Chapter Three #2
Before I realized what he intended, he took off to the left down a path I could barely make out.
He headed in the wrong direction, away from the beach and the safety of the kayak.
Damn. Of course I had to follow him, but when I caught up with him, I’d bloody well make sure he knew who the boss in this relationship was. And it wasn’t him.
Every time I trusted a male, I ended up regretting it.
I ducked under a low hanging branch at the last second, barely missing getting clotheslined.
“Diego. Stop,” I hissed in a low voice. No point in alerting the bad guys to my presence if they were still in the area.
The big dog paused, turning to look at me. He let out a low whine but immediately pivoted to plunge farther down the side trail.
I sighed and fought my way through the underbrush behind him. This trail must have been made by raccoons or some other type of rodent that kept the bottom two or three feet clear but failed to get rid of all the low hanging branches that kept slapping me in the face.
I froze at a noise up ahead. It sounded like some kind of wounded animal. Had those morons shot some poor beast and left it to die slowly of its wounds? In this damp climate any type of untreated wound could easily become infected and cause the poor animal untold pain and suffering.
No wonder they were in such a hurry to get off the island. They were probably hunting illegally, and they didn’t want to get caught. The penalties for poaching were stiff.
Unless…
I felt the shock go right through my system.
Unless they’d shot the spirit bear.
I stopped trying to be quiet and plunged down the path in the wake of Diego. Branches reached down, trying to hold me back, catching on my clothes and slapping me in the face but I barely felt them. I felt sick at the thought that someone might have actually harmed the magnificent white animal.
Diego swung a sharp left and galloped down a wider trail, stopping at the foot of a big, vine-draped tree.
I couldn’t quite make out what the shape on the ground was that he was nuzzling but I could tell it wasn’t white and it wasn’t big enough to be the spirit bear. A wave of relief washed through me.
“What you got, boy?” I slowed to a walk, gulping in big mouthfuls of air.
Diego whined softly, nudging the object on the ground.
“Oh, my God!”
A man lay sprawled on the ground, a bloody rag wrapped around one large upper arm, held in place by what appeared to be a leather belt. I watched intently until I saw the gentle rise and fall of his chest. At least he was alive. That was good. Maybe.
Diego whined softly.
I hesitated. The dog obviously thought we should do something to help the man, but I wasn’t so sure.
Was he a victim or was he one of the poachers who’d had the bad luck to get wounded and left behind?
The way my day had been going, I’d help the guy out just to have him finish the job those other guys had started.
I crouched down, speaking softly to the agitated dog. “What makes you so sure he’s worth saving, boy?”
Diego paced over to me, placing his muzzle against my neck.
I felt the gentle flick of his tongue, a soft kiss.
I ruffled his fur. “Okay, boy. Maybe you knew him in your previous life? Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Let’s see what we can do.
” I approached the man cautiously. Fortunately, he’d fallen in a spot where the undergrowth was thick enough to cushion his fall.
I shuddered to think what would have happened if he’d fallen on the rock-strewn path along the river.
I pulled out my cell phone and held it up, praying against all odds that it would show at least one bar.
Still no signal. It looked like it was up to me to see what I could do for the man.
“Okay. First, we need to assess the damage.” I started at the top of the man’s head, feeling carefully along the back and side, looking for any sign of impact or trauma. He didn’t just decide to take a nap in the middle of nowhere, so I’d assumed he’d fallen and hit his head.
I tried to recall everything I knew about emergency medicine. Human emergencies, that is. Unfortunately for the unconscious man, my experience lay in helping injured animals.
I shifted my attention to the makeshift bandage on his arm. It took more effort than I’d expected to get the belt off. Trust a guy to make things difficult even when he was unconscious.
Diego sat off to the side, watching intently as I worked. Well, work might not be the right word there. I felt like I was fumbling in the dark. I hoped I wasn’t making things worse, but with the lack of cell phone coverage on the island, it was me or nothing.
Finally managing to get the belt off, I gripped the edge of the cloth gingerly between my thumb and fore finger. How bad could it be? Taking a deep breath, I steeled my nerves and began to peel back the fabric and the fibrous compress beneath it.
When I uncovered the wound, I had to stop myself from gagging.
It was bad, really bad. Without the restricting bite of the belt, the jagged wound dripped bright red blood.
He must have lost copious amounts of blood, which could explain his current unconscious state.
I’d never seen an arrow wound, but given my recent experience, I guessed this was what one looked like.
I tried to remember if there were any major arteries located in the arms.
Assuming it was an arrow wound, this man was probably a victim of the same group of men who’d taken a shot at me. Maybe Diego was right, and he was a good guy. If I could get him to wake up, maybe he could tell me who he was, who those guys were, and why they felt it was okay to shoot people.
I pulled out my cell phone, hoping that somehow it might have managed to pick up a signal.
Nope. Still nothing.
I typed in a quick text to my friend and hit send. If the phone picked up a random signal at some point, it would send the message, and Sasha would know there was something wrong. She could alert the authorities, and they could send help.
Pocketing my phone, I eyed up the wound. The damn thing needed stitches. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a handy sew-up-the-stranger-you-found-in-woods kit on me, or anything else that might do the trick. He’d have to wait until he got back to the mainland.
I pulled out my cell phone again. Damn. The text I’d typed still sat in the drafts folder. I put the phone away, letting out a heavy sigh.
“Well, Mr. Sunshine, I can at least clean that up a bit and put a new bandage on it. Not sure what’s up with the shredded tree bits, but they’re soaked in blood. They have to go.”
Diego settled back into a more relaxed pose as if he realized that I was going to help his newfound buddy. His tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth as he watched me get to work.
The wound looked clean, no pus oozing out of it, but then again it also looked fresh. It took a few hours for infection to set in. If this was an arrow wound, then the guy had better hope that the arrowhead had been clean.
If he were part of that group of nasties, why would they have shot him? A falling out among thieves? Something to ponder later, when I wasn’t looking down at an unconscious man with a gaping wound in his well-muscled arm.
Actually, all of him looked very well-muscled and very male, from the top of his dark hair, cut unfashionably short in military style, to the tips of his well-worn hiking boots in a very large size.
His jeans, damp from the time he’d spent lying on the ground, did more to outline the thick muscles of his hips and thighs than to hide them.
He didn’t look like a guy who spent a lot of time hiding who he was. No, he looked more like a barbarian ready for a night of pillaging in the surrounding villages.
I suppressed a nervous giggle. The events of the past hour must have scrambled my brain. He was just a guy, and one that needed help. Diego even liked him. I considered that a point in his favor. Diego was a very smart dog.
I glanced around the small clearing, looking for something I could use as a bandage.
I already knew what I had to do, but I didn’t like it.
My brand-new, super-cute camisole was clean, softly absorbent, and I’d never be able to get that much blood out of it.
I tried desperately to think of an alternative, but no.
It needed to be clean and absorbent which meant it had to be the new camisole.
Great. Just great. I’d spent a large chunk of my last paycheck on that camisole and the matching panties. Well, at least I’d get to keep the panties.
I stood up and grasped the bottom of my sweatshirt, pulling it over my head before reluctantly removing the camisole. Shrugging back into the sweatshirt, I glared down at the guy on the ground. “You’d better be worth it.”