Chapter 8
Trask didn’t like this at all.
He wanted to be the one to get into a deep well with a bull moose; not have Jett risk life and limb. But since his drysuit was back at the office, and this oddly prepared, ditz of a woman had hers close at hand, what choice did he have?
Trask’s brain, however, refused to quiet, and he was already planning a strategy to get the moose free.
Yes, he still had the need to control the situation even though he wasn’t headed into the hole. He hoped he wasn’t going to get any argument from Jett.
If she refused to listen to him, he might lose his ever-loving mind.
Trask cleared his throat. “You may be the one getting into the water with that moose, but you’re going to listen to everything I have to say, Do you understand?” he clipped, poised for a fight.
“Okay,” she readily answered. “Sure.”
“Okay? Sure?” He gaped. Was Jett trying to confound him?
“That’s what I said. And it means, yes, I’ll take direction from you,” she responded slowly, enunciating each word distinctly as if he were…slow-witted.
When he glared, she sighed and elaborated.
“Listen. I already told you that I’m good at taking orders and executing operations, but that I’m lousy at being in charge.
I absolutely wasn’t kidding. So now you’re in charge, and I’m just an instrument for you to manipulate in this rescue. ” She shrugged as if it was no big deal
Trask blinked.
Yes, he had heard her declare her strengths and weaknesses previously, but he’d thought… Dammit. He’d thought she’d been blowing smoke to make herself seem more appealing to his bossy side.
She certainly wouldn’t have been the first woman to do that.
He ramped up his demands to make sure she wasn’t trying to pull one over on him. “So, you’re going to follow my orders? Explicitly? And you’re not going to go off on any tangents?”
She gave a nod, but that wasn’t good enough. Trask needed to hear it.
“Are we clear on this?”
“Sir, yes sir,” she barked and saluted sassily.
Then she stuck her tongue out at him.
Heat ramped up in his abdomen.
Oh, how he wanted to have that fresh mouth on his again, but now wasn’t the time. They had a rescue to perform, and he couldn’t get distracted. Turning his attention back to the road, he began to make initial plans in his head; ones that needed to be executed right away.
“Jett, can you take a look at my phone and see if Sheila sent any information yet?” He unlocked his screen with one thumb, then tossed the device to his temporary Diver Downeast partner.
She swiped it open.
“Yup. It’s here,” she said. “Sargeant Daniella Forge is the officer in charge.”
“Okay. Give that woman a call and tell her we’re going to need a vet on the scene, ASAP. I want that moose ready to be tranquilized once we get there. Before you go in.”
“Good call,” Jett concurred, dialing while he maneuvered the roads back into the airport.
Huh. Had she looked…relieved at his mention of the vet? Did she really think he’d let her go into a hole with a volatile moose without sedating the animal first? No freaking way. He was going to make this job as safe for her as possible.
“Sargeant Forge?” Jett questioned after a moment of silence. “This is Jett DeLuca. I’m part of the dive team who will be on scene in…” she looked at Trask.
“Fifteen minutes,” he replied.
“Fifteen minutes,” Jett relayed. “And my boss,” she emphasized the word, “wants a veterinarian on site, ready to administer a tranquilizer.”
Trask saw Jett’s shoulders visibly relax. “Good. That’s great. Uh, huh. Yes. We have everything else we need.”
Jett hung up the phone. “There’s a local guy who deals with large animals. She says she’ll have him on site.”
“Great.” Trask was still running scenarios in his head when he pulled up next to Jett’s plane. She jumped out, barking an order to her dogs in the back. “Stay, boys.”
There was nothing hesitant about her actions as she walked to the opposite side of the plane, opened a cargo area up front, and began rummaging around.
Trask really appreciated her professionalism at the moment.
He almost wouldn’t recognize this woman as the one who’d been scatterbrained and impishly teasing him just a few minutes earlier.
He left the truck as well, not knowing if there was something he could do to help.
“Check the back storage compartment on your side,” she called out. “You should find some straps, ropes, and pulleys. Load up whatever you need. Hopefully I have enough to do the trick.”
