by K C West
The medical team carried PJ across the road with Frederick, Pup, and me following close behind.
“One of the policemen was shot,” I said. “Is he all right?”
“He’s was just winged. He’ll be fine.”
“I’m glad to hear that, and I know PJ will be glad, too.” They loaded her into the waiting helicopter.
Frederick called out to her, saying he loved her.
I doubt she heard him above all the talking and the idling of the rotor blades. I wasn’t sure if she was conscious.
Frederick dipped his head and spoke into my ear. “I’ve made arrangements for you to fly with her.”
“What about you?”
“Only one of us can go, and she’ll need you to be there more than her crabby old man.”
Again, I was close to tears. “Thank you.”
He hugged me. “Besides, I have plenty to do here. You just tell that little girl of mine that I’ll see her later, when I’m sure her kidnappers are locked up tight.”
I left Pup with him and climbed into the helicopter.
When I reached for PJ’s hand, it was warmer than it had been. She didn’t open her eyes, but managed to squeeze my fingers. She knew I was there, and that was comforting for both of us. I sat quietly beside the medic as he dressed her wound, administered oxygen, checked the IV, and kept tabs on her vitals. The rotor revved, and the helicopter tugged against gravity. With a roar, it finally lifted into the air. Looking down at the cottage, I could see that a small crowd had gathered. This was likely the most excitement the villagers had experienced in many years.
We banked into a turn, and my eyes darted toward PJ. The mixture of wet soil and vegetation on her body and clothes produced a pungent, disgusting odor inside the aircraft. Every inch of her clothing was mud-caked, torn, and bloody. Beneath the oxygen mask, her face was pale, bruised, and etched in grime. Her beautiful blonde hair was now black and matted with goo, but to me, she was the most perfect creature on earth and more beautiful than ever.
Chapter 22
I was running along a path, pursued by hounds that raced ahead of a stranger who was dressed all in black and riding a pure white stallion. The hounds surrounded me, yelping and jumping up on my flowing gown. I was irritated because the fabric was thin and delicate, and the animals left muddy paw prints all over me.
The horseman caught up to us and dismounted with a flourish. His armor gleamed in the sunlight, and his long sword clanked against his powerful thigh as he approached me. When he flipped up his visor, I could see merriment in his eyes.
“Well now,” he said. “What brings a beautiful maiden out here in the wilds, so far away from hearth and home?”
I tried to speak, but no words came out of my mouth. It was important that I let him know that I wasn’t afraid of him or his rowdy hounds. The more I tried to talk, the more the animals barked and snarled. One darted behind my legs and tripped me. Astonished at the pain, I cried out and fell to the ground, rolling all the way into a sacred well. I was finally able to speak, and my futile, belated shouts echoed against the surrounding stone walls.
There was someone else in the well. A man, dressed in a tunic of animal skins and wearing a braided gold torque around his neck, splashed about, treading water. His hair was long and flowing, his beard and mustache thick and brown. A short-handled axe was still clutched in his hand, and the tip of a sword handle was visible at his hip. I wondered why he didn’t drop the weapons; it would make him more buoyant in the water.
I started to explain that to him, but he brandished the axe and shouted something at me. The language was ancient, though I interpreted what he had said into modern Welsh. “Cymru am Byth!” Wales Forever! Before I could respond, he spoke again in that ancient tongue, and again I understood his warning. “Fair maiden, you must leave. Swim to your knight and escape. The druids need a pure soul to sacrifice, and if you tarry, I fear for your life.”
I did my best to assure him that I wasn’t anyone’s fair maiden or any druid’s sacrifice, and I definitely wasn’t a pure soul. He muttered something else and dropped from sight.
I bobbed around in water up to my shoulders, searching the moss-covered walls for some sort of vine to climb up or some uneven stones that my fingers could grasp. There was nothing obvious.
With a mighty roar, the Celtic warrior surfaced again. Before my astonished eyes, he changed into a wolf. Shit. I’d never believed in this shape-shifting business, but I’d just seen it happen. One second he was a solid Celtic chieftain, the next he was a powerful, dark wolf.
