Navy Seal Security
Navy Seal Security
Liz Johnson
ANYTHING TO PROTECT HERWounded navy SEAL Luke Dunham’s only goal is returning to active duty…until he rescues his physical therapist from a lethal attack. Now he’ll risk everything—even his recovery—to keep Mandy Berg’s attacker at bay. Mandy’s been burned before when she trusted the wrong man. And she knows better than to develop feelings for one of her patients. Yet how can she help falling for a man who does not hesitate to put his strength, his skill and his very life in harm’s way to keep her safe? Relying on anyone feels dangerous…but turning away Luke’s protection could be deadly.Men of Valor: These navy SEALS were born to excel…
ANYTHING TO PROTECT HER
Wounded navy SEAL Luke Dunham’s only goal is returning to active duty…until he rescues his physical therapist from a lethal attack. Now he’ll risk everything—even his recovery—to keep Mandy Berg’s attacker at bay. Mandy’s been burned before when she trusted the wrong man. And she knows better than to develop feelings for one of her patients. Yet how can she help falling for a man who does not hesitate to put his strength, his skill and his very life in harm’s way to keep her safe? Relying on anyone feels dangerous…but turning away Luke’s protection could be deadly.
Men of Valor: These navy SEALs were born to excel…
She tried to scream, but nothing came out.
The car was gaining ground, nearly to her. The driver had to see her. She was the only target in the vehicle’s lights. And it didn’t slow down. In fact, it was gaining speed.
Mandy managed a stumbled step as the car came faster and faster. Without a doubt she was about to die.
Suddenly an arm clamped her around the waist. It scooped her off her feet and sent her sailing out of the path of the car just as it careened by.
Mandy clenched her arms around Luke’s shoulders. She had no intention of letting go.
“It’s okay. You’re all right.” Luke’s chest rumbled against her side as he spoke into her ear, the even rise and fall of his shoulders resetting the tempo for her own. “It’s gone. It didn’t hit you.”
Her breath caught on a hitch. “Or—or you?”
“I’m fine.” His voice didn’t even wobble.
How could he possibly be so calm when someone had just tried to run her over?
Someone had tried to kill her.
By day LIZ JOHNSON is a marketing manager at a Christian publisher. She makes time to write late at night and is a two-time ACFW Carol Award finalist. She lives in Nashville and enjoys exploring local music and theater, and she makes frequent trips to Arizona to dote on her nieces and nephews. She writes stories filled with heart, humor and happily-ever-afters and can be found online at lizjohnsonbooks.com (http://LizJohnsonBooks.com).
Navy Seal Security
Liz Johnson
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see
the deliverance the Lord will bring you today.
—Exodus 14:13
For the men and women of the United States military,
both active duty and veteran.
Your sacrifice does not go unnoticed.
Your service is forever appreciated.
May God bless and protect you.
Contents
Cover (#u03cfcdb9-f7c4-50e1-bd90-16e4f515a8f7)
Back Cover Text (#uc92434b7-89db-550a-bbac-f6c2c5505c18)
Introduction (#u8c3c5c47-4223-5f01-9ccb-a5fa7210559c)
About the Author (#uef6925eb-4dc2-5e2c-9388-824d370cb714)
Title Page (#ub1b59f98-b7a0-5522-84cc-d03c612a3c5d)
Bible Verse (#u1880d92b-b2c3-5c34-8fa9-048af228a283)
Dedication (#ud1a212f2-d3bd-5e0b-9f4e-65fb4f51e864)
CHAPTER ONE (#u74e458df-f802-57e9-b8b8-9617d6c3e161)
CHAPTER TWO (#u1e49c0b0-512b-5321-b9d0-16e485498061)
CHAPTER THREE (#u9e079a85-edba-5edc-b96e-0a7f4a33293d)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ub253824f-d8e1-5cca-8807-e80ffdc318ef)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#ulink_2c37915c-290d-5967-9f46-88f558cd5a1e)
If Luke Dunham didn’t see another white coat until his last day on earth, it would still be too soon.
But he’d made a promise to his senior chief’s wife.
He clattered to a stop at the foot of the slanted ramp in front of a nondescript brick building, which looked just like every other in the medical complex. His gaze shifted from the steps at the front of the building to the too-short metal crutches digging into his sides.
Stairs or the ramp?
A low fire burned in his chest, and he squeezed his eyes closed against the flames that licked at his heart.
For years he hadn’t cared. Either way was fine. Either got him where he needed to go.
Now he cared.
Now he didn’t have an option.
He swung his left leg forward. The white brace succeeded in protecting his knee and also throwing him off-balance. Shoving one of his crutches out to the side, he caught himself just before his foot touched the ground.
He’d already made that mistake once. There was a reason his doctor had told him to stay off it at all costs.
It hurt. Like an inferno.
Like he’d taken another piece of shrapnel along that roadside in Lybania.
He opened his mouth, a pained groan on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back when the glass door at the top of the ramp flew open. A teenage girl bounced out, her strides so even he barely noticed that one of the knees below her shorts was wrapped in a black brace.
She flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder and shot him a shy smile as she started down the ramp.
He tried to return her gesture, but the IED that had stolen his ability to walk had also made it hard to find genuine happiness. He settled for a shallow dip of his chin and lumbered out of her way.
When the girl was halfway to him, the office door swung open and a woman with orange hair popped out.
“Juliana,” she said, before chasing the teen for five short steps.
Juliana’s one-eighty was less graceful than her forward motion, requiring at least two extra steps and the aid of the handrail, but her knee remained stable.
The wild-haired woman held out a bag, at which Juliana laughed, high and sweet. “Thanks, Tara.” Juliana slipped skinny arms through the straps, sliding a small backpack in place. “See you next week.” With that, she executed another awkward turn and ambled past him.
Luke looked up at the woman still leaning against the handrail, her arms now folded over her neon-green scrubs.
Was this Tara the Dr. Berg everyone said was so amazing? The physical therapist his senior chief on the teams, Matt, was convinced had gotten him back in fighting shape after his leg injury? But Matt’s injury hadn’t been a blown knee. He’d had a couple dozen stitches in his calf, a minor injury to his muscle.
Luke, on the other hand, had shredded every major ligament in his knee.
The doctor at Walter Reed Medical Center had offered him a medical discharge after that first scan. He’d told Luke there wasn’t much hope for a return to active duty. And every doctor thereafter had agreed.
But Luke had promised Ashley Waterstone, the senior chief’s wife, that he’d schedule a consultation with Matt’s physical therapist.
Squinting into the late-afternoon sun, he shuffled until he’d cut the distance between them in half. “I’m Luke Dunham.”
The woman’s gaze slid over him like a sculptor searching for imperfections in her masterpiece.
He’d been on the receiving end of that simultaneously curious and knowing stare before. And he’d enjoyed it for a few years. When he was younger. In his early days as a SEAL.
Now it made his stomach churn and his skin feel clammy, even in the warm San Diego air. “I’m early. But I have an appointment with Dr. Berg.”
“Of course you do, honey.” She gave a sharp nod and walked back to hold the front door open for him. Such a little gesture, but it still set his hands to itching. His dad had taught him that a man held the door open for a woman. Period.
That he couldn’t even do it for himself set off that blazing ache in his chest again.
“I’m Tara, Dr. Berg’s office manager.”
Matt had promised that working with her would change his life.
Maybe.
But that would require a life. And he wasn’t sure he had much of one left.
At least this was just a recon mission. He hadn’t committed to anything beyond talking with the good doctor...and picking up milk for his mom on the way home.
Tara was still standing with the door wide-open, and Luke hadn’t moved an inch. She raised her eyebrows and nodded inside, silently asking what was taking him so long. Sucking in a fortifying breath, he pressed his palms against the rubber grips of his crutches and began a slow lumber up the incline. As he reached the open entrance, a blast of cold air greeted him.
“Is it always a meat locker in here?”
Tara shrugged one shoulder as she led the way across a mostly typical medical waiting room. Sturdy chairs lined three walls, except for three conspicuous holes that could only be there for those who brought their own seats. The usual industrial carpet had been swapped for hardwood, which was easier to maneuver on.
He fell into one of the chairs and poked his tongue in his cheek as he took the clipboard that Tara held out to him.
“Fill that out, and then someone will take you back to see Dr. Berg.”
By this point, he could pretty much fill out a standard medical questionnaire with his eyes closed. It was all the same. Surgeries and allergies. Insurance and history.
But there, at the very bottom of the page, was a single question he’d never been asked on any other form.
How much do you want it?
There was no box to check next to it. Not even a black line to write on. Just a clear call to hard work.
Luke’s SEAL training instructors had asked him the same thing, and he’d showed them he wanted it more than anything else he’d ever dared to dream of.
“Almost done?”
He jumped at the feminine voice that didn’t belong to Tara. The woman standing at the wooden door that presumably led to the exercise and exam rooms offered neither a smile nor a frown. Her face was simply relaxed. One hand rested on her hip, and she cocked her head, sending her long black hair over one shoulder. The collar of her navy blue polo shirt stuck up below her left ear.
At least she wasn’t wearing a white coat.
Undoubtedly another of Dr. Berg’s assistants.
He held out the completed form, and she took it, nodding down a short hallway. “We’ll go all the way down to the big room at the end.”
As he moved in that direction, her steps eerily silent behind him, he fought the rush of uncertainty that washed across his shoulders. Another set of soundless footfalls had taken everything from him. His palm slipped against the grip, suddenly slick and clammy, and sweat broke out across his upper lip.
This wasn’t the same.
It wasn’t the same.
How many times would he have to remind himself of that before he believed that he was home, that men didn’t walk around with bombs strapped to their chests and women didn’t push strollers of explosives down city streets?
He paused just long enough to swipe his forearm across his mouth.
“Do you wear out more easily than you used to?”
“Not much.” That was a bit of a whopper, but he didn’t feel like explaining that his sudden sweats had less to do with muscle strain and nearly everything to do with a memory he couldn’t erase.
The hallway seemed as if it would never end, with her unseen, unheard steps always behind him. Finally he reached the open entrance she’d indicated. The room was bigger than his old apartment. There was a row of weight machines along the far wall and floor-to-ceiling windows to his left. The panes were covered with fabric shades, which kept the setting sun mostly hidden. To his right sat three consultation tables.
The woman leaned her hip against the first table, fixed her wayward collar and crossed her arms, her gaze assessing and cool. When her stare hit his wrapped knee, she lingered, and the muscles in his back grew tight. Even with his sweatpants tucked into his brace, he felt bare, too exposed.
“When will I meet Dr. Berg?”
Her wide eyes met his gaze, a frown pinching the corners of her mouth. “I didn’t introduce myself, did I?” He shook his head. “I am Dr. Berg. Mandy. Please, call me Mandy.”
His eyebrows shot up before he could stop them. So, this was the good doctor. The young doctor. She looked just about old enough to start college, but she’d helped Matt more than three years ago. She wasn’t exactly a rookie.
Clearing his throat, he tried to find something to say. Nothing came to mind. Not even a generic greeting.
That was odd. He’d never been at a loss for words before the bomb. Before the surgery. Before his future had become so absolutely uncertain.
After what felt like hours of weighted silence, she pasted a smile into place. “So tell me, Petty Officer Dunham—”
“Luke.”
“Excuse me?”
“Please. I prefer— Call me— It’s just Luke.” He bit off the words, unsure how to explain that the medical discharge he’d been offered was one signature, one failed physical away. And after that, he’d never be a petty officer again. Every official document that touted it, every voice that spoke it was just more evidence of how close he was to losing it. All of it.
And a reminder of how much he’d already lost.
“Of course.” She pressed her hand flat to her stomach, her shoulders rising and falling in an exaggerated motion. “How long were you at Walter Reed?”
He hitched his chin toward the manila file lying on the table next to her hip. “Isn’t that in my file?”
“It is. But I’m asking you.”
He narrowed his gaze on her, trying to read between the smooth angles of her face, but whatever she was thinking was hidden beneath a mask of easy professionalism. She maintained eye contact, never flinching, even as he felt the scowl that had become his cover slide into place. “Too long.”
She gave him a half smile, the corresponding jolt in his stomach making him stand up a little straighter. She should be frowning. After all, he’d perfected keeping people at a distance since the surgery. Keeping them at arm’s length was easier than watching their pitying expressions.
“And in calendar terms?” she asked.
The muscles in his jaw screwed up tighter than a tourniquet. “Three weeks before they could move me to San Diego.”
“Other injuries?”
He shrugged. “There were a few.” Dozen. The shrapnel from the blast that had twisted his knee had left marks up and down the left side of his body.
But all of that would be in his file.
She nodded, flipped her hair over her shoulder and motioned to a padded chair. “Would you like to sit down?”
He studied her face, looking for any hint that she knew just how uncomfortable these crutches were. But her mask held. She didn’t give him even a twitch of a smile as she nodded to the seat opposite her.
With a sigh, Luke lowered himself onto the chair, keeping his left foot a safe distance off the ground. His crutches clacked together as he slid them between the legs of the chair.
“If I take you on, you’ll be with me three times a week for at least six weeks. And when you’re not here, you’ll be exercising at home. Most days, you’re going to wish you were back in the hospital. It’ll be awful. But after a while, it won’t be.”
“Wow.” He fought the grin that threatened to find purchase and instead opted for a verbal jab. “Do you start every consultation with that sales pitch?”
“Only the ones that need it.”
“Huh.” Refusing to analyze what she was really saying, he got right to the point of his visit. “Will I be able to get back to my team?”
She squinted until one eye disappeared altogether. “That depends.”
“On?”
“You...mostly.” She patted her belly. “Are you strong enough? Will you listen to me when I say it’s time to wait? And put in the work when I say it’s time to go?”
He couldn’t keep in a bark of laughter.
Something like a challenge flickered in Mandy’s eyes, and she leaned forward. “We’d start out easy the first couple sessions. You’ve been out of the gym for more than a month.”
“But before that, I was in the gym for half my life.”
“Only half your life?” She shrugged her shoulder and pursed her lips. “What was that? Ten years?”
“It was long enough.” A low sizzle in his veins demanded attention, calling him to prove her skepticism wrong. He crossed his arms, displaying some of the results of those years in the gym as he stretched the shoulders and sleeves of his gray T-shirt.
Thirteen years in the gym couldn’t be denied. Nor could three years as a SEAL.
“I’m not so sure about that.” She leaned forward, invading his space, and he pulled away, into the unyielding chair.
