
“Hmm?”
“For patching me up.” Logan still had his eyes closed, breathing deeply. He must have been in a huge amount of pain. “I thought I was going to die out there.”
To Kit, it sounded like a huge confession.
Kit hopped up to sit on the bench next to him while they waited for help.
“Well, you didn’t.”
Chapter Seven
When Logan woke he felt like his limbs were moving through thick molasses and his head had been replaced with cotton candy. His mouth was so, so dry, and underneath the fuzz of painkillers, everything ached.
He pried one eye open and guessed by the weak sunlight that it was late afternoon.
The doctor had arrived a couple of hours after Kit had patched Logan up. She was a brisk, no-nonsense Maori woman, who’d tsked through Logan’s story and nodded approvingly at Kit’s efforts. She’d also given Logan a shot of the good stuff and set him up with an IV that delivered saline and antibiotics, just in case.
Now the infirmary was quiet, not even noise from the road outside filtering through. Logan struggled to sit upright, taking account of his tired body. He really wanted to go home.
“Hello?” he called out.
To his surprise, Kit rushed in.
“You’re still here,” Logan said dumbly.
“Yeah. They had to send Dr. Low back to Auckland.”
“The nurse didn’t get back yet, then?”
“No. You’re stuck with me for a while longer.”
“Can I go home?”
Kit gave him a wry smile. “I don’t think so. I need to check you over. Sit still for me.”
Logan did as he was told as Kit dutifully took his temperature and blood pressure and checked reflexes and his pupils.
“Well, you’re certainly stronger than you look.” Then he blushed.
“You’re less annoying than you look,” Logan countered, mostly to wind him up.
&n
bsp; Kit scowled. “I’m the one who’s distributing your painkillers. You might want to be nice to me.”
“I’m nice,” Logan said. “Please let me go home? I’m just going to crash on the couch, eat a pizza, then sleep for a few days. I promise.”
Kit hesitated. “Do you have anything more nutritious to eat than pizza? You can take the painkillers every eight hours, but only after you’ve eaten.”
“Fine. I’ll get some bananas.”
Kit’s scowl deepened.
Logan winced when Kit snapped on clean gloves to take Logan’s IV out. He wasn’t great with needles, less so when they were stuck in parts of him. Getting his nipple pierced had only confirmed that. But he wasn’t about to show a weakness in front of Kit, so he grit his teeth until it was over, then watched Kit dispose of the needle in the medical waste box.
“Look, Dr. Sterling, I’m sure you have far more important things to be doing than playing nursemaid to an injured ranger. I’ve been hurt in the line of work before. It’s not the first time this has happened, and I’m pretty sure it won’t be the last.” He wasn’t going to admit that his ribs ached like a bitch and taking deep enough breaths to get his little rant out was making them hurt worse.
“I don’t mind helping. I’m one of the designated first aiders, and—”
“For your team,” Logan interjected. “I’m pretty sure your job description doesn’t include patching up me or my team. That’s why we have a nurse.”
“Fine, if you don’t want my help,” Kit snapped. He threw the little white box of painkillers at Logan’s chest. “There’s instructions on how to take them printed on the side. For fuck’s sake, don’t overdose.”
He muttered something else as he stormed off. Logan thought it was maybe instructions to go ahead and overdose if he wanted to. He decided to ignore it.
He stuffed his feet back into his boots, which was a mammoth task considering his ankle was swollen and his fingers were too sore to unpick the knots in the laces. When that job was done, he gathered up the last of the gauze and wrappers that Kit had used and stuffed those into the medical waste box too. Finally, he closed down the infirmary and locked it for the night with his pass.
With the building dark behind him, Logan stumbled for home.
In the days that followed, Logan was more than slightly mortified to learn that he’d become something of a minor celebrity. Being a small community anyway, most people who lived on the island knew each other, at least in passing. And since Logan had a high-profile role, people recognized him.
Now, he couldn’t even limp to the store to get coffee and more bananas or pick up his dinner from Bruno’s without being questioned by half a dozen people.
“Dr. Beck.”
He was stopped by a hand on his arm and a breathless, reverent sigh of his name. He had no idea who the woman was.
“Hi?”
“I heard about what happened. You must have been so frightened.”
“It wasn’t my greatest moment,” he said, gently twisting out of her grip. “Thank you for your concern.”
For a moment he thought she’d keep talking to him while he paid for his groceries, but Danny, who worked the counter, was a good guy and quickly engaged Logan in a conversation about the fortunes of a sports team Logan had never heard of.
He’d been worried about an endless stream of visitors wanting to get a closer look at his impressive array of injuries and bruises, but apparently he was scary enough to keep them away, because the only person who had stopped in was Simon Johansson, Logan’s supervisor, in theory, bringing his laptop so he could keep working.
Charming.
He struggled out of the store with two canvas bags hooked in his good elbow, both stuffed full of microwave dinners, beer, bottled water, and an excessive amount of fruit because he felt guilty about the microwave meals.
“Shit!”
Logan stumbled back, absolutely mortified to learn he’d run headfirst into Kit Sterling. Again.
“What the fuck?”
“I’m so sorry,” Logan moaned.