I struggled to swim away from the wolf, but he opened his jaws and sank his yellowed teeth into my shoulder. My body stiffened in pain, and my arms stopped thrashing. The wolf and I slid under the water. I opened my mouth to scream, but only bubbles and gurgling sounds came out.
I made one last effort to rid myself of the wolf, the pain, and the cold, dark water. The well had turned into a bog, so I forced my head to the surface and gasped for air. Muffled voices reached me, but I couldn’t understand the words. I sensed that the voices were directed at me, though. One voice sounded particularly familiar.
I knew that voice. A woman. One who meant a great deal to me. Kim! It was Kim, and she was upset.
I wanted to tell her not to worry. I was here. Well, I was somewhere. I had to open my eyes and talk to her.
I concentrated on that not so simple task, and found that I lay in a bright yellow room, covered by starched white sheets, naked except for one of those skimpy cotton gowns. IV tubes secured with adhesive tape poked out of various orifices, hooking me up to a monitor and some kind of fluid drip. I was tucked into a huge, adjustable bed, with my left arm in a sling and my left shoulder swathed in bandages. Kim sat in a chair to my right, but her upper body was propped against the edge of my bed and her chin rested on my leg. Her eyes were closed, but her lips were moving.
Jesus, she looked exhausted. Poor thing. I couldn’t tell whether she was awake or talking in her sleep. She hadn’t done that since the Amazons visited her in Arizona, or she them. I never knew for sure how that happened.
“Please,” she murmured, giving the sheet over my thigh a squeeze.
“Ow!”
Her head flew up and her eyes widened. “PJ! Oh, God. PJ.>> Tears dribbled down her cheeks, startling me. Kim didn’t cry - at least, not often.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice low. “It’s okay. Really, it’s okay.”
She wiped her eyes and gave me the most radiant smile. “You’re awake. Finally.”
“Come here.” There was a tube attached to my right arm, but I managed to tug at her shirt, pulling her closer to my face.
She realized what I wanted, but hesitated. “Your lip’s all puffy. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Kiss me. Now.”
She grinned and leaned over me. “Geez, you’re so demanding.”
We shared a long, pleasurable kiss that left us both breathless.
I patted her wet cheek. “I sure missed that. And you, of course.” I smiled through my own tears. “For a while there, I thought I’d never see you again.”
She took a long, shaky breath. “You and me both, kiddo.”
“Snuggle up here beside me,” I said, and she lost no time in complying.
“So where am I?” I asked, when we were ensconced in each other’s arms as much as tubes and bandages allowed.
“In the hospital.”
“I Figured that much. Where exactly is this hospital?”
“Aberystwyth, I think. I’m a bit fuzzy on places right now because it was dark and I came in with you on the helicopter. I do know that it’s been a long day and night.”
“Yeah, you look wasted.”
“Ha! That’s a good one. You should see yourself.”
“Do I look that bad?”
Her lower lip trembled, and she shook her head. “You look fantastic.”
“Yeah, right. I bet you say that to all the kidnap victims.”
> A nurse came in carrying my chart and a white plastic bag on which my name had been printed with a large black marker.
Kim slid over to the edge of the bed. The nurse eyed my partner, but spoke to me. “How’s our patient doing?”
“Our patient’s doing well enough, I think,” I said.
She placed the bag at the foot of my bed and checked the numbers on the monitor. She fiddled with some of the tubes and wires before making notations on the chart. After a few seconds, she smiled. “Yes, a nice steady pulse. That’s what we like.” She slid the metal end of her stethoscope under my gown and pressed it against my chest, listening.
“Good. Very good.”
I glanced at Kim, who was nodding her head.
“Are you able to sit up, Dr. Curtis? I’d like to check your back.”
Kim helped me sit forward so the nurse could do more listening. She had me take several deep breaths and cough a few times. My ribs felt sore, but other than that, I had no discomfort except for the ache in my shoulder.
