Who's Your Daddy? (22 page)

“Here!” Her voice sounded more excited. “Over here!”

Dylan and I both scanned the area, and my eyes settled on something pink. A pair of pants. “Look!” I pointed.

There was little Jenita, down at the bottom of a ravine, sitting against some exposed tree roots. She was protected, somewhat, from the weather, but woefully underdressed for the storm. Her teeth chattered, and snow had begun to pile up on her outstretched legs. Just seeing her like that made my world swirl down to a
wavery black pinpoint of nausea. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply until the urge to faint passed.

Still, we’d found her. The knowledge of how much worse this could’ve been kicked me in the gut. If we had not walked in this direction and happened upon her, she never would’ve been able to survive the cold weather. And she couldn’t walk out, because she’d hurt her ankle.

GOD, the worst-case-scenario images sickened me.

We slipped and scrambled our way down to her, and only when we were at the base ot the small ravine with her did I catch sight of her ankle, twisted unnaturally to the side. My stomach rolled, and I bent forward to put my head between my knees.
Deep breaths. Don’t puke
. I took a moment to mentally cross ER doc off my list of possible career choices. Ditto paramedic and nurse, or ANYTHING medical at all.

Dylan, thankfully, wasn’t similarly woozed out. “Hey, Jenita,” he said, in this comforting voice that completely contrasted with the fear sluicing through my veins. “Don’t you worry, we’re going to take you back and get you some help, okay? How’s that ankle?”

Jenita had been holding it together, but at the sound of Dylan’s voice, she started to cry. “It hurts.”

Dylan squatted down and ruffled her hair ever so gently. “I know it does, kiddo. But we’re here now, okay? You did a great job helping us find you.”

“I want my mom,” she wailed.

Dylan turned to me, and I knew what he was thinking without either of us saying a word. We couldn’t give Jenita her mother, but her brother and sister would be a good alternative until we got her down the hill to safety.

“Call for the others,” he said in a low voice.

I nodded, then scrambled my way out of the ravine. I cupped my tingling hands around my mouth. “Meryl! Ismet!”

“Over here!” came Ismet’s reply.

“We found her!”

“Where are you?”

It was so stormy dark, and I didn’t know how to best describe my whereabouts. After a moment, I pulled the mini Maglite off my equipment belt and flashed a strobe of light onto the top of the boulder Dylan had climbed when we first heard Jenita. “Do you see my light?”

“Yes!”

“Walk toward that boulder and turn right. You’ll see me.”

After more back-and-forth talking and continuous strobing with my beam, all three of them came crashing through the woods in my direction. I waved my hands wildly.

“Is she okay?” Ismet called.

“She broke her ankle, but otherwise she’s fine, I think.”

“Thank goodness,” Shefka said, breaking down into tears again. “Thank goodness for that.”

When we were all together, I led them swiftly back to Dylan, who was completely focused on the little girl as we approached. His calm command of the situation amazed and impressed me. In the short time I’d been away, Dylan had somehow managed to get Jenita smiling. He had removed his coat and wrapped her in it, and his ski cap was on her little head. He must have been freezing, but if so, he didn’t show it. A gush of affection filled my heart as I watched his sweet, gentle manner with her. Meryl must’ve felt it, too, because she reached over and squeezed my hand.

Ismet and Shefka rushed to their little sister’s side and started speaking to her in soothing tones. I didn’t know what they were saying, because they were both
speaking Bosnian, which seemed to calm her. Jenita cried when she first saw her siblings, but they appeared to be tears of relief rather than fear.

Dylan stood, lobbing me his radio. “Call down to the command post and let them know we found her, okay?”

GLURK! “Okay. W-what should I tell them?”

He gave me an encouraging smile. “That she’s cold and has a fractured ankle, but other than that it’s all good news.”

I nodded, but I felt out of my element. I took a moment to plan out a very professional radio transmission. I decided it would go something like, “Team 33 to the command post, we’ve located the party. She has a fractured ankle and cold exposure, but she’s fine otherwise. We’re en route to your location.”

