Wild Fire (Alaska Wild Nights Book 3)

by Tiffinie Helmer

  “Do you have a headache?” she asked, bending over him, checking his eyes.

  “Wow, you smell good. Like a meadow blooming with fireweed on a hot summer’s day.”

  “Headache? Do you have one?” she asked again, ignoring his comment.

  “Yes. I have a concussion, which could be causing the temporary blindness too.” While he’d delivered the line as a statement, the tone didn’t sell it, and she knew he was worried the blindness wasn’t temporary.

  Tearing into his medical bag, she found gauze and tape and quickly bandaged the cut on his forehead and then she heard the faint siren of the ambulance in the distance. Thank God. “I hear the ambulance. I need to climb up and meet them. Don’t move.”

  He grabbed at her, and finding her hand, held on. “You’ll return?”

  “As soon as I can. Promise.” She didn’t know why she did it, but she leaned down and kissed his cheek, surprising them both. Then she climbed up the slope and was greeted by a firetruck screaming around the bend, leading the procession of an ambulance and Alaska State Trooper.

  Chapter 2

  Gideon wanted to reach out for his rescuer and beg her not to leave him alone. He obviously wasn’t thinking straight, but this blindness had thrown him. The only thing anchoring him right now was the sound of her voice.

  He hurt everywhere. But not being able to see concerned him the most. He knew he had a concussion and, by his labored breathing and the stabbing pain between his eyes, a broken nose. Any one of those two things could cause temporary blindness, not to mention the powder from the air bag deploying. Until his sight returned, he was at the mercy of his rescuer. She’d done an outstanding job of saving his life.

  He heard scuffling behind him. She was coming back as promised.

  He liked a woman who kept her word.

  “Hanging in there, Gideon?” She touched his shoulder, and by the direction of her voice she’d knelt next to him.

  “Better now that you’re here.”

  “The paramedics are going to strap you to a board, immobilize your neck as a precaution. Don’t worry.”

  He grabbed onto her arm. “Stay with me. Please. I’m really not a needy man, I can be as butch as the best of them, but….”

  “You don’t need to explain. Not being able to see must be disconcerting. Like I said, don’t worry. We’ll get you patched up in no time.”

  She continued to explain step by step what was happening around him so that he wasn’t surprised by anything.

  He was secured on a board and carried up to the ambulance and loaded into it with quick efficiency.

  His rescuer continued to hold his hand, joining him in the ambulance. He heard the doors slam and they were racing off.

  “Where are they taking me?” he asked her.

  “Fairbanks Memorial. The clinic in Heartbreak isn’t equipped to handle your injuries.”

  That was one thing he was in the process of changing by opening his practice. Heartbreak didn’t even have a doctor on staff, just one that roved from town to town, showing up one or two days a week. A nurse practitioner ran the clinic until Gideon had decided to settle back in his hometown and now she worked for him. Which was all rather ironic since at eighteen he couldn’t wait to get out of the quirky town.

  His head was killing him but so was his abdomen. The seatbelt could explain that. But they were traveling awfully fast and paramedics had already inserted an IV in his arm. He had a blood pressure cuff in place and had been asked if he was on any medication or allergic to anything. Currently, the paramedics talked in hush tones to each other, reporting his vitals every few minutes.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, anxiety clear in the higher pitch of his voice. He was becoming concerned by their actions. Nausea and dizziness hit him. “What else is wrong with me?”

  He hated not knowing what was happening around him. His father had complained about his endless curiosity, calling it a curse when he was a kid. Curiosity was one of the reasons he’d gone into medicine. He needed to understand things, and the mystery of the human body rivaled the mysteries of space. And since he practiced on the other side of a hospital bed, he knew they weren’t telling him everything.

  “Be honest with me. I can take it,” he said when no one answered him, telling him that he had more injuries than a concussion and a broken nose. What if the reason he couldn’t see was because he no longer had eyeballs in his head? He reached up a hand to feel his face.