When I was able to lie back down, the nurse made more notations on my chart. “It’s amazing,” she said, smiling. “Your lungs are first rate. No fluid at all. If I hadn’t been told that you’d been plucked from a briny bog, I’d never have believed it.”
“Oh, it happened all right,” Kim assured her. “I helped fish her out, and she was one slimy creature.”
I gave her a look. “Thanks for your insightful comment, Dr. Blair.”
“No problem,” Kim murmured.
The nurse folded my chart and slid it under her arm. “Which reminds me…” She picked up the bag. “You were wearing these when you were brought in here. We dried them out as best we could.”
“Oh, burn them or toss them out,” I said. “I never want to see any of that stuff again.”
Kim stood up and took the bundle. “I’ll take care of it, thanks.”
“Your father and the police are waiting to talk with you, Dr. Curtis, but I’ll give you both a bit more time alone before allowing them in.”
“Thank you,” I said. “You’re very kind.”
She moved to the door. “I’m Gwen. Just ring if you need anything, luv.”
Kim sat down on the bed and was poking around in the bag. She pulled out my filthy shirt, pants, and underwear.
“You don’t need to look at that stuff. It’s gross.”
“What’s this?” Something crackled at the bottom of the bag. Kim pulled out a stained and wrinkled piece of paper - the note I had written her.
“Oh, that. It’s nothing, really.” I felt my cheeks flame with embarrassment. “Let them get rid of all that.”
She smoothed the paper out on her lap and examined it as if it were an ancient parchment. “It’s a note of some kind. In your handwriting, if I’m not mistaken.”
“It’s just something I wrote while I was there at the cottage. I didn’t mean for - ”
“Shh.” She continued to read. I watched in fascination as her eyes slowly filled with tears, and they spilled down her cheeks. Her mouth quivered, her eyes scrunched up. When she had finished reading, she bent her head and covered her face with her hands.
“Honey?” I tried to sit up.
Sobbing, she turned to me and tucked her head into my good shoulder. “Oh, PJ. Oh, my - ”
“Hey, I didn’t think my writing was that bad.”
“It’s beautiful. I’m… It’s just that… Oh, God. Where’s a tissue?” She located one on the bedside table and blew her nose. “Sorry, it all came down on me at once there. Reading that note and realizing what could have happened to you. To us.” She rested her head against my chest. I held her with my good arm.
“It’s okay. Really.” I stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “We’re here, we’re together, and we’re fine.”
My big, tough Amazon warrior. I fell in love with her all over again.
Dad tapped on the door and entered. Kim wiped her eyes and sat back beside me on the bed. He hugged me gently, placing a kiss on my forehead before doing the same to Kim. “Some night, huh?” He smiled, and all the worry lines on his face relaxed.
“Some week,” Kim said, her voice husky.
I cleared my throat. “I just want to say how sorry I am for all the trouble I caused.”
Trevor and Geoff tiptoed through the door.
“Hey there, PJ. Glad you’re in one piece.” Trevor looked around the room. “Coo, look at the size of the telly.”
“Good to see you awake,” Geoff said to me before admiring the television propped high above our heads in one corner. “Say, do you suppose the test match is on now?” he whispered to his fellow cricket fan.
Kim sighed. “If it isn’t cricket, it’s darts in the local pub. The remote’s over there on the table.”
“Hey, that’s right.” I looked at her and then at the guys. “We haven’t collected on our bet yet. You two owe us each a pint of really expensive ale.”
They laughed and took seats on either side of my bed, while Dad perched on the mattress by my feet. Kim remained sitting at my right side, holding my free hand.
“When the doctor says okay, we’ll make good on our bet,” Geoff assured me. They took turns filling me in on their part of the investigation and rescue, ending with the fact that the police would be in to get my statement, and that the kidnappers were now in custody. I was happy to hear about that.
I told them in general terms what I remembered about my captivity and ended by apologizing again for causing them so much grief.
