Survival Instinct: Brian Book One (Van Zant Siblings 1)
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ROXY HARTE
Survival Instinct
Van Zant Siblings
Brian Book One
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SURVIVAL INSTINCT
ROXY HARTE
After discovering his husband was sleeping with his twin brother, museum curator Brian Van Zant's faced with another shocking loss. Both men are killed in a car accident, leaving him no answers, no closure. No chance to say, "I hate you," or "I love you," and not sure which he'd have said if given the chance. Now, months later, Brian still hasn’t put his life back together. Without a plan or a destination, only knowing he can’t face his lonely present until he frees himself from the past and starts over somewhere else, he runs away.
Tobias Red Hawk is a Park Ranger in Montana, where being out of the closet still seems like a dream. After saving the life of blatantly gay and thoroughly attractive Brian, he begins to question his conviction of staying secretly gay. But before he can face his own identity crisis, there is a mystery to be solved at the top of the Bitterroot mountain range and the answers may lie in the myths of his childhood.
When Hawk’s past returns to kill him, both men discover there’s nothing like facing death up close to make a man find his survival instinct.
Author's Note:
54K words
SERIES INFORMATION:
VAN ZANT SIBLINGS – Brian Van Zant Book One
This 2018 Edition has been revised and expanded from previously release
Roxy Harte
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www.roxyharte.com
Survival Instinct
Copyright © 2010, 2018 by Roxy Harte
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY.
First Electronic book publication: 2010
Second Electronic book publication: 2018
First Print Release: 2018
Survival Instinct Copyright © 2018 Roxy Harte
Cover Artist: Roxy Harte
Warning: No part of this book, with the exception of brief quotations for book reviews or critical articles, may be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in whole or in part in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author. Roxy Harte roxyharte@gmail.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Intended for adults only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase, and contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language, which may be offensive to some readers. For sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
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Dedication
R, the man who loves me for both my darkness and my light.
Chapter One
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Tobias Red Hawk flicked his flashlight over the man’s ashen face. Seeing his color, Hawk realized how serious the situation was. “Nobody’s dying on my watch, pretty boy, so just you hang in there.”
He’d asked two of the town’s deputies to ride with him. Todd was only a step behind him as he leaned into the vehicle. With a light smack to both cheeks, Hawk tried to wake the driver, coaxing only a soft sigh from his perfectly shaped cupid lips. God, I should not be noticing how fucking hot he is.
“Come on, dude, wake up.” He smacked him again. This time the man moaned.
Elijah walked around to the other side of the car and pulled the registration packet out of the glove box. “Hey Toby, vehicle’s registered to a Brian Van Zant.”
Hawk shifted the man and tried to lift him from the Jeep, but it was an awkward lift. It finally dawned on him the man was tightly clutching a canvas bag stuffed beneath his sweatshirt. Not nearly as heavy as he’d first thought. Hawk tried to pull the bag away.
The man opened his eyes, the coolest, clearest spring green he’d ever see. Hawk’s breath caught. Forget pretty boy; the man was the most handsome man he’d ever seen. Wild panic filled the man’s eyes as he clutched the cumbersome bag closer.
“Brian? Is that your name? We’re here to help you. You’ve been in an accident. Where do you hurt?”
“N-not i-injured. C-cold.”
“I need to get you inside the warm vehicle. Do you understand?” Hawk tried again to pull the bag out of his way to make picking him up easier. To Todd he asked, “Can you grab the cervical collar?”
“I-I’m not injured. Just cold.” Brian stuttered, but he managed to hold the bag tighter as he frantically insisted, “C-can’t leave behind. T-they’ll f-f-freeze. B-be ruined.”
Hawk sensed his frustration and tried to comfort him. “It’s okay. Whatever it is isn’t nearly as important as you.”
“P-p-paint!”
Hawk thought maybe he’d misheard. The man mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut once more. Someone not trained to spot the symptoms at a glance might have misunderstood his mumbled words as drunkenness. Hawk knew better. Hypothermia. “Give me the bag. I’ll see that it comes with you. But we gotta get you warm—now.”
Todd returned with the cervical collar and a backboard just as the patient lost consciousness. Hawk knew he was out of time and hoisted him into a fireman’s carry. He hurried through the knee-high snow to the Rover, ignoring Todd’s grumbles. “Gee, man, thanks for getting the collar and board from the Rover.”
“Todd. Just shut up and drive.”
As Todd and Elijah climbed into the front, Hawk dropped his patient into the backseat and settled in next to him. He was glad he’d asked the deputies to ride with him. He’d need help getting off the mountain.
Hawk took in the young man’s attire: T-shirt and shorts. Fool. Hawk blinked, feeling the air leave his lungs as he took in the full length of the man’s muscular legs. Damn. I really need a date. “Get us off this mountain, Todd.”
