Colton's Ranch Refuge. Beth Cornelison

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СКАЧАТЬ drew his brow into a V. “Hell.”

      “Guess you saw the cameras outside?”

      “Out in force.” Gunnar rubbed his unshaven chin, an itch of suspicion starting between his shoulders. “So I’m part of some police operation to get Violet into hiding somewhere?”

      “Exactly.”

      His fists clenched. He might be highly trained and capable of this bait and switch transfer, but the idea of putting his skills on the line left him unsettled. When he’d left the military, he’d thought his “operation” days were over. Helping execute Emma’s plan was an uncomfortable reminder of his last mission in Afghanistan—and his greatest failure.

      A high-pitched squeal rang down the hall, and Gunnar turned in time to see a blond-haired toddler race into the corridor giggling … and then a second, a carbon copy of the first.

      A young woman of about college age appeared, her face pale and her eyes reflecting deep fatigue. “Come on, you rascals. Not today. Rani is too tired to play chase.”

      “Patients?” Gunnar asked Derek.

      “No. They’re Violet’s twins and her nanny. Your passengers.”

      Gunnar’s gut pitched. Being around kids was hard enough without being responsible for them, even if only for the few minutes it took to drive them to—

      “And where am I taking them?”

      Derek continued down the hall, waving Gunnar forward. “The ranch, of course.”

      Gunnar’s steps faltered. “What?”

      Derek stepped into a room where Emma and Tate conferred in one corner and a blonde nurse tended to the wisp of a woman laid up in a bed. Gunnar almost didn’t recognize the injured woman as the same pixie who’d stood up to him yesterday. Violet Chastain’s eyes looked hollow, sunken and desperately sad. Garish cuts and bruises marred her porcelain skin, and her cheeks, which had sported spots of color as they’d sparred yesterday, now had a sickly pallor. Propped with pillows, her leg was bandaged, her foot bare. The scrubs she wore hung loosely on her petite frame, making her appear even tinier and more defenseless.

      Her doelike brown eyes met his as he stepped in the room, and instead of the crackle of attraction he’d experienced yesterday, Gunnar felt mule kicked. She held his gaze only long enough to register his presence, then turned away.

      An image of the broken bodies that had littered the marketplace in Kabul flashed in his mind’s eye, and his breath hung in his lungs. Violet Chastain’s vulnerability raked through him, scraping raw memories. He shuddered, and fisting his hands at his sides, he crammed the haunting echoes of the bombing down, locked them away. In their place, a protective instinct and warrior spirit surged to the forefront. Some bastard had done this to her, had beaten her and kidnapped an innocent Amish girl. Fury poured through him until he shook with it. A mandate to defend her, to avenge her, to heal her blindsided him.

      “Oh, good, you’re here,” Emma said when she saw him. “So here’s the plan. Derek’s receptionist has volunteered to be our decoy. She’ll be dressed up in some of Violet’s clothes, sunglasses, hat, the works, and Tate will pretend to be escorting her back to the movie set. They’ll leave, and with luck, the media horde will give chase, clearing the parking lot for us to sneak Violet and her kids through the back door and into the SUV. You take them all back to the ranch, making sure you aren’t followed, and get them safely into the house. Simple as that. Got it?”

      “Got it.” His voice sounded rough and raw even to his own ears, and when Violet raised a gaunt look to him, he experienced another gut kick.

      Tate turned to Derek. “We’re ready. Can she be moved now?”

      Derek shifted his attention to the blonde nurse. “How are her vitals, Amelia?” The nurse rattled off the information while Derek checked Violet’s bandaged leg. “Okay. She’s good to go. Gunnar, she’ll need that wheelchair behind you.”

      “Decoy leaving now.” Tate headed up front to escort the receptionist out the front door.

      Gunnar retrieved the wheelchair and rolled it to the bed. While the nurse lifted Violet’s injured leg, removing the pillows beneath it, Violet began gingerly scooting her healthy leg toward the edge of the bed.

      “Wait,” Gunnar said, then scooped her carefully into his arms and set her down in the wheelchair.

      She hissed in pain, and he narrowed a concerned look on her. “Okay?”

      Violet nodded. “It wasn’t you. Any movement hurts my leg, but I’m all right now.” She gripped his hand. “Will you make sure Rani and my kids get in the car safely?”

      Her hand felt so small on his, and the plea in her expression burrowed deep inside him. Gunnar’s mouth dried. “Of course.”

      The nurse took her position behind the wheelchair, ready to roll Violet out when the coast was clear, and Gunnar marched down the hall to prepare the nanny and two toddlers to leave.

      The nanny—Rani, Violet had called her—looked up when he entered the exam room where they waited. Her eyes were bleary, and her cheeks were flushed. Gunnar frowned at her haggard appearance but assumed the nanny was simply upset over Violet’s injuries. She had the twins occupied with a snack of graham crackers and juice but rallied when she spotted him.

      “Time to go?” Rani asked, then covered a cough.

      “Soon. Do you have car seats for the kids? We’ll need to install them before we leave.”

      She nodded and pointed to the corner of the room where two safety seats, three suitcases and a large diaper bag waited … along with two pet carriers.

      “She’s bringing animals?” Gunnar groaned, visualizing whimpering little Chihuahuas or yipping Pomeranians.

      Rani nodded. “Romeo and Sophie.” She paused to cough, then added, “They’re part of the family. She doesn’t go anywhere without them.”

      Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from commenting on Hollywood divas and their portable mutts, Gunnar stepped close to the nearest carrier and peeked inside. A fuzzy black-and-white cat blinked back at him, three black spots decorating his nose. Gunnar arched an eyebrow, not sure if cats were an improvement over snippy dogs or not.

      Once Tate called to report they had the entourage of reporters following them across town, Emma checked the parking lot for stragglers, then gave the all clear. Derek helped Gunnar load the luggage and cats and buckle the safety seats in the SUV, while Emma assembled everyone at the back door. When Derek gave the signal, Gunnar hustled Rani and the twins, one boy in each arm, to the Suburban. Derek buckled one boy in while Rani tended to the second. Gunnar swept the parking lot with an encompassing glance, and Amelia wheeled Violet out.

      “Gunnar, will you do the honors again? It’ll save time,” Emma asked, hitching her head toward Violet.

      He answered by stepping to the passenger door and silently lifting Violet into the front seat and fastening her seat belt for her. He caught the faint scent of flowers as he leaned across her, and he gritted his teeth when an inappropriate spark of attraction spun through him.

      “Damn!” Emma snarled behind him, then thunked СКАЧАТЬ