“Get used to it, Luke. We’re going to have to get a lot closer than this if we work together.”
But that was still a big if. He hadn’t even decided if he wanted to work with her.
Except...
Well, there was something about her that reminded him of one of his instructors during SEAL training. Chief Willard had been hard and unflinching, smart and determined to see Luke succeed. And Luke had. Mostly because of the chief.
Could Dr. Berg see Luke through this new challenge?
“You look like you’re in pretty good shape physically.” An unspoken question washed over her face. How did you stay so fit?
“Force of habit.”
“What is?”
“Exercising.” His gaze drifted past her, to the shadow of a palm tree beyond the parking lot outside. It looked just like the trees visible from the Coronado beaches where the SEAL teams trained, and his heart jerked with an acute longing to be back there with his brothers.
“And your doctors at the hospital let you keep up a routine?”
He pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, forcing his mind from sandy shores. “More like they ignored it when I didn’t show signs of atrophy.”
Her brown eyes glowed with something new, something interested. “What have you been doing?”
“Mostly resistance bands and bodyweight moves. Whatever I can do from my bed or a chair.”
She took a long pause, crossing and uncrossing her legs, tapping her foot, running her fingers across her chin. All the while, her gaze never left his face, until he could physically feel her assessment.
The silence built like a concerto, its pressure pounding at his temples until she spoke. “I wish I could help, but I don’t think I’m the right physical therapist for you. But I’ll have Tara give you a list of other qualified, local PTs, who might be a better fit.”
His heart flipped in his chest, disappointment raging through him like a clap of thunder. “I thought this meeting was to help me decide if I wanted to work with you.”
“You thought wrong.”
* * *
Mandy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling at the confusion splashed across Luke’s boyish features. She felt bad for him. Really. But she was doing him a favor.
He needed someone who could really commit to helping him return to active duty. He might never return to the SEAL teams, but his service as a navy medic didn’t have to be over. He deserved a PT who didn’t require an extra arm’s length between them.
And it had taken her all of five minutes with him to know that she’d have to keep him at least that far away. Farther would be safer. For both of them.
Besides, her future was a little too uncertain at the moment to take on a long-termer like Luke.
“So, you’re what? You’re passing me off?” For someone who hadn’t looked very happy to be in her clinic in the first place, he sure sounded bitter at her rejection.
“It’s best for you to have someone who can give you the time that I just can’t right now.” She tried to give him an encouraging smile, but for some reason it faltered. “If you want your old life back—”
He snorted. “Is that even possible?”
She eyed the brace around his knee, wanting desperately to make him promises. But she just couldn’t do it. “Maybe.”
“And those other physical therapists, are they as good as you are? Are they as likely to get me back out there?” His hand waved toward the beach.
A rubber band around her stomach went taut at the muted hope lacing every one of his words. Mandy opened her mouth to answer with the socially acceptable, politically correct response, but something about Luke’s situation called for her to be honest. “They’re good. And they can help you.”
“Right.” He clambered to his feet, his crutches clanging together as he hopped on his good leg, angling toward the hallway and the exit beyond. “Thanks for your time.”
“Listen, Luke. I’m sorry.”
He paused but didn’t turn back toward her. “Sorry that I’ll never serve on the teams again? Or that you’re sending me to a second-rate PT?”
She crossed her arms, tilted her head back and took a cleansing breath, sending up a silent prayer for patience. “The most important person in your recovery is you.”
She picked up the file his surgeon had sent over and flipped through it. Of course she’d already read it cover to cover—twice. But he didn’t have to know that. For the moment, she just needed something other than his slumped shoulders and haggard features to focus on.
Beneath the prickly shell and tart words was a man in pain.
But she couldn’t help him.
She couldn’t afford to invest in a case like his. In a man like him. Not again.
When Luke reached the entry to the hallway, Mandy called out to him, “I really am sorry. Please ask Tara for some other names.”
He didn’t stop or even indicate that he’d heard her.
Luke was just too much like Gary. Too handsome. Too sharp. Too striking.
The very memory of Gary, who’d been her patient nearly four years before, sent shivers down her arms.
She couldn’t think about him. She didn’t want to. And Luke would be a constant reminder.
Pushing herself up, she marched down the hall and ducked into her office. The tiny room was a lesson in sparseness. The walls were white, save for three framed diplomas over a large wooden desk, which sat opposite two padded chairs. A stack of files in the in-box on the corner of her desk called for her attention, but the enormous bouquet of white roses in the middle of her workspace filled her senses. She pressed her nose into them, inhaling the sweet, clean fragrance. Like a spring rain, they washed away any uncertainty left over from her meeting with Luke.
She’d done right by him, sending him on his way.
“Tara, are you out there? Where did these come from?”
There was no response. Tara must have stepped outside. Digging through the satin-soft petals, Mandy found a card and quickly opened it. Patients often sent thank-you cards but rarely flowers. And who had known that white roses were her favorite?
Tugging the little green card from its envelope, she took another rich breath.
I miss you. I miss us. Gary
Nausea curdled the contents of her stomach, and she doubled over as bile reached the back of her throat. No longer sweet, the roses stank of betrayal and broken hearts and her very worst mistake. With a single sweep of her arm, she sent them flying over the edge of her desk. The glass vase hit the metal trash can with a crack loud enough to reach the parking lot, immediately followed by a shriek and rapid footfalls.
“Mandy?” Tara called before she even appeared in the doorway. “What happened?”
Mandy kept her chin tucked into her chest and her arms crossed. With shaking legs, she turned toward Tara. Her breath hitched as she tried to answer the question still hanging over the room, but there were no words to explain the pounding of her heart.
Tara remained silent for a long moment before finally offering an uneasy chuckle. “Two bouquets in one day. That must be a record.”
Mandy glanced up, not quite meeting her office manager’s gaze over a small bouquet of orange-and-red lilies that she hadn’t even noticed in Tara’s hand. “An-other?” Her voice quaked, and she quickly cleared her throat, forcing her shoulders back and her head up.
“From Gwen.” Tara held out the square vase. A tall plastic stem held a simple card, its looped letters easy to read.
Congratulations on your award! Well done, my friend!
I’ve got a job for you in Miami whenever you want it.
Gwen
“For the philanthropy award.” Mandy spoke as though Tara hadn’t read the card, which she certainly had. “You know. The one for my volunteer work at Pacific Coast House. I don’t know how Gwen heard about it, but it was really sweet of her to send me such pretty flowers, wasn’t it?” Mandy chomped down on her tongue. Why was she rambling as though she had something to hide? She wasn’t a child in trouble. She was a woman capable of making her own decisions.
Tara nodded and raised an eyebrow, but her expression was otherwise blank. “And Miami? Are you thinking about moving?”
“No... Yes... Maybe.” She ran a hand over her face and shrugged.
Tara’s pale eyes turned hard, fearful. She probably thought she was losing her job, and Mandy jumped to clarify.
“Of course, I won’t leave you out on a limb. I’ll let you know as soon as I decide. It’s just an offer. Gwen’s a good friend from school, and she offers me a job in her clinic every year or so. I wasn’t really considering it until...”
She couldn’t find the words tonight. But Tara didn’t really need her to rehash it. Her office manager knew about the identity theft, professional aggravations and general harassment Mandy had endured for almost two years. The cops hadn’t been able to find anyone behind the hassles, but someone was out there. Faceless but intent on making her life miserable.
Maybe what she needed was a fresh start. And that was what Gwen offered.
She’d be a fool not to at least consider it.
And Gary’s sudden return to her life—well, that was just another good reason to pack up and try again. In Miami.
“I promise I’m just thinking about it,” Mandy said. “If I decide to go, you’ll be the first person I tell.”
The corners of Tara’s mouth quirked into a half smile. “Fair enough.” She tipped her head toward the front desk. “I’m going to take off. Need anything else?”
Mandy shook her head. “Have a good night.”
She settled in to do some paperwork as the front door swished open and closed with the racket of the blinds.
Not a minute later, the blinds rattled again. Mandy jumped and then forced herself to laugh. “Tara? Did you forget something?” she called.
Silence was the only response. And it was quickly followed by goose bumps up and down her arms. Mandy stood and walked around her desk, then poked her head into the hallway, her pulse already accelerating. “Tara?”
Still no response.
Not a voice nor even the sound of anyone breathing. The office was deserted except for her. But something was different. Like the weight of a never-shifting gaze pressing against her shoulders. She jerked around, then looked the other way. No one.
Mandy tiptoed toward the front desk, the overhead lights in the reception area shining brightly. “Is someone here?” Her voice cracked as chilled fingers crept down her spine.
Peeking around the corner into the waiting room, she surveyed the space. Nothing out of order.
She shook her shoulders and cleared her throat. She hadn’t really expected to find anyone. But what had shaken the front-door blinds? And why did everything inside her scream she wasn’t alone?
Suddenly a car alarm screeched to life. Mandy jumped and clapped her hands over the scream on her lips.
Lights from the parking lot flashed through the front windows, and she dashed across the room, flicking the shades wide enough apart to peer into the darkness beyond.
The flashing and honking continued as a man on crutches hobbled along the side of the angry car. His back to her, he was bent as far as his supports would allow. But she didn’t need to see his face to recognize him.
After unlocking the front door, she opened it and stepped onto the top step. “Luke? Are you okay?” Even her yell was hard to hear over the blaring horn, but he straightened up and spun to look in her direction. Holding his hand to his ear, he shook his head. He couldn’t hear her.
She dashed across the empty parking lot, only then realizing how dark it had become. The lights in the lot were probably set on a late timer, and the moon wasn’t doing much to break through the cloudy San Diego evening.
“Are you all right?” she asked when she reached his side.
Luke frowned and glared at the fast-food bag clasped against his hand grip. “I just walked over to get some dinner. I’m borrowing my mom’s car—it fits my leg brace—but it’s still not easy to get in and out of. Anyway, I accidentally hit the panic button on the key fob, then dropped the keys under the car.” He rolled his eyes, his mouth pinching tight.
Mandy’s heart gave a tiny hiccup.
Once he would have just crawled under the chassis and picked them up. Now he probably felt...helpless. He wasn’t helpless. But to go from active-duty SEAL to needing help to walk couldn’t be easy on a man, especially one used to patching up his wounded brothers.
Squatting down next to the car and leaning into the earsplitting shriek, she spotted the keys, leaned against the abrasive asphalt and reached all the way under the car to retrieve them. Dropping them into his palm, she dusted off her hands as he pressed a button and the car let out one final honk before falling quiet.
Sweet silence hung in the air for a long moment before Luke cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
She gave him a half smile and a quick nod. “Have a good night.”
He didn’t respond but angled himself toward her as she stepped away. His gaze was heavy on her back, sending even more chills racing down her arms. She picked up her pace, everything inside her suddenly jumping to high alert.
With a quick glance over her shoulder, she checked on Luke, who was still watching her. His features were pulled tight and unreadable.
A band clenched her middle, demanding she go back and talk to him. Go back and explain why she’d had to turn him down.
Halfway to the front steps, she turned around and called his name. “I really am—”
Squealing tires cut her off, and she jerked around to face the brilliant headlights of another car. It barreled down on her, picking up speed and stealing her every thought.
She tried to scream, but nothing came out.
The car was gaining ground, nearly to her. The driver had to see her. She was the only target in the vehicle’s lights. And it didn’t slow down. In fact, it was gaining speed.
Mandy managed a stumbled step as the car came faster and faster. Without a doubt she was about to die.
Suddenly an arm clamped her around the waist. It scooped her off her feet and sent her sailing out of the path of the car just as it careened by.
Mandy’s wildly beating heart was firmly lodged beneath her larynx, which accounted for the lack of sound coming out of her mouth, even as she tried to scream. At some point in the previous half second, she’d clenched her arms around Luke’s shoulders. And she had no intention of letting go.
“It’s okay. You’re all right.” Luke’s chest rumbled against her side as he spoke into her ear, the even rise and fall of his shoulders in stark contrast to her erratic panting. “It’s gone. It didn’t hit you.”
Her breath caught on a hitch. “Or—or you?”
“I’m fine.” His voice didn’t even wobble.
How could he possibly be so calm when someone had just tried to run her over?
Someone had tried to kill her.
TWO (#ulink_a7466454-23ea-5800-91c6-58f4c5d16544)
Luke blinked against the surge of adrenaline rushing through him. It was a familiar—welcome—feeling. It felt like all of his training. All of his missions. All of his past.
Pulling Mandy closer to his side, he eyed the single crutch he’d lost to the speeding car. One second slower, and it would have been his leg. Two seconds slower, and they would both be dead.
Clearly this was a new emotion for Mandy, who shivered against his side, her eyes blinking, unseeing. He patted her back awkwardly and cleared his throat. “You’re good. No one was hurt.”
He thought he was being reassuring, but when her eyes swung in his direction, they were filled with terror. “You’re sure? You’re not injured?”
Meeting her gaze, his lips twisted into a hint of a smile. “No more than I was an hour ago, Dr. Berg.”
She gave him an obligatory chuckle, but the storm inside her danced across her face. “You just saved my life.” It was almost a question, as though she needed confirmation.
He nodded. “A little bit.”
That made her chuckle for real, and the fear he’d read in her eyes began to ease. “Look at me. You’re practically carrying me.” She untangled her arms from around his shoulders, her fingers from the spot where they’d burrowed beneath the collar of his shirt. Her warmth replaced by the cool breeze.
Luke dropped his arm, too, suddenly off-balance, and wavered dangerously. She flung a hand around his back and leaned a shoulder into his side as she eyed the mangled silver support left in the car’s wake. The trashed remains of his dinner like a comet’s tail.
“We came pretty close, didn’t we?”
He didn’t have to ask her for clarification. She could see only one thing, her focus entirely on what might have been. Instead of answering her question, he glanced over her head toward the office door. “Do you have an extra set of crutches in there?”
Her gaze dragged from the top of his head to the sole of his shoe. “Nothing that would be tall enough for you. But I do have a wheelchair.”
Just the word made him cringe, but he finally nodded. “All right.”
Leaning him against the railing, she said, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Luke bit back the retort on the tip of his tongue. Where could he go?
But she didn’t need a sarcastic comment after an ordeal like that. What she needed was to sit down for a little while to let the adrenaline subside and the trembling stop. And she probably didn’t need to do that by herself.
The door opened with a bang, followed by the squeaking wheel of the chair she’d promised. She angled it down the steps, skipping the ramp altogether, and slid it to his side. “Have you been in one of these?”