Trask immediately did as she suggested, and was faced with more equipment than they’d need, for sure. Especially because he assumed the fire and police departments on scene would also have rescue paraphernalia.
He marveled that the rear hatch was stuffed with goodies that included flares, flotation devices, food rations, and other emergency necessities.
Here was another side of Jett he hadn’t been expecting. She seemed to be well prepared for any crisis that might arise.
After choosing the things they might need, he glanced up through the windows that separated him from Jett, and his breath caught.
He couldn’t see all of her, but what he could see was her stripping off her winter coat and the shirt she’d been wearing underneath it, to stand in the frigid cold in just her bra.
Trask’s brain almost short-circuited. It was all he could do to keep his tongue in his mouth.
Jett’s breasts, now on prominent display, were impressive.
Trask looked around with narrowed eyes, and thankfully saw no one else who’d be ogling her. Dammit. He was doing enough of that, himself.
But those breasts… More than handfuls, their creamy swells were nearly spilling out over the top of her light blue, lacy bra.
Trask shook himself. He felt like a creepy voyeur,
“What are you doing?” he barked, because it was either revert to his commander form, or make a fool of himself, begging for a touch.
She glanced up, seemingly not in the least bit perturbed that he was witnessing her without a full contingent of clothes. “My shirt was cotton, and I can’t wear that under my drysuit,” she explained reasonably.
Duh. Trask knew that.
Cotton would absorb her body moisture instead of wicking it away, putting her at risk of getting chilled, or even worse, becoming hypothermic in the cold water she’d have to brave.
He cleared his throat, steering his brain back on track. “Right. I have a fleece hoodie in the truck if you’d like it.”
“I actually have one polypropylene shirt in here somewhere…” She leaned into the passenger compartment and Trask almost groaned. Her cleavage was on full display, and it almost looked like one wrong move would have her popping out.
Please yes… Please no…
“…but layers are better, as you well know,” she added, unaware of his turmoil, coming up delightedly with the shirt she wanted. “So I’ll also take you up on the loan of your hoodie.”
Trask took a deep breath, dragged his eyes away, and headed back to his truck with his arms full of gear. After stowing it on the seat with the dogs, he almost forgot what he was looking for, but glancing over his shoulder to see Jett pulling a tight, black shirt over her head, he remembered.
Grabbing his hoodie from the netting on the back of his seat, he strode briskly to where Jett stood; the bottom half of her body already encased in her drysuit, the top half of the neoprene hanging, waiting for her to don additional layers.
“What do you have on for pants under there?” Trask asked, taking her in with what he hoped looked like a professional eye.
“Luckily, I had thermals on under my jeans, so I’m going with them. I’ll have no additional layers on the bottom, but the thermals are double thickness, so if I don’t spend too much time in the water, they should be adequate.”
“Socks?” Trask gruffed, trying not to think of her long legs encased lovingly in thermals. It was very important to have appropriate footwear on under the diving booties she’d be wearing.
“Cotton.” She raised a foot off the dry spot on the tarmac she’d chosen, wiggling her toes in his direction and grimacing. “Not good.”
“I have wool ones on,” he told her. “We’ll swap.”
Jett’s face morphed from concern to amusement as she laughed heartily. “Hah! That’s going to be hilarious. I’m a size seven and you wear…?”
“Fourteens,” Trask relayed back. “So maybe not a swap, because I’ll never get my big foot into yours, but we’ll make mine work for you.” He was already toeing out of his boots, wasting no time.
“Sounds like a plan, but… You don’t have stinky feet, do you?” she teased.
Trask blinked. Did he? He’d never thought about it.
“Nope,” he assured her, hoping he was right.
“Good. Smelly feet are a deal breaker for me,” she told him, reaching out to brace herself on his arm while pulling her socks off, one by one.
He liked the feel of that, way too much.
“I went to camp when I was young,” she continued, “and one of my cabin-mates had the worst stank. It made me gag every morning, and put me off breakfast for a long time.”