My heart was nearly thrumming out of my chest at the prospect of what I had to do. I know it seems stupid, but I’d never talked on the radio before and the whole freakin’ department, not to mention all the volunteers, would be listening. I whispered a quick prayer, keyed the mike, then said, “Team 33 to the command post.” I unkeyed and waited for acknowledgment.

“Team 33, go.”

It was my dad.

Unexpected tears clogged in my throat. Relief and fear and a whole tangle of emotions overwhelmed me, and my little copspeak speech went straight out the window. With sobs in my throat, all I could manage was, “Daddy, it’s Lila. We found her.”

We were greeted at the command post like heroes, surrounded by applause, cheers, and whistles of joy. News media had gathered, and the whole area was brightly lit by spotlights on the various pieces of emergency equipment and news vans packed into the trailhead parking lot.

The paramedics took over care of Jenita the moment we broke out of the trees—thankfully, because the hike down had been painstaking, exhausting, and stressful. Tears filled my eyes as I watched Jenita’s parents weeping with relief and raining kisses on their little daughter’s face.

Everyone was hugging and crying and laughing all at once, and I stood back with a huge grin on my face and took it all in. We had averted something horrible, and we knew it. Suddenly, one of the cops grabbed me and gave
me a giant hug. After I’d been passed around for congratulations to what felt like hundreds of cops, volunteers, and friends, my gaze locked with Dylan’s across the crowd. We grinned at each other, and it felt like everyone else disappeared. It seemed like slow motion when he started walking toward me but finally he threw his arms around me, picked me up, and twirled me around.

I laughed, but when he set me down, he didn’t let go. The mood of the moment changed and my throat went dry.

“Thank you,” I whispered to him.

“For what?”

“For making it less scary.”

He pulled back. “Don’t be silly, Lila. You did amazingly well up there.”

“Well, I didn’t puke,” I conceded. “But, I couldn’t have done any of this without your help.”

“And I couldn’t have done it without yours,” he countered. “So, how about if you let me thank you by taking you out to Mountain Lion Coffee for a cappuccino.”

My heart jumped, and I swallowed hard. I so so SO wanted to go. “B-but the snow is getting so—”

“Come on, Lila. It’s practically on the way home.”

“You two should go on,” said my father, who’d approached without me noticing. “You did a great job up there,
m’ija
. Go relax and have some fun.”

I threw my arms around my dad’s neck, surprising him, I think. He stiffened for a split second before wrapping me in a giant bear hug.

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too, Lila Jane, and I’m so proud of you.” He pulled back, then planted a smooch on my cheek. “Go have a cappuccino, then head home. I’ll be there later.”

I looked from him to Dylan, who was watching me with hope and expectation in his eyes.

“Okay.” I smiled. “Let’s go.”

Outside, the snowstorm raged, but the interior of the Mountain Lion coffee shop welcomed us with warm gold lighting, soft alternative rock music from a Boulder station, and the delicious aroma of freshly ground Jamaican beans. Bright orange flames licked and crackled inside the fireplace, and I spied an unoccupied sofa in front of it.

Me. Dylan. A fire.

How much did this rock the my world?

A multipierced college student with excellent dreadlocks sat studying at one of the tables, but other than her and the barrista, the coffee shop was empty. The walls, painted warm mango, seemed to embrace us. In fact, sitting inside Mountain Lion Coffee, you’d never
know that a major tragedy had just been thwarted on the Elk Bugle trail. Being in the little coffee shop made my whole soul sigh with relief. Being there
with Dylan
had the same effect on my heart.

I felt both exhilarated and exhausted by what we’d gone through. In fact, I felt permanently changed in a lot of subtle ways. The most interesting switch had happened inside my head, though. I hadn’t seen it coming, but all of a sudden, I had no interest in being my regular snarky self with Dylan. I wasn’t even so invested in hiding my crush anymore.

