your point. But until you start blind dating in the women’s professional basketball league you aren’t going to find a woman who can beat you at basketball. You do know that, right? You might need to cross that off your list.”
Tag laughed. “Hey, I’ll settle for a fan at this point. She doesn’t even have to play.”
“Tag!” Smashed, half-eaten sandwich in hand, Violet skipped into the room, her tousled blond curls and peanut butter–smeared cheeks the cutest thing he’d seen since his last visit three days ago.
“Violet, my flower, you woke up for me!” Tag picked her up and swooped her high into the air. Wild giggling ensued. Planting a kiss on her cheek, he asked, “You want to take a walk on the ceiling?”
She thrust the sandwich at her dad. “Daddy, can you hold this? Don’t eat it!”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Bering grinned and took the sandwich.
Holding Violet securely at the waist, Tag flipped her upside down until her bootie-clad feet touched the ceiling. Still giggling, she carefully placed one foot in front of the other as Tag strode across the floor while she “walked” on the ceiling. When she’d crossed about half the room, he lowered her and turned her in his arms.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, eyes nearly the color of her name fixed firmly on him, she said, “I love walking on the ceiling. And I love you, too.”
A chest pinch of mega proportions nearly made him wince. “I love you, too, flower.” Tag wondered if men had biological clocks. A prick of sadness followed as he thought about his sister Shay and how desperately she wanted a child. She and her husband, Jonah, had recently suffered yet another adoption disappointment, and Tag was worried about the long-term repercussions on her. She seemed to be having a hard time recovering from this one emotionally.
“I think you’re her favorite person, Tag.” Emily stood in the doorway, eleven-month-old Brady on her hip. She followed that up with a quick “Don’t tell your sisters I said that.” Wearing black leggings and a long flannel shirt, her blond hair bunched into a cute, messy pile on top of her head, Emily didn’t look anything like the corporate executive she used to be. Although by all accounts she was a wizard in her current job as head of the Rankins Tourism Bureau.
“Are you guys wrapping it up? Lunch is ready.” Stepping inside, she surveyed the shelving they’d constructed and installed across one entire wall. “This looks incredible. It’s even better than I imagined. Thank you so much for helping, Tag.”
“Of course. Anytime. You know that.”
A buzz in his pocket followed by a distinct-sounding chime indicated a text from his business, Copper Crossing Air Transport. This particular alert had his paramedic’s pulse thumping because it told him that an emergency required medical evacuation.
“You need that sandwich to go?” Emily asked. His family members and most of his friends were familiar with the sound. And they all understood when plans were interrupted; there was no such thing as an inconvenience if it meant a life could be saved.
“That would be great, Em. Thanks.” Tag frowned as he read the brief message. A tap on his phone sent a return text letting his crew know they needed to get the float plane ready.
“Bad?” Bering asked.
“Grizzly bear.”
Bering winced and muttered under his breath.
“Oh, no!” Emily cried, one hand coming to rest possessively on Brady’s back.
No further explanation was necessary. Everyone who lived in Rankins, or the rest of Alaska for that matter, knew what those two words meant.
* * *
SO MUCH BLOOD. Too much to see exactly how much damage the bear had wrought. With nimble fingers, Ally Mowak probed her fifteen-year-old cousin Louis’s wounds. The dressings in her first aid kit weren’t going to go far, not with this amount of shredded skin. She slipped off her jacket as well as the thick fleece shirt beneath it. Using the knife she’d already wielded to cut away Louis’s tattered clothing, she went to work on her own, arranging strips of cloth on the worst of his wounds.
“Quinn?” she barked at the other teenager crouched beside her. Zombielike, he stared down at Louis. “Quinn, look at me.” Grabbing his shoulder, she gave it a shake. “See what I’m doing?”
Blinking slowly, Quinn managed to wrest his gaze from Louis.
Still cutting, she repeated, “See what I’m doing? How I’m making strips? I need you to do this with your sweatshirt, too. Do you understand?”
Blank eyes stared back at her. Ally feared he might pass out. Combat experience had taught her that the best way to handle a person on the verge of shock was to keep them moving—even better if you could give them a job to do.
“Quinn, I need your help here, kiddo.”
Louis let out a moan, hoarse and full of anguish.
That seemed to spur something in Quinn, and he nodded. He removed his top and held out a hand. Handle first, she passed him the knife. “It’s super sharp, okay?” she warned. “And hey.” Gripping his shoulder tightly until dark brown, terror-filled eyes met hers, she forced a confidence she didn’t feel into her tone. “He looks worse than he is. We will save him. But this is important. We need these strips to stop the bleeding.”
The sound of crunching leaves and snapping branches had her snatching up the bear spray at her side. Adrenaline flooded her bloodstream. Jessie and Ryder Shelton and their three monster-sized dogs, Colfax, Pia and Fife, emerged from the brush. Exhaling a relieved breath, she dropped the canister and focused her attention back on to her patient.
“That was fast,” she said. “I expected you to come across the lake.”
“The ATV was quicker.” Jessie knelt on the opposite side of Louis, already tearing into the packs of dressings she’d brought along. “We have a stretcher.”
Ally and her teenaged cousins Louis and Quinn had spent the morning fishing in Jessie’s canoe on Jasper Lake. A road accessed the scattering of homes located on the south shore of the lake, while the wooded northwestern shore could be reached only by boat or trail.
As lunchtime approached, she and the boys had paddled to this remote portion to eat and enjoy the view. Quinn had suggested a hike up a scenic trail that followed a winding stream past Sullivan’s Spring to Sullivan’s Falls. Round trip was only a few miles, and because they’d made it almost back to the spring when the bear attacked, Ally estimated they were now half a mile from the lake.
Thank the stars, she had her cell phone. Double and triple thanks that she had service and Jessie was around to hear the call. Jessie and Ryder ran a dog rescue facility, where Jessie rehabilitated injured and abused dogs, and Ryder trained service dogs for the police and military.
Ryder silently went to work on Louis’s neck and shoulder. After doing what they could on his front, they rolled him over so Ally could inspect his back. Relief surged through her. It didn’t appear that the bear had punctured the chest or abdominal cavity.
“Tag James is picking him up in his float plane,” Jessie said. “It’s the fastest way. The Coast Guard could send a search and rescue team with a hoist, but it would take longer. I already called.”
“Good.” Ally was relieved. The less jostling around for Louis, the better. “Let’s get him on the stretcher. I want to stop at the spring on the way to the lake.”
* * *
TAG CLIMBED OUT of the plane onto the pontoon and stepped into the shallow water of the lake. A few splashing strides and the pebbles of the shoreline were crunching beneath his booted feet. He hurried to where his friend Ryder stood nearby.
“Ryder, man, I’m glad to see you and Jessie here.”
Ryder was former military special forces and had medical training.