The Loner. Lindsay McKenna
I’ll get it filled and make sure he has it before he drives off. I’ll follow him at a safe distance.”
“Can’t you talk some sense into him?” Jordana handed her the prescription.
With a sour laugh, Shelby said, “He calls me Deputy Barbie Doll. Do you really think I have any sway over him?”
“Hardly.” Scratching her head, Jordana groused, “Unbelievable.”
“Is that SEAL behavior?” Shelby asked, walking with her to the elevator.
“No. It’s his PTSD, Shelby. He’s got a very bad case of it. Closed-in places throw him into deep anxiety. He prowls around like a caged lion if he can’t escape.” Jordana added, “I feel so bad for him. He’s a decorated vet, with the silver star and two purple hearts. But he just won’t come in for weekly therapy.”
The elevator doors opened and they stepped in. “I’ll see what I can do,” Shelby said. “But no promises.”
“He’s been out on that mountain for a year, Shelby,” Jordana said in a softer voice. “Alone. And he’s unable to socialize, to fit back into society. It’s as if he’s still in combat mode and he can’t do anything about it.”
“I saw him struggling earlier,” Shelby murmured. The doors opened to the main floor of the hospital. Walking out, she turned to the right. “There he is.”
“Get those antibiotics for him and follow him,” Jordana said, touching her shoulder. “He’s a vet. He’s earned our help even if he doesn’t want it.”
Mouth quirking, Shelby shrugged into her coat. “He fights everyone. All the time, whether he should or not.”
“Good luck.”
She’d need it. Shelby watched him walk gingerly down the hall toward the main exit sliding glass doors. He didn’t look over his shoulder, although she watched him operating like a predator on the hunt. Dakota Carson missed nothing, his gaze swiveling one way and then the other. He might have just come out of anesthesia, but the man was alert. Jordana was right: he was operating in combat mode. He might be in the U.S., but his mind and emotions were still in Afghanistan.
Dakota made it to his truck. He fished the keys out of his pocket. Two parking spaces down was the Tetons sheriff’s cruiser. Storm was looking out the window at him, wagging her big, fluffy gray tail. He smiled and felt a sense of safety. When he looked up, he saw the blond deputy crossing the street to where he was. She stopped and handed him an orange prescription bottle.
“The doctor wanted you to take this antibiotic,” she said. Their fingers touched momentarily. An unexpected warmth moved up his arm, which aggravated him. He stuffed the bottle into his pocket.
“I need my wolf,” he told her, getting into the cab. He shoved the key into the ignition and turned it.
Nothing. Just a clicking sound.
Cursing to himself, Dakota turned the key again.
“Battery’s dead,” Shelby said matter-of-factly. “Cold weather can suck the life out of one real fast.”
Dakota sat back and glared at her. “Sure you didn’t do something to my truck so I couldn’t get home?”
Shelby shrugged. “No, but if you don’t believe me, lift the hood and check it out yourself.”
He did just that. In cold weather, batteries drained quickly. He saw some rust corrosion around the terminals, but that wouldn’t stop the battery from turning over the engine. Son of a bitch. Dropping the hood, Dakota straightened. The woman stood right where she was the last time he saw her, a concerned look on her oval face. He met her shadowed blue eyes and felt as if he could fall into them. What was it about this woman that gave him that sense of safety? Dakota pushed the feeling away.
“I imagine you’re feeling pretty good about this?”
“Not at all, Mr. Carson. I want to help you, not make your life any more miserable than it already is.” Shelby didn’t like their sparring exchanges, but he was terse and defensive. Given his PTSD, she could forgive him and just try to make life a little easier on him.
Dakota studied her in the tense silence. Her husky voice riffled across his flesh. He felt her genuine care. He’d been without a woman for so damn long, it scared him. But a lot of things scared the hell out of him. The morning sky was clear after the blizzard from the day before. The strong sunlight warmed him. “Can I get you to drive me and my wolf back to my cabin?”
Her heart contracted with pain for him. The anger in his eyes died as he must have realized the hopelessness of his situation. He swallowed his considerable pride and asked her for help. She ached for him. “Yes, I can do that. When I get back, I’ll take your battery over to the service station and get it charged. You need to come back here tomorrow morning to see Dr. McPherson, anyway. We can pick it up then and you’ll have your truck again.”
“You do choose your battles.”
“I don’t see you as a battle, Mr. Carson. I see you as someone who needs a helping hand right now.”
Shaking his head, he slid out of the truck. “Okay. Wheels up. Let’s rock it out.”
Shelby didn’t expect a thank you. She wasn’t familiar with the military slang he used, either. His face was pale, and she knew he was fighting to appear confident. He didn’t fool her at all, but she said nothing, walking over to her cruiser and unlocking the system.
When Dakota climbed in, his wolf whined and wagged her tail in welcome. He grinned and stuck his fingers through the wire wall between the front and backseats. The look in Shelby’s eyes startled him as she climbed in. For a moment, he thought he saw tears in them. Her blue eyes were wide with happiness. An unexpected heat surged through him. He turned around, pulled on the seat belt and closed the door. Shelby didn’t behave like most women he knew. She was different. Very different.
On the way out of the town, Shelby asked, “Do you have enough food and water up there? We can always stop at a grocery store.”
“I’m fine,” he managed. As he leaned his head back against the seat rest, exhaustion finally caught up with him. In moments, he was asleep.
Shelby headed out of town, up the long hill that would put them on the road toward Grand Tetons National Park. She knew exactly where Dakota Carson was holed up. The radio chatter broke the silence, but her mind and heart focused on the injured vet sleeping in her cruiser. Once, she looked at his profile. His nose reminded her that he might have some Native American heritage in his blood. And his skin, although washed out, looked more tan than white. In that moment, he seemed vulnerable. It twisted her heart to think of the terror he must have undergone and survived. She quirked her mouth. She had a few symptoms of PTSD herself, but so did everyone who worked in law enforcement. It just wasn’t as bad as for a military person.
When the cruiser stopped, Dakota snapped awake. Wide awake. Looking to the left, he saw his cabin. “You found it.”
Shelby grinned. “I told you I knew where it was.” She turned and studied him. “How do you feel?”
He lifted his bandaged arm. “Better.”
“Good. You needed the sleep.” He needed some care. And she found herself wanting to do just that for this gruff, injured vet. Why? Something tugged at her heart. And triggered her needs as a woman for him as a man. She had no idea why. Shelby opened the door and climbed out.
Dakota couldn’t figure this woman out. No one knew where this road was. But she did. After getting out, he opened the back door and Storm leaped out.
The first thing Shelby did was go to the shack. Carson had done a lot of work over time to fix it up. Once, it had been a log cabin with white plaster between the thick logs. Over the years, all of the plaster had cracked and fallen out, leaving huge gaps between the logs. Now mud and moss stuck in between them, to ward off the cold. Up here, snow was still about three feet deep in shaded spots.