“For a week or so. After the...” Man, it was still hard to say the word.
“Bombing?” she filled in.
He nodded and lowered himself into the chair, and Mandy adjusted the footrest so his leg was propped out directly in front of him.
Patting his foot, she said, “There you go.”
“Thanks. I’ll get it back to you when I can get another crutch.” He glanced toward his mom’s car, and her eyes followed. Tight lines formed around her mouth as she bit her bottom lip until it was nearly invisible. “Are you going to be okay?”
She nodded, then her eyes grew wide. “But your supper is ruined. Let me buy you another hamburger. I’ll even throw in a shake.”
Luke squinted up at her, trying to assess how much of her offer stemmed from guilt and how much was from just not wanting to be alone. He almost asked her if there was anyone waiting at home, but even he knew better than to broach such a personal topic on their first meeting, no matter how close he’d been holding her just a minute before.
The flickering smile on her face dimmed for a split second, and he caught a glimmer of the terror she still battled. He’d faced down his share of angry terrorists—or tangos, as his team called them—and sharpshooters over three tours in the Middle East, and it never got easier. Mandy was a first-timer. Actually, she was holding it together pretty well, all things considered.
But she couldn’t fully mask the fear. Her hands wringing and eyelid twitching, she maintained eye contact, but her smile never quite reached her eyes.
“It’s the least I can do,” she said.
Something in his gut promised his life would be easier if he just walked away. But he’d never walked away from hard before.
“All right. I’ll let you buy me a double-double.”
She pointed toward the glass door to her office. “Let me just lock up.” She dashed up the stairs, her movements fluid and graceful. All four of his older sisters had taken ballet when he was a kid, and he’d been forced to sit through endless recitals. Somehow, watching Mandy’s easy motion reminded him of those hours.
Jealousy surged deep in his belly. He might never move that freely again.
He’d always been so stable on his feet. So sure of his footing. Now he needed a shoulder to lean on just to stand.
Getting back on the teams was a pipe dream. At best.
So what was he supposed to do with all of the free time suddenly laid out before him?
The lights inside the office flicked off, and an instant later, Mandy exited, locking the door behind her. Shoving her keys into a small tote bag, she flipped a wild curl out of her face. With little more than a smile, she led the way across the lot to the sidewalk and then down to the light so they could use the walkway.
She didn’t say anything as they crossed the street, but her foot hesitated as she checked each direction three times before setting out. He pushed his chair behind her, the muscles in his arms aching at the new movements. He was panting by the time they reached the far side of the street, sweat trickling down the back of his neck.
At this rate, he didn’t belong anywhere near the SEALs.
Inside the crowded red-and-white diner-style fast-food joint, she got into line. “What’s good here?”
“You’re from San Diego, work right across the street, and you’ve never been to an In-N-Out Burger?” Luke couldn’t keep the snicker out of his tone.
Mandy shrugged one shoulder before turning back to the menu board. “I’m from Colorado.”
“Uh-huh.” That explained nothing. Maybe she was a health nut who refused to enjoy the greasy goodness of the Southern California staple. Luke was all for fitness. All for staying in good shape. He was also one for enjoying a stack of steaming beef covered in melting cheese when the day called for it.
And a near hit-and-run definitely called for it.
His stomach rumbled at the smell of the best burgers on the West Coast.
“Your options are pretty much a burger or a burger and fries,” he said.
She shot him a snarky grin, but ordered a burger and fries when she got to the counter.
They found an empty table, settled in and were halfway through their dinner before he came up for air.
Mandy stared, her gaze unfocused, at a glob of ketchup on her fries. She hadn’t done more than pick at her burger, but she didn’t seem eager to chat.
He didn’t really want to start a conversation, but something about the tightness of her chin—as if she was trying so hard to hold it still—made his chest hurt. “You want to talk about what happened back there?”
Her gaze shot up, and she looked surprised to see him there. “I’m sorry. I was just... I guess I just zoned out for a second. What did you say?”
“Back in the parking lot—” He tipped his head toward her office. “That wasn’t an accident. You want to talk about it?”
As the words rolled out, he knew he meant them. It was more than idle curiosity. He was tired of being unproductive. Maybe he could help her. Talking about it might help her deal with the experience.
He hadn’t had a mission in weeks. And he was months away from another. Just the idea of giving her a hand brought the side of his mouth up in a smile.
“Um. No. It was nothing. Just an accident, probably.”
Nope. That wasn’t true.
Her gaze jumped to the left, then down at her hands in her lap. Her shoulders squirmed, and she bit the corner of her mouth. She knew it wasn’t an accident or a distracted driver. Someone had intentionally tried to kill her.
“I doubt it.” He shrugged as if they weren’t discussing life and death. Perhaps if she didn’t think about what was on the line, she’d open up about it. “Who’d you tick off? Someone not get the results you promised?”
Her nostrils flared, and her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t tick anyone off, thank you very much. I’m a professional, and there are no guarantees in medicine.”
The bright pink spots in her cheeks were so cute that he couldn’t help but goad her a little more. “Come on. You can tell me. What’d you do? Break too many hearts?”
Her gaze fell to the table, where she twisted a straw wrapper into smithereens. Forehead wrinkled and neck stiff, she let out a tiny sigh before squaring her tense shoulders and forcing a half smile. Another chink in her armor. But she was determined to keep from showing it to him.
His middle jerked with regret. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.” He stabbed a hand through his shaggy hair while she still looked anywhere but at him. “You’re in trouble.” He didn’t ask a question because it would have been too easy for her to deny it again.
After three years on the teams, he couldn’t walk away from someone in need.
He’d never been able to. That was why he’d wanted to be a SEAL in the first place. That was why he wanted to go back.
“I’ve got it under control.” Her chin didn’t so much as quiver, and she met his eyes with a steady gaze.
“What else has happened? Is this the first time someone’s tried to run you over?”
“Nothing’s happened.” She shook her head, but her eyes lost a hint of the mettle that had just been there. “Everything’s fine. I’ve got it under control.”
He’d believe that when the stars quit shining. “Have you talked to the cops?”
She nodded, looked away and toyed with a French fry, dunking it in ketchup before using it to doodle on her burger wrapper.
Apparently she had it under control, but she had still gone to the cops. She was scared. She was in over her head. And she was a sitting duck.
“What are the cops doing?”
“A detective is looking into it.”
“Into...” He let his voice drag out, hoping she’d fill in the blanks because there were still a lot of them in her tale.
Brown eyes, narrow and uncertain, met his gaze, and he could see the battle just beyond them. There was more to tell, but she barely knew him.
Someone had threatened her life, and opening up about that wasn’t easy.
Luke hadn’t talked to anyone except the navy chaplain about the suicide bomber who had nearly blown off his leg. And Bianca, of course. Back when she’d been his girlfriend. That conversation had started with him laying it all out on the line—an uncertain future, months of PT, maybe never returning to active duty—and had ended with her walking out of his life for good. After that, he hadn’t talked about his leg, even with his swim buddy and best friend, Will Gumble—Willie G. to his teammates. Putting his pride on the line was riskier than walking through a minefield, so it was easier to just keep it inside.
Except the memories gnawed on his insides like a hungry dog, leaving him raw and sore.
Whatever haunted Mandy probably warred within her, too. To talk about it or not to talk about it. It was a lose-lose situation.
* * *
Mandy crumpled her hamburger wrapper around the last bite, her stomach suddenly not at all interested in finishing the meal. There was something else chewing at her, an urge to tell Luke what was really going on.
His gaze dipped to her hands, and he watched her fingers work the crinkling paper into a ball for a long second. “You don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to. I get it. I’ve been there.”
“I’d guess you’re still there.” The words popped out as soon as she thought them, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.
A wry grin curved the corner of his lips, and he shrugged one shoulder. “You might be right. Looks like we have more in common than we thought.”
Maybe it was the knowing spark in his eye or the understanding in his tone. But something made her snap, the truth—all of it—spilling out before she could overanalyze the reasons why she should keep her distance.
“About two years ago, I realized that my identity had been stolen. Nothing that a thousand others haven’t dealt with. Credit cards taken out in my name, debt racked up. That kind of thing. I reported it to the credit bureaus and law enforcement, but it just seemed to get worse. And then someone tried to hijack my professional license.”
Luke’s eyebrows pulled together, but the rest of his face remained even. A slow nod encouraged her to continue.
“I only caught that because it was time for renewal, and I had turned in my paperwork a bit early. Two days later they received another renewal with my name but a different address.”
“And that address...”
“Was a fake.” Mandy put her elbows on the table and leaned a little closer to Luke so she could keep her voice low. “It’s like there’s a phantom after me. No name, no address, no face. They’re always three steps ahead of the police.”
“And they’re doing a pretty good job of making your life miserable.”
Her gaze snapped to meet Luke’s. “Yes.”
He narrowed his eyes, the skin above his nose wrinkling. “And...”
“How did you know? That there’s more?”
“Identity thieves don’t usually jump to attempted murder in one leap.”
Murder.
The word made her tremble, and she closed her eyes, only to find headlights bearing down on her once again. Gasping a strangled breath, she looked up just as his hand rested on her fist. Jerking away, she squared her shoulders and forced her back ramrod straight.
Yes. That had been attempted murder just an hour before. She knew it. So did he.
“Why do you think the two are connected?”
She inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled, like she perpetually told her patients to do. “Someone’s been in my home.”
His mouth dropped open. “Did you report it?”
“I couldn’t. I didn’t have anything to report.” The questions in his eyes didn’t require words, so she continued on. “It wasn’t a blatant breaking and entering. Nothing was broken or taken. But things were moved, just enough to let me know that someone’s been in there.”
“What are you doing to protect yourself?” His voice was firm, almost demanding, and his broad shoulders stiffened. Suddenly his boyish face turned stern, strict. “It’s not safe for you to be there alone. Not if someone is getting in and out without trashing the door or breaking windows.”
She offered him a half smile for his concern. “I know. I had an alarm system installed as soon as I realized something was off. The alarm hasn’t been triggered, and my stalker hasn’t been back.”
“Who else knows the alarm code?”
“Just the guy who installed it.”
Mandy gave herself a mental pat on the back as Luke’s muscles began to relax, his clenched jaw easing into a more natural expression. She was doing everything she could do to keep herself safe.
“Have you thought about a dog?”
Well, almost everything she could do. “I’m allergic.”
“Who’s watching your six?”
“My six?”
“Your back. In the SEALs we don’t go anywhere without a buddy. You can’t see behind you at your six o’clock, so you need someone who can.” When she didn’t immediately respond, he gave her hand a gentle nudge. “Do you have family nearby or a good friend?”
“I...” Her voice trailed off as a coolness settled over her. “My family is all back in Colorado. And we’re not very close, so when I came out here for school, I just stayed.”
“A friend, then?” His eyes were filled with hope as deep as the Pacific, and she wanted more than anything to give him the answer he was looking for.
She shook her head. “It—it takes a lot to get a business going. I have friends at Pacific Coast House—”
“Ashley Waterstone,” he interrupted, a little grin spreading across his face. “She made me come to see you.”
“I know.” Mandy pursed her lips to the side at the memory of Ashley’s call. She’d been nearly as intimidating as her six-foot-two SEAL husband when she’d told Mandy that she had a friend in need of help. Mandy just hadn’t planned on the man sitting across the table from her, his crooked grin and boyish charm a little too disarming. A little too much like Gary’s.
She’d made the right decision turning Luke away.
She had.
She was certain.
Almost.
Luke’s head bowed as his shoulders rose and fell in an even rhythm. He almost looked as if he was praying, until he glanced up without moving his head. “I think we both know that Ashley, Staci, Jess and the others at Pacific Coast House can’t afford to get mixed up in this situation. They have families to think about.”
His tone was filled with as much compassion as she’d heard from him, but it didn’t take away the sting of his words. The truth of them. She pulled her hand from where it still rested beneath his and hugged her arms around her middle.
She was going to have to face this alone.
Do not be afraid.
The words rang through her, true and clear, and she knew in that instant that she could face whatever was coming.
His mouth quirked to the side. “Of course, that wouldn’t stop them. I get the feeling they like you a whole bunch.”
A tear tried to force its way out, and she blinked it into submission, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I like them, too. And I’d never ask them to put their families in danger for me. I can do this. On my own.”
He tapped his long tan fingers on the table where her hand had been, and she suddenly missed the reassurance of his touch. But the warmth in his eyes wrapped around her heart.
She could face this. Whatever it was. Whoever it was.
“So here’s the thing. Those ladies, they’re like my big sisters. And their husbands, they’re my bosses and friends. If I let anything happen to you, I’m pretty sure they’d take out my other knee.” He chuckled at the half joke, but the truth about his injury kept his jaw tight.
“What are you saying?”
He shrugged. “I’m available.”
She knew what he meant, what he was offering. She just wasn’t ready to give him an answer. Accepting him meant allowing him into her life, and her track record with that had led to her very worst mistake. Even if this wasn’t a romantic relationship.
But refusing him left her out in the open, unprotected.
Neither was a good option.
So, instead of responding to his offer, she asked a question of her own, forcing her smirk back into place and hoping to make him squirm. Just a little bit. “Are you trying to ask me on a date?”
Without missing a beat, he winked and replied, “Whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
With a shake of her head and a low chuckle, she sighed. He was far too charming for his own good. For her own good. But his proposal was too important to ignore. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
“As a matter of fact, I don’t.” He thumped the brace on his leg. “I’m supposed to be resting my knee when I’m not in physical therapy. My life is looking pretty dull from where I’m sitting.”
“A SEAL without a mission...”
“About the worst hand a guy could be dealt.” There was truth in his tone, a longing in his voice to return to a life of significance.
Except...well, she wasn’t sure a guy in his condition could keep her safe.
As soon as the thought crept in, she laughed it away. He’d saved her from a speeding car while using crutches and carrying his dinner. And he’d kept his cool the whole time. He was capable, even with his injury.
But letting him help her also meant allowing a man back into her life. It meant being reminded of another relationship that had turned sour, that had turned her into someone she hated.
Do not be afraid.
She could handle this. She would handle this, by setting up the boundaries from the start.
“Just so we’re clear, I was joking before about you asking me out.” He raised an eyebrow in question. “There’ll be no—” she waved her finger back and forth between them “—dating.”
He winked again, that saucy grin falling back into place. “Whatever you say.”
Her stomach swooped and tightened, and she leaned toward him, needing him to understand, to agree. “That’s a nonnegotiable. I don’t date patients. Period.”
