“I’m glad you’re here,” she strangled out.

“Hey boss,” Alvi teased, taking charge as he lowered the blanket to assess Hilly’s injuries. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a truck hit me,” she grunted, her voice sounded rough and gravely when she answered.

“Okay. You just stay put and try not to talk too much. It looks like Cottins might have done some damage to your larynx.”

“And my ribs,” Hilly gutted out. “I also can’t use my arm. I think it’s dislocated.”

Alvi didn’t hesitate. “Deep breath.” He positioned himself and Hilly, expertly and quickly popping it back in.

Hilly yelped. “Damn.” Tears filled her eyes, then she gave it an experimental roll. “It’s…better now.”

“I know. And sorry for the pain,” Alvi apologized. “It’s how it had to go.”

Alvi’s hands then gently palpated Hilly from head to foot as Cisco held her hand. She winced repeatedly, and he wished he could pummel Cottins all over again.

“Well,” Alvero leaned back, “it looks like you might have some broken ribs, a nice black eye, a split lip, and a bruised face.” He held out a cold-pack he’d activated for her, and laid it carefully on her face. “But it’s your throat I’m most worried about. There’s some damage there, and we need to get you to the hospital ASAP.” He eased a cervical collar around her neck and fastened the Velcro closings.

Cisco knew Alvi was afraid that swelling would block Hilly’s airway, and she needed to be checked out by a doctor as quickly as possible.

“Mase,” he called up, nerves hitting him hard over what could happen if Hilly couldn’t catch a breath. “Can we get a medivac chopper in here?”

There was silence up above for a few seconds.

“On it, Cisco. The EMT’s will load her into their ambulance, then drive to the parking lot at the camp. The hospital’s helo will land there to bring her in.”

Cisco wished there were someplace closer for them to get her, but he knew Hilly would be in good hands with the experienced EMT’s for the duration, so he’d have to be okay with that.

He turned his attention back to Hilly.

“Cottins?” she asked, daring to speak one more time, even though Alvi grunted disapprovingly at her.

“He’s still breathing, thanks only to Mason,” Cisco admitted. “I was ready to pound him into the ground before the chief stepped in. He’s in cuffs now, and he won’t be seeing the light of day for a long time. I promise.”

Hilly’s face smoothed out, but he could see she was readying to speak again.

Cisco placed a feather-like finger over her lips. “Shh. I’ll tell you everything else you want to know as soon as we get you secure and in the ambulance.”

Because, hell, yes. He was going with her.

Hilly nodded.

With Alvi’s approval, Cisco was the one to lift his injured woman carefully onto the litter.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Two weeks had passed since she’d been rescued by Cisco and his team, then been airlifted to the hospital. The attending doctor had poked, prodded, x-rayed, given her neck a CT angiogram, and finally determined that she was battered and bruised, but not irreparably damaged. Still, the doc had kept her for two nights, citing that additional swelling of her larynx could occur to obstruct her airway.

Cisco had stayed at her side for the duration, sleeping in one of the two uncomfortable chairs in her room.

Her parents had visited. Cisco’s folks—whom Hilly had adored within the first five minutes of meeting them—had brought food and comfort items to the hospital each day, and the entire SWAT team, along with Crash and Adeline, had filed in and out like big, overprotective brothers and sisters during her recovery, while also keeping her camp running smoothly. Lots of thank-you notes were to be written once she was feeling better.

Finally, after forty-eight hours, the doctor had allowed her to go home. But once back in her cabin, Hilly’s parade of visitors and champions hadn’t died down. Her “care” continued on an even more invasive level than what she’d endured in the hospital.

To say that Buffy was a hovering, mother-hen, was an understatement. Once Hilly settled in, Buff and Ellen Sothard teamed up to keep an eye on her nearly every minute of every day.

The SWAT team had bought her a comfortable couch, and a reclining chair to replace her old, tattered furniture, and they’d dropped off treats, which if she wasn’t careful, would end up on her hips.

Mom and Papa-J had brought their RV to camp, parking it alongside Hilly’s cabin. They hung out, making sure Hilly didn’t overdo, and when they left for a few days, Selma and Genero Andera took over their house on wheels. It worked out so well, that the couples, thereafter, had switched off every few nights.

And, yeah. Cisco had pretty much demanded that he stay every night as well.

The man was glued to her side from the time he got home from work until he left again in the early morning. Not that she was complaining. Hilly loved having him around, as did everyone else at camp. He’d filled in, taking over for Hilly’s normal boisterousness. He was loud, fun, goofy, and had the entire camp performing physical challenges Hilly would have labeled impossible if she hadn’t seen them executed with her own eyes. It was exactly what the kids needed to build on improving their self-images, and she wondered if she could hire Cisco next year…

Hire him. Right.

The man was continuously angling to make their relationship permanent, as in marriage, and it didn’t seem like he was kidding. Which blew her mind. Sure, they’d declared their love for each other, even reaffirming it many times while she was in the hospital, but since then he’d been adamant about cementing their bond.

As much as that thrilled her to think of them, long-term, Hilly needed to have time to wrap her head around it. She still couldn’t quite believe it was true. She felt if she pinched herself too hard, she’d wake up and Cisco would have been a wraith; a figment of her needful imagination.

Of course, the stubborn man would be less apparition-like if he’d just ditch his over-protectiveness and agree to fuck her again. That’s what she really needed. But no. Not Mr. You’re-too-banged-up-and-I-don’t-want-to-hurt-you-Andera. He was waiting for some nebulous sign from the universe that Hilly was miraculously, fully healed. But unfortunately, according to the doctors, her broken rib recovery would take several more weeks.

Hilly, however, refused to be put on hold that long, or any longer, for that matter.

She’d already warned Mama and Papa-J to steer clear of her cabin tonight, and cajoled them into taking Nel for a long, exhausting walk before bedding her down for the night in Crash and Adeline’s cabin.

Poor, traumatized Nel had barely left her side since the incident, but with Coco as incentive, Hilly was confident the doggie-sleepover tonight would go without a hitch.

All the adults she’d told to stay away had given knowing smirks at her request, but that hadn’t deterred Hilly’s plans at all. Embarrassment be damned. She was ready to get physical with Cisco again, and was unwilling to settle for the light kisses and caresses she’d been receiving for fourteen freaking days.

She wanted naked, and she wanted sex.

Tonight.

“Knock, knock,” Buffy called out, giving a light rap of her knuckles to Hilly’s open door. “Just checking in.”

Hilly rolled her eyes. “You mean like the last ten times I’ve seen you today?”

Buffy frowned and walked up to Hilly, anyway. “I almost lost you, you know,” she reminded Hilly. “And with things still up in the air, bad-guy wise, I’m not ready to let you out of my sight yet.”

“There’s no danger left to consider,” Hilly assured her. “Cottins is behind bars, awaiting trial.”

“Right. But his accomplice, your ex-father is still on the lamb,” she huffed. “And the matter of Carter has yet to be determined.”

Carter.

Hilly sighed. The young man had been—at least temporarily—placed in the custody of his parents. Hilly and Cisco had assured his mother and father they wouldn’t press charges if Carter got the psychiatric help he needed. The couple had agreed, but Bailey’s parents—while dropping their lawsuit against Hilly—still wanted Carter charged with attempted murder.