Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I was relieved to be given a task…any task to keep my hands busy and my focus off the blood dripping down Ray’s face. I was an unrepentant adrenaline junkie. Give me fast cars, wild roller coaster rides, and big-ass D-men coming after me while I raced toward a goal all day long. But any hiking trip that ended with a gory bloody scene in the woods was no bueno.
I dug through Jake’s bag and pulled out a balled-up tee. “Here you go.”
“Not that one.” His gaze was trained on Ray’s wound, but I could have sworn he was blushing.
I found another tee and tore it into strips at his nod of approval. “Can I do anything else?”
“Yeah, get the antiseptic out of the kit and help me dress his elbow,” he replied. “Please.”
I did as instructed.
And when I ran out of ways to be useful, I cleaned up the extra makeshift bandages and stuffed them into Jake’s backpack, along with the tee he’d vetoed.
Now, don’t ask me what I was thinking here. Sure, I got a strange kick out of sparring with Jake, and I could admit that I had a tendency to take things too far. However, this was a high-stress situation—not a great time to taunt a foe.
But I didn’t do well with strained silences either. I was the guy who tried to lighten bleak situations with a little humor. That was my only explanation for opening my big mouth and blurting, “Yep, you jerked it last night.”
If looks could kill, I’d have been a stone-cold goner.
Jake clenched his jaw. “Do you think that you could grow the fuck up for a few minutes here? I actually need your help, asshole.”
My skin went hot with shame, and let me tell ya, that hadn’t happened in eons.
I nodded. “Sorry. Sorry. What can I do?”
“We have to climb up the ravine and get on the path.” Jake pointed at the small ledge above us.
“Got it.” I scratched my head. “But shouldn’t we run through concussion protocol first? See if he knows how many fingers we’re holding up…that kind of thing?”
“I can see you fine,” Ray chimed in. “I’m okay. I’m just sore, and my head hurts.”
“Let’s get moving, or they’ll never find us.” Jake stood decisively, zipped his bag, and hiked it over his shoulders. “We have a short climb, Ray. Lean on us and we’ll get you out of here.”
It took some serious effort to get out of that ditch. It wasn’t deep, but the ground was slippery with wet leaves stuck to mossy rocks, and we had to make sure Ray didn’t lose his footing. He claimed to be fine, but he was dingy as fuck and he swayed with every step he took.
We split duties when we reached the path. I carried Ray’s gear while Jake played sherpa, chattering nonstop with the video man as he guided us to the meeting point. He asked questions meant to keep Ray talking: Where are you from? What’s the weather like? How long have you been a videographer?
Milligan’s version of concussion protocol was effective. Ray chattered about winters in Michigan and how using an ancient camcorder at his sister’s wedding had shaped his career path. Trust me, it was not a riveting conversation, but it did the trick and kept Ray engaged, his mind focused on something other than his woozy head and scraped knees and elbows.
I grudgingly admired Jake’s take-charge attitude and calming demeanor. Not to say that I couldn’t have handled this minor shit storm on my own, but I probably would have been gruff and panicky. And I sure as hell wouldn’t have known where I was going.
This was no straightforward trail. The winding maze of trees with low branches and forked paths required an expert guide who knew this forest well. That was definitely not me.
By the time we reached the clearing forty-five minutes later, a red van was waiting. Two EMTs greeted Jake with fist bumps and took over, checking bandages and vitals before whisking Ray off with his belongings.
The handoff was so seamless that it didn’t register that I was alone with Jake Milligan in the middle of the fucking forest until the van was well out of sight.
“Why didn’t we hitch a ride with them?”
Jake fastened the strap on his backpack distractedly. “They’re going directly to the hospital in Pinecrest. It’ll be faster to hike to camp and go from there…if you’re planning on leaving.”
“They don’t need us. Our campers dropped out sick, our PR spy got injured…”
“You should go, then.” He shrugged nonchalantly and met my gaze with a challenging glint in his eyes. “Of course, someone will mention that you bailed early, and they’ll wonder why. They might even assume you gave up, which means…I win. So yeah, by all means…go.”