CHAPTER TEN Dirk

" B lake Jensen," I muttered. "What kind of fucking name is that?" Blake sounded hoity-toity, which was exactly how he looked. Looking all cute in his fancy duds and that cherub-like face of his. Preppy and boyish were two of my favorite features on a guy, and the snotty man somewhere outside had that look down to perfection with his fancy clothes and slender build. I would've preferred a better view of his body under all those layered clothes, but his personality seemed wrapped tighter than his gear so I doubted I'd get that wish.

"Fuck!" I hollered, noticing the deck rail was covered ten or more inches high with snow. Flipping off the interior lights so my eyes could see into the forest, I studied the surrounding woods. White. Everything was white with the exception of the dark undersides of tree branches as they bent to support the weight of such a heavy snowfall. The sight would normally be incredible to behold but I knew there was a person a quarter of a mile away who had come into the woods severely unprepared.

To make the situation a million times worse, he was the kid of my boss. My training said I should use the satellite phone and call headquarters, but it was Memorial Day weekend and only emergency responders would be available. Essentially, that was me. I was the emergency responder at this elevation and this far removed from the closest city big enough to have a qualified rescue team.

Pulling on a hoodie over a sweatshirt to fight the freeze, I pulled the door in and noticed a foot-high wall of snow at my feet where the door had been. The flakes were coming down and showed no signs of diminishing any time soon. The previous year was a dry year and the snowpack had disappeared before I arrived for the summer, but this season had been cooler and much wetter than then.

The Cascade Range was known for measuring snow in feet, not inches. As part of the Pacific mountain system of western North America, the Cascades extended for more than seven hundred miles from Lassen Peak in northern California, through Oregon and Washington, and into southern British Columbia, Canada. Many peaks exceeded ten thousand feet high including Mount Rainier at more than fourteen thousand feet and located just south of Seattle. That was why the surrounding areas that bordered the west side of Seattle for miles north and south had several ski resorts.

This storm was packing, the way I liked my men, and three or four, hell, maybe even six feet of snow, wasn't out of the realm of possibility this time of year. It was late spring but we were far above freezing level, and the massive rainstorm that had Seattle socked in for the holiday weekend was in the form of snow where I was located.

Leaning out the door I tried to swipe at the thermometer to clear the face. Even if I could reach the metal circle with glass face, I wasn't close enough to read the temperature, so I retreated and shut the door to keep the snow out. Two pairs of snow boots were on the other side of the perfectly square room, unused thus far since my arrival a few days ago. I hadn't thought there'd be an occasion to need them this close to summer, but here I was sliding my bare feet into a pair.

I trudged back to the door, grabbing the binoculars on the way. The temperature read eleven degrees. "Jesus!" I exhaled, feeling my training beginning to kick in. "You won't survive this, Mr. Friendly," I whispered, focusing my binoculars and scanning the land below me. I knew he was in a clearing about a quarter of a mile to my south side. The usually visible trail had long ago disappeared by foot-high frozen powder but I knew the tree line well enough to locate him if needed. If needed? Get dressed, mister. It's rescue time.