“They are not local, I’m sure. Maybe they were hired. Any idea who’d want to hurt you?”
“No,” she said. “I’m a CEO of a Fortune 500 company. We have been experiencing… problems. I have investors who have lost money on my company’s stock recently. I guess it’s possible…”
“A lot of money?” he asked.
“Some, yes.”
“That could be it—seems most likely. That will be for the authorities to work out. The police will be looking for the semi-truck and the men in it, but in this storm, I don’t think there is a lot of looking going on at the moment. I gave them a description of the truck and of the men as best I saw them. I wounded two of them. They’re going to need medical attention from somewhere. With any luck they will show up at a medical facility for treatment, and that’s how the police will bag them. Hang in there. When this weather lets up the chopper will arrive and take you to Missoula. The police will meet you there. They will want to question you.”
“Missoula? Isn’t that over 100 miles away?”
“About 140 miles,” he corrected. “It has a much more fully equipped hospital than you’ll find in Whitefish. It’s what Randall Vanderbilt requested. He’ll be flying in from LAX to meet you there. He will be delayed—storm has the airport closed.”
“Uncle Randall?” Vandy asked in disbelief. “What does he have to do with this?”
When he first spoke to her, she was just waking up. She remembered he said he was asked to watch over her, but she was confused and disoriented at the time.
“You said you were asked to watch me… by…” she said. “Did my uncle…?”
“You mean don’t know?” he replied.
“No, I don’t. Do you know my uncle, Randall Vanderbilt?”
“Not directly,” he replied. “Your uncle was a Navy SEAL I take it?”
“That’s right,” she said. “How did you know that? What does that have to do with anything?”
“It turns out that Randall Vanderbilt served in the Navy with a man I know named Hank Patterson. Do you know that name?”
Vandy shook her head no.
He scrunched his face in a confused look, “Did no one tell you any of this before now?”
“No,” she said.
“I am a little surprised to be asked to watch over someone without them knowing I was doing it,” Sam said. “It actually explains a lot about your reaction to me. I’m sorry you weren’t told.”
“Just tell me what you know,” she said.
“Hank Patterson and Randall Vanderbilt served on the same SEAL team in the Navy,” Sam said. “When Hank left military service, he formed an organization known as the Brotherhood Protectors here in Montana. The association is comprised of a group of ex-military types who he calls on to help people who need protection or assistance.”
Vandy felt a wave of exasperation, “What does any of this have to do with me?” she asked.
“Your Uncle Randall was worried about you being here all alone. He called Hank and asked him to have the Brotherhood Protectors check up on you.”
“And that’s you?” Vandy asked. “You’re in the Brotherhood Protectors?”
Sam nodded, “I’m a card-carrying member, and the only one of us within 150 miles of here.”
“I thought you were an EMT?” she said.
“I became an EMT after I left the service,” he said. “The Brotherhood Protectors is a second gig, and I’m only called when needed.”
“So, you were in the service yourself? Really?” she asked. “A Navy SEAL who became an EMT?”
“Ranger,” he said.
“What?”
“I was a Ranger, not a SEAL. Your uncle and Hank Patterson were SEALS. That’s Navy. I was an Army Ranger.”
She looked at him suspiciously, trying to decide if he had lied. He smiled in acknowledgement. He understood why someone who had been what she’d been through might have trust issues.
“You’ve obviously seen my medical skills,” he said, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He retrieved laminated credentials from it and handed them to Vandy. “This is my EMT license—it’s up to date.”
She looked at the credentials.
“Let me show you something else,” he continued. “I apologize in advance for all the burn scars.”
He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it down over his left arm. She noticed dark scarring from the burns extending down his neck, over his left shoulder and down the left side of his chest and stomach.
He pointed to a tattoo on his arm, just below the burns. It was a military tattoo, “Army Rangers,” he said. “3d Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment.”
She gave the tattoo a long look but then allowed her eyes to roam over the rest of his body. The burns had scarred an otherwise magnificent physique. She imagined that he was flat out gorgeous before whatever had caused this. Women must have flocked over him in droves at one time. She had never seen such a perfectly toned and muscled body. She felt herself staring too long and averted her eyes.
“I’d been keeping an eye on you from a distance since you got here,” he said, pulling his shirt back on.
“So, when I kept seeing your orange truck …” she began.
“That was me keeping an eye on you,” Sam said. “Maintaining stealth mode in the wide-open spaces of Montana is not the easiest task. My instructions were to keep you in my line of sight but not too close. I thought it was a little odd they didn’t want me to meet you, but I figured you being a big Hollywood celebrity, you just didn’t want to mingle with the unwashed masses, so I did what I was told and kept my distance.”
“Keep your distance? You know you damn near slammed into me the first time I saw you. Your idea of blending into the woodwork damn near caused me to piss myself.”
“Sorry,” he said, tongue-in-cheek. “Frankly, if I had not been trying to stay out of sight, I would have been closer when that whole deal went down. I might have been able to help you before things got so far out of hand.”
“Well, I’m glad you do the rest of your job better than the staying out of sight part.”
