TONY: Slow Burn (Raging Fire Book 1) by Kallypso Masters (the false prince TXT) 📕

instructed. She’d been taught to say Marc’s name repeatedly. It seemed to be working for Tony too. She seemed to be getting through to him on some level.

“Good job, Tony,” she said, encouraged by his responsiveness. “Again, inhale slowly through your nose.” She counted again. He complied on her first command this time. Keeping her counting slow and calm, she continued. “Hold it for one, two, three, four.” On the count of four, he exhaled without being told to do so. He was beginning to reconnect with his body. His breathing was no longer shallow or rapid.

“Tony, will you come to my tent so we can get out of this storm?” An almost imperceptible nod gave her more hope. “May Ryder and I help you up by the elbows?” Again, he nodded, which was all the encouragement she needed to take him by the arm.

Together, they managed to get him to his feet and half dragged him to her tent. Nick and Shawana ran to where they’d been and picked up Tony and Ryder’s gear to follow. “Just leave it under the rain awning,” she said to them. “And thanks.”

“I’ll round up some dry clothes for you guys.” Nick left.

Shawana offered to make a pot of coffee, and Carm soon smelled the propane from the cookstove under her tent’s awning. Everyone pitched in to help. Nick ran a great group.

Inside with Ryder and Tony, she shifted to the next important step. “Let’s get you two out of these wet clothes.” Neither man had a change of clothing and both were soaked to the skin; the wet clothing would only cause hypothermia problems if not removed. Nick should be back soon.

“Can I remove your shirt, Tony?” she asked, not wanting to wait too long.

After a moment’s pause, he nodded. She and Ryder took it off together. Tony’s broad shoulders and muscular chest sent an inappropriate tingle to her core. Get a grip, Carm. Emblazoned on his right biceps was a Maltese Cross tattoo with the name Antonio Giardano Sr. and the years 1946-2004.

Tony’s father.

A shiver went down her spine at the reminder that Tony’s family had also suffered the loss of a loved one who had been in service to others. Each of the man’s sons had gone into the fire and rescue service after their father’s death. What a beautiful way to honor the man’s sacrifice.

“Have any blankets?” Ryder asked.

Dragged away from her wayward thoughts, she went to the pack in the corner and pulled out several of the emergency ones she’d brought. Ryder wrapped a thermal one across Tony’s shoulders.

Tucking the ends together to cover his chest, she asked, “Can I dry your face, Tony?”

After furrowing his brows, he nodded. She grabbed a towel from her backpack and gently wiped the rain off his forehead and smoothed back his jet-black hair. She hoped the familiar routines would help to pull him out of the depths he’d been mired in for the past few minutes.

“Tony,” Ryder began again in his firm voice, “we’re with Carmella and her group from the resort. We’re going to have to wait out the rain before the chopper can pick us up to take us back to the airport in Aspen.” Ryder’s litany of matter-of-fact statements were an attempt to ground Tony in the present, but Tony’s persistent death stare began to scare her. What was he seeing? How could they draw him out of it?

What had he experienced—and when? Sometimes PTSD triggers happened within a short time after the incident, but other times they could return long afterward. Was he getting the help he needed to deal with them? He’d seemed so happy-go-lucky every time she’d seen him up through the wedding weekend.

The intensity he’d exhibited during the rescue below The Plank earlier had revealed a side of Tony she’d never seen before.

When his breathing became fast and shallow again, Carm kneeled on the other side of him and stroked his back automatically before realizing she hadn’t asked permission. She pulled her hand away as if burned. All she wanted to do was provide the tortured man a little comfort, but she needed to be careful, or he might lash out as Marc had done sometimes.

Sweat broke out on his forehead. “Tony, I’m going to wipe your forehead again. Is that okay?” she asked. He nodded slightly, and she wiped his face with the towel. “Tony, take a slow, deep breath. You’re safe now.”

Nick opened the tent flap, stepped in, and handed Ryder a variety of folded hiking shirts and pants for the two men to choose from. When her teeth chattered, Carm realized her clothes had been soaked through, too.

“Ryder,” Carm said, glancing over Tony’s head from where she was kneeling, “why don’t you get changed?” The tent didn’t provide much privacy.

“You need to get into dry clothes first,” he countered.

“Use my tent, Carmella,” Nick said from the open tent flap. “Roger took some snacks over to the other SAR volunteers so it’s clear.” She wondered how many volunteers were in camp waiting out the storm.

Ryder’s breathing became labored now. Carm remembered from the wedding Saturday that he wasn’t comfortable in tight spaces around too many people. He might be feeling claustrophobic.

She needed to give him some space. “Ryder, I’m going to Nick’s tent, so you’ll have a chance to change, then we can get Tony into dry clothes.”

Relief washed over his features, and his breathing eased somewhat. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Do you want Nick to come in, or will Tony be okay?”

Ryder glanced at Tony before responding. “You can come in, Nick. Just don’t touch him.”

“Sure thing.” Nick stepped away from the flap to wait for Carm to leave. She grabbed her clothing and met him at the opening.

“Follow Ryder’s lead,” she instructed Nick. “He knows how to deal with the situation.”

“I’m a 9/11 survivor. I know the drill.”

She hadn’t been aware that Nick had been close to Ground Zero on that horrific day. God, the awful things he must have experienced!

After