Trask wasn’t sure if he was supposed to reply to that or not, so he simply held his socks out toward her, mute as he took in her cute as hell toes. She grabbed his offering and pulled the enormous things onto her feet.
“Mmm. They’re still warm,” she hummed appreciably. And didn’t that just get his libido ramped up again.
What the hell was wrong with him?
He took a step back once she didn’t need him for balance any more. Because…he needed distance.
She bent down, did some folding and tucking, then managed to get her feet—encased in his socks—into her diving booties before she tipped her head to regard him.
“Umm, you might want to get your big old feet back in your boots before they get frostbitten.”
Trask snorted. Not completely necessary. The pavement, having absorbed the heat of the afternoon sun, wasn’t all that cold, but to get her eyes off his toes, he complied.
“I’m ready,” she stated. “I’ll leave the top of my suit and my dry gloves off until we get there. That way I won’t overheat in your truck.” She glanced back into her Cessna. “What do you think? Will I need my mask? My tanks?” she questioned, clearly deferring to him.
He contemplated for a second before answering. “I don’t think you’ll need the tanks, but the mask will be a game-changer if you have to submerge. Still, bring both, just in case.”
“Good call.” She leaned in and snagged the items.
And there it was again. The ease with which Jett took his suggestions.
Trask marveled at how effortless Jett was to work with, as if they were on the exact same page. It was uncanny, really.
Without a word, they strode back to the truck, side by side, got in, and were soon on their way.
Wasting no time conferring with him, Jett leaned forward and punched the address she’d clearly seen on his phone, into his navigation system.
Damn. Trask didn’t particularly like the next thought that jumped into his head, but he couldn’t help it.
He and Jett made a good team. A really good team.
He hid a sigh, and a companionable silence ensued.
They reached their location in just under twelve minutes; a rural, dirt road that looked little used.
But it didn’t take a genius to figure out when they’d reached their designated spot.
Emergency vehicles of all kinds sat willy-nilly off to the sides in the brush, allowing Trask to pull up and park amongst them.
“You ready?” Trask asked Jett. She’d looked a little worried when she’d first volunteered for the job, but now she was all business.
“Yup. I’ve got my head in the right place. Let’s do this.”
Trask nodded. “I’ll grab the straps and ropes. You get your mask and tanks, just in case.”
There was no dissension as they both hustled to load themselves up and quickly made their way into the woods, following a trail that clearly had been recently trampled in the snow.
“Officer Forge?” Trask called out to the woman who strode over to meet them as soon as they entered the small clearing which was downright frigid now that the late afternoon sun was waning.
“Daniella, please,” the official responded.
Trask extended a hand. “Trask Sothard. And this is Jett DeLuca. You two spoke on the phone.”
The officer did a quick double-take, seeing Jett’s eyes, but didn’t comment on it as she got right down to business. “Nice to have your help. This way please. A couple of snowshoers stumbled across the scene and called us in, but we’re not equipped, so we’re very happy you were nearby.”
She led them over to a large, round hole in the ground where several officers and fire-fighters milled about, looking uncertain. They all exchanged chin lifts while Trask took stock of the situation.
He knelt down.
Clearly the old cistern had been covered with wood at some point to keep it safe.
But the planks, which were now nothing more than splinters, had clearly rotted.
The bull moose had broken right through them to plunge into the cistern, and was easily five feet below them, his head barely visible above the water-line.
With the animal’s obvious fatigue—and who knew how long the poor thing had been in there—its muzzle and snout dipped down every few seconds, making it harder and harder for the animal to catch its breath.
Officer Daniella spoke up and drew his attention away from the beast.
“This is our town vet, Arthur Glarish.” She introduced them to a small, older man who was also kneeling beside the hole on the other side. It seemed he’d already duct-taped a syringe onto a long stick, and was poised to knock the moose out.
“I was just waiting until you got here,” the little man said. “Once he’s sedated, you’ll need to get in immediately to keep his head from going under.”
Trask nodded, looking over at Jett who was already zipping up her drysuit and pulling her hood over her blonde curls.
“You ready?” he asked.
“I am,” she replied with a thumbs up. “Let’s get this party started.”