Page 45 of Rescuing Dr. Marian
GPS unit. Extra batteries. Emergency beacon. First aid kit. Hydration pack…
The familiar ritual steadied me, each item in its designated spot on my person or in my pack.
The real test today wouldn’t just be for my students. Chickie had been working scent articles for weeks now, but this would be her first complex search with multiple distractors and challenging terrain. If she could hold focus today, actually track instead of just following her nose toward whoever had the best treats…
“Ignore Tommy out there,” I murmured softly to her as she sat perfectly, watching me with those intelligent brown eyes. “He is not today’s victim, understand? I promise you can find him all you want after the drill.”
Her tail wagged in double time at the mention of his name, thumping on the bare wood floor with every pass.
Before I headed out to plant the clues and target dummy, I leaned over Tommy and blew hot air behind his ear before pressing my lips in the same spot and murmuring, “Wake up, Doc. Big day today. It wouldn’t do to oversleep. I have it on good authority someone is going to need a complex medical response from your team later.”
His hand snuck out of the sheet and into my hair as he held my face close. “Get your clothes off and get into this bed,” he mumbled sleepily. “Doctor’s orders.”
“No can do. I need to get out and back before breakfast atseven. Can you bring Chickie to the dining room? I don’t want her cheating the drill by coming with me to plant the target.”
“Mmhm. Chick, come.” He took his hand out of my hair and patted the bed. Two seconds later, he was covered in hound.
By the time I slipped out of the cabin, the sky was starting to lighten behind the mountains, painting everything in shades of gray and gold. The morning air bit at my skin—crisp enough to keep me alert, but not cold enough to need special gear.
Perfect SAR weather, actually. It was forecast to be the kind of day that drew tourists to this region every summer. Giant blue sky, comic-book clouds, and clean, pine-scented air.
I fucking loved living in the Rocky Mountains, and this was one of the many reasons why.
The trail was almost deserted this time of morning, with the exception of one pair of older hikers, talking softly between sips of coffee from insulated aluminum mugs.
“Morning,” I said, moving past them at a quick clip. As I made my way further down the trail, I thought back to the past several days. During the day, Tommy and I were—mostly—professional. Colleagues. Co-instructors intent on ensuring our groups were cross-trained on all aspects of wilderness emergency response. People who took our jobs and our mission seriously.
At night, however, we were like dogs in heat. As soon as the cabin door closed behind us and we were finally alone, we were grappling to get each other’s clothes off, to get hands on bare skin and lips wherever we could.
There’d been no holding back for Tommy, no moment of awkwardness about hooking up with another man. In fact, heseemed to thrive on the physicality of it—being able to wrestle and command, pin each other, and even relish a little pain. Hair pulled a little too much, throat clasped firmly, wrists restrained in a strong grip.
Maybe he’d begun to see that he might have been missing something with women, something he needed and even craved.
And, if so, I tried my best to give it to him.
But strength wasn’t the only thing Tommy Marian seemed to crave. He also melted under tenderness and kind consideration. I’d noticed his surprise when I’d offered to take care of him after a particularly messy hand job, when I’d washed him up with a warm cloth or kissed tender bruises I’d accidentally left on his wrist.
His eyes would flare wide and turn molten, and his chest would expand with a sucked-in breath. Every damned time.
And every time, I’d remember this was supposed to be casual and that I was blurring my own fucking lines. But it was impossible not to want to take care of him.
The radio squawked, scaring the fuck out of me and almost causing me to lose my footing.
“Base to Blake. Status check.”
I shook my head and refocused on work before thumbing the radio. “Blake to base. ETA ten minutes.”
The trailhead buzzedwith nervous energy as the summer SAR cohort gathered under impossibly sunny skies. The group was a good mix of about thirty park rangers and deputies,EMTs, a couple of adventure guides, and one guy who’d flown in from Switzerland just for this program.
“Alright, listen up,” I called, spreading the terrain map across the hood of my truck. “We’ve got a missing hiker, twenty-six-year-old male, last seen on the Ridgeline Trail around fourteen hundred yesterday. He was supposed to meet friends at the parking area by eighteen hundred but never showed.”
One of the students leaned in closer to study the map. “Any idea about his experience level?”
“Moderate. He’s done this trail before, but weather moved in faster than predicted last night. Possible injury, possible exposure, possible he just got turned around in the fog.”
I watched their faces as they processed the information. Good. No panic, but I could see the wheels turning.
“Weather’s going to be a factor today, too,” I continued, glancing up at the crystal clear sky. “You can’t see it right now, but we’ve got a fictional weather system moving in quickly. Anticipate the unexpected. If visibility drops to shit, we’ll have to pull everyone off the mountain. That’s always a possibility in wilderness search and rescue, which means time is precious. Efficiency matters. The longer it takes to find our target, the more likely medical intervention becomes”
