Paul Drake to the Rescue

The sun shining through the branches of the fallen tree created a kaleidoscope effect in the small shelter. Perry watched the dancing lights, thinking they looked like the stars he could often see in Della's eyes. He was cold, and the need to move was almost overwhelming. Then he realized Della's body was very tightly spooned against his, trapping his arm beneath her. Even after all they had been through, her unique scent still clung to her body. He breathed in, and as he did a memory surged.

She's not wearing anything on the top half. He frantically tried to push the thought away, embarrassed he had gone there in his mind in this less-than-romantic setting. She's bare, and so am I. Obviously, his mind was not going to stop this train of thought.

Della, still fighting wakefulness, wiggled. She was seeking body heat unconsciously, but her movements only served to increase Perry's discomfort. What had started out as a routine morning issue was now a more pressing one. He had to pull an image of Hamilton Burger shouting out "Incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial!" to tamp down his arousal before Della woke.

Okay, now what, Genius? He tried moving very slowly, hoping to slide away from her.

"If you cause your leg to start bleeding again, I'll smack you into next week," she informed him, her lids still closed and her breathing regular.

"My, but you're testy in the morning," he teased, using his free arm to lift her chin up. Placing a gentle kiss on her lips, he added, "But you're also absolutely beautiful."

Della blushed from her hair to her waist. Looking down, she realized just how much she was revealing, and tried to use her good arm to draw the blanket closed. She noticed Perry was trying very hard to be a gentleman, and then she noticed his own situation.

"Oh, Perry, I'm so sorry," she apologized, and struggled to extricate herself from the blankets without doing more damage to her arm.

"Easy, Della. Let me help." Perry helped her sit up, then pulled her close for another kiss. "If we weren't stranded, injured and wondering if we are going to be rescued, I'd be very happy waking up to you."

She smiled up at him, reaching up to brush some pine needles from his hair. His beard was just starting to come in, and his eyes were bright and shining. He looked young and boyish and irresistible.

"Ditto, Chief. You are, without a doubt, better than any of my pillows at home." She sighed, longing to lean against him again, but she didn't move to do it. "I'm going to need help. I'm shirtless, and I need to check on Jimmy."

Perry looked to where Jimmy still leaned against the rock wall, seemingly in the same position as the night before. "He's still out. Check your shirt. If it dried at all, I can help you get back in it."

She blushed again, then banished her modesty and reached for her bra and blouse. With his assistance, she was presentable again in a few minutes. The blouse was damp, but not sopping. And it beat being exposed.

With that task done, Della carefully crawled across to the young pilot. Jimmy was still leaning against the rock, his eyes closed and his face pale. She reached out, touched his cheek, and gasped.

"Perry! Jimmy's gone!"

"No!"

Gently easing his body to the ground, Della pulled the blanket over his head. She bowed her head and said a silent prayer. She crossed back to Perry, placing her hand on his cheek, staring into his midnight blue eyes. They were clouded with anguish and loss.

"This isn't your fault, sweetheart." The term just slipped out. "It's mine."

He frowned. "How do you work that out? Della, Jimmy was in rough shape! His ribs were broken when he crashed into the instrument panel. He probably had one puncture his lung when he climbed back into the plane."

"To help me." Her voice was soft.

He shook his head, refuted, "No, Della. Well, yes, but that doesn't mean— He overdid because of my damned leg wound. This is not your fault."

She shook her head. "I knew he was injured, and I suspected it was serious. But I was so concerned about you and the chills setting in, that I honestly prioritized you over Jimmy. I should have removed his clothes, too! I should have insisted he move closer to us!"

All of a sudden she was in his arms, weeping uncontrollably. Perry gently wrapped his arms around her and held her close, letting the emotional release flow out of her. Tenderly, he kissed her hair before pressing his cheek against it. The shudders were fewer, but still there. And then, just as suddenly as the weeping had started, the storm was over.

"I look a mess."

He laughed softly. "You do. But then, in all fairness, you were very wet and bedraggled for the better part of twelve hours!"

She managed a smile. "So you're saying there's no need to be self-conscious."

"Miss Street, I think, considering the circumstances, you look drop-dead gorgeous."

"Don't say 'dead,' Chief." She glanced over at the covered body, then back at him. "Now that we've established what happened was a result of his injuries, we have to make sure Jimmy didn't die in vain."

"Agreed," Perry affirmed. "What shall we do for breakfast? Did you manage to squirrel away some of those nuts from the plane?"

Della closed the gap between them and kissed him fully on the mouth, taking him completely by surprise. Then, with a little effort, she managed to stand and moved away from him to where the rescued rations were. After a moment she turned to smile at him in triumph.

"Peanuts!"

"The breakfast of champions," he smiled, catching the package she tossed him. "Come sit beside me and we'll share."

She shook her head. "Save me some. I need to look for suitable firewood. Hopefully some has dried enough for us to use. Maybe someone out there will see it and get us out of this wilderness."

"That's my girl! Just . . . don't stray too far from here. I wouldn't want you to become a snack for any of the local inhabitants."

"Funny." She made a face at him, then smiled. "I'll be safe, and back before you know it. I have no desire to meet any 'local inhabitant', either. Will you be alright for a little while?"

"If you help me stand before you go."

She didn't ask why. Instead she came to his side and helped support his weight with her good arm wrapped around his waist. Once his feet were under him and he was leaning against the rocky wall, he stole a quick kiss and then released her.

