Page 58 of Mountain Target

Fuck.

The boy’s hand was a mess.

Smaller rocks rained on their heads as the teetering pile of rocks shifted and strained.

Time to get moving.

Beau picked the boy up and ran with him, not stopping until he bumped into Ry and Hugo, waiting with the stretcher.

And then the boy’s father was there, too.

“Michael! Michael!”

Hugo picked up the front and Alex took the back, while Ry moved to the side of the patient, and they all began running down the mountain towards the waiting helicopter.

Beau rested his head against the back of the seat. He had no idea how things would turn out for the boy, and whether doctors would be able to save the hand, but he felt an immense relief that they had at least been able to give him a fighting chance.

Valentina

Val heard from another doctor that Beau’s team had been involved in the rescue, but didn’t realize Beau himself was at the hospital until she walked out of the restricted area and found him half-lying on a too-narrow couch.

He wasn’t asleep, however, and straightened as soon as he saw her, his long legs struggling for purchase.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, looking embarrassed.

“I work here,” Val replied. “What are you doing here?”

“I …”

Her expression softened. “You’re here about the boy, aren’t you?”

“You’ve seen him?”

“I was the doctor on duty when your teammate brought him in. The surfer-looking guy.” She paused for a second. “He did a good job keeping the boy alive, stable and as comfortable as possible on the flight over.”

Beau nodded. “Ry’s one of the best medics I’ve ever met. Nothing flusters him. Today I thought he’d end up having to—“ He stopped midway through the sentence, paused for a long instant. “His father was with him when it happened. Poor man. It didn’t seem right to leave until the boy’s out of surgery.”

“Careful, Beau, or I might think you’re going soft.”

“I like the way you say my name,” he said, his voice an octave lower than it had been seconds earlier. “How’s he doing? Is he going to lose the hand?”

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “He’s still in surgery. I was with him until the trauma team took over.”

She reminded herself that she was still angry at Beau, but it was hard to hold on to her anger when he was showing such compassion. “It’s going to take a few more hours, Beau. But even if he loses the hand,” she said carefully, “it’s not the worst outcome when you take into account what could have happened.”

Beau’s gray eyes filled with pain, and she knew, without him having to say anything, that he was reliving the rescue and questioning every decision they’d made.

“Come. I’ll take you across the street for a coffee.”

Beau hesitated, looking down at the couch he’d vacated, which still held the shape of his body.

“Across the street?”

“I don’t need an ulcer, thank you very much. Come with me. They make great coffee, and you’ll be back in no time.”

She could see him fighting with himself, saw also the moment he made his decision, and nodded quietly.

“Lead the way.”