Yup. That was Welker. All bluster and no commitments. Cisco would deal with him, later. Right now, he focused on what Hilly had just revealed.
“You do? You love me?” he addressed her almost giddily, growing dizzy at her words. Or maybe his head was swimming because he’d been hanging upside-down for too long, but his heart was certainly soaring.
“Uh, huh,” she managed.
That was enough for Cisco.
“Hilly, you’ve made me the happiest man in Maine,” he replied, moisture threatening to spill from his eyes. “Now just stay quiet and I’ll be back before you know it.”
Hilly grunted her compliance, and hunkered deeper under the blanket.
“Up,” he told his teammates.
He didn’t want to leave Hilly, but passing out wouldn’t do either of them any good, and he needed to be one-hundred percent in his right mind so he could be one of the team who rappelled down and helped secure her in the litter once it arrived.
He was hauled up, slowly.
Once on solid ground, it took Cisco a minute to clear his head and get to his feet.
Welker—once Cisco was upright—was right there by his side to cuff him in the shoulder while Alvi looked at the damaged wrists he’d forgotten about, tsked, and started treating him.
“Smooth, pal,” Welker snorted. “Telling the girl you love her while she’s half-unconscious. And bro, what am I going to do for wingmen now that you and all the rest of our wuss friends have gotten shackled?” he complained, not quite tongue-in-cheek.
“Maybe get a real life,” Moira grumbled under her breath from next to them before turning and striding away.
Huh. That was interesting, and it wasn’t the first time Cisco had seen tension between the two. There was definitely something more there than met the eye, linking his buddy and the taciturn sheriff.
Cisco focused in on his friend. “Enjoy your delusions while you can, Welk. There’ll come a day when you meet a woman who’ll bowl you over, and you’ll finally understand how it is,” he schooled.
The man grimaced, glanced after the sheriff, then blanched.
Cisco gave an internal laugh. Welker was interested in Moira Bliss, but attempting to convince himself otherwise. It was a fascinating development. Cisco would have to keep an eye on his friend to make sure he didn’t blow it.
Moira was one hell of a teammate, and even if she was all business; didn’t do warm and fuzzy, she was smart, loyal, and pretty damned stunning to look at. Welk couldn’t do better than Ms. Bliss.
Hops, JD, Sandrine, and Briar brought him out of his thoughts as they broke through the trees from the north, humping in the equipment they needed.
“Emergency services are right behind us,” Sandrine told them, dropping some of the rope gear and her end of the litter on the ground at Mason’s feet. “EMTs as well, and the police to take this kidnapper and arsonist into custody.” She eyed the trussed-up form of Cottins, sneering at the asshole where he sniveled.
“Right. The fire,” Cisco recalled.
He’d been so focused on getting to Hilly, he hadn’t given another thought to the shack that had to have gone up in flames by now. He considered himself damned lucky not to have been caught in the conflagration. He’d managed, thanks to Hilly, to divest himself of his restraints, but once that had been accomplished, Cisco had been a little disoriented from the encroaching smoke. Crash—backed up by Cisco’s SWAT team—had braved the small building’s precarious safety to run inside and yank Cisco out in the nick of time. Cisco had never been more relieved to have a firefighter by his side.
“Is it raging out of control?” he asked.
Hilly would be devastated if the blaze spread to her camp.
Mason laughed. “Nope. Crash has it all under control. He stayed back and called an old colleague of his who works for the Maine Forest Service as part of a local helitack crew. The guy had a chopper in the air and was onsite within minutes. Crash told me over the mic that the helitack crew had already rappelled down, are using a fire retardant, and that they had the flames almost out.”
Cisco breathed a sigh of relief. Hilly would be very relieved to hear that. But right now, he needed to focus and gear up. Welker was right beside him, sorting through his tackle, but Alvi was already harnessed up and clipped in, ready to go.
“Come on, you slouches,” Alvero tossed out. “Let’s go get Cisco’s woman.”
In another few seconds Cisco and Welker were also suited up to roll. Securing the lines—as they’d practiced ad infinitum—they went over the lip and down onto the ledge before another word was spoken.
Cisco immediately leaned down over Hilly on one side, and Alvi crouched on the other while Welker took charge of the descending litter.
“We’ve got you now, Hill.” Cisco wasn’t sure where to touch her, for fear of causing her pain, but she solved his dilemma by slipping her small, cold hand into his.
“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.
