Paul Drake to the Rescue
Sitting in the warm sun, Perry made sure to add enough fuel to keep their fire going. Della had been a trooper, collecting and carrying what she could with just one arm. None of the wood was very large, but by sheer stubbornness, she had gathered enough to continue to feed the fire for a while. She was gone again, still on a hunt for firewood and anything else they might need.
That left Perry to concentrate his mind on Jimmy and the implications the gun suggested.
The young man had been on a dangerous track to juvenile delinquency. He had fallen in with a gang of similar delinquents, kids who liked to loiter around respectable businesses. This led to mischief, from drag racing to petty theft. Eventually the gang held up a liquor store, and the elderly proprietor had been badly injured.
Because his father had been a pal of Perry's from his time in the Navy, Perry had naturally taken the case. He navigated the trial, managing to get the charges reduced. Although Jimmy was found guilty, his sentence was light. Community service changed him into a civic-minded entrepreneur. The boy emerged a man.
Perry kept up with Jimmy's progress. At some point after graduating from high school, Jimmy joined the Navy and distinguished himself as an excellent pilot. After receiving an honorary discharge, Jimmy's his father set him up with his own plane, and from there, business was booming. From freight flights to commuter trips, Jimmy had taken jobs flying between Las Vegas to L.A., and from L.A. to destinations in other parts of California, and occasionally, Mexico.
Perry was so intent on his thoughts that he missed the rustling in the brush, and the slip on the rocky gravel. It wasn't until he heard the low growl that he saw the big cat. He sat up, his eyes widening in momentary shock, then narrowed to a fine point as he zeroed in on the mountain lion. The cat was crouched on a large boulder about fifteen feet away. At the moment it was only watching him, but Perry had no doubt any sudden movements would bring the big animal down on him.
Of all the times to have a leg injury! Okay, think. What scares big cats away? Standing tall? No, that's bears. Loud noises? Maybe. But first, the handiest weapon I have…
As carefully and slowly as he could, Perry added the last of the small twigs to the fire. From the dawn of man, fire terrified animals and kept humans safe. At least, that was what his history books had suggested. He prayed the smoke would deter the cat from charging.
Still moving slowly and carefully, he inched his way back into the shelter. He was almost inside when his hand landed on another twig, causing it to snap. The cat emitted a vicious cry and prepared to spring.
His heart sank. I love you Della. And I'm truly sorry I couldn't protect you. I hope you forgive me.
As these thoughts ran through his mind, he closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable feeling of claws and teeth.
Della was just rounding a curve in the path when she heard the growl. Stopping in her tracks, she dropped the bundle of branches she had been carrying on the ground. Reaching into her pocket, she removed the gun. It was heavy. Taking time to cock it, she edged toward the sound with precision and care. It wouldn't do to startle an already riled animal.
There, just ahead, she could see the outcropping where Perry was. He, she couldn't quite make out, but the mountain lion was easier to spot. It was there, crouching on the rock, eyeing someone at the entrance of the shelter. She moved closer, and Perry loomed clearly into view.
Stifling a gasp, she sought his eyes, but from a distance he didn't receive her mental communique. Get back in the shelter, Chief! Don't worry about moving slowly! That cat is about to have you for lunch!
To her relief, Perry moved backwards. Just when it was safe for her to breathe again, she heard it. The snap of a twig. In the tense silence that had fallen around them when the cat had first appeared, the noise sounded like a cannon!
The cat shrieked with something that sounded like a cross between a roar and a hiss. Della didn't wait any longer. Raising the pistol, she took a quick aim with both eyes open, and fired.
She missed. The big cat, being of sound mind and body, bolted from the rock in the opposite direction, not waiting for a second shot. Della pocketed the gun and ran as quickly as her injury permitted to where Perry lay.
He was prone, and his eyes were closed. She willed away her panic, then heard him breathing heavily.
"Perry!"
Kneeling next to him, she ran her hand over his body, looking for any sign of injury from the cat. Suddenly the blue eyes fastened on her hazel ones and his arms went around her.
"Darling, if you're trying to, uh, get a rise out of me, it's definitely working."
Smacking his shoulder, she tried to pull away. "Darn you! I was only making sure the cat hadn't gotten to you. Now let me go."
He shook his head, flashed his dimples, then pulled her down for a deep kiss. She relaxed into his embrace. When they needed to breathe, Della raised her head.
"Hmm. That's nice."
Perry raised an eyebrow. "Nice? Nice! That's your opinion of my kiss? Nice."
She giggled and he released her. "Nice is a good word, Chief. It's been translated into hundreds of languages."
He rolled his eyes playfully, then started the struggle to sit up. "I have a feeling, Miss Street, we are going to practice your vocabulary. Nice is something we use to describe weather, not passionate kisses."
"Oh?" She tilted her head, considering him. "My mistake. If that's what you call a passionate kiss, I'm afraid I'll have to change my description. That was . . . adequate."
He laughed outright. "Okay, you win. It was a kiss of deep relief. But if you do call a passionate kiss nice, I'll garnish your lunches."
She dropped her hand to her heart playfully. Just as she was about to retort, she looked at his leg. It was bleeding again. All levity fled as worry, deep and real, stole up and engulfed her. Pushing him onto his back once more, she ignored the pain in her shoulder and arm as she attempted to remove his trousers.
"Well, now that's more like it. I'll just—" Perry broke off as he saw her expression.
"Perry, shut up and help me. Your leg is bleeding again."
Glancing down, he noticed that indeed, there was a small puddle of blood on the ground underneath his injured leg. He helped her remove the pants, making sure his shirt was covering as much of his groin as possible.