  “What are you doing?” His rescuer grabbed his hand.

  “Are my eyeballs still in my head?”

  She choked out a laugh. “Yes, your eyeballs are still there.”

  “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

  “Well…I guess you don’t as you don’t know me and my character. One thing about me, I never lie. I’m brutally honest to the point where it’s been considered a flaw by certain members of my family. And you have the warmest, deepest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. Also, why do men always have thicker, longer eyelashes than women? It’s not fair.”

  He sighed in relief. Good, he had his eyeballs. Then what else was it? He could move his limbs without pain. “If it isn’t my missing eyeballs, then what is everyone so worried about?”

  “Just stay calm. We’re almost there,” she said in a composed voice like they were discussing the weather. He wondered if she practiced that, finding the right tone to settle a person down.

  “Please, don’t leave me in the dark. I’m a doctor. What I can imagine will be worse than the truth.”

  There was a pause, and then she wrapped his hand in both of hers, holding it up to her chest. He could feel her rapidly beating heart. She was worried. “You might have some internal bleeding.”

  Well, shit.

  “How far away from the hospital are we?” he asked.

  “Another ten minutes,” one of the paramedics answered, his tone grave.

  “How long has it been since the accident? What’s my blood pressure?” He already knew his pulse was dropping because exhaustion threatened to take him under and his speech had started to slur.

  “You’re not going to treat yourself,” she said. “That’s like a defendant pleading his own case in court. You’d be a fool to even try.”

  “Consider me a fool, then.” He couldn’t die this way, but he already felt coldness seeping into his limbs. “Do you have my bag?”

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “Could you do me a favor?”

  “Anything,” she said, quickly. Too quickly, as if she knew he lay on his deathbed.

  “Please make sure the test samples make it to the lab and contact Dr. Lambert to take over the case if things take a turn…for the worse.”

  “You’ll be around to finish treating your patient, I have no doubt.” There was a thickness to her smoky voice as if emotion had a hold of her vocal cords.

  He wished he had more time—that this wasn’t the end for him—but he felt cold, colder than even the time his car had broken down and he’d been stuck huddling in forty below under a survival blanket until help arrived.

  Even though he couldn’t see, he felt the darkness crowd in, just before it took him under he had the fleeting thought that he didn’t know the name of his rescuer or any idea of what she looked like.

  Chapter 3

  Kennadee watched them rush Gideon off into emergency surgery. She planted her feet, instead of giving into the need to pace like a nervous spouse.

  She prayed he made it. There was something about him, something that she wanted to know more about. Her interest in men flamed as fast as a fire and was usually extinguished fairly quickly. But Gideon seemed different. She wanted more time with him.

  “What’s the prognosis?” Trip Hunter asked, coming up to stand next to her. He was the Alaska State Trooper on the scene and had followed them to the hospital from mile marker thirty-three.

  She’d known him all her life as he’d palled around with her brothers Ryder and Dare. It had b
een no surprise that he’d gone into law enforcement. When they were kids, he’d always played the cop to her outlaw brothers. He’d filled out nicely from the tall stick of his youth. Now those long limbs were packed with muscle, and his formerly caved-in chest was now broad and hard as granite from the looks of him. He kept his dark blond hair military short, though stubble already graced his square jaw this late in the afternoon.

  “It’s too soon to call,” she said. “He’s bleeding internally, probably from a ruptured spleen.” She’d seen injuries like this before, usually caused from the force of being restrained by the seatbelt.

  “Christ.”

  “Exactly.” She sighed knowing she needed to do something to keep her mind off of Gideon. “I take it you’re after my statement.” She rubbed at her injured shoulder, her hand brushing at dried mud and, who knew what, else stuck to her clothes. She was a mess and needed to find a place to get cleaned up. The hospital would not appreciate her leaving a trail of debris along their pristine hallways.

  Now that she’d gotten Gideon to the hospital, the adrenaline drained from her like emptying a watering can over a thirsty flower pot. Exhaustion hit her, and pain from using her shoulder in a manner she wasn’t supposed to, bared its teeth.

