Kennadee watched them rush Gideon off into emergency surgery. She planted her feet, instead of giving into the need to pace like a nervous spouse.

She prayed he made it. There was something about him, something that she wanted to know more about. Her interest in men flamed as fast as a fire and was usually extinguished fairly quickly. But Gideon seemed different. She wanted more time with him.

“What’s the prognosis?” Trip Hunter asked, coming up to stand next to her. He was the Alaska State Trooper on the scene and had followed them to the hospital from mile marker thirty-three.

She’d known him all her life as he’d palled around with her brothers Ryder and Dare. It had been no surprise that he’d gone into law enforcement. When they were kids, he’d always played the cop to her outlaw brothers. He’d filled out nicely from the tall stick of his youth. Now those long limbs were packed with muscle, and his formerly caved-in chest was now broad and hard as granite from the looks of him. He kept his dark blond hair military short, though stubble already graced his square jaw this late in the afternoon.

“It’s too soon to call,” she said. “He’s bleeding internally, probably from a ruptured spleen.” She’d seen injuries like this before, usually caused from the force of being restrained by the seatbelt.

“Christ.”

“Exactly.” She sighed knowing she needed to do something to keep her mind off of Gideon. “I take it you’re after my statement.” She rubbed at her injured shoulder, her hand brushing at dried mud and, who knew what, else stuck to her clothes. She was a mess and needed to find a place to get cleaned up. The hospital would not appreciate her leaving a trail of debris along their pristine hallways.

Now that she’d gotten Gideon to the hospital, the adrenaline drained from her like emptying a watering can over a thirsty flower pot. Exhaustion hit her, and pain from using her shoulder in a manner she wasn’t supposed to, bared its teeth.

“Do you know the name of the driver?” Trip asked.

“Gideon. Uh…sorry, I didn’t get his last name. There really wasn’t time for proper introductions.” She remembered the bag she held. “Wait, I have his medical bag. He must have some ID in there.”

“Let me get you a cup of coffee,” Trip offered. “You look about dead on your feet.”

“Good idea. But I want to stay close in case there’s news.”

“Let’s head to the cafeteria. I’ll inform the nurse’s station where you’ll be, but they probably won’t tell you anything since you aren’t family.”

She had friends here and ways of getting the information that she wanted. Not that she’d share that tidbit with Trip as it was a violation of the patient’s privacy and technically illegal.

“Look at my filthy clothes. We might want to have that coffee outside.” She glanced down at her outfit and mud-caked boots. Who knew what was in her hair. She normally wore it up in a bun in the style of Dr. Seuss’s character Cindy Lou from How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Since she wasn’t working today, she’d left it down. She needed a hair cut as it now fell to the middle of her back. Once fire season started, it would be too much hassle.

Trip reached up and pulled a twig from her hair. “Uh, yeah. You’re a bit…messy. There’s an outdoor courtyard with benches. I’ll grab a couple of cups of coffee and meet you out there.”

She agreed and headed out the sliding doors. She located the small courtyard and not only found benches but also bistro tables and chairs already set up. While the day wasn’t warm, it wasn’t that cold either. If they sat here long it would become uncomfortable, but for now, it would do, and she wouldn’t have to worry about leaving a trail of mud behind her.

It wasn’t long before Trip arrived with two cups of coffee and a sandwich.

“I’m not really hungry,” she said when he handed her the clear, plastic container holding a ham and cheese.

“You will be when you finish crashing from the adrenaline rush.”

She knew from experience he was right.

“Let’s find out who your Gideon is.” Trip indicated the bag she clutched to her chest, and he pulled out a notepad and pen to take notes.

She set the medical bag on her lap and went to unzip it, pausing. “I feel like I’m invading his privacy.”

“Hand it over and I’ll look then.”

She was reluctant to do that too. She’d risked her life to save this bag, and she’d promised Gideon she’d get the little girl’s test samples to the lab.

“No, I’ll do it.” She unzipped the bag and opened it. The first thing she saw was a pocket full of business cards. She fished one out and read the name.

Gideon Rasmussen, MD.

Holy shit. She knew that name. Ten years ago, she’d given him her virginity.