“And my biggest regret,” I continued, with a catch in my throat, “was being responsible for Pup’s death.”
“But you weren’t.” Kim squeezed my hand.
“No. If I hadn’t gotten kidnapped, those bastards wouldn’t have killed him.”
Kim reached for her purse.
Dad smiled at me. “You didn’t cause Pup’s death, because he isn’t dead.”
“They gave me a photo. He was lying in the garden and - ”
“Arwel? It’s Kim.” My partner had taken out her cell phone and apparently dialed the inn. “Can you do me a favor and bring Pup to the phone?”
Arwel must have laughed or questioned Kim’s request.
“I know, but PJ doesn’t believe he’s alive.”
A moment or two elapsed before Kim thanked her and put the phone in my hand. “Talk to him yourself, if you don’t believe me.”
There was a snuffling and whimpering on the line, and I started to grin. “Pup? Sweetie, is that you?”
He gave a loud yelp and started panting into his end of the phone line.
“Oh, Pup.” I felt tears trickle from my eyes again, but they were joyful ones. “I’m so glad to hear you, buddy.”
His response was a long whine ending in a tiny woof.
“Yes, Mommy wants to come home and tickle your belly, too.” Everyone in the room laughed. “As soon as they let me out of here.”
I heard a scraping of teeth against the telephone’s casing. Arwel came on the line. “PJ, it’s good to hear your voice, but I’m afraid Pup is going to chew up the receiver if I don’t ring off now.”
“No problem, Arwel. It’s good to hear your voice, too, and thanks for taking good care of my pal.” I looked over at Kim. “Of both my pals.”
Arwel assured me that it was no bother at all, and then hung up.
“Feel better now?” Kim asked me.
I beamed. “Much.”
Her expression grew serious. “You know we never would have found you in time, if it weren’t for Pup. Another few minutes could have been too late.” Kim’s eyes glistened with fresh tears, and I shuddered.
Trevor and Geoff left then, promising to keep an eye on things, both in the hospital and back at the inn.
Another person joined our merry group. She was tall, red-haired, and brown-eyed, and set off warning bells in the recesses of my mind. Friend or foe? I couldn’t remember, but she looked familiar and very attractive. She nodded, smiling at
Dad and Kim.
“Oh, I guess you two haven’t been formally introduced.” Kim stood, and the woman came over and took my hand. “PJ, this is Terry Simms.”
Now I remembered. She had dropped by Kim’s motor home that night in Arizona, outing Kim in front of Sandy and me. What the hell was she doing here?
The woman gave my hand a gentle squeeze and in a voice oozing with sensuality said, “I’m delighted to finally meet you, PJ. You’ve kept us pretty busy this past week.” She glanced fondly at my partner.
Uh oh. What was that all about?
“I guess I have at that,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “Nice to meet you, too.” Maybe.
A doctor marched in with Gwen at his heels, and they shooed everyone out.
Dad tousled my hair and said he’d be close by if I needed him.
Kim squeezed my hand. “I’ll be back when the place empties out,” she whispered. “Save my spot.”
“Always,” I assured her.
Gwen pulled the curtain up around the bed, while Dr. Coyle undid my hospital gown to examine my shoulder.
“Now then, young lady. Let’s have a look at this nasty hole, shall we?” He probed and poked at the front and back and had me move my arm around.
“Does that hurt?” he asked after each maneuver. He had a thick, dark mustache that made me think of Tom Selleck.
“When I move it around. Mostly, it’s just sore and stiff,” I told him.
He wrapped a fresh bandage diagonally across my shoulder and around my chest. “The good news is that you are a very lucky young lady. It could have been much worse, but it’s doing very nicely and doesn’t seem to be bleeding as much. Furthermore, the antibiotics seem to be holding the inflammation at bay. That’s good news, too.” He looked at me and waggled his eyebrows. “You know, jumping into a bog is not the recommended procedure for treating gunshot wounds.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Most unsavory places, they are. Too many bacteria floating about in them.”