  “Do you know the name of the driver?” Trip asked.

  “Gideon. Uh…sorry, I didn’t get his last name. There really wasn’t time for proper introductions.” She remembered the bag she held. “Wait, I have his medical bag. He must have some ID in there.”

  “Let me get you a cup of coffee,” Trip offered. “You look about dead on your feet.”

  “Good idea. But I want to stay close in case there’s news.”

  “Let’s head to the cafeteria. I’ll inform the nurse’s station where you’ll be, but they probably won’t tell you anything since you aren’t family.”

  She had friends here and ways of getting the information that she wanted. Not that she’d share that tidbit with Trip as it was a violation of the patient’s privacy and technically illegal.

  “Look at my filthy clothes. We might want to have that coffee outside.” She glanced down at her outfit and mud-caked boots. Who knew what was in her hair. She normally wore it up in a bun in the style of Dr. Seuss’s character Cindy Lou from How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Since she wasn’t working today, she’d left it down. She needed a hair cut as it now fell to the middle of her back. Once fire season started, it would be too much hassle.

  Trip reached up and pulled a twig from her hair. “Uh, yeah. You’re a bit…messy. There’s an outdoor courtyard with benches. I’ll grab a couple of cups of coffee and meet you out there.”

  She agreed and headed out the sliding doors. She located the small courtyard and not only found benches but also bistro tables and chairs already set up. While the day wasn’t warm, it wasn’t that cold either. If they sat here long it would become uncomfortable, but for now, it would do, and she wouldn’t have to worry about leaving a trail of mud behind her.

  It wasn’t long before Trip arrived with two cups of coffee and a sandwich.

  “I’m not really hungry,” she said when he handed her the clear, plastic container holding a ham and cheese.

  “You will be when you finish crashing from the adrenaline rush.”

  She knew from experience he was right.

  “Let’s find out who your Gideon is.” Trip indicated the bag she clutched to her chest, and he pulled out a notepad and pen to take notes.

  She set the medical bag on her lap and went to unzip it, pausing. “I feel like I’m invading his privacy.”

  “Hand it over and I’ll look then.”

  She was reluctant to do that too. She’d risked her life to save this bag, and she’d promised Gideon she’d get the little girl’s test samples to the lab.

  “No, I’ll do it.” She unzipped the bag and opened it. The first thing she saw was a pocket full of business cards. She fished one out and read the name.

  Gideon Rasmussen, MD.

  Holy shit. She knew that name. Ten years ago, she’d given him her virginity.

  Chapter 4

  “Kennadee, who’s our patient?” Trip asked, narrowing his shrewd cop eyes. “You’ve gone snow white.”

  “Gideon Rasmussen,” she whispered.

  “Gideon Rasmussen? He’s one of ours.” Trip stood, his chair sliding back on the flagstones. “I need to call his dad.”

  When had Gideon returned to town? Since she now held his medical bag, and there were test samples inside from a patient, it sounded like he planned to stay. She’d heard rumors that some big city doctor had set up a practice in Heartbreak, but she’d had no idea that someone was Gideon Rasmussen.

  Granted, she hadn’t been home much in the last few months, working on her training and certification. Plus, Heartbreak didn’t have a lot going on. It was a sleepy town this time of year since tourists didn’t care for the messy break up of spring. She’d had to feed her thriller fix by taking shifts at the fire stations around Fairbanks and North Pole. She’d even done a stint in Nenana. Anything to keep the boredom at bay.

  Trip rejoined her. “I hate making those calls. They’re so much worse when you know the people involved.”

  “How’d Pete take it?” Pete Rasmussen had been a fixture in her life growing up, too, he being a hockey buddy of her dad’s.

  “Not well. I toned down the details. We don’t need him getting in an accident rushing to Fairbanks. All right, give me the play-by-play of what happened.” He sat there with his pen poised to take down her statement.