He shrugged. A small smile appeared on his face, “The town is small. It’s hard to stay out of sight.”
“Especially in a bright orange truck,” she added.
“Touché,” Sam responded. “In my defense, I don’t get a lot of Brotherhood Protector work up here.”
“How many times have you actually done this? The Brotherhood work I mean.”
“Counting this time?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He looked up bobbing his head to the left and right, as if in reflection, “That would be… one… counting you.”
“It’s a wonder I’m not dead. Dammit, I should have listened to Pam.”
Sam sighed and shook his head, “I’m beginning to feel really underappreciated here.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said, her face reddening. “I know damn well I’d be dead if it weren’t for you. It’s just that my chief of staff tried to get me to bring two body guards along and I refused. You were obviously a quick plan B from my uncle.”
She realized what she had said and closed her eyes, shaking her head, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”
“You seem to say a lot of things you don’t mean.”
“I know,” she said, embarrassed. “You’ve caught me at a really bad time. I mean with everything going on in my personal life and having it all out there for all the world to see and hear, it’s overwhelming. But to your point, I am famous world-wide for opening my big mouth and saying things I later regret. YouTube has a number of compilations to prove my point. Some of them are quite funny if you ever want a laugh at my expense.”
“Never seen a YouTube. Are you some kind of celebrity?” he asked.
“Are you serious?” she asked. “You don’t recognize me?”
He shook his head, no.
“Elaine Vanderbilt? Vandy?”
He pursed his lips and shook his
head again, no. “Your uncle told me you were a hoity-toity celebrity CEO but I’m not really in tune with much of that stuff.”
“I can’t believe you don’t know all about me,” she scoffed. “In the last two weeks, I’ve been on every website and cable news program in the nation.”
“No internet, no television,” he said, shrugging. “Tell me. Who are you?”
“I am the founder and CEO of PACNY,” she said. “My husband is Cameron Boyd—the movie star.”
“What’s all those letters stand for?” he asked.
“Park Avenue Clothiers of New York,” she said.
“I thought you lived in Hollywood.”
“I do. I’m from New York originally. That’s where I started the company. I moved when I got married. My husband is an actor.”
He shrugged, “Sorry. I never heard of PAC-whatever, and I haven’t been to the movies since 2007. Hank did tell me you were a Hollywood celebrity and famous in business, but that’s about it. No offense, but I’ve never been all that impressed with celebrities. We call put our breeches on one leg at a time, right?”
Vandy formed a confused look on her face, wondering if this guy was for real.
“Whatever,” she said. “Maybe it’s best. At least one person in the world doesn’t know all the skeletons in my closet.”
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems,” he said. “After all, it’s all just talk, right?”
“I wished. So, what is you handle?”
“My what?”
“Don’t all you special ops guys have a handle? You know, like Goose or Maverick, Iceman or Viper?”
He chuckled, “I did see ‘Top Gun’,” he said. “I never had a handle, though.”
“How about ‘Cowboy?’ Seems to suit you.”
“’Cowboy’ it is, then.”
“Say, I’m hungry,” she said. “Is that soup done yet, cowboy?”
“I’m sure it is,” he replied.
“I have to pee first,” she added.
“That’s the fluids working,” he said. “You’ll need help getting to the bathroom.”
“I can make it,” she said. “I think you’ve seen enough tits and ass for one day.”
“Suit yourself. Be careful.”
“Ow… Fuck!” she cried out as she tried to move.
“I doubt you’ll be able to put pressure on that leg,” he said. “It’s going to be plenty sore. I can help you and maintain your modesty. We can keep the blanket wrapped around you.”
“You’re probably right. I sure wish I had my shopping bag from the Jeep.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“The green plastic bag from the Mercantile?” Sam asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“You’re in luck. I brought it along. It was lying near you when I found you. It’s in my truck. I didn’t look inside it.”
“Great,” she said. “Can you get it for me? I bought some thermal underwear in town before I was attacked.”
“Let me get them. You can slip them on under the covers. Here, I’ll get that IV out.”
Sam removed the IV, placing a bandage on her arm. He pulled on his coat and slipped out of the cabin. He came back and handed her the bag.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the bag.
“I’ll get our soup and tea ready while you change,” he said. “I promise I won’t look.”
“Ow!” she yelped trying to get her top on. “Son-of-a-bitch! That hurts.”
“Do you need help?” Sam asked.
She sighed heavily, “You just stay over there, cowboy. I’ll manage.”
He shrugged and went about his business in the kitchen, keeping his back to her.
It was painful getting her long johns on but she managed. Getting the pants on was even more difficult than the top because of the cut on her leg. She checked to see if Sam was looking. True to his word, he wasn’t. What a boy scout, she thought. She fully expected him to take a little peek.
Once she was dressed, she called him and he helped her stand. He was right, she thought. She could not yet put pressure on the leg. She heard him chuckle lowly.
“What are you laughing at?” she spouted, somewhat annoyed. “You find my pain to be funny?”
