Page 23 of Rescuing Ryder

Ryder flipped the switch, and the fire instantly came to life startling Claire, who yelped as she jerked her hand away.

“Claire!”

Ryder moved to her and gently pulled her wrist toward him to examine the burn. A large, dark red welt formed as she sucked air in between her teeth. The singed smell of her sleeve drifted to his nose, throwing him back into the past.

The kid, Shortstack, lay on the ground, writhing in pain from the IED. Half his face appeared charred and his eye melted. His uniform stuck to his skin as Ryder did everything to try to save him. The kid held on to his vest until his dying breath. His eyes still showed the last fatal minutes of the terror he experienced. He lowered him to the ground and choked on the lump forming in his throat.

“Ryder, It’s Claire. We’re standing in my living room. I accidentally burned my hand and need your help. I can call Whiskey if you prefer. You’re safe with us on Serenity Mountain.”

Ryder heard her voice and followed it like a light in the dark. Her face appeared before him and he glanced down at the wrist he held.

“Let’s get some cool water on your burn.” He led her into the kitchen and adjusted the water temperature. When satisfied, he drew her hand into it, and she hissed.

“Hang on, Claire Bear. Where’s your first aid kit? Don’t tell me you don’t have one with your propensity for home dis-improvement.”

“In my bathroom,” Claire replied, concentrating on her hand.

Ryder made his way through her bedroom into the private bath. Silk stockings and lacy thongs clipped to a hanger hung over the shower. Pretty embroidered bras hung over the towel rack. His eyes widened as he thought of the doctor wearing the sexy lingerie before he knelt under the cabinet and pulled out a big plastic container labeled First Aid Kit. Opening it, Ryder laughed to himself as he noticed several different sizes of bandages, burn ointment, antibiotic ointment, scissors, gauze and ace wraps. Bigger than the average person’s supply, he imagined how many scrapes she got herself into repairing things.

Shaking his head, he picked out the items needed to bandage her hand.

After he wrapped her injury, they made their way into the living room. Claire smiled as Ryder flipped the switch, this time with the glass in place. The coffee grew cold, but they enjoyed the fire. She sat on the couch, and he took the recliner across from her.

“From the size of your first aid box, I take it you run into a few scrapes,” Ryder jested.

“Very funny. I’m always prepared. Why does it seem when you need a bandage, it’s always too small or overly large for the area?” Claire asked as she yawned and lay on the pillow.

“Ugh huh. Does it happen often? Or do you purchase the variety of sizes for all the items you injure yourself on when you attempt to put them together?” he teased.

“Thank you for all the help. I appreciate it,” she responded quietly.

“Honestly, You’re the first person to draw me out of my nightmare. I think we helped each other.”

When Claire didn’t reply, he glanced over to find her sleeping, unworried about the supposed intruder from earlier.

Ryder rose, took the light blanket draped along the back of the couch, and covered her. He walked back to the kitchen and wrote a note on the fridge. After checking all the locks on the windows and doors, he returned to her entryway, exited and locked the door behind him.

He pulled out of the driveway. “Sweet dreams, Claire,” Ryder murmured before putting the car in drive and heading toward the mountain.

For the first time, his body felt restless, and his thoughts consisted of the soft pink, lacy thong and matching bra set hanging in the bathroom. He pictured unrolling the thigh-high silk stockings down her legs. Ryder shook the idea from his head and laughed aloud. The last thing the mountain promised to bring him was serenity.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Claire sat in the crowded Seattle police station, waiting for one of the detectives to call her back. She meticulously wrapped the package and its contents to show them proof that David Kilner threatened her from the mental hospital.

“Dr. Meyers.” One of the detectives walked into the hall calling her name.

“I’m Claire Meyers,” she informed the man as she rose to meet him.

“I’m Detective Stewart. I'll take your statement if you follow me to my office.” He turned before she answered expecting her to follow. When they entered his office, he closed the door, shutting out the noise from the busy station. Detective Stewart moved behind his desk.

“What can I help you with, Dr. Meyers?” he asked.

Claire placed the package on his desk. “I recently moved into a new home in Serenity. I found this among the boxes, thinking I forgot to label it. When I opened it, it contained a note from David Kilner. He currently resides in the Seattle Mental Health Hospital on a twenty-year sentence for killing his wife and mother-in-law. I want to file a complaint against him.”

The detective leaned forward and used his pen to inspect the box, envelope and letter. “Did he sign his name? How do you know for certain it’s him? Can you think of anyone else who might send something to you?”

“No. David Kilner’s the only one. The only way he might’ve entered my home occurred when the movers brought in my furniture. They stated they waited for another man to help them move. And I was told he remains locked in the facility, but I want a formal confirmation.”

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