“It’s fine.” Kit stepped back, carefully rubbing his arm. “How are you, Dr. Beck?”
“Embarrassed. Especially now we’re back on professional terms, apparently.”
Kit huffed a laugh. “I didn’t want to overstep. Don’t be embarrassed. Did you take a harder hit to the head than we first thought?”
Logan felt his cheeks heat again. “No, I’m just….” He sighed. “Sometimes I don’t look where I’m going. Apparently.”
Kit hummed. Logan thought that might be the end of their conversation, but it didn’t look like Kit had any intention of going anywhere. He’d folded his arms over his chest and was looking at Logan somewhat fondly.
“You’re recovering well, though?”
Logan nodded. “I meant to apologize to you. About the other night. I was in pain, and tired, and grouchy, but that doesn’t excuse that I was rude to you.”
Kit was already shaking his head. “It’s fine. I’m not the best in a crisis situation myself.”
Logan fell silent as one of Kit’s colleagues passed them into the store. She was staring. Logan wanted to shrivel up in a hole and disappear forever.
“Well, it was nice seeing you,” Logan said lamely. He gathered up his bag and hobbled away.
“Dr. Beck,” Kit called. Logan paused, and turned around. “Would you take me to see the dissimosaurs?”
Logan raised an eyebrow.
“I know,” he said, raising both hands. “You can give me shit for it. But I realized a lot of people have seen a lot more of them than I have, and… and I want to. See them, I mean. With someone who knows them like you do. If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind,” Logan said mildly. He walked back and leaned his shoulder against the wall. “I was actually planning to go back out to the north ridge in the next few weeks. Weather permitting.”
“You’ll be okay by then?”
“I’ll take one of the boats. I don’t normally bother because the dinosaurs can get agitated by the noise and it’s more important for me to be in the territory, to see what’s going on. But I think I can make an exception.”
“Who else is going?”
“No one, yet. I haven’t pitched it to my team.”
“Oh.”
“Or would you like to come out with just me?”
“I wouldn’t want to impose.”
Logan shrugged. “You wouldn’t be. We can go out and be back in a day, if we take the boat. I can take the team out another time.”
“Only if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
Chapter Eight
“By boat” was not Kit’s preferred way to travel. He had vivid memories of being on vacation in Vancouver as a kid and throwing up violently while on a whale-watching excursion—a memory he still recounted as having scarred him for life.
It was the speedboat or a full day’s journey up to dissimosaur territory, though, so speedboat it was.
The morning was cool and misty, with reduced visibility that made Kit nervous. Though it could get incredibly hot and humid out here, the weather was likely to change dramatically throughout the course of the day. The sun frequently burned the edge off chilly mornings, leaving them sweltering by midafternoon.
Kit was still a little concerned about Logan’s physical and mental welfare after the carnotaur attack, but Logan was stubborn and had already been back in his office for days. Not that Kit had voiced these concerns out loud, of course. He wasn’t sure how well his fussing would be received. Logan’s bruises were fading, and his wrist and ankle were still strapped up, but any thoughts Kit might have had about asking Logan how he was healing were silenced by a strong glare from his bruised face.
So he sat back, let Logan pilot the speedboat, and concentrated on not throwing up.
The North Island had a curving sand-and-pebble beach that stretched out along its longest coast. Untouched by people, the sand had thrown
up banks wherever it felt like it, and long grasses grew in clumps on the highest points.
Kit looked out at the long, shallow stretch and wondered how the hell Logan was going to moor the boat.
“There’s an inlet just along here somewhere,” Logan said, answering Kit’s thoughts. “It’s a little tricky to find, though; it depends on the tide.”
“Oh,” Kit said, feeling dumb.
“There it is.”
Logan steered the boat into the small inlet and killed the engine. When Kit looked to his right, the ocean stretched away, an uninterrupted line of blue all the way to the horizon. To his left was the dinosaur island of legend.
He’d never felt so isolated or alone.
Logan touched his arm. “Come on. They’re not far from here.”
It was a nerve-wracking jump from the boat to the sand, but Kit didn’t want to show Logan his reticence. He stumbled the landing and brushed the sand off his hands, hoping to look nonchalant. Logan just stepped over the hull like it was no problem at all, even with a busted ankle.
“I think we should just head along the beach,” Logan said. He already had a rifle strapped across his chest and a handgun holstered on his hip. With his khaki shorts, boots, and heavy shirt, he looked more than a little like Indiana Jones.
It was hot as hell.
“Sure,” Kit said.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, Kit occasionally throwing a look back over his shoulder to see how far away the boat was. This part of the island was exposed to the elements, and a brisk, salty wind blew in off the ocean. The South Island could get incredibly humid, protected as it was by the two islands to the north. It was much cooler here, and Kit wished he’d brought extra layers.
Then Logan touched his arm again.
“There they are,” he said in a low voice.
Kit followed his lead and knelt in the sand, watching the line of scrubby trees for sign of life. Logan clearly knew what he was looking for, because Kit couldn’t see a damn thing.
Then an animal poked its head through the vegetation and looked at them calmly.
Kit thought his heart might beat out of his chest.
It was a dissimosaur.