Both of his eyebrows went up this time. “So, I’m a patient now?”
She was as surprised as he looked. When had she decided to take on his case? She hadn’t. Not consciously anyway. But...
“I suppose so. I spend most of my time at the office, and if you’re going to be around, you might as well be getting your feet back under you.”
His smile turned from playful to appreciative. “I won’t let you down.”
She wasn’t going to overanalyze whether he was referring to her situation or his healing. Either way she was stuck with him now. At least it would be on her terms. “All right. But no dates.” His Cheshire grin never wavered, and she had a sinking feeling that his flirting was going to play a prominent role in their relationship.
It was worth it.
Because maybe, just maybe, he could help her stay safe long enough to figure out who was trying to kill her.
THREE (#ulink_4a1c0c44-cd15-5986-8528-1fbeef490c12)
Mandy spent the entire night before Luke’s first appointment calling herself every name in the book. She was a special kind of crazy to take him on. If she had half a brain, she would have found a way to put as much distance between them as she could.
Except she hadn’t had a choice.
And his eyes had spoken volumes across the table two nights before. He could help her. And as much as she didn’t want to need him, she did. The exact kind of professional help he could offer.
But the more she thought about having Luke around, the more she recalled the other man in her life. The one who had wormed his way into her personal life and into her home. Who had made her miserable.
Chills raced down her arms, and she hugged her knees into her chest, pushing away all thoughts of someone else being in her house.
Suddenly being alone was too much, and she threw back the covers on her bed and ran for the bathroom. Slamming and locking the door behind her, she got ready in record time. Her hair was still damp as she raced down the road to her office.
She skidded into her regular parking spot on the side of her building and ran through the nearly empty lot, past the scene of the would-have-been hit-and-run.
When she reached the glass double doors, they were already unlocked. She hesitantly ducked her head inside until Tara waved at her from behind the desk. “Morning, boss.”
“Hi, Tara.” Mandy slipped the rest of the way in, wrestling her overstuffed tote bag through behind her.
“You’re in early today.” Tara’s grin sparkled as though she knew a big secret.
Mandy covered a yawn with the back of her hand. “I didn’t get my paperwork done last night.” There. That was a very valid excuse for running away from her own home.
“Su-ure.” Tara singsonged the word as if she knew more than Mandy gave her credit for.
“And I need you to pull out an inactive file. I took on a new client.”
Tara’s eyebrows rose, her forehead wrinkling as she steepled her fingers beneath her chin. “Oh.” Again, that knowing tone. “Do tell.”
“Dunham. Luke Dunham.”
With a low cackle, Tara pulled his file from a stack on the side of her desk. “I had a feeling we hadn’t seen the last of him.”
“It wasn’t... I... Things changed.”
“Uh-huh.” Tara tapped the point of a pen against her tongue before scribbling a note on the chart. “First appointment?”
Mandy hated the guilt that tumbled within her. She still owned this practice. She was still in charge. So why hadn’t she told Tara about Luke’s appointment until today?
There wasn’t time to dig into her real reasons for it, and if she let the conversation go any further, she’d have to explain to Tara about nearly being hit by a car and someone breaking into her home. Better to keep this conversation short. “Four o’clock. Today. I’ll be in my office until my first appointment arrives.”
The rubber soles of her shoes squeaked against the laminate flooring as she kept her stride even and unhurried. She had no reason to run. At least not from Tara.
The day passed like a minute, each patient taking all of her focus, deserving all of her energy. It was after three when she finally looked up and realized she hadn’t eaten anything since the banana she’d snatched on the way out the door that morning. Her stomach growled loudly as she marked another patient’s progress in his chart.
With a quick sweep of the exercise room, she confirmed that the only other occupants, a teenage girl working on a balance ball with one of Mandy’s physical therapy assistants, hadn’t heard her body’s retaliation for not feeding it. Stretching her back and shoulders as she stood, she headed for the front office to see if there were any leftovers to be had.
“Haven’t seen you all day.” Tara didn’t even look up from the computer where she navigated complex medical-charting screens that fed to area hospitals. “I thought you were avoiding me, boss.”
“I was.” Mandy laid the sarcasm on thick, and Tara glanced up just long enough to offer a smile.
“Hungry?”
“So much. Anything good back there?” Mandy peeked down the hall toward the office kitchen. It was a tiny room with a round table big enough for only two chairs. The counters boasted only a coffeemaker, sink and a toaster oven. Even the fridge looked as if it belonged in a dorm room rather than in an office.
As Mandy slipped toward the break room, Tara scrambled out from behind her desk, the wheels on her chair clacking against the tiled floor as she ran to catch Mandy. “So are you going to tell me what happened with the SEAL?”
Mandy frowned as she eyed a half-eaten salad and a tray of veggies left on the counter. A wilted piece of roast beef squished between two slices of bread sat beside the tray, the last in what had been a plate of sandwiches. The soggy bread and warm meat looked as appetizing as congealed gravy. Someone had ordered in, and she’d missed the invitation.
Rats. Now she was going to have to face the SEAL in question on an empty stomach.
“He has a name, you know.” Mandy plopped several pieces of limp lettuce onto a plate before digging her fork into it.
Tara nodded. “I do. But if the rest of his team had any intelligence, they would have nicknamed him Adorable.”
Mandy snorted so hard, she nearly choked on her bite. Quickly swallowing the offending mouthful, she was about to respond when the bell on the front door rang, and Tara dashed to man her post.
She’d just taken another bite when Tara called down the hallway, “Mandy? You have a visitor.” Her words were stilted, hesitant, as though she didn’t really want to say them. And they turned leaves of lettuce into gravel as Mandy swallowed.
Setting the plate on the table, she tiptoed down the hallway, poking her head around the corner just as the bell above the front door jingled again.
Luke appeared at the entrance. The setting sun behind him left him in shadow, but she could still feel the weight of his gaze as he maneuvered his new crutches through the door.
“Luke.” Her voice went higher than she’d expected, and she quickly cleared her throat. “You’re early.”
“Thought I’d bring back the chair you let me borrow.”
“Thanks.”
Suddenly someone else cleared his throat. It was low and tinged with mild annoyance, as if he’d been put out by her short exchange with Luke. Mandy didn’t really need to look at him to identify the visitor Tara had announced.
He was tall and broad, his dark hair still falling over his forehead, no matter how many times he pushed it out of the way. His smile still ticked up to one side, but where it had once been charming, now it was smarmy, turning her skin to gooseflesh at first glance. His eyes were deep brown, but they lacked any compassion or understanding of the part he’d played in her greatest regret. And now they shot from Mandy to Luke and back, filled with questions.
But she didn’t owe Gary Heusen any answers. In fact, she had plenty of questions of her own.
“What are you doing here, Gary?”
He held out a bouquet of roses. More white roses. More reminders that he’d once known her and claimed to care about her.
Her heart picked up speed, and a bead of sweat formed on the back of her neck, trailing below the collar of her shirt. She pressed a hand to the wall for support, hating her body’s reaction. Hating that she couldn’t control the way she responded to the memories and that the broken heart he’d left behind suddenly felt all too fresh.
“Luke, why don’t I go with you to get the wheelchair?” Tara’s voice broke the trance in the room, but Luke scowled at the idea.
“Are you okay, Doc?” While he clearly addressed Mandy, his eyes narrowed on Gary, a warning written across his features.
“I’m fine. Please, would you go with Tara? I can handle this.” She could. She would. Forcing her shoulders square and her back straight, she watched Luke follow Tara out of her office.
When the door closed, she turned on Gary in a hushed but firm voice. “What are you doing here?” she repeated. “I don’t want you here.”
Gary’s eyes looked in the direction of the path Luke had just taken. “So you’ve replaced me?”
Anger shot through her like a volcano, unbridled, untamable. “What are you talking—”
Two voices from down the hall suddenly joined them, and Mandy clamped her mouth closed, trying for a stabilizing breath. “We can’t do this here.”
“Then let’s go to your office.” He tucked the flowers back into the crook of his arm and held open the wooden door to the back hallway. She didn’t have any choice. She knew he wouldn’t be going anywhere until he said whatever he’d come here to say.
Marching down the hall, she led him to her office. The minute he was inside, she spun on him in a hushed growl. “You have two minutes. This better be good.”
The cool assurance on his face dimmed for a split second, before he amped up his toothy smile and held out the flowers. “You’re as pretty as ever, Dee.”
“Don’t call me that. I don’t like it,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You used to.”
No, I didn’t. But this was not the time to argue with him. “Get to the point. What do you want?”
He twisted the bouquet in his hand, showcasing his empty ring finger. “A lot’s been going on lately.”
The last time she’d run into him, Gary had been wearing a gaudy gold ring, a symbol of his marriage. The one he hadn’t bothered to tell her he was about to enter while he wooed her. The one she hadn’t asked about. Mandy pinched the bridge of her nose and pressed her other hand to her hip.
“I’m not interested in playing your games. I have a busy day, and you don’t need to be here.”
“Don’t you understand? Camilla and I aren’t together anymore. You and I can finally have a future.”
“What?” She shrieked the word so loudly that everyone in the building probably heard it.
Gary reached for her hand, but Mandy jerked away, shaking her head. “Camilla knew,” he continued. “She knew that I always loved you best.”
“Love? Is that what you call it?” Mandy gave up trying to keep her voice low, her tone even. This man was crazy if he thought she’d have anything to do with him after what he’d done. “Lying to me? Leading me on? Breaking my heart? That’s love?”
“Baby, it was you the whole time.” He gave her his best smile, and it succeeded only in making her stomach turn.
“Listen to me very carefully. You’re not welcome here. I don’t want your flowers. I don’t care what happened between you and Camilla. I don’t want to see you again.” She took a step in his direction, hoping he would back up, but he didn’t, and suddenly they were closer than she wanted.
His smarmy grin turned just a little bit cruel.
How had she ever fallen for his act, for the facade? Oh, he’d been a good actor, for sure. Attentive. Interested. Caring. And she’d wanted to see those qualities in him. She’d wanted to believe the best in him so much that she’d ignored every warning.
Except he’d done it all to feed his own ego, to prove to himself that he still had whatever it took to win a woman’s heart. But after the winning, he’d been more than happy to crush it. And now that she knew it, it was easy to see in every facial expression, easy to hear in every word.
“Oh, you’ll see me around,” he said. “You forget we have ties to the same circles.”
“What circles?”
“The Pacific Coast House carnival fund-raiser is next week.”
“You wouldn’t.” She narrowed her eyes and pressed her hands to her waist. “You’ve never cared about anyone as much as you care about yourself. You wouldn’t show up at the carnival.”
“Sure I would.” He let the flowers drop to his side, still holding her gaze. “And Camilla might be there, too.”
“Why? She has no connection to PCH.”
He shrugged one shoulder beneath his dark brown leather jacket. “She always said she didn’t like you. Maybe she thinks you’re the reason our marriage fell apart.” He turned on the charm as if he’d flipped a switch. “Of course, I know that’s not true. We were doomed from the start. She has a terrible habit of lashing out when she’s angry.”
A scene from Mandy’s waiting room four years before flashed through her mind, and her insides twisted like a screw. Camilla’s eyes had been wild with rage, her motions fierce. She had knocked over chairs and broken a lamp and left the office in disarray. Gary had sworn she wasn’t normally like that. When she was on her medications.
Mandy covered her mouth with her hand, her breath suddenly short.
If she wasn’t taking her medications, Camilla was prone to lash out. Like trying to run someone over.
A brick settled on her lungs, and Mandy fought to speak. “Is she taking her meds now, Gary?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure.”
“Okay. You need to go now.”
Gary opened his mouth to refuse the request, but instead of his voice, another one filled the room. “You heard the doc. It’s time for you to go.”
* * *
The guy Mandy had called Gary took one look at Luke—even on his crutches—gave a silent nod, tossed the flowers on Mandy’s desk and ducked out of the room. The bell on the door declared his exit from the building.
Luke kept his distance from Mandy, trying to read her face, but she’d put a mask on, all professionalism. “Let’s get to work.” She marched past him and down the hall toward the exercise room. She pointed to the closest exam table. “Hop on up.”
He bit back every question racing through his mind and did as she said, letting her have this moment of control.
When he was settled onto the table, she rested her hands on his back. Even through his T-shirt, they were like icicles, and he jumped.
“Sorry.” She blew on her palms and rubbed them together until they whistled at the friction. “Go ahead and lie down. Let’s get this brace off and see where your range of motion is at.”
He did as she instructed while she began loudly peeling back the Velcro strips. “Lift your leg.” She helped him raise it just enough to slide the brace out of the way. He felt a hundred pounds lighter and also as if he might fly apart given a stiff breeze. The knee brace had been his companion since the surgery, and without it, he was incomplete.
“All right. Really carefully, we’re going to bend your knee.” She put her hands around his calf and pulled gently.
He inhaled sharply. His leg felt as if it would split into two pieces. Like a freight train running him over, the pressure against the stiffness was more than he could handle. He pinched his eyes closed and brought a fist to his mouth.
“Good. You’re doing really well.” Mandy’s tone was soothing and calm as she straightened his leg and then bent it again.
“Are you trying to tear my whole leg off?”
She laughed. “No. But this is your first appointment. You never know about next time.” On the fourth pass, she said, “Think about something else. What did you think about when you were in SEAL training?”
“About how much I wanted to be a SEAL, but now...” He let the silence that followed finish the thought. He didn’t have to say it. They both knew that now there were no assurances. There was no certainty that he’d ever be on another mission with his SEAL brothers.
Nothing was a guarantee. No matter how much he’d begged God to heal him, to give him a new knee, he hadn’t heard anything from above.
But he did have a mission now. His assignment was Mandy’s safety. And he could think on that.
“So, are you going to tell me about the guy in your office?”
“No.” There was no humor in her response.
“Okay. What about the Camilla woman? Sounds like she might be holding a grudge.”
Mandy kept her hands gentle, but her tone firm. “Maybe.”
“What happened with her?”
“I don’t know.”
Luke frowned at her.
Even though she kept her gaze firmly locked on his knee, she said, “I only met her once.”
“Then why would she have it out for you?”
“She thinks I tried to steal her husband.”
Something strange and altogether unwelcome roared inside him, but he couldn’t call it by name. It burned like anger but not quite. It twisted his insides like bitterness, only not as strong. It was indistinct but demanding.
One thing he knew for sure. Mandy hadn’t stolen anyone’s husband.
He’d known her barely three days, and he already knew she wasn’t capable of such a thing.