Hawk pressed his fingers against his patient’s throat, checking his pulse. He worked on autopilot, pulling the forced air warming unit and hot packs from his backpack, then moved immediately to check the man’s vitals. He stayed detached as he determined that Brian’s core temperature was only ninety-two point nine degrees Fahrenheit, his carotid pulse forty but strong and regular, his pupils constricted but equal and reactive to light. He sighed, noting the man’s respiration at eight and shallow. This one was out of time. He wished he had a medevac closer, but as fast as the storm was moving, he would have been hard-pressed to get one to fly out. Without wasting any more time in thought, he applied the heat packs and started administering the warm, moist lifesaving air from the forced air warming unit.
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“I woke up this morning with the feeling something exciting was going to happen today.”
“Ah, Joan, that’s just your arthritis.”
“No, Cole, Joan’s got it right. Road’s closed on account of some fool tourist flipping his truck on the mountain.”
“Is he dead, Paul? I heard he’s dead.”
“Don’t know, Leroy. Could be.”
The gossiping crowd was gathered inside Sarah’s Diner when the alarm on her weath
er radio sounded. By the time everyone quieted down enough to hear the announcement, Sheriff Malcolm Dodd had already appeared in the doorway. “Time to head home, folks. The streets are officially closing in thirty minutes. We’ve got us a major blizzard heading our way.” Tipping his hat back, he set his sights on Sarah. “And don’t you even think about clearing a single plate. I’m here to see you home.”
“Now, Sheriff, don’t you go bossin’ me. I’ve seen my share of bad weather, and whether I’m stuck at home or stuck here makes nary a difference to me. Besides, I got Toby tucking that poor tourist in the bed upstairs.” Sarah fussed, clearing dishes as she passed empty tables. The room had emptied in a matter of minutes, and a pile of bills lay neatly stacked next to the cash register, everyone having paid on the honor system as they’d fled for the warm safety of their own homes. A blizzard warning on the mountain was always taken seriously when minutes and simple precautions could make the difference between life and death.
Sarah didn’t give the money a second thought, knowing every penny owed would be accounted for. There were still some advantages left to small-town living. It was the meddlesome sheriff who was going to give her fits.
“Elijah said he looked bad,” Sheriff Dodd stated, stepping into her path, then taking the plates out of her hands. “You see him?”
“To be honest, I didn’t get that close of a look, but his lips were gray, and I’ve been around long enough to know that’s not good,” Sarah muttered, trying her best to pass her plump figure between the sheriff and the counter.
“Damn shame that. Elijah said he was young.”
Sarah shrugged. “All I know is he wasn’t wearing a wedding band.”
“Not married?”
Suddenly, Sarah caught the twinkle in Sheriff Malcolm Dodd’s eye. “Do not go running your mouth. I don’t need every single woman from three counties breaking down my door for a look at the new guy.”
“It would be good for business.”
“Having Tobias hold down my counter is good for business too.”
Dodd snorted. “Think how much pie you could sell once the women get a sniff of fresh meat—willing and able—if you get my drift.”
Sarah slapped her hand over his mouth. “I told you my suspicions in confidence.”
“I’m not going to ever say a word about that to anyone. It’s just with this blizzard moving in it’ll be days before that Jeep comes off that mountain, maybe weeks. And then there will be parts to be ordered—that is, if it can even be salvaged. No, Sarah, it isn’t likely that young man is going anywhere anytime soon. Maybe just enough time in close proximity with a stranger for Toby to fess up to his true nature.”
Sarah looked at the ceiling, remembering the grimace of fear etched into Toby’s features as he’d carried the young man up the stairs. She lowered her voice to a whisper even though they were alone. “You’re forgetting something, Sheriff. It takes two. What if he isn’t gay?”
The sheriff grinned, making Sarah look harder at his face. “What do you know?”
He chuckled. “Todd said the bumper of that boy’s Jeep was so plastered with gay-rights stickers, you’d be hard-pressed to find the metal underneath.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s gay. Lots of straight people support gay rights.”
The old man shrugged. “Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t. Time will tell either way.”
She stuttered. “I-I’m not even certain Tobias is or isn’t. Ohh. I shouldn’t have ever said anything. It’s Tobias tale to tell, when and if he is ready.”
The sheriff pulled her to his chest. “You worry too much, old woman. Why don’t I see you home safe?”
Sarah pushed him away, flustered and worried she’d betrayed Tobias’s trust. Not all her neighbors were as open-minded as Malcolm, and she certainly didn’t want to cause the stranger trouble he hadn’t come looking for. “I think I should stay here. That man was still unconscious. What if Toby needs some help?”
“Seems to me a mountain man like Tobias Red Hawk would know plenty about curing hypothermia, Sarah, and the fact that they are alone would just make it easier for him to take care of that stranger properly.”
“Sheriff!”
“Now, there you go, Sarah. You and that overactive imagination of yours. I swear for an old woman, you do have a filthy mind.” Sheriff Dodd swatted her bottom. “That’s one of the many reasons I love you. Now get your coat on, little girl, I’m taking you home.”