I wanted to ask him questions, to find out more about who he really was. I wanted to find out what had prompted him to join the junior narcs, because the more I got to know him, the less he seemed to resemble my brother, Luke. (Bonus!)

Dylan Sebring piqued my curiosity. He made me want to know everything there was to know about him, about myself when I was with him … even about the potential of an US.

YIKES!

“Grab a table,” Dylan said, looking around. “I’ll get us a couple cappuccinos.”

“Can I have a caramel machiatto instead?”

He grinned. “That’s a total chick drink, Lila.”

“So? I happen to be a chick, you know.”

“Don’t I know it,” he said ruefully.

I punched him in the
Where the Wild Things Are
tattoo spot, wondering what he meant by that. “I thought you said I was like one of the guys? If you’re going to insult me, you can’t say I’m one of the guys AND a total chick. Pick one or the other.”

“Lila, you
are
like one of the guys, but I meant it as a compliment.”

Inside me something fluttered. “Oh.”

“Duh,” he said, in this sarcastic tone that made me want to hug him. He made a face at me and headed up toward the counter.

Feeling a million kinds of warm and fuzzy from our snitty banter, I eschewed the idea of a table and made a bold move: I went for the cozy loveseat by the hearth instead. Screw it. If the dumb supper and a million other ridiculous rituals were going to point me in Dylan’s direction, I was going to take advantage of this non-date-esque date to find out WHY.

I stopped in front of the loveseat and shrugged out
of my feloniously ugly parka, then sank into the cushy pillows. The snow outside the big picture window looked magical from where I sat, and the firelight and warmth felt magical on my skin, too. I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than right there with Dylan. I
could
think of a few outfits I’d rather be wearing for this particularly romantic moment, but man pants or not, I wasn’t going to knock spontaneity.

A couple of minutes later, Dylan approached carrying two coffee drinks in thick, plum-colored mugs, and a couple of white chocolate cranberry biscotti, too. My stomach growled, and I realized with a jolt that I was freakin’ starving.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve eaten,” I said.

“Hungry?” He set everything down on the little table in front of the loveseat.

“Way,” I told him. “You?”

One side of his mouth quirked up as he removed his jacket. “So, let me get this straight. You’d actually eat in front of me?”

I gave him the “what are you, a freakin’ lunatic?” look. “Well, uh, yeah? What kind of question is that?”

“I don’t think I ever saw Jennifer eat,” he said.

My gut tightened. “Yeah, well, I’m not Hellsp—I mean, Jennifer.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Another “don’t I know it.” Now I had to sit back and wonder what he meant by THAT, too.

He plopped down on the loveseat next to me, then leaned forward and grabbed the mugs. Handing me one, he winked and said, “Cheers.”

I pushed aside all my wondering. “Yum. Thanks.” We clanked mugs and sipped. I wrapped my hands around both sides of the warm ceramic and inhaled the heavenly aroma. Sometimes the smell of coffee was even yummier and more comforting than the taste of it.

Dylan blew out a breath and rubbed his forehead. For the first time, I noticed that he looked tired.

“Wiped?”

“A little,” he admitted. “You?”

“Totally.”

“Your dad really rocks in that kind of an emergency, Lila.”

“Yeah.” I sighed, feeling a little stab of guilt wrapped up in a whole lot of respect. “I hadn’t really taken the
time to notice that about him before, but today he made me proud to be his daughter.”

Dylan’s eyes were warm, intense. “I have a sneaking suspicion that you made him proud to be your dad, too.”

My tummy did that flippy thing again, and I bought some composure time by sipping my coffee and taking a bite of the crunchy biscotti. “You know,” I told him finally, “you’re a whole lot different from how I expected you to be when this whole, hellish junior narc nightmare began.”

He chuckled. “How did you expect me to be?”

I made a
gag me
face. “You know … like a typical jock. Like my brother, Luke.”