“Why does she—” He groaned as she bent his knee farther than it had moved since Lybania. Since the explosion.
Mandy didn’t bother to apologize, but she did give his quad muscles a gentle massage. “You’re going to be a little stiff tomorrow, but it’ll be the good kind of sore.”
After a few more minutes, she reached for his brace.
“Already? I can do more.” He swiped his arm across his upper lip, wiping away the sweat that had pooled there, even from such a light workout.
“I know you can. But you shouldn’t.” Helping him sit up and swing his legs back over the edge of the table, she looked right into his eyes. “I have a feeling half of your battle is going to be just letting it rest. The surgeon didn’t repair your medial collateral ligament. That’s only going to heal with rest. So you have to take it slow.”
He leaned into her until their foreheads were only a couple inches apart. She smelled of hand sanitizer and citrus, and he offered her a compromise. “Then you’ve got to give me more to work on than the first name of a woman you haven’t seen in years.”
She reached for his crutches and wedged them in front of her. “You need to rest.”
“And you promised to let me help you.”
She lifted her eyes toward the ceiling as though asking for patience from above. “I don’t have anything else to give you right now. I’m going to call Detective Fletcher, who I reported the almost hit-and-run to, and tell him what Gary said so he can look into Camilla. And then I’m going to go home.”
“At least let me walk you to your car?”
A slow smile lifted her cheeks, despite the shadow of fear reflected in her eyes. “All right.”
He trailed after her as she went to her office and called the detective. It must have gone straight to voice mail, and she left a short, succinct message. “This is Mandy Berg. I have a tip on someone who might be taking her frustrations out on me. Would you call me back as soon as you have a chance?” She gave him her number before hanging up. Then she tossed the flowers, which were still sitting on her desk, in the trash and scooped up her tote bag. “Let’s go.”
“Good night, Tara,” Luke said as they walked through the lobby.
“Have a good one,” she hollered over the sound of her radio, which was playing a hit from the mideighties.
Luke clattered down the ramp beside Mandy, thankful she hadn’t suggested taking the stairs. “Is everything all right at your house? No one’s tripped the alarm?”
“It’s all fine. Nothing new since two nights ago.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “Well, nothing except finding out about Camilla.”
“Do you think she’s capable of this?”
Mandy dug her hand into her bag, rooting around for her keys for several seconds before producing them. “I don’t know. I don’t know her. But a woman scorned, well, she’s capable of nearly anything.”
Luke nodded as the lights on her white SUV blinked. He glanced at the wheel as she opened her door, and the parking lot lights reflected off a puddle peeking out beneath her front bumper. “I think you’re leaking.”
“I know.” She threw her bag into the car and slid behind the wheel. “It’s been leaking antifreeze for a couple days. I need to have it looked at.”
He nodded. “You’ve had other things on your mind.” He put his hand on her door to close it. “Have a good night. Drive safe.”
“I will.”
The door clicked closed, and he stood silently watching her pull out of the lot and onto the major cross street. When she had disappeared, he moved toward his car, watching the pool of liquid in her empty parking spot to make sure he didn’t slip in it.
The yellowish lights above made the puddle’s color hard to distinguish, but it wasn’t a neon color like many antifreeze brands. In fact, it looked more like oil.
A knot in his stomach went taut, and he shifted one of his crutches to the other side so that he could bend almost all the way over. Stretching his arm as far as he could reach, he swiped a finger through the fluid. Dry and oily. Lifting it to his nose, he inhaled. It smelled like fish oil.
Like brake fluid.
Like her brake lines had been cut.
“Mandy!” He yelled her name, even as his throat closed. The strangled cry died quickly on the wind, and he ran as fast as his crutches would carry him to his car.
Get to her. Get to her. Get to her.
He had to find her before she couldn’t stop. Before she sailed through a red light or flew off a mountain road.
He flung his crutches into his car, gritted his teeth against the eruption in his knee when he bumped his leg and peeled out of the parking lot. He whipped in front of another car and floored it in the direction she’d gone.
She hadn’t given him her cell number. Too personal.
But this, this was beyond personal. This was a matter of life and death.
FOUR (#ulink_aab8227a-cec7-5271-b9cd-55cd5da2a771)
The light before the highway entrance turned yellow, and Mandy pressed her brake pedal.
Her car barely slowed and coasted through the red light, accompanied by the angry honking of several other drivers. Her SUV let out a squeal of pain. With white knuckles, she gripped her steering wheel and tried to pull over, but there was no shoulder and she was moving too fast. A car at her side blocked her in, and one in front of her slowed way down.
“Please. Please. Please,” she begged as she pressed her sluggish brake again. Her car gave a woeful shudder, stopping just inches from the bumper in front of her.
“What’s wrong with you?” Leaning back, she glanced at her floor mat, which seemed to be bunched under the brake. Giving the carpet a tug, she pressed the pedal again. Her little SUV lurched but stopped.
Much better.
Even so, the interstate’s stop-and-go traffic could be more than trying if her brakes were being cranky. With a quick turn, she slipped into another lane. She’d take the back roads home. Dark and windy, but at least they weren’t quite as busy.
Mandy zipped along the twisting roads as she headed up the hill, hugging the center line, keeping her distance from the sheer cliff to her right. The vertical wall of stone on the far side of the two-lane highway was almost invisible against the black sky as she worked her way out of the city. One pair of headlights in her rearview mirror and the fading red lights of three other cars in the distance before her were her only company.
She let out a breath, already feeling the stress of the day and Gary’s visit lifting.
Until she tapped her brakes as she crested a summit.
Nothing happened.
She punched them hard and gasped as the pedal reached the floor. With no response.
Grabbing the wheel with two shaking hands, she tried to keep her vehicle in her lane as it picked up speed.
The road before her curved back and forth, a black snake—and just as terrifying.
Blood rushed in her ears, swallowing every other sound, including the frantic prayer leaving her lips. “Help me. Please. I need help.”
The car behind her seemed to be gaining on her, but she couldn’t let herself be hypnotized by the white lights. Her lane seemed to narrow, and she focused on the center line.
Just stay away from the edge. Don’t go over. And don’t miss a turn.
Her palms turned slick, but she couldn’t risk wiping them. Mandy squeezed the steering wheel tighter, praying she wouldn’t make a wrong turn. The road had to level out. It had to.
But it just continued its steep decline. No escape. No emergency exit.
Emergency.
Her emergency brake.
She grabbed the handle next to her seat and pulled it as hard as she could. It refused to engage. The red light on the dashboard didn’t even appear. The rapid-fire beating of her heart drowned out everything except the truth. Someone had cut her brake lines and disabled her emergency brake. Someone wanted her to go off that cliff.
The same person who had tried to run her over.
Suddenly the headlights in her mirror barreled down on her, almost reaching her bumper before swinging up beside her.
She couldn’t make out the car or the driver in the dark, and he swerved closer. As if in slow motion, she waved him off, but he just drew nearer. Was he trying to push her over the edge?
She wouldn’t give him the chance.
Leaning into the steering wheel, she swallowed the lump in her throat and pressed the gas. Her car gained a little ground before her pursuer caught up. His whole car seemed to be shaking with the effort to maintain the speed, but he kept his distance from her, hugging the far line as he whipped down the opposite lane.
Risking a glance in his direction, she caught a waving hand and a familiar mane of shaggy blond hair.
Luke.
He motioned for her to roll down her window, but did she dare risk taking her hand off the wheel again? But what did she have to lose? She was dead either way.
With one flick of her finger, the window automatically went down. Tears filled her eyes at the wind’s unrelenting assault.
“Emer—cy. Bra—”
The howling wind seemed to steal his words, but she tried to respond. “Broken!”
He didn’t reply. Maybe he hadn’t heard her. She tried again but stopped short as a set of headlights glared right at them.
“Car!”
Luke shook his head and cupped a hand to his ear. Forgetting all about her sweaty palms, she jerked a hand in the direction of the truck heading right for him. At the same moment, the other driver leaned on his horn.
Suddenly Luke was gone. Vanished as the truck careened past her, still honking his displeasure. But all she could hear was the no, no, no that crashed through her mind.
She craned around as much as she could without losing sight of the road and caught a glimpse of the car behind her, just as the road swung wide. Overcorrecting for it, her back wheel caught the yard of gravel at the edge of the incline. The back end of her car whipped to the left. Then dangerously close to the cliff. Her heart stopped.
This was it.
She was going over.
Suddenly she was back on the road, her speedometer pushing ninety.
She wanted to cover her eyes or hold her breath or do anything to keep from seeing her inevitable end.
Lord, let this be quick.
“Run—way. —uck. Ramp!”
Luke had returned to her side, and he pointed just to her left.
A brown sign pointed to a gravel runaway-truck ramp. It was going to total her car. And maybe her body. It was also her only hope.
Heart in her throat, she jerked the wheel toward the exit, praying that she hadn’t chosen the wrong way out.
Gravel crunched beneath her tires, the momentum of the car sending her flying forward.
And then it all slammed to an end.
* * *
Luke skidded to a halt at the base of the ramp, grabbing his crutches and leaping from the car before it had fully stopped. He set the foot of his injured leg down, immediately regretting the decision. “Ahhh!” Fire shot through his knee at even the lightest pressure, but he swung his way toward the cloud of dust masking Mandy’s SUV. When he reached the rear bumper, he tossed his crutches down and used the vehicle to keep his balance as he hopped toward the driver’s door.
There was no sign of movement from within, and Luke forced his voice to remain steady as he called out. “Mandy? Doc? Are you okay?”
She didn’t respond, and he hopped a little faster, matching the rising tempo of his heartbeat. He hadn’t thought it could go any faster than it had when that truck had come flying around the curve and he’d had to slam on his brakes. He’d whipped behind Mandy only a fraction of a second before the big rig would have slammed into him.
But the thought of what he might find inside her car had his heart hammering a painful tattoo.
“Luke?”
The voice was no more than a breath, and he thought he’d imagined it until he hopped another foot in her direction.
“Luke? Are you okay?”
The sudden quiet in the center of his chest echoed through his limbs, and he closed his eyes to capture the memory of that peace. “Fine. I’m fine. You?”
There was a long pause. He couldn’t move fast enough to get to her door. Finally his fingers wrapped into the open window, and he pulled himself even with it, staring hard through the muddied air.
Large brown eyes blinked twice before closing for a long moment. Her pink lips formed a tight line as though she was trying to pull herself together before speaking. The rest of her face was painted in a fine layer of grime.
He reached for her cheek, but stopped short. She hadn’t moved any of her limbs yet, and he wasn’t about to touch her before he knew how badly she was injured. “Can you move your arms and legs?”
Without opening her eyes, Mandy waved both hands and bounced both of her knees. A soul-crushing groan followed.
“Where do you hurt?”
“Everywhere?” She swung her head in his direction, and only then did he see the streaming red line above her right eye.
Shrugging out of his long-sleeved overshirt, he pulled it inside out, wadded it up and pressed it against the gash. With his other thumb, he swiped at the dirt on her cheeks, looking for other abrasions. “You hit the steering wheel?”
She started to nod but seemed only able to manage a grimace. “How bad is it?”
“It could have been a whole lot worse.”
She opened her eyes at that. Fear and something close to panic lurked in the depths there. They were on the same page. She’d dodged another bullet, another attempt on her life. But someone was more calculating and brazen than they had guessed. Whoever it was had access to Mandy and her car. And he wasn’t going away.
After clearing her throat, Mandy reached up for the shirt pressed against her hairline. Their fingers brushed as she felt around for the right angle, and he was tempted to give them a comforting squeeze, until she took charge. “I’ve got it.”
“Honestly, how much does your head hurt?”
Without missing a tick, she replied, “Four out of ten.”
He’d guess from the size of the gash and speed she’d been going, she was more likely at a six. So she either had a high tolerance for pain or a low tolerance for letting people help her. Probably the latter. Doctors were notoriously bad patients.
“Do you have a flashlight?”
Rooting around in her center console, she finally pulled out a roadside-ready light and handed it to him.
“I was going to check your pupils—” he chuckled, pointing it at the ground and flicking it on “—but I think this thing would make you go blind.”
“I’m all right. Maybe a mild concussion, but I don’t have any nausea or ringing in my ears. And my head really only hurts right here.” She tapped the shirt still stemming the flow of blood on her forehead. “I didn’t lose consciousness, and I have no memory loss.”
“Clearly you remember all of your concussion training from school.”
She squinted sternly at him, but a tiny smile broke the facade. “Yes. I’m fine. How did you know to follow me? How did you even find me?”
“That puddle under your car wasn’t antifreeze. It was brake fluid. I had a hunch you’d skip the highway if your car was acting up, so I chased you down. Hope you don’t mind.”
Her grin managed to reach another level. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He nodded and leaned back enough to get a better look at her car, the tires nearly submerged in the sand. “You’re still sinking. If you can move, we better get you out of here and call CHP.”
The California Highway Patrol wouldn’t be too happy that their truck ramp had been used by a smallish SUV, but Luke had never been so glad to see a ramp as he was that night.
Swinging her door open, he hopped on his good leg and offered her a hand to help her out of the car. When she landed on the shifting rocks, she stumbled against the car. Resting against its frame, she took several cleansing breaths.
“Dizzy now?”
“Just a little bit.” When she opened her eyes, she reached for his arm but stopped short. “How did you get over here? You can’t be walking on your own.” Her voice rose in volume and pitch with each word.
He nodded toward the crutches leaning against the bumper. “I just hopped the last eight feet.”
Her narrowed gaze homed in on his face. “Do you have any idea how badly you could have reinjured your knee? Sand, gravel, anything like this—” she stomped her foot on the yielding ground “—could mean the end of your full recovery. The end of your chances with the teams.”
Her words hit just where she’d aimed, like a punch to his gut and a left hook to his jaw, for good measure. But he didn’t look away, even as he tightened the muscles keeping his injured leg elevated. “I wasn’t thinking. I saw your car slam to a stop, and...” His voice trailed off as he waved a hand toward his car, its headlights illuminating them from the base of the ramp.
Mandy scrubbed her free hand down her face and rubbed at her eyes. “Thank you. Thank you for...” She finally looked away, long lashes shading the storm in her eyes. “Thank you for following me. For checking on me.”
The rush of fulfillment that always came in the middle of a mission surged through his veins, and he smiled at her. “I’m glad I was there.”
“Me, too. But promise me that you won’t be careless.”