Della grabbed one of the plastic bags and headed out of their makeshift shelter. Standing for a few moments, she let her eyes adjust to the bright sunlight and took in the surroundings. Above the shelter was a very steep hill, so she decided that direction would be a last resort. Below her current position was a gully that was also steep, but she could see where it led to a water source.

One thing I don't want to do is head back toward where the plane crashed. There's nothing for us there. The narrow path it is!

Heading in the opposite direction, she took her time, watching for snakes or other creepy things. Her ears were straining for any kind of animal sound or Perry's cries. With each new turn, she snapped a branch to indicate the direction she had come. The last thing she wanted to do was wander so far from Perry she couldn't help him when he needed her.

As she walked she started collecting dry sticks to use for kindling. She also picked up a few pieces of damp wood, knowing it would create smoke. Growing up, she had spent her summers visiting family across the country. Her uncle and aunt on her father's side lived in the Tennessee mountains, and she was eternally grateful they had insisted on camping adventures. Without those experiences, she wouldn't have had a clue on how to survive.

And Perry and I will survive, she vowed. If only we could find a way to communicate with civilization! Closing her eyes, she pictured Paul's face and mentally sent him an S.O.S. Then she opened them again and got back to work.

It was as she picked up the last piece of wood that she saw the animal track. Placing her hand next to the print, she realized the cat who had made it was very large. Adjusting the weight of the bag of sticks, she hurried as fast as she dared to the shelter.

Perry heard her approach and smiled in greeting, but before he could even say her name, he noticed the ashen color of her face. He staggered over to her, wincing as he moved on his injured leg.

"Hand me the bag," he instructed, holding out his hand, "and tell me what happened."

"Give me a chance to catch my breath." She passed him the bag and he set it down. "I found enough for us to start a nice fire. And I think the sooner we get it going the better."

Together they sat on the blanket. Perry took her hand, his thumb rubbing circles on it, waiting for her to tell him what had caused her alarm.

"Della?"

"There appears to be a very large cat somewhere in the area. I wasn't very far from here when I saw the track."

His eyes darkened and his brow furrowed. "How large, do you think?"

Della explained how she measured the paw print with her own hand.

"Well, that's pretty large." He looked down at the small hand still in his. "I'm guessing mountain lion. Let's hope this isn't one of his sleeping dens."

"I thought of that, too. All the more reason we need to get a fire started. Are you up to helping me? I want him discouraged from investigating."

Perry's mouth curved up at the corners as a devil of mischief danced in his eyes. He caught her chin and lifted her head. Dragging her into his arms, his mouth came down over hers. His kiss was explosive, full of hunger and longing, as though all of his pent-up feelings for her were going to spill out. He was demanding as if they had always been lovers, yet he was tender, too, as his tongue learned each secret of her mouth. His touch overwhelmed her senses. Sweet spirals of sensation swirled through her limbs. He was warm and wonderful, and she savored the feel of his tongue in her mouth, the brush of his thumbs, the wonder of his arms. She was starting to melt into his body. Her soft moan caused Perry to pull her closer, to lay them back on the blanket. It was at that moment she broke the kiss.

Della gently pushed at him. "That's not the fire I was talking about."

Perry laughed, reluctantly letting her go. "Just trying to do my part to start the fire! Spoilsport!"

"You do alright, Mister," she informed him, and her face was flushed from the heat of the moment.

Knowing she needed time, he slammed the lid down on his desire and nodded toward the sticks. "Alright, Miss Street. Let's see about that fire."

Together they cleared a spot outside the shelter, close enough for warmth but away from the fallen tree. Della found some small stones to place around the wood, then helped Perry with the kindling. Once it was going, she put the damp wood on it, causing smoke to rise into the air.

"You certainly are a very handy girl to have around," he teased, winking at her. "I wish Jimmy could see you now."

At the mention of the pilot, the light in Della's eyes dimmed. "What will happen to him? Will the rescue teams carry him out? Should we bury him? I couldn't stand it if some animal tried to—"

"Della, I need you to get more wood or this fire is going to run out of fuel pretty quickly," he interrupted, not answering her questions. He had to get her thinking about things other than Jimmy. "But you can't go far. Not with that cat close by."

Della searched the shelter to find her jacket. To her relief, the pistol she had found in the plane was still there. Retrieving it, she showed Perry. "I found this when I was searching the plane."

Perry took the gun from her, checking to see that it was fully loaded. "Now that's odd. Why would Jimmy need a gun?"

"That was the question that went through my mind when I found it. But it doesn't make any difference now. At least we have some protection from that cat or whatever else might come around."

"Good girl."

Della leaned in and gave him a kiss. "I'm off to see the…! Well anyway, wish me luck. I'll be back before you know it."

He had never felt so helpless in his life, but he gave her a reassuring smile and cautioned, "Be careful."

She headed back down the path. Perry hoped whatever was roaming around would stay away and the fire would help attract someone's attention. For the first time in twelve hours, he allowed himself to think of Paul. In his bones he knew his pal was in the area, muscling his way into the search party. He turned to Jimmy's covered body and brooded quietly.

What's with the gun? If you've gotten Della into some kind of situation, I'll . . . I don't know how to finish that threat! Paul, I surely hope you're here. And I surely hope you aren't alone . . .