Blushing, Sarah grabbed her coat off a hook and bustled toward the door. She might be nearer to sixty-five than twenty-five, but damn when that man called her little girl, her pussy still managed to get wet. She demanded saucily, “You going to get me home before that blizzard hits, Sheriff? Or are you going to keep yakking until we’re all trapped in this diner?”
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Hawk checked the vital signs of the unconscious man on the bed. He’d seen his share of hypothermic tourists and mountain-climbing weekenders; but never one so underclad and unprepared for the weather. Truth was September was more winter than autumn in these parts. One of the worst winters in Montana had dumped thirty inches of snow, followed by blowing and drifting with record low temperatures. After hearing the forecast, he’d been worried because the set-up of conditions over the next few days mirrored that storm. This man clearly had no idea what he was driving into and it was only luck that his accident was discovered before the road closures.
He tried to stay detached as he cut off the man’s T-shirt and shorts, but as the fabric rent, revealing perfect six-pack abs and amazing glutes, he sucked in a deep breath. The man wasn’t overly muscled, merely perfectly made.
“So, you bike? Swim?” He didn’t expect the unconscious man to answer. It made him feel better to have a conversation while he worked, even if it was one-sided.
He snickered, seeing the back piece of a black silk thong. Not because the man was wearing a thong, but because in the top center a small, hot pink bow decorated the fabric. “I’m guessing not one hundred percent straight.”
He attached the face mask of a forced air warming unit and applied heat packs at all the main artery points. Then all Hawk could do was wait. “Brian Van Zant, you will not be the storms first casualty. Not on my watch.”
He pulled up a small chair and sat. The world around him became silent and still as time became measured in five-minute increments, every core-temperature reading a step closer to life or death. Ten minutes into the treatment, the man’s back arched with convulsions, each lasting thirty to forty seconds. Hawk counted each second, praying that the next core-temperature reading would put him out of the danger range.
Ten minutes passed, and his veins were still too cold to accept the IV fluid. Hawk popped a fresh instant-heat pack and placed it directly over his forearm. He layered on more blankets and played the waiting game. After five minutes he pulled the pack from the man’s arm and found a willing vein.
After another twenty minutes, Brian’s core temperature finally evened out at ninety-five, but Hawk knew better than to breathe a sigh of relief yet. It was still early in the game; core temperature after-drop was still a life-threatening concern.
And he still hadn’t come around.
Shadow whined and paced in front of the bedroom door.
“Lay!” Hawk knew without looking the dog had obeyed immediately. A side advantage was that his sternly voiced command had also awakened the patient. He struggled to be free of the blankets, and a trembling hand reached to pull away the face mask. He mumbled, “Hurts.”
“Easy, now.” Hawk knew the man would awaken in pain. His whole body would feel like it was on fire and there wasn’t a damn thing Hawk could do about that except reassure him.
Brian’s eyes grew wider, not recognizing his surroundings. “Where the fuck am I?”
Hawk tensed, not wanting to restrain the man. He knew he outweighed him and was confident in his abilities to hold him down, but it always helped to have a cooperative patient. Hawk tried to put himself
in the man’s shoes, seeing himself through his eyes. He looked rough. He’d been on the trail for almost a week. Ponytail. Unshaved. Faded flannel shirt, buckskin pants, and lace-up hiking boots. Brian probably thought he’d been kidnapped by a backwoods lunatic.
“Shh.” Hawk comforted the man, patting his shoulder as he pushed him back into the pillows. “I’m a park ranger, and right now I’m trying to get you warm. When you were rescued, you were half frozen.”
“I remember. I hit a tree. So goddamn cold. Tried to walk out but didn’t get far. I went back to the Jeep and just couldn’t get warm.”
“I need you to relax and tell me when you start to feel a tingling sensation in your hands and feet.”
The man fell back against his pillow, and Hawk guessed he was too exhausted and dizzy to do much else. “Tingle. Now.”
“All right for now?” Hawk asked softly, knowing he had to be in pain. Brian’s teeth chattered in response, and Hawk smiled for the first time in two hours. “Chattering is a good start; shivering would be better. You have hypothermia,” Hawk explained. “Getting you warmed back up to ninety-eight point six is gonna be an all-night process.”
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Brian woke up, remembering snow. A whiteout. Something had darted across the road. Something big. He realized two things at once: his head was pounding, and a mask was covering his nose and mouth. He knew he wasn’t in a hospital. The room felt homey, except for the mounted moose head over the fireplace, and that was just strange. Stranger were the oil lamps lit around the room. He was in someone’s bedroom and he wasn’t alone. A man kept taking his pulse while muttering to himself.
Brian tried in vain to get the man’s attention, but either the man wasn’t listening or he wasn’t paying attention to him as he took his vitals. The room swam before him and then went dark.
He whipped the steering wheel, trying not to hit the brown blur that had bolted in front of his Jeep. On the snow- and ice-covered road, the Jeep went into an immediate, uncontrollable slide, spinning in a full circle before making sudden, abrupt impact with a tree.