He hopped several times and twisted to pick up his crutches—making sure his knee was completely out of danger—shooting her a wry grin in the process. “Why, Doc, you sound like you really want to see me pass my navy physical.”
“Of course, I do.” She began a slow, careful descent, passing him with ease. “I hate wasting my time.”
* * *
By the time they asked CHP to check for any evidence Mandy’s attacker had left behind on her car, said goodbye to the officers and arranged for the wrecker to pick up her vehicle, Mandy was ready for a hot bath and a full night of sleep. Neither seemed plausible, though. Even if she could get into a bath, she was pretty sure that she hurt too much to get out of it. And every time she closed her eyes, she felt that sickening lurch of her tire catching on the gravel, nearly flinging her off the road.
“Do you want me to take you to the ER to get that checked out?”
She jolted at the nearness of Luke’s voice, right next to her in the car, then groaned as she cradled her left arm across her chest.
Everything. Hurt.
And that ache was beginning to surpass the stinging on her head. Flipping down the visor of the passenger seat in his car, she opened the mirror and pulled the shirt back to reveal the wound. The hair right above her forehead was matted and brown, but the red stripe wasn’t oozing. She prodded it with a tentative touch. “I don’t think so. It’s not very deep. I just want to go home and get some rest.”
“Classic head wound.” Luke carefully positioned his injured leg below the steering wheel and closed the driver’s side door. “Those usually bleed like they’re going to kill you, even if they’re just a scratch.” He followed the motion of her hand with his eyes as she pulled her fingers away to confirm the bleeding had stopped.
The tips were clear, save for the dirt caked in every knuckle and embedded under every nail. She looked as if she’d been in war rather than simply doused in sand and grime. Maybe she could swap the bath in favor of a hot shower.
When she was clean and rested, then she could face whatever—whoever—was out there.
“Where am I going?”
She pointed him down the hill in the direction of her house, thankful for the telltale jerk as he tapped his brakes, pulling back onto the deserted highway. Still, her heart beat just a little harder with every swerve in the road and change in the slope.
They sat in silence for several minutes, her eyes glued to the edge of the reach of his headlights.
“You want to talk about it?”
“What, exactly?”
He lifted his right shoulder and dipped his head to the far side. “I don’t know. Anything. Like when you knew you were in trouble. How you’re feeling.” A hitch in his voice suggested that he wasn’t any more eager to talk about her feelings than he was to lose the brakes in his car.
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Liz Johnson
ANYTHING TO PROTECT HERWounded navy SEAL Luke Dunham’s only goal is returning to active duty…until he rescues his physical therapist from a lethal attack. Now he’ll risk everything—even his recovery—to keep Mandy Berg’s attacker at bay. Mandy’s been burned before when she trusted the wrong man. And she knows better than to develop feelings for one of her patients. Yet how can she help falling for a man who does not hesitate to put his strength, his skill and his very life in harm’s way to keep her safe? Relying on anyone feels dangerous…but turning away Luke’s protection could be deadly.Men of Valor: These navy SEALS were born to excel…
ANYTHING TO PROTECT HER
Wounded navy SEAL Luke Dunham’s only goal is returning to active duty…until he rescues his physical therapist from a lethal attack. Now he’ll risk everything—even his recovery—to keep Mandy Berg’s attacker at bay. Mandy’s been burned before when she trusted the wrong man. And she knows better than to develop feelings for one of her patients. Yet how can she help falling for a man who does not hesitate to put his strength, his skill and his very life in harm’s way to keep her safe? Relying on anyone feels dangerous…but turning away Luke’s protection could be deadly.
Men of Valor: These navy SEALs were born to excel…
She tried to scream, but nothing came out.
The car was gaining ground, nearly to her. The driver had to see her. She was the only target in the vehicle’s lights. And it didn’t slow down. In fact, it was gaining speed.
Mandy managed a stumbled step as the car came faster and faster. Without a doubt she was about to die.
Suddenly an arm clamped her around the waist. It scooped her off her feet and sent her sailing out of the path of the car just as it careened by.
Mandy clenched her arms around Luke’s shoulders. She had no intention of letting go.
“It’s okay. You’re all right.” Luke’s chest rumbled against her side as he spoke into her ear, the even rise and fall of his shoulders resetting the tempo for her own. “It’s gone. It didn’t hit you.”
Her breath caught on a hitch. “Or—or you?”
“I’m fine.” His voice didn’t even wobble.
How could he possibly be so calm when someone had just tried to run her over?
Someone had tried to kill her.
By day LIZ JOHNSON is a marketing manager at a Christian publisher. She makes time to write late at night and is a two-time ACFW Carol Award finalist. She lives in Nashville and enjoys exploring local music and theater, and she makes frequent trips to Arizona to dote on her nieces and nephews. She writes stories filled with heart, humor and happily-ever-afters and can be found online at lizjohnsonbooks.com (http://LizJohnsonBooks.com).
Navy Seal Security
Liz Johnson
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see
the deliverance the Lord will bring you today.
—Exodus 14:13
For the men and women of the United States military,
both active duty and veteran.
Your sacrifice does not go unnoticed.
Your service is forever appreciated.
May God bless and protect you.
Contents
Cover (#u03cfcdb9-f7c4-50e1-bd90-16e4f515a8f7)
Back Cover Text (#uc92434b7-89db-550a-bbac-f6c2c5505c18)
Introduction (#u8c3c5c47-4223-5f01-9ccb-a5fa7210559c)
About the Author (#uef6925eb-4dc2-5e2c-9388-824d370cb714)
Title Page (#ub1b59f98-b7a0-5522-84cc-d03c612a3c5d)
Bible Verse (#u1880d92b-b2c3-5c34-8fa9-048af228a283)
Dedication (#ud1a212f2-d3bd-5e0b-9f4e-65fb4f51e864)
CHAPTER ONE (#u74e458df-f802-57e9-b8b8-9617d6c3e161)
CHAPTER TWO (#u1e49c0b0-512b-5321-b9d0-16e485498061)
CHAPTER THREE (#u9e079a85-edba-5edc-b96e-0a7f4a33293d)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ub253824f-d8e1-5cca-8807-e80ffdc318ef)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#ulink_2c37915c-290d-5967-9f46-88f558cd5a1e)
If Luke Dunham didn’t see another white coat until his last day on earth, it would still be too soon.
But he’d made a promise to his senior chief’s wife.
He clattered to a stop at the foot of the slanted ramp in front of a nondescript brick building, which looked just like every other in the medical complex. His gaze shifted from the steps at the front of the building to the too-short metal crutches digging into his sides.
Stairs or the ramp?
A low fire burned in his chest, and he squeezed his eyes closed against the flames that licked at his heart.
For years he hadn’t cared. Either way was fine. Either got him where he needed to go.
Now he cared.
Now he didn’t have an option.
He swung his left leg forward. The white brace succeeded in protecting his knee and also throwing him off-balance. Shoving one of his crutches out to the side, he caught himself just before his foot touched the ground.
He’d already made that mistake once. There was a reason his doctor had told him to stay off it at all costs.
It hurt. Like an inferno.
Like he’d taken another piece of shrapnel along that roadside in Lybania.
He opened his mouth, a pained groan on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back when the glass door at the top of the ramp flew open. A teenage girl bounced out, her strides so even he barely noticed that one of the knees below her shorts was wrapped in a black brace.
She flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder and shot him a shy smile as she started down the ramp.
He tried to return her gesture, but the IED that had stolen his ability to walk had also made it hard to find genuine happiness. He settled for a shallow dip of his chin and lumbered out of her way.
When the girl was halfway to him, the office door swung open and a woman with orange hair popped out.
“Juliana,” she said, before chasing the teen for five short steps.
Juliana’s one-eighty was less graceful than her forward motion, requiring at least two extra steps and the aid of the handrail, but her knee remained stable.
The wild-haired woman held out a bag, at which Juliana laughed, high and sweet. “Thanks, Tara.” Juliana slipped skinny arms through the straps, sliding a small backpack in place. “See you next week.” With that, she executed another awkward turn and ambled past him.
Luke looked up at the woman still leaning against the handrail, her arms now folded over her neon-green scrubs.
Was this Tara the Dr. Berg everyone said was so amazing? The physical therapist his senior chief on the teams, Matt, was convinced had gotten him back in fighting shape after his leg injury? But Matt’s injury hadn’t been a blown knee. He’d had a couple dozen stitches in his calf, a minor injury to his muscle.
Luke, on the other hand, had shredded every major ligament in his knee.
The doctor at Walter Reed Medical Center had offered him a medical discharge after that first scan. He’d told Luke there wasn’t much hope for a return to active duty. And every doctor thereafter had agreed.
But Luke had promised Ashley Waterstone, the senior chief’s wife, that he’d schedule a consultation with Matt’s physical therapist.
Squinting into the late-afternoon sun, he shuffled until he’d cut the distance between them in half. “I’m Luke Dunham.”
The woman’s gaze slid over him like a sculptor searching for imperfections in her masterpiece.
He’d been on the receiving end of that simultaneously curious and knowing stare before. And he’d enjoyed it for a few years. When he was younger. In his early days as a SEAL.
Now it made his stomach churn and his skin feel clammy, even in the warm San Diego air. “I’m early. But I have an appointment with Dr. Berg.”
“Of course you do, honey.” She gave a sharp nod and walked back to hold the front door open for him. Such a little gesture, but it still set his hands to itching. His dad had taught him that a man held the door open for a woman. Period.
That he couldn’t even do it for himself set off that blazing ache in his chest again.
“I’m Tara, Dr. Berg’s office manager.”
Matt had promised that working with her would change his life.
Maybe.
But that would require a life. And he wasn’t sure he had much of one left.
At least this was just a recon mission. He hadn’t committed to anything beyond talking with the good doctor...and picking up milk for his mom on the way home.
Tara was still standing with the door wide-open, and Luke hadn’t moved an inch. She raised her eyebrows and nodded inside, silently asking what was taking him so long. Sucking in a fortifying breath, he pressed his palms against the rubber grips of his crutches and began a slow lumber up the incline. As he reached the open entrance, a blast of cold air greeted him.
“Is it always a meat locker in here?”
Tara shrugged one shoulder as she led the way across a mostly typical medical waiting room. Sturdy chairs lined three walls, except for three conspicuous holes that could only be there for those who brought their own seats. The usual industrial carpet had been swapped for hardwood, which was easier to maneuver on.
He fell into one of the chairs and poked his tongue in his cheek as he took the clipboard that Tara held out to him.
“Fill that out, and then someone will take you back to see Dr. Berg.”
By this point, he could pretty much fill out a standard medical questionnaire with his eyes closed. It was all the same. Surgeries and allergies. Insurance and history.
But there, at the very bottom of the page, was a single question he’d never been asked on any other form.
How much do you want it?
There was no box to check next to it. Not even a black line to write on. Just a clear call to hard work.
Luke’s SEAL training instructors had asked him the same thing, and he’d showed them he wanted it more than anything else he’d ever dared to dream of.
“Almost done?”
He jumped at the feminine voice that didn’t belong to Tara. The woman standing at the wooden door that presumably led to the exercise and exam rooms offered neither a smile nor a frown. Her face was simply relaxed. One hand rested on her hip, and she cocked her head, sending her long black hair over one shoulder. The collar of her navy blue polo shirt stuck up below her left ear.
At least she wasn’t wearing a white coat.
Undoubtedly another of Dr. Berg’s assistants.
He held out the completed form, and she took it, nodding down a short hallway. “We’ll go all the way down to the big room at the end.”
As he moved in that direction, her steps eerily silent behind him, he fought the rush of uncertainty that washed across his shoulders. Another set of soundless footfalls had taken everything from him. His palm slipped against the grip, suddenly slick and clammy, and sweat broke out across his upper lip.
This wasn’t the same.
It wasn’t the same.
How many times would he have to remind himself of that before he believed that he was home, that men didn’t walk around with bombs strapped to their chests and women didn’t push strollers of explosives down city streets?
He paused just long enough to swipe his forearm across his mouth.
“Do you wear out more easily than you used to?”
“Not much.” That was a bit of a whopper, but he didn’t feel like explaining that his sudden sweats had less to do with muscle strain and nearly everything to do with a memory he couldn’t erase.
The hallway seemed as if it would never end, with her unseen, unheard steps always behind him. Finally he reached the open entrance she’d indicated. The room was bigger than his old apartment. There was a row of weight machines along the far wall and floor-to-ceiling windows to his left. The panes were covered with fabric shades, which kept the setting sun mostly hidden. To his right sat three consultation tables.
The woman leaned her hip against the first table, fixed her wayward collar and crossed her arms, her gaze assessing and cool. When her stare hit his wrapped knee, she lingered, and the muscles in his back grew tight. Even with his sweatpants tucked into his brace, he felt bare, too exposed.
“When will I meet Dr. Berg?”
Her wide eyes met his gaze, a frown pinching the corners of her mouth. “I didn’t introduce myself, did I?” He shook his head. “I am Dr. Berg. Mandy. Please, call me Mandy.”
His eyebrows shot up before he could stop them. So, this was the good doctor. The young doctor. She looked just about old enough to start college, but she’d helped Matt more than three years ago. She wasn’t exactly a rookie.
Clearing his throat, he tried to find something to say. Nothing came to mind. Not even a generic greeting.
That was odd. He’d never been at a loss for words before the bomb. Before the surgery. Before his future had become so absolutely uncertain.
After what felt like hours of weighted silence, she pasted a smile into place. “So tell me, Petty Officer Dunham—”
“Luke.”
“Excuse me?”
“Please. I prefer— Call me— It’s just Luke.” He bit off the words, unsure how to explain that the medical discharge he’d been offered was one signature, one failed physical away. And after that, he’d never be a petty officer again. Every official document that touted it, every voice that spoke it was just more evidence of how close he was to losing it. All of it.
And a reminder of how much he’d already lost.
“Of course.” She pressed her hand flat to her stomach, her shoulders rising and falling in an exaggerated motion. “How long were you at Walter Reed?”
He hitched his chin toward the manila file lying on the table next to her hip. “Isn’t that in my file?”
“It is. But I’m asking you.”
He narrowed his gaze on her, trying to read between the smooth angles of her face, but whatever she was thinking was hidden beneath a mask of easy professionalism. She maintained eye contact, never flinching, even as he felt the scowl that had become his cover slide into place. “Too long.”
She gave him a half smile, the corresponding jolt in his stomach making him stand up a little straighter. She should be frowning. After all, he’d perfected keeping people at a distance since the surgery. Keeping them at arm’s length was easier than watching their pitying expressions.
