Shelter from the Storm. RaeAnne Thayne

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      Just once, he would love the chance to talk to her without the prickly shell she always seemed to whip out from somewhere and put on whenever he was near.

      “Sheriff Galvez,” she greeted him, her delicate features solemn. “Have you met Kendall Fox? He’s the E.R. attending tonight. Kendall, this is Daniel Galvez.”

      The doctor stuck out his hand and Daniel shook it, though he couldn’t escape the impression they were both circling around each other, sizing up the enemy like a couple of hound dogs sniffing after the same bone.

      He didn’t miss the dismissal in the doctor’s eyes and for the second time that night, he had to fight the urge to kick somebody’s ass. He wouldn’t waste his energy, he thought. Lauren was too smart to go for the type of smooth player who couldn’t remember the name of the woman he was with unless she had it tattooed somewhere on a conveniently accessible portion of her anatomy.

      “How’s our victim?” he asked.

      “She’s gone to Radiology for some X-rays,” Lauren spoke up. “The tech should be bringing her back in a moment. Kendall…Dr. Fox…and I were just discussing the best course of action. We think—”

      Dr. Jerk cut her off. “She has a little frostbite on a couple of her toes, an apparent broken wrist and some cracked ribs.”

      “How’s the baby?” Daniel pointedly directed his question back to Lauren, ignoring the other man.

      She frowned, looking worried. “She’s started having some mild contractions right now. We’ve given her medication to stop them, but she’s definitely going to need to be closely observed for the next few days.”

      “She give any indication who put her here?”

      Lauren shook her head. She had discarded her parka somewhere, he observed with his keen detective eye, and had put surgical scrubs on over the pale blue turtleneck she had worn when she treated his shoulder. Her hair was slipping from its braid and he had to fight a ridiculous urge to tuck it back.

      “She clams up every time we ask.”

      “I was afraid of that. She’s got to be frightened. It would sure make my job easier if she could just give me the name, age and last-known address of the son of a bitch who put her here. Of course we have to do this the hard way. Can I talk to her?”

      “You cops. Can’t you even wait until the girl gets out of X-ray?” Fox asked.

      Daniel slid his fists into his pockets and pasted on that same damn calm smile that sometimes felt about as genuine as fool’s gold.

      He really hated being made to feel like a big, dumb Mexican.

      “I didn’t mean this instant,” he murmured. “But I would like to talk to her as soon as possible, while the details are still fresh in her mind.”

      The doctor looked like he wanted to get in a pissing match right there in the hallway, but before he could unzip, a nurse in pink scrubs stuck her head out of one of the examination rooms.

      She didn’t look pleased to find the E.R. doctor still standing close to Lauren, a sentiment with which Daniel heartily concurred. Her reaction made him wonder if the good doctor was the sort who left a swath of broken hearts through the staff.

      “Dr. Fox, can you come in here for a minute?” the nurse asked. “I’ve got a question on your orders.”

      The doctor’s handsome features twisted with annoyance but he hid it well. “Be right there.”

      After he walked down the hall, a tight, awkward silence stretched between Daniel and Lauren. He found it both sad and frustrating, and wondered how he could ever bridge the chasm between them.

      He wasn’t exactly sure how much Lauren knew about the events that led up to her father’s exposure and subsequent fall from grace. If she knew all of it, she must blame him for what happened next.

      He sure as hell blamed himself.

      “How’s your arm?” she asked.

      The blasted thing throbbed like the devil, but he wasn’t about to admit that to her.

      “Fine,” he assured her. “Sorry I wasted your time on that. If I’d known I would have to make a trip down here to the city, I could have just had them fix me up here while I was waiting to interview our beating victim. But then, I doubt anybody on staff here can claim such nice handiwork.”

      She blinked at the compliment and he watched a light sprinkle of color wash over her cheekbones. “I…thank you,” she murmured.

      “You’re welcome.”

      They lapsed into silence again.

      “How’s Anna these days?” Lauren asked after an awkward moment. “I heard she was in the Northwest now.”

      Grateful for the conversation starter, he smiled at the thought of his baby sister. “She loves Oregon. She runs a little gift shop and gallery in Cannon Beach that seems to be doing well. I took a few days and drove up there last year and she seems happy.”

      “She’s not married?”

      Some of the tension between them seemed to ease as they talked and he wanted to prolong the moment indefinitely. “No. Marc’s the only one of us to bite the bullet so far. He and his wife live in Cache Valley. They have twin boys we all spoil like crazy.”

      “And Ren is still in Central America?”

      “Right. We can’t get him away from his sea turtles.”

      She opened her mouth to answer, but cut off the words as a hospital worker pushed a gurney around the corner.

      “Here’s Rosa,” she said.

      The beating victim looked even younger here in the harsh glare of the hospital lights and her bruises showed up in stark relief against the white linens. Daniel studied her features, trying hard to find any hint of familiarity, but he was certain he didn’t know her.

      He helped push the gurney through the door into the examination room, earning a censorious look from Lauren for the mild exertion. He returned it with a bland smile, though he had to fight down a spurt of warmth. He liked her worrying about him far too much.

      “How did it go, Riley?” she asked the kid, who looked young for an X-ray technician, as his hospital ID identified him.

      “Good. She fell asleep while I was waiting for the films and I didn’t have the heart to wake her. Poor thing.”

      “She’s been through a terrible ordeal. She must be exhausted.”

      Lauren took the films from him and slid the first of several into the light box hanging on the wall. She studied it, then exchanged it for another and finally a third, a frown of concentration on her lovely features.

      “Just as we suspected,” she said after a moment. “She’s got three broken ribs, a fractured ulna and a broken nose.”

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