“No. It’s not that. It’s the long johns,” he said. “No offense. I mean, I don’t know you, but somehow I suspect that this is not your normal look.”
She glared at him, unamused.
“It’s cold out there. Long johns are practical and meant to go under my regular clothes. I just don’t have any regular clothes at the moment.”
“I know all this,” he said.
“Just help me to the bathroom, and save the commentary if you don’t mind,” she snipped.
“I heard that loud and clear. Put your arm around my neck,” he said.
Vandy slipped her right arm around his neck. It was a long reach upward on his tall frame but she instantly noticed his muscle definition once again. He slipped his left arm around her waist and held her up.
Sam Steele, she noted, was immensely strong, yet he handled her ever-so-gently. She felt herself responding to his touch. She blushed slightly, hoping he wouldn’t notice. The men she was used to being around were like her employees, the models, or her husband. They were pretty boys, shorter, slender, with little muscle definition. She could probably take most of them down herself in arm wrestling. Growing up her idea of a man was her father, tall, rugged and muscular. Sam was much more like that than met she knew today. He had this rough and tough exterior and the gentle and quiet demeanor made for a striking contrast. She had not been around men like him and found herself almost… attracted. Dammit, did she just think that?
The recent lack of sex in her life was messing with her mind, she thought.
Sam put his left hand on her waist and used it to steady her. His hand was large and strong. She thought about her husband’s hands, so soft and smooth. Cameron’s hands had never been exposed to a single day of manual labor in his life. She had no doubt Sam could lift her husband off the ground by the neck with one hand and choke him until he passed out. A small smile appeared on her face at the thought.
They continued to move slowly and deliberately toward the bathroom.
From her position now on his left side, she got a closer look at the burns on his face. She tried not to stare but felt drawn to look. She saw the scarring on his cheek and neck. His eye, eyebrow, mouth and ear were not burned. She wondered if a good plastic surgeon could restore much of his original appearance with skin grafting.
“Will you be okay?” he asked, when they got to the restroom.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, almost saddened that he had taken his hand off her waist. She closed the door when he left.
The bathroom had a small clear-windowed shower stall, sink and toilet.
In the bathroom, Vandy peed, wiped and flushed, then pulled her shirt off to look at herself in the full-length mirror mounted to the back of the bathroom door. The very first thing she had noticed was that Sam had been truthful yet again. The blood on her body had been washed away from only the areas surrounding the cuts. There were bloodstains on other parts of her skin. There was a shower stall in the bathroom. Perhaps she could take a shower later.
She first inspected the cut high on her forehead. It was purple but was above her hairline. It was not long and did not look deep. She was not too concerned about it.
She peeled away the bandages that Sam had skillfully used to dress her wounds. Most of the cuts on her shoulders and neck would not require a plastic surgeon, she didn’t think. The laceration she was most concerned with beyond the leg was the cut on the top of her left breast.
She choked up when she saw the cut, about four inches in length on top of her breast, ending about an inch away from her nipple. Elaine Vanderbilt had essentially built her modeling career on her beauty; her face; her eyes; her hair; her firm butt, full natural breasts and shapely legs. Now one of her breasts and legs bore ugly scars
. She hadn’t modeled in years but remained in the public eye. Swim suits, short dresses and low-cut gowns would no longer be her friends as they’d been in the past.
She worked very hard to maintain her figure. She replaced the bandages and tried to compose herself, not wanting Sam to see she had been upset over the relatively minor flaws in her personal appearance. The irony of what she was facing in the area of physical appearance versus the challenges he had been through did not escape her.
She washed her hands and face, feeling a little unsteady. She toweled off and put her thermal top back on. She opened the door and felt a wave of dizziness. She called for Sam.
“Cowboy? Sam?” she called out. “Help a gal out?”
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You look a little dazed.”
“I’m a little weak,” she admitted. She stumbled forward. He slipped his hands under her arms to steady her. She responded by wrapping both arms around his wide shoulders to steady herself. She felt the strength of both his arms as she slid into him. The length of her body brushed against his. She looked into his eyes momentarily, once again responding to his touch involuntarily. She quickly looked away. Her knees weakened and she began to fall. He embraced her to hold her up. She had never been embraced by a man so strong and so comforting at the same time. It felt good to be held again. It had been a while since she and Cameron…
“Can you make it?” he asked.
“I think I need to get back in the bed for now,” she said.
“I’ll just carry you,” he said, wondering if she would let loose with a profane protest at the suggestion.
She nodded silently, however.
He picked her up effortlessly and carried her to the bed. She was slightly embarrassed that she actually felt comfort being held by this powerful stranger. He held her so gently, as though he were handling a precious, delicate flower. He laid her in the bed.
Once she was back in the bed her head almost immediately began to clear.
“Thank you,” she said. “I think I just need to eat something. How much longer before the helicopter gets here?”
He looked at his watch, “About 40 minutes after the weather lets up. The storm is the unknown here. You are their top priority. We’ll have to get you into the truck and meet them at the clearing. It’s is only about five minutes from here. That’s where the helicopter will land. The truck should make it fine. Will you be okay until then?”
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