“And in calendar terms?” she asked.
The muscles in his jaw screwed up tighter than a tourniquet. “Three weeks before they could move me to San Diego.”
“Other injuries?”
He shrugged. “There were a few.” Dozen. The shrapnel from the blast that had twisted his knee had left marks up and down the left side of his body.
But all of that would be in his file.
She nodded, flipped her hair over her shoulder and motioned to a padded chair. “Would you like to sit down?”
He studied her face, looking for any hint that she knew just how uncomfortable these crutches were. But her mask held. She didn’t give him even a twitch of a smile as she nodded to the seat opposite her.
With a sigh, Luke lowered himself onto the chair, keeping his left foot a safe distance off the ground. His crutches clacked together as he slid them between the legs of the chair.
“If I take you on, you’ll be with me three times a week for at least six weeks. And when you’re not here, you’ll be exercising at home. Most days, you’re going to wish you were back in the hospital. It’ll be awful. But after a while, it won’t be.”
“Wow.” He fought the grin that threatened to find purchase and instead opted for a verbal jab. “Do you start every consultation with that sales pitch?”
“Only the ones that need it.”
“Huh.” Refusing to analyze what she was really saying, he got right to the point of his visit. “Will I be able to get back to my team?”
She squinted until one eye disappeared altogether. “That depends.”
“On?”
“You...mostly.” She patted her belly. “Are you strong enough? Will you listen to me when I say it’s time to wait? And put in the work when I say it’s time to go?”
He couldn’t keep in a bark of laughter.
Something like a challenge flickered in Mandy’s eyes, and she leaned forward. “We’d start out easy the first couple sessions. You’ve been out of the gym for more than a month.”
“But before that, I was in the gym for half my life.”
“Only half your life?” She shrugged her shoulder and pursed her lips. “What was that? Ten years?”
“It was long enough.” A low sizzle in his veins demanded attention, calling him to prove her skepticism wrong. He crossed his arms, displaying some of the results of those years in the gym as he stretched the shoulders and sleeves of his gray T-shirt.
Thirteen years in the gym couldn’t be denied. Nor could three years as a SEAL.
“I’m not so sure about that.” She leaned forward, invading his space, and he pulled away, into the unyielding chair.
“Get used to it, Luke. We’re going to have to get a lot closer than this if we work together.”
But that was still a big if. He hadn’t even decided if he wanted to work with her.
Except...
Well, there was something about her that reminded him of one of his instructors during SEAL training. Chief Willard had been hard and unflinching, smart and determined to see Luke succeed. And Luke had. Mostly because of the chief.
Could Dr. Berg see Luke through this new challenge?
“You look like you’re in pretty good shape physically.” An unspoken question washed over her face. How did you stay so fit?
“Force of habit.”
“What is?”
“Exercising.” His gaze drifted past her, to the shadow of a palm tree beyond the parking lot outside. It looked just like the trees visible from the Coronado beaches where the SEAL teams trained, and his heart jerked with an acute longing to be back there with his brothers.
“And your doctors at the hospital let you keep up a routine?”
He pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, forcing his mind from sandy shores. “More like they ignored it when I didn’t show signs of atrophy.”
Her brown eyes glowed with something new, something interested. “What have you been doing?”
“Mostly resistance bands and bodyweight moves. Whatever I can do from my bed or a chair.”
She took a long pause, crossing and uncrossing her legs, tapping her foot, running her fingers across her chin. All the while, her gaze never left his face, until he could physically feel her assessment.
The silence built like a concerto, its pressure pounding at his temples until she spoke. “I wish I could help, but I don’t think I’m the right physical therapist for you. But I’ll have Tara give you a list of other qualified, local PTs, who might be a better fit.”
His heart flipped in his chest, disappointment raging through him like a clap of thunder. “I thought this meeting was to help me decide if I wanted to work with you.”
“You thought wrong.”
* * *
Mandy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling at the confusion splashed across Luke’s boyish features. She felt bad for him. Really. But she was doing him a favor.
He needed someone who could really commit to helping him return to active duty. He might never return to the SEAL teams, but his service as a navy medic didn’t have to be over. He deserved a PT who didn’t require an extra arm’s length between them.
And it had taken her all of five minutes with him to know that she’d have to keep him at least that far away. Farther would be safer. For both of them.
Besides, her future was a little too uncertain at the moment to take on a long-termer like Luke.
“So, you’re what? You’re passing me off?” For someone who hadn’t looked very happy to be in her clinic in the first place, he sure sounded bitter at her rejection.
“It’s best for you to have someone who can give you the time that I just can’t right now.” She tried to give him an encouraging smile, but for some reason it faltered. “If you want your old life back—”
He snorted. “Is that even possible?”
She eyed the brace around his knee, wanting desperately to make him promises. But she just couldn’t do it. “Maybe.”
“And those other physical therapists, are they as good as you are? Are they as likely to get me back out there?” His hand waved toward the beach.
A rubber band around her stomach went taut at the muted hope lacing every one of his words. Mandy opened her mouth to answer with the socially acceptable, politically correct response, but something about Luke’s situation called for her to be honest. “They’re good. And they can help you.”
“Right.” He clambered to his feet, his crutches clanging together as he hopped on his good leg, angling toward the hallway and the exit beyond. “Thanks for your time.”
“Listen, Luke. I’m sorry.”
He paused but didn’t turn back toward her. “Sorry that I’ll never serve on the teams again? Or that you’re sending me to a second-rate PT?”
She crossed her arms, tilted her head back and took a cleansing breath, sending up a silent prayer for patience. “The most important person in your recovery is you.”
She picked up the file his surgeon had sent over and flipped through it. Of course she’d already read it cover to cover—twice. But he didn’t have to know that. For the moment, she just needed something other than his slumped shoulders and haggard features to focus on.
Beneath the prickly shell and tart words was a man in pain.
But she couldn’t help him.
She couldn’t afford to invest in a case like his. In a man like him. Not again.
When Luke reached the entry to the hallway, Mandy called out to him, “I really am sorry. Please ask Tara for some other names.”
He didn’t stop or even indicate that he’d heard her.
Luke was just too much like Gary. Too handsome. Too sharp. Too striking.
The very memory of Gary, who’d been her patient nearly four years before, sent shivers down her arms.
She couldn’t think about him. She didn’t want to. And Luke would be a constant reminder.
Pushing herself up, she marched down the hall and ducked into her office. The tiny room was a lesson in sparseness. The walls were white, save for three framed diplomas over a large wooden desk, which sat opposite two padded chairs. A stack of files in the in-box on the corner of her desk called for her attention, but the enormous bouquet of white roses in the middle of her workspace filled her senses. She pressed her nose into them, inhaling the sweet, clean fragrance. Like a spring rain, they washed away any uncertainty left over from her meeting with Luke.
She’d done right by him, sending him on his way.
“Tara, are you out there? Where did these come from?”
There was no response. Tara must have stepped outside. Digging through the satin-soft petals, Mandy found a card and quickly opened it. Patients often sent thank-you cards but rarely flowers. And who had known that white roses were her favorite?
Tugging the little green card from its envelope, she took another rich breath.
I miss you. I miss us. Gary
Nausea curdled the contents of her stomach, and she doubled over as bile reached the back of her throat. No longer sweet, the roses stank of betrayal and broken hearts and her very worst mistake. With a single sweep of her arm, she sent them flying over the edge of her desk. The glass vase hit the metal trash can with a crack loud enough to reach the parking lot, immediately followed by a shriek and rapid footfalls.
“Mandy?” Tara called before she even appeared in the doorway. “What happened?”
Mandy kept her chin tucked into her chest and her arms crossed. With shaking legs, she turned toward Tara. Her breath hitched as she tried to answer the question still hanging over the room, but there were no words to explain the pounding of her heart.
Tara remained silent for a long moment before finally offering an uneasy chuckle. “Two bouquets in one day. That must be a record.”
Mandy glanced up, not quite meeting her office manager’s gaze over a small bouquet of orange-and-red lilies that she hadn’t even noticed in Tara’s hand. “An-other?” Her voice quaked, and she quickly cleared her throat, forcing her shoulders back and her head up.
“From Gwen.” Tara held out the square vase. A tall plastic stem held a simple card, its looped letters easy to read.
Congratulations on your award! Well done, my friend!
I’ve got a job for you in Miami whenever you want it.
Gwen
“For the philanthropy award.” Mandy spoke as though Tara hadn’t read the card, which she certainly had. “You know. The one for my volunteer work at Pacific Coast House. I don’t know how Gwen heard about it, but it was really sweet of her to send me such pretty flowers, wasn’t it?” Mandy chomped down on her tongue. Why was she rambling as though she had something to hide? She wasn’t a child in trouble. She was a woman capable of making her own decisions.
Tara nodded and raised an eyebrow, but her expression was otherwise blank. “And Miami? Are you thinking about moving?”
“No... Yes... Maybe.” She ran a hand over her face and shrugged.
Tara’s pale eyes turned hard, fearful. She probably thought she was losing her job, and Mandy jumped to clarify.
“Of course, I won’t leave you out on a limb. I’ll let you know as soon as I decide. It’s just an offer. Gwen’s a good friend from school, and she offers me a job in her clinic every year or so. I wasn’t really considering it until...”
She couldn’t find the words tonight. But Tara didn’t really need her to rehash it. Her office manager knew about the identity theft, professional aggravations and general harassment Mandy had endured for almost two years. The cops hadn’t been able to find anyone behind the hassles, but someone was out there. Faceless but intent on making her life miserable.
Maybe what she needed was a fresh start. And that was what Gwen offered.
She’d be a fool not to at least consider it.
And Gary’s sudden return to her life—well, that was just another good reason to pack up and try again. In Miami.
“I promise I’m just thinking about it,” Mandy said. “If I decide to go, you’ll be the first person I tell.”
The corners of Tara’s mouth quirked into a half smile. “Fair enough.” She tipped her head toward the front desk. “I’m going to take off. Need anything else?”
Mandy shook her head. “Have a good night.”
She settled in to do some paperwork as the front door swished open and closed with the racket of the blinds.
Not a minute later, the blinds rattled again. Mandy jumped and then forced herself to laugh. “Tara? Did you forget something?” she called.
Silence was the only response. And it was quickly followed by goose bumps up and down her arms. Mandy stood and walked around her desk, then poked her head into the hallway, her pulse already accelerating. “Tara?”
Still no response.
Not a voice nor even the sound of anyone breathing. The office was deserted except for her. But something was different. Like the weight of a never-shifting gaze pressing against her shoulders. She jerked around, then looked the other way. No one.
Mandy tiptoed toward the front desk, the overhead lights in the reception area shining brightly. “Is someone here?” Her voice cracked as chilled fingers crept down her spine.
Peeking around the corner into the waiting room, she surveyed the space. Nothing out of order.
She shook her shoulders and cleared her throat. She hadn’t really expected to find anyone. But what had shaken the front-door blinds? And why did everything inside her scream she wasn’t alone?
Suddenly a car alarm screeched to life. Mandy jumped and clapped her hands over the scream on her lips.
Lights from the parking lot flashed through the front windows, and she dashed across the room, flicking the shades wide enough apart to peer into the darkness beyond.
The flashing and honking continued as a man on crutches hobbled along the side of the angry car. His back to her, he was bent as far as his supports would allow. But she didn’t need to see his face to recognize him.
After unlocking the front door, she opened it and stepped onto the top step. “Luke? Are you okay?” Even her yell was hard to hear over the blaring horn, but he straightened up and spun to look in her direction. Holding his hand to his ear, he shook his head. He couldn’t hear her.
She dashed across the empty parking lot, only then realizing how dark it had become. The lights in the lot were probably set on a late timer, and the moon wasn’t doing much to break through the cloudy San Diego evening.
“Are you all right?” she asked when she reached his side.
Luke frowned and glared at the fast-food bag clasped against his hand grip. “I just walked over to get some dinner. I’m borrowing my mom’s car—it fits my leg brace—but it’s still not easy to get in and out of. Anyway, I accidentally hit the panic button on the key fob, then dropped the keys under the car.” He rolled his eyes, his mouth pinching tight.
Mandy’s heart gave a tiny hiccup.
Once he would have just crawled under the chassis and picked them up. Now he probably felt...helpless. He wasn’t helpless. But to go from active-duty SEAL to needing help to walk couldn’t be easy on a man, especially one used to patching up his wounded brothers.
Squatting down next to the car and leaning into the earsplitting shriek, she spotted the keys, leaned against the abrasive asphalt and reached all the way under the car to retrieve them. Dropping them into his palm, she dusted off her hands as he pressed a button and the car let out one final honk before falling quiet.
Sweet silence hung in the air for a long moment before Luke cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
She gave him a half smile and a quick nod. “Have a good night.”
He didn’t respond but angled himself toward her as she stepped away. His gaze was heavy on her back, sending even more chills racing down her arms. She picked up her pace, everything inside her suddenly jumping to high alert.
With a quick glance over her shoulder, she checked on Luke, who was still watching her. His features were pulled tight and unreadable.
A band clenched her middle, demanding she go back and talk to him. Go back and explain why she’d had to turn him down.
Halfway to the front steps, she turned around and called his name. “I really am—”
Squealing tires cut her off, and she jerked around to face the brilliant headlights of another car. It barreled down on her, picking up speed and stealing her every thought.
She tried to scream, but nothing came out.
The car was gaining ground, nearly to her. The driver had to see her. She was the only target in the vehicle’s lights. And it didn’t slow down. In fact, it was gaining speed.
Mandy managed a stumbled step as the car came faster and faster. Without a doubt she was about to die.
Suddenly an arm clamped her around the waist. It scooped her off her feet and sent her sailing out of the path of the car just as it careened by.
Mandy’s wildly beating heart was firmly lodged beneath her larynx, which accounted for the lack of sound coming out of her mouth, even as she tried to scream. At some point in the previous half second, she’d clenched her arms around Luke’s shoulders. And she had no intention of letting go.
“It’s okay. You’re all right.” Luke’s chest rumbled against her side as he spoke into her ear, the even rise and fall of his shoulders in stark contrast to her erratic panting. “It’s gone. It didn’t hit you.”
Her breath caught on a hitch. “Or—or you?”
“I’m fine.” His voice didn’t even wobble.
How could he possibly be so calm when someone had just tried to run her over?
Someone had tried to kill her.
