“Man, you guys get all the good ones,” Cantrell said.
The trouble was that fewer female werewolves were born, so there seemed to always be a shortage. Not that he expected to set up housekeeping anytime soon.
“How did you learn about her?” Robert asked.
As if the Silver brothers had a pipeline to learning about available females. Although he supposed Bertha was that for him this time.
Tom got a call on his radio from ski patroller Kemp. “Gotta come quick. Devil Man’s Switchback.”
“Whatcha got?” Tom got ahead of those waiting in the ski line and was promptly seated on a chair.
“The lady you brought to the resort?” Kemp said.
Tom’s mouth went dry, and he tightened his hand around the radio. Elizabeth was probably not injured that badly, but since she had been with Tom, Kemp had most likely taken the situation more seriously than warranted.
At least Tom prayed it was so. “Yeah, what happened?”
“She says she’s okay.”
Tom sat on the edge of his chair, unsure whether to be concerned or not. “But?”
Kemp cleared his throat.
“Just spit it out, Kemp,” Tom said. “What’s happened?”
“Vitals look good, but the Woodcroft twins saw her first and called it in. They both say she was knocked out. She denies it, but she probably wouldn’t remember.”
That didn’t sound good. “Is she answering your questions with full clarity?”
“Yeah. I’ve called for my brother to bring up a toboggan. She doesn’t want to use one. You know… she’s all alpha.”
Tom smiled a little at that. Yeah, he already knew that about her.
“You know how it is. Someone can have no memory issues for hours or even days, and suddenly they have a problem. No visible injuries to her head, though.”
“She goes down in the toboggan. Any other possible injuries?” Tom asked.
“Wrist might be sprained—she was still holding on to one of her ski poles. She’ll probably be a little bruised but otherwise fine.”
“What exactly happened? Just take a spill?”
Kemp paused, then said, “She says a guy shoved her down the slope on purpose.”
Tom frowned. More likely an out-of-control skier, though if the guy regularly skied the black slope, maybe not. “Did she get a look at him?”
“She gave me a get-real look, Tom, when I asked her the question. You know, because she was falling down the mountain—in an unglamorous way—her words, not mine. I couldn’t imagine her ever looking unglamorous.”
“Just help me up,” she said in the background, sounding totally pissed.
Tom smiled at hearing her dictatorial tone. “Just keep her down until I get there.”
Chapter 5
When Tom reached the expert slope, he saw Elizabeth’s skis placed in an X several yards above. All he could see down below were three male backsides as they hovered over the injured she-wolf.
Anthony, Cody, and Kemp.
Tom greeted them as he reached their location, praying all of this was overkill. Wolves were territorial by nature, and they’d staked their claim over the she-wolf, even if she was older than the teens. When he could maneuver around the others to observe the patient, he saw one annoyed looking she-wolf scowling up at him. He frowned, still worried she might be injured worse than she claimed.
Tom moved closer to where she rested on her back against a mogul, the wind whipping the snow about. The white fake-fur-trimmed hood surrounded her face. A black half balaclava covered her mouth and nose, making her appear ninja-like. Her eyes were narrowed at him, her ski goggles pushed up onto her ski hat.
“What happened?” Tom asked, crouching down to speak with her.
She pulled the balaclava down with her right hand.
“I’ll be all right,” she said breathily, as if she was having a hard time breathing or the pain was affecting her.
She might be all right, but Tom’s heart pumped way too fast. “Kemp said you probably have a mild wrist sprain.”
“Yeah.” Her breathing was shallow.
Tom thought maybe she wasn’t used to the thinner air and was suffering from hypoxia, or altitude sickness. Or possibly she had a broken rib that had collapsed a lung.
“Do you need oxygen? Having trouble breathing?” Tom asked. “Ribs hurt?”
“No.”
He didn’t trust the patient completely. He’d seen a case a week ago where a twenty-three-year-old hot dog had claimed he was okay, but his vitals had deteriorated rapidly. Tom had him medevaced out only to learn later that the skier had ruptured his spleen. Another was the case of a forty-five-year-old man who looked unsteady after he said a snowboarder had run him over. He swore he just had to catch his breath, but when he couldn’t, Tom had the ambulance take the man down to the hospital. Tom heard later from Doc Weber that the patient had suffered a mild heart attack.
“Vital signs?” Tom asked Kemp.
“Her signs are good,” Kemp said.
“Okay, good.”
“I found her camera,” Minx said. Tom looked that way, surprised that the teenaged girl was here, too. Not that he should be, since she was friends with the boys. She must have been in the woods next to the expert trail, searching for the camera. A couple of pine needles clung to her bright green ski hat, the pink and white pom-poms swinging from the ties as she tried to make her way down the steep incline to reach them. Snow clung to the camera.
“You were taking pictures when it happened?” Tom asked Elizabeth. When he’d learned she was on this slope, he had assumed she must be an expert skier.
“Yes.” She gritted her teeth, trying to mask that she hurt.
“Was anybody with her at the time?” Tom asked.
“No, she was alone,” Kemp said.
“Did anyone see what happened?”
She gave Tom an irritated look. She must have had her back to the skier and couldn’t see what had occurred.
“Two panting males saw her,” Kemp said, a lighthearted tone to his voice.
Anthony and Cody chuckled.
Tom liked Kemp because he always had a sense of humor. It also meant that Elizabeth must be in good shape, no really bad injuries, or he would be ultraserious.
As a lupus garou, she’d heal well on her own. Unless she had spinal injuries or bleeding that couldn’t be stemmed, she should be all right.