  Kennadee relived her afternoon, sticking to the facts and leaving her swirling emotions out of it.

  When she was done, Trip flipped his notebook shut and stood. “Thanks, Kennadee. Do you need a ride back to Heartbreak?”

  “No. I’ll find my way home.” She wasn’t going anywhere until she knew Gideon would pull through. “Plus, I’d like to be here for Pete.”

  “You’re a good friend, and what you did today was exemplary. I’ll make sure the powers that be are aware of your actions.”

  “You don’t need to do that. I’m not after accolades.”

  “Which makes what you did that much more heroic.”

  She hated praise as she never knew how to take it. Trip must have understood since he left it at that and said his goodbyes. He was headed back to the wreck site where crews were investigating the scene and working on retrieving the Tahoe.

  After checking at the nurse’s station and finding out that Gideon was still in surgery, Kennadee caught a shower and borrowed a change of clothes from the adjacent fire station located within walking distance of the hospital. She rushed through getting cleaned up and was back to the hospital within twenty minutes. After a quick trip to the lab to drop off the test samples, she found her dad and Pete Rasmussen pacing in the waiting room.

  “Any news?” she asked with bated breath, wondering why her dad had shown up. She should have called him herself.

  “No, not yet. They aren’t telling me anything,” Pete said, rubbing the back of his neck, worry lines etched deep in his face. He looked like he’d aged twenty years since she’d seen him last week at his sporting goods store, Heart Bait and Tackle.

  “He’ll be okay,” she said, laying a hand on Pete’s arm. “He’s tough just like all you Rasmussens.”

  Pete grabbed her in a large bear hug. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you for saving my son’s life. Trip relayed what you did.”

  God, she hoped she saved his life and that he didn’t die on the operating table.

  Pete released her, obviously overcome with emotion and strode to the other side of the waiting room, wiping at his eyes, his head dipped low on his shoulders

  Jack came up to her. “I’ve never been prouder of you, Wild Fire.” He, too, grabbed her in a tight hug using his nickname for her. He’d nicknamed all seven of the Wilde Clan early as babies, and yet each name fit their personalities to a T.

  “I saw the acciden
t site,” Jack continued. “They have an army of equipment trying to wench up the vehicle. What are the chances that you were right there when it happened? It’s like you were fated to save him.”

  She didn’t know about fated. “I was in the right place at the right time. That’s all.”

  “Which is the very definition of fate, Wild Fire,” Jack said.

  A doctor wearing blue scrubs, entered the waiting room. “Are you the family of Gideon Rasmussen?”

  “Yes,” they all three answered together, standing in a line, holding their breath as they waited to hear.

  “I’m Dr. Cooke. He’s in recovery right now. Surgery went well, but he lost a lot of blood and had to have a transfusion. We were able to repair the tear in his spleen and will be closely monitoring him for the next few days. Barring any complications, I believe he’ll make a complete recovery.”

  “My son’s a tough bastard,” Pete’s voice broke on the word tough, and Kennadee rubbed his back with assurance she didn’t feel. “When can we see him?”

  “As soon as we move him into a room the nurse will come get you. Visitation needs to be kept to a minimum and only one person at a time.”

  “What about his blindness?” Kennadee asked.

  “Blindness!” Pete exclaimed. “He’s blind? Oh, my God.”

  “I’m sorry, Pete,” Kennadee quickly tried to reassure him. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Gideon thinks it’s a temporary condition caused by his concussion or the powder from the air bags.”

  “I heard he did a fair job of diagnosing himself in the ambulance,” Dr. Cooke said with a smile. “He’s most likely right. We sometimes see this with blows to the head and also in connection to the deployment of the air bag in accidents. Nothing showed up on the CT scan, and we’ve irrigated the eyes, but we will know more after he wakes up. We have an excellent ophthalmologist who will be in to examine him later today. For now, let’s deal with what we know. We have bandaged his eyes to help speed the recovery and help his anxiety.”