TWO (#ulink_a7466454-23ea-5800-91c6-58f4c5d16544)
Luke blinked against the surge of adrenaline rushing through him. It was a familiar—welcome—feeling. It felt like all of his training. All of his missions. All of his past.
Pulling Mandy closer to his side, he eyed the single crutch he’d lost to the speeding car. One second slower, and it would have been his leg. Two seconds slower, and they would both be dead.
Clearly this was a new emotion for Mandy, who shivered against his side, her eyes blinking, unseeing. He patted her back awkwardly and cleared his throat. “You’re good. No one was hurt.”
He thought he was being reassuring, but when her eyes swung in his direction, they were filled with terror. “You’re sure? You’re not injured?”
Meeting her gaze, his lips twisted into a hint of a smile. “No more than I was an hour ago, Dr. Berg.”
She gave him an obligatory chuckle, but the storm inside her danced across her face. “You just saved my life.” It was almost a question, as though she needed confirmation.
He nodded. “A little bit.”
That made her chuckle for real, and the fear he’d read in her eyes began to ease. “Look at me. You’re practically carrying me.” She untangled her arms from around his shoulders, her fingers from the spot where they’d burrowed beneath the collar of his shirt. Her warmth replaced by the cool breeze.
Luke dropped his arm, too, suddenly off-balance, and wavered dangerously. She flung a hand around his back and leaned a shoulder into his side as she eyed the mangled silver support left in the car’s wake. The trashed remains of his dinner like a comet’s tail.
“We came pretty close, didn’t we?”
He didn’t have to ask her for clarification. She could see only one thing, her focus entirely on what might have been. Instead of answering her question, he glanced over her head toward the office door. “Do you have an extra set of crutches in there?”
Her gaze dragged from the top of his head to the sole of his shoe. “Nothing that would be tall enough for you. But I do have a wheelchair.”
Just the word made him cringe, but he finally nodded. “All right.”
Leaning him against the railing, she said, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Luke bit back the retort on the tip of his tongue. Where could he go?
But she didn’t need a sarcastic comment after an ordeal like that. What she needed was to sit down for a little while to let the adrenaline subside and the trembling stop. And she probably didn’t need to do that by herself.
The door opened with a bang, followed by the squeaking wheel of the chair she’d promised. She angled it down the steps, skipping the ramp altogether, and slid it to his side. “Have you been in one of these?”
“For a week or so. After the...” Man, it was still hard to say the word.
“Bombing?” she filled in.
He nodded and lowered himself into the chair, and Mandy adjusted the footrest so his leg was propped out directly in front of him.
Patting his foot, she said, “There you go.”
“Thanks. I’ll get it back to you when I can get another crutch.” He glanced toward his mom’s car, and her eyes followed. Tight lines formed around her mouth as she bit her bottom lip until it was nearly invisible. “Are you going to be okay?”
She nodded, then her eyes grew wide. “But your supper is ruined. Let me buy you another hamburger. I’ll even throw in a shake.”
Luke squinted up at her, trying to assess how much of her offer stemmed from guilt and how much was from just not wanting to be alone. He almost asked her if there was anyone waiting at home, but even he knew better than to broach such a personal topic on their first meeting, no matter how close he’d been holding her just a minute before.
The flickering smile on her face dimmed for a split second, and he caught a glimmer of the terror she still battled. He’d faced down his share of angry terrorists—or tangos, as his team called them—and sharpshooters over three tours in the Middle East, and it never got easier. Mandy was a first-timer. Actually, she was holding it together pretty well, all things considered.
But she couldn’t fully mask the fear. Her hands wringing and eyelid twitching, she maintained eye contact, but her smile never quite reached her eyes.
“It’s the least I can do,” she said.
Something in his gut promised his life would be easier if he just walked away. But he’d never walked away from hard before.
“All right. I’ll let you buy me a double-double.”
She pointed toward the glass door to her office. “Let me just lock up.” She dashed up the stairs, her movements fluid and graceful. All four of his older sisters had taken ballet when he was a kid, and he’d been forced to sit through endless recitals. Somehow, watching Mandy’s easy motion reminded him of those hours.
Jealousy surged deep in his belly. He might never move that freely again.
He’d always been so stable on his feet. So sure of his footing. Now he needed a shoulder to lean on just to stand.
Getting back on the teams was a pipe dream. At best.
So what was he supposed to do with all of the free time suddenly laid out before him?
The lights inside the office flicked off, and an instant later, Mandy exited, locking the door behind her. Shoving her keys into a small tote bag, she flipped a wild curl out of her face. With little more than a smile, she led the way across the lot to the sidewalk and then down to the light so they could use the walkway.
She didn’t say anything as they crossed the street, but her foot hesitated as she checked each direction three times before setting out. He pushed his chair behind her, the muscles in his arms aching at the new movements. He was panting by the time they reached the far side of the street, sweat trickling down the back of his neck.
At this rate, he didn’t belong anywhere near the SEALs.
Inside the crowded red-and-white diner-style fast-food joint, she got into line. “What’s good here?”
“You’re from San Diego, work right across the street, and you’ve never been to an In-N-Out Burger?” Luke couldn’t keep the snicker out of his tone.
Mandy shrugged one shoulder before turning back to the menu board. “I’m from Colorado.”
“Uh-huh.” That explained nothing. Maybe she was a health nut who refused to enjoy the greasy goodness of the Southern California staple. Luke was all for fitness. All for staying in good shape. He was also one for enjoying a stack of steaming beef covered in melting cheese when the day called for it.
And a near hit-and-run definitely called for it.
His stomach rumbled at the smell of the best burgers on the West Coast.
“Your options are pretty much a burger or a burger and fries,” he said.
She shot him a snarky grin, but ordered a burger and fries when she got to the counter.
They found an empty table, settled in and were halfway through their dinner before he came up for air.
Mandy stared, her gaze unfocused, at a glob of ketchup on her fries. She hadn’t done more than pick at her burger, but she didn’t seem eager to chat.
He didn’t really want to start a conversation, but something about the tightness of her chin—as if she was trying so hard to hold it still—made his chest hurt. “You want to talk about what happened back there?”
Her gaze shot up, and she looked surprised to see him there. “I’m sorry. I was just... I guess I just zoned out for a second. What did you say?”
“Back in the parking lot—” He tipped his head toward her office. “That wasn’t an accident. You want to talk about it?”
As the words rolled out, he knew he meant them. It was more than idle curiosity. He was tired of being unproductive. Maybe he could help her. Talking about it might help her deal with the experience.
He hadn’t had a mission in weeks. And he was months away from another. Just the idea of giving her a hand brought the side of his mouth up in a smile.
“Um. No. It was nothing. Just an accident, probably.”
Nope. That wasn’t true.
Her gaze jumped to the left, then down at her hands in her lap. Her shoulders squirmed, and she bit the corner of her mouth. She knew it wasn’t an accident or a distracted driver. Someone had intentionally tried to kill her.
“I doubt it.” He shrugged as if they weren’t discussing life and death. Perhaps if she didn’t think about what was on the line, she’d open up about it. “Who’d you tick off? Someone not get the results you promised?”
Her nostrils flared, and her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t tick anyone off, thank you very much. I’m a professional, and there are no guarantees in medicine.”
The bright pink spots in her cheeks were so cute that he couldn’t help but goad her a little more. “Come on. You can tell me. What’d you do? Break too many hearts?”
Her gaze fell to the table, where she twisted a straw wrapper into smithereens. Forehead wrinkled and neck stiff, she let out a tiny sigh before squaring her tense shoulders and forcing a half smile. Another chink in her armor. But she was determined to keep from showing it to him.
His middle jerked with regret. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.” He stabbed a hand through his shaggy hair while she still looked anywhere but at him. “You’re in trouble.” He didn’t ask a question because it would have been too easy for her to deny it again.
After three years on the teams, he couldn’t walk away from someone in need.
He’d never been able to. That was why he’d wanted to be a SEAL in the first place. That was why he wanted to go back.
“I’ve got it under control.” Her chin didn’t so much as quiver, and she met his eyes with a steady gaze.
“What else has happened? Is this the first time someone’s tried to run you over?”
“Nothing’s happened.” She shook her head, but her eyes lost a hint of the mettle that had just been there. “Everything’s fine. I’ve got it under control.”
He’d believe that when the stars quit shining. “Have you talked to the cops?”
She nodded, looked away and toyed with a French fry, dunking it in ketchup before using it to doodle on her burger wrapper.
Apparently she had it under control, but she had still gone to the cops. She was scared. She was in over her head. And she was a sitting duck.
“What are the cops doing?”
“A detective is looking into it.”
“Into...” He let his voice drag out, hoping she’d fill in the blanks because there were still a lot of them in her tale.
Brown eyes, narrow and uncertain, met his gaze, and he could see the battle just beyond them. There was more to tell, but she barely knew him.
Someone had threatened her life, and opening up about that wasn’t easy.
Luke hadn’t talked to anyone except the navy chaplain about the suicide bomber who had nearly blown off his leg. And Bianca, of course. Back when she’d been his girlfriend. That conversation had started with him laying it all out on the line—an uncertain future, months of PT, maybe never returning to active duty—and had ended with her walking out of his life for good. After that, he hadn’t talked about his leg, even with his swim buddy and best friend, Will Gumble—Willie G. to his teammates. Putting his pride on the line was riskier than walking through a minefield, so it was easier to just keep it inside.
Except the memories gnawed on his insides like a hungry dog, leaving him raw and sore.
Whatever haunted Mandy probably warred within her, too. To talk about it or not to talk about it. It was a lose-lose situation.
* * *
Mandy crumpled her hamburger wrapper around the last bite, her stomach suddenly not at all interested in finishing the meal. There was something else chewing at her, an urge to tell Luke what was really going on.
His gaze dipped to her hands, and he watched her fingers work the crinkling paper into a ball for a long second. “You don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to. I get it. I’ve been there.”
“I’d guess you’re still there.” The words popped out as soon as she thought them, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.
A wry grin curved the corner of his lips, and he shrugged one shoulder. “You might be right. Looks like we have more in common than we thought.”
Maybe it was the knowing spark in his eye or the understanding in his tone. But something made her snap, the truth—all of it—spilling out before she could overanalyze the reasons why she should keep her distance.
“About two years ago, I realized that my identity had been stolen. Nothing that a thousand others haven’t dealt with. Credit cards taken out in my name, debt racked up. That kind of thing. I reported it to the credit bureaus and law enforcement, but it just seemed to get worse. And then someone tried to hijack my professional license.”
Luke’s eyebrows pulled together, but the rest of his face remained even. A slow nod encouraged her to continue.
“I only caught that because it was time for renewal, and I had turned in my paperwork a bit early. Two days later they received another renewal with my name but a different address.”
“And that address...”
“Was a fake.” Mandy put her elbows on the table and leaned a little closer to Luke so she could keep her voice low. “It’s like there’s a phantom after me. No name, no address, no face. They’re always three steps ahead of the police.”
“And they’re doing a pretty good job of making your life miserable.”
Her gaze snapped to meet Luke’s. “Yes.”
He narrowed his eyes, the skin above his nose wrinkling. “And...”
“How did you know? That there’s more?”
“Identity thieves don’t usually jump to attempted murder in one leap.”
Murder.
The word made her tremble, and she closed her eyes, only to find headlights bearing down on her once again. Gasping a strangled breath, she looked up just as his hand rested on her fist. Jerking away, she squared her shoulders and forced her back ramrod straight.
Yes. That had been attempted murder just an hour before. She knew it. So did he.
“Why do you think the two are connected?”
She inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled, like she perpetually told her patients to do. “Someone’s been in my home.”
His mouth dropped open. “Did you report it?”
“I couldn’t. I didn’t have anything to report.” The questions in his eyes didn’t require words, so she continued on. “It wasn’t a blatant breaking and entering. Nothing was broken or taken. But things were moved, just enough to let me know that someone’s been in there.”
“What are you doing to protect yourself?” His voice was firm, almost demanding, and his broad shoulders stiffened. Suddenly his boyish face turned stern, strict. “It’s not safe for you to be there alone. Not if someone is getting in and out without trashing the door or breaking windows.”
She offered him a half smile for his concern. “I know. I had an alarm system installed as soon as I realized something was off. The alarm hasn’t been triggered, and my stalker hasn’t been back.”
“Who else knows the alarm code?”
“Just the guy who installed it.”
Mandy gave herself a mental pat on the back as Luke’s muscles began to relax, his clenched jaw easing into a more natural expression. She was doing everything she could do to keep herself safe.
“Have you thought about a dog?”
Well, almost everything she could do. “I’m allergic.”
“Who’s watching your six?”
“My six?”
“Your back. In the SEALs we don’t go anywhere without a buddy. You can’t see behind you at your six o’clock, so you need someone who can.” When she didn’t immediately respond, he gave her hand a gentle nudge. “Do you have family nearby or a good friend?”
“I...” Her voice trailed off as a coolness settled over her. “My family is all back in Colorado. And we’re not very close, so when I came out here for school, I just stayed.”
“A friend, then?” His eyes were filled with hope as deep as the Pacific, and she wanted more than anything to give him the answer he was looking for.
She shook her head. “It—it takes a lot to get a business going. I have friends at Pacific Coast House—”
“Ashley Waterstone,” he interrupted, a little grin spreading across his face. “She made me come to see you.”
“I know.” Mandy pursed her lips to the side at the memory of Ashley’s call. She’d been nearly as intimidating as her six-foot-two SEAL husband when she’d told Mandy that she had a friend in need of help. Mandy just hadn’t planned on the man sitting across the table from her, his crooked grin and boyish charm a little too disarming. A little too much like Gary’s.
She’d made the right decision turning Luke away.
She had.
She was certain.
Almost.
Luke’s head bowed as his shoulders rose and fell in an even rhythm. He almost looked as if he was praying, until he glanced up without moving his head. “I think we both know that Ashley, Staci, Jess and the others at Pacific Coast House can’t afford to get mixed up in this situation. They have families to think about.”
His tone was filled with as much compassion as she’d heard from him, but it didn’t take away the sting of his words. The truth of them. She pulled her hand from where it still rested beneath his and hugged her arms around her middle.
She was going to have to face this alone.
Do not be afraid.
The words rang through her, true and clear, and she knew in that instant that she could face whatever was coming.
His mouth quirked to the side. “Of course, that wouldn’t stop them. I get the feeling they like you a whole bunch.”
A tear tried to force its way out, and she blinked it into submission, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I like them, too. And I’d never ask them to put their families in danger for me. I can do this. On my own.”
He tapped his long tan fingers