Della carefully unwrapped the now blood-soaked bandage. The First Aid kit revealed there was not enough gauze to rewrap his wound. She met his eyes, and he read her fear and frustration.
"Jimmy."
She nodded, crossing to where Jimmy lay. Lowering the blanket, she murmured a quick apology, and with some difficulty, removed the young pilot's shirt. Despite the daylight and the small fire, it was still damp, but it would have to do.
Handing the shirt to Perry, she ordered him to tear it into strips. Meanwhile, she went in search of alcohol. Their rations yielded a small bottle of gin. Again, it would have to do.
Perry watched her, noting the flickering emotions flashing across her features. The worry was still there, but the fear had been replaced with resolve. She was once again the world's most efficient secretary, and he was glad of it. Without her know-how, he was a slowing dying duck.
He set the strips beside him and waited. Della looked over, saw he was finished, and gathered the supplies she needed to clean the wound. After wiping most of the blood away, she sat back and took a deep breath.
"This will hurt, Perry," she informed him matter-of-factly. "Grit your teeth and try not to swear."
She emptied the contents of the gin bottle onto the wound.
He bellowed with white-hot indignation. The pain was immediate and searing, like a blinding stab in his skull. But he didn't swear. Instead, he clamped his lips together and ordered himself not to utter another sound.
Della took the strips of Jimmy's shirt and bound the wound. When it was time to tie it off, Perry helped, securing it as tightly as he dared. Satisfied she had done what she could, sat back on her heels.
"Well, now. Do you think you can stay out of trouble for 5 minutes while I go back to the wood I left when I spotted the cat?"
Perry smiled and traced a finger down her cheek. "Della. I'm very much impressed. You've done this sort of thing before, haven't you?"
She shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. There was a war, remember? I was still a slip of a girl, in my—well, younger than I am right now. And I wanted to do my bit. Rolling bandages, being a nurse's aide. I picked up a few things."
"And I bet you broke hearts."
She blushed, but refuted, "Not a one. Now then, if you're finished doing a background investigation into my skillset, I'm going to leave you temporarily. Promise to be here when I get back?"
His eyes smoldered with suppressed desire. He wanted to pull her back into his arms until the word "nice" no longer existed. But he knew better. So he simply nodded and replied, "Yes, Miss Street."
"Good boy. I'll be right back."
With that Della headed back down the path. Twenty minutes later she returned. With the wood added to the fire, she relaxed. Perry's leg was still secure, so she set about putting lunch together. Each of them had a bag of peanuts and pretzels, and they shared a bottle of water.
Settling beside him, Della slowly munched on the peanuts. Perry made sure she had the majority of the water, aware she was more dehydrated because of her trips to find wood. A companionable silence fell between them. When they finished the meager lunch, Della took the trash and stuffed it back into the bag of supplies. Then she returned to her spot at his side.
Instinctively Perry wrapped his arm around her shoulders, gently leaning her against him. She reveled in comfort and reassurance as much as she did warmth. Unable to stop herself, she raised her head to look at him. He was so handsome, especially when he was thinking. She loved the way his mind worked. She loved the way his eyes moved when he was puzzling out a problem. And she loved the way his jaw moved in and out when he was trying to hold in something he wanted to say but was thinking better of it.
She sighed.
He rested his cheek against her hair. "I'll give you a penny for them."
"I think they're worth at least a nickel, Cheapskate."
He laughed, but the amusement didn't reach his eyes. He was preoccupied.
Broaching the subject she was thought was most on his mind, she asked, "Do you think Paul's looking for us?"
Perry smiled at that. "Do mountain lions shriek in the Rockies?"
She snorted. "Too soon to joke about it, Perry."
"Sweetheart, trust me, Paul is most definitely looking, but it's you he's looking for. He probably figures I can handle myself. But he will move heaven and earth to find you."
She snuggled closer. "Don't sell yourself short, Boss. Of course he's worried about you, too. You're his best friend. Besides, knowing him, he's probably found a local brunette already. Right now he's torn between finding you and staying with her." She sighed again. "I just hope he picks us. And I hope he hurries."
Della's nearness was doing things to Perry. He wanted to reassure her. She was so soft, so very worried about him. He wanted to protect her, to help her realize he was still there, right by her side. Without thinking, he nuzzled her neck, trailing kisses up to her ear and back again. Della's soft moan set off a reaction in his groin.
"Perry," she breathed his name, "I don't think—"
"I can think of one way to make sure Paul finds us."
His kisses continued with devastating effect. Without being aware of it, he had already lowered them both to their makeshift bed. Lingering kisses on her lips, beside her ear, on her shoulder brought a reaction from her as well.
"Umm," she moaned again, seeking his lips and finding them. "What's that?"
Perry whispered in her ear what he would like to be doing at the present time. Della's blush slowly crept up her cheeks.
"Perry, I think . . ." Her thoughts evaporated under the heat of his love.
Just as he was about to help her out of her shirt, the sound of a helicopter sounded overhead.
Perry swore. "Damn it, Paul! Every time!"
Della looked at him in dazed confusion. "What?"
He shook his head. Reaching for the flare pistol, checked it, then pointed it skyward.
Looking back at her, he flashed her a dimpled grin. "Told you that would work."
Della laughed. "What did you mean by 'Every time?'"
It was his turn to blush. "I've been trying to tell you how I feel about you for a long time, darling. Every time the moment presented itself, Paul barged in. Surely you've noticed!"
She laughed again. "Knowing you, when he finally rides in with the cavalry to rescue us, you'll tell him to get lost!"
"Well . . . Unless he has that brunette you mentioned. Then that might be what he tells us."