The Loner

Jordana came around and Shelby released him and stood aside.

“Mr. Carson, I’m Dr. McPherson. Can you hear me?”

Dakota managed a sloppy grin, only half his mouth working because of the surging pain. “Yeah, Doc. I remember you. I missed a bunch of appointments. I’m blood type A. I’m gonna need transfusions. Bear cut an artery in my left arm....”

“That’s what I needed to hear,” Jordana said quietly, patting his shoulder in a motherly way. “I’m leaving the tourniquet in place until we can get you into surgery and stabilized.” She lifted her head, called to the second nurse, “Joy, get me two pints of type A ready in the O.R.”

“Right away, Doctor.”

“You’re gonna need one and a half pints to put in what I’ve lost,” he grunted. His gaze moved from the worried-looking doctor to the woman standing behind her. Barbie Doll. Damn, but she was beautiful with her sandy-blond hair falling around her shoulders. Her blue eyes were wide and curious. What didn’t make any sense was her sheriff’s uniform, all dark brown slacks that hid her long legs and a nylon jacket showing her name and badge on it. Shelby Kincaid. Funny, for a moment, he thought he recognized her. But from where? His mind wouldn’t work. He memorized her name.

“We’ll see,” Jordana said. “You’re going to need more than stitches on that bear bite, Dakota.”

He smiled a little as the nurse came and stuck a syringe of morphine into the IV tube to drip into his vein. “I figured as much. Just wanted to make it here so you could work your magic, Doc.”

Patting his arm, Jordana said, “I’ll see you in a few minutes, Dakota. I’ve got to go scrub up.”

Dakota felt the pressure of the nurse putting a clean dressing on his wound. At first, it hurt like hell, but then, as the morphine began to flow through his veins, the pain eased considerably. All the time, he held the gaze of the beautiful deputy sheriff standing nearby. Who was she? Looking at her oval face, those blue eyes that reminded him of the turquoise beaches of Costa Rica, that set of full lips, he just didn’t think she fit the image of a deputy sheriff. There was concern in her eyes—for him.

“Mr. Carson,” Shelby said, keeping her voice low as she approached him, “who do you want me to notify? Your wife? Parents? Someone needs to be contacted. I can let them know.” Automatically, Shelby reached out, her fingers resting gently on his broad shoulder. This time, the muscles beneath her fingertips responded. An unexpected heat surged through her. Shocked, Shelby tried to ignore her reaction. This man was half dead from loss of blood, yet the warrior energy around him beckoned to some primal part of herself.

Dakota tried to focus. The Barbie doll sheriff’s deputy had a nice, husky voice. It felt like warm honey drizzled across him, easing his pain even more. Her face was inches from his. Her blond hair had darker strands mingled with lighter ones. Some reminded him of gold sunlight, others, of dark honey. His gaze drifted back to her eyes. God, what beautiful eyes she had. He could dive into them and feel her heart beating. Wildly aware of her long fingers against his shoulder, he muttered, “I’ve got a wolf out in my truck. Her name is Storm. She’s bonded to me. Don’t take her to a dog pound. Keep her...keep her with you... I’ll get out of surgery and take her home with me, please....”

He wasn’t making sense, but Shelby knew the nurse had given him a dose of morphine to stop the pain. People said funny things when drifting in a morphine cloud. His focus began to fade. “Mr. Carson, who can I call? I need to tell your family where you are.”

The husky urgency in her voice felt like a warm, sensual blanket. Dakota was feeling no pain now, thank God. Instead, he could focus on this incredibly arresting woman, her face so close he could rise, capture that sinner’s mouth of hers and make it his own. She looked familiar. But from where? A broken laugh rumbled out of his chest. “I have no one, Barbie. Just me and my wolf. And she doesn’t answer my cell phone.”

“Where do you live? I can take your wolf back to your home,” Shelby asked, trying to remain cool and professional. Again, she saw that devil-may-care grin cut across his tense, chiseled face. He was darkly tanned for this time of year, which told her this ex-SEAL was outside a helluva lot. She didn’t want to admit how much she liked touching this man. And she saw something else in his lion-gold eyes—desire. It was the morphine, she was sure.

“You’ll never find it. No address. Just a shack in the woods. Just keep my wolf with you.” He struggled to sit up. “This repair on my arm isn’t gonna take long. If you can take care of her until I get released, I’ll appreciate it.”

Hearing the sudden, emotional urgency in his gruff tone, Shelby straightened. She gently pushed him back down on the gurney. The pleading expression on his face startled her. In that moment, Dakota Carson looked like a scared little boy watching his world self-destruct. There was something magical, a heated connection, burning between them. “Yes, I’ll take care of her for you, Mr. Carson.”

Instantly, the man seemed to relax, a ragged sigh escaping from his tightened lips. He closed his eyes. What she didn’t expect was his right hand to reach out and grab hers. She felt the strength of his fingers as they wrapped around her wrist.

“Th-thank you....” he rasped.

His fingers loosened and fell open. The nurse had put another syringe into the IV, the drug rendering him unconscious in preparation for surgery. Shelby gently picked up his arm hanging over the gurney and placed it at his side.

“He’s out,” Alanna told her.

“Good. How long will the surgery be, you think?”

Shrugging, Alanna motioned for the two orderlies to come in and transport the patient to the E.R. “I don’t know, Shelby. Maybe an hour if all goes well. Could be nerve damage. We’ll see....”

“Okay, I’ll drop back in an hour. I’ve got some paperwork for the heard nurse to fill out at the nurses’ station before I leave.”

“Great. Want me to call you on the radio when Mr. Carson comes out of E.R?”

“Yes, could you?”

Alanna nodded and smiled. “Can do.”

Shelby watched the two orderlies wheel the unconscious ex-SEAL off to surgery. Standing there for a moment, she digested all the unsettled emotions the stranger had stirred up in her. He was dangerous, risky to her heart. Frowning, Shelby shook her head. She looked down at the blood smeared across her jacket. His blood.

This was the first time she’d seen a bear-attack victim, and it wasn’t pretty. Her fingers still tingled when he’d suddenly reached out and gripped her. Strong fingers, but he monitored the strength of his grip around her wrist, she realized, even in a morphine state. Definitely a special kind of soldier.

She knew little about SEALs. They were black ops. Secret. Defenders of this country. And heroes in her opinion. The look in his eyes guaranteed all of that. The man had shaken her, but not in a bad way, just an unexpected way. He’d somehow gotten to her womanly core. She’d been responding to him man-to-woman. Blowing out a breath of air in frustration, Shelby turned on her booted heel and forced herself to get the paperwork finished. First things first. She’d leave the papers with the nurses’ desk and then go out and make sure the gray wolf was all right.

As Shelby approached the desk, an older nurse with steel-gray hair beckoned to her. Shelby recognized nurse Patty Fielding.

“Hey, Shelby, do you know about that guy?” Patty whispered, coming up to her at the desk.

“No. Why?” Shelby handed her the papers that needed to be filled out.

“He’s known as The Loner around here. He got here a year ago and was supposed to see Dr. McPherson about his shoulder injury once a week. He never came back for subsequent appointments after the first one.”

Shelby’s heart went out to Dakota Carson. “He’s a military vet,” she whispered, feeling sorry for him.

“Oh, honey,” Patty said, taking the papers, “he’s also a SEAL. Those guys rock in my world. They’re on the front lines around the world fighting for us. They’re in harm’s way every time they take a mission.” Patty shook her head. “Such a shame. He’s an incredibly valiant vet. He’s got a lot of problems, physical and mental.”

“And was he seeing Dr. McPherson for his arm injury?”

“Technically, yes, for nerve damage. But she’s our PTSD expert here at the hospital, too.”

Standing there, Shelby asked, “Is that why he lives alone? Out in the middle of nowhere?” She recalled the Vietnam vets who had PTSD. At that time, it wasn’t diagnosed except to call it “battle fatigue.”

Patty filled out the forms and signed them with a flourish. “Yes, and those guys got no help at all. It broke my heart. Oh, and no address on Mr. Carson.”

“What about family?”

Patty sighed and said, “His parents died in a crash when he was eighteen. Froze to death during the blizzard. They found their car two days later and it was too late.”

Shelby’s heart plummeted. “That’s so sad.”

“Yeah, this guy has had a very rough life. You don’t know the half of it.” Patty smiled and handed her the papers. “Gotta go!”

“I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Take care of that wolf of his,” she said, lifting her hand in farewell. “She’s a sweet girl.”

Shelby smiled a little and thanked the nurse for the information. As she headed out the doors of the E.R., the sun just crested the eastern horizon. What was it about this ex-SEAL that grabbed her heart? Grabbed all of her attention? Somehow the name Carson was one she knew. Stymied, Shelby walked carefully over the slick areas of black ice and circumvented the patches of snow. Out in the parking lot, she could see Carson’s beat-up truck. It looked a lot like him, Shelby thought sadly. There was something in his eyes that shouted incredible loss. Loss of what?

CHAPTER THREE

SHELBY HAD THE FEMALE gray wolf and she rode quietly in the backseat of her Tahoe cruiser. She just dropped off the papers to the courthouse when she received a call from Alanna.

Picking up the radio, Shelby continued to drive slowly through Jackson Hole traffic, on her way out to the hospital. The hour was almost up. “Go ahead, Alanna,” she said.