God.The man was skin and bones, the sharp edges of his collarbone obvious even through the fabric of the man’s sweatshirt. Jake clenched his jaw and glanced back over his shoulder toward his house.
“Shit. Come on, man, wake up.” He squeezed again, this time a little stronger, but again, the man didn’t respond. Jake did another quick once-over, looking for any signs of life-threatening injuries, and, seeing nothing, he cursed under his breath and unzipped his coat. The coat wasn’t waterproof, but it would provide another layer of protection until...
Jake groaned. God, he couldn’t do this, could he?
Swallowing back his unease and doubt, Jake carefully laid the coat over the top of the man, who still didn’t move or respond. Then, with a grunt of pain, he shifted from kneeling with his knees on the ground to a deep squat, slipped his arms under the man, and stood, leaning as much as he could on his good leg.
The man weighed next to nothing—at least for a full-grown adult—but Jake barely managed not to keel over as his bad leg complained. Loudly. He screwed his eyes shut for a moment as the stabbing pain passed, then he turned and started hobbling back toward the stairs, clenching his jaw against the pain of each step.
Progress was slow, and the man didn’t move or rouse in any way. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, Jake’s heart was thrumming so hard he thought it might burst right out of his chest, and the pain in his right leg was nearly unbearable.
But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
The man’s life was at stake, Jake was almost sure of it.
So he kept going, taking each of the steep, narrow steps carefully and with his good leg. And the rain kept pouring down, soaking all the way through to his skin.
When he finally reached the top, he paused only long enough to suck in two full, deep breaths, and then he hobbled the rest of the way to the sliding door, somehow managed to open it, and turned sideways to shuffle them inside.
Not bothering to shut the door behind him, Jake kept pressing forward. He moved past the kitchen and down the short hallway. He nudged the door to the extra bedroom open with his foot, and a moment later, he was carefully lowering the man onto the bed.
Then Jake promptly collapsed onto the ground, groaning as he gripped his thigh just above the knee. Pain ripped through him, and he bit his lip to keep from crying out.
“Dammit,” he hissed as he pushed himself to sit, and he glanced up at the bed, where the man lay quietly. God, he wished he could rest now. He’d probablyscrewed up his leg big-time, and he’d certainly regret it later. Although if this man survived, it would be worth every ounce of pain, no question.
Jake swallowed hard and reached into his pocket again to pull out his cell phone. It was soaking wet now, just like him, and when he tried to turn it on, nothing happened. He closed his eyes tightly and took a breath, willing himself not to worry too much. He still had his landline.
But first . . .
With a deep breath, he pushed himself off the floor and stood. Then he hobbled over to the desk in the corner, rolled the office chair over to the bed, and sat heavily, groaning with relief when he was no longer having to put weight on his leg.
And now that his own pain had subsided enough for him to put together semicoherent thoughts, Jake tried to assess the situation more calmly. He pursed his lips together and reached out to push the man’s hair off his forehead.
The man still didn’t react.
Some wave of unease spread through Jake’s chest, and even as he did a quick check for any other head injuries, he couldn’t seem to shake it. He found nothing immediate, other than the gash he’d already seen on the man’s cheek. But there was evidence ofpreviousinjuries. A lot of them. Small scars, mostly hidden by the man’s mess of dirty, knotted blond hair.
Jake suddenly felt almost sick to his stomach, but he knew he needed to keep moving. Take care of the man now, worry about the questions he’d ask later, if—no,whenthe man woke up.
He needed to warm the man up first. That was the most important thing. That and calling for an ambulance.
Once again, he bit his lip and pushed himself to his feet, and, ignoring the throbbing that had only become more intense as he’d been sitting, Jake limped out of the room toward the kitchen to get to his home phone.
Chapter Four
Rye
“Theroad’swashedout?You’re kidding me. Please tell me you’re kidding me . . . Okay, okay . . . No, Sue, I know . . . No, I don’t think we need to call the coast guard in yet. Look, just, um, give me the list of all the things you’d check. I had first aid training, but that was years ago, and I’ve got a decent . . . Yeah. All those are in my first aid kit, for sure . . . Yeah. He’s out of the wet clothes, and I’ve got . . .”
The low voice continued, but the words became muffled as the sound moved farther away, accompanied by heavy, uneven footsteps.
Rye didn’t move. Fear kept him anchored right where he was, holding his breath until his chest burned.
And actually, he wasn’t sure if he could move, even if he’d been brave enough to try. His whole bodyhurt. Intense, aching pains that seemed to penetrate through him. Into him. Deep and unrelenting.
But at the same time, he became aware that he was surrounded by... softness. And it was completely unfamiliar to him.
He managed a shallow breath and tried to flex his fingers, but they were stiff and numb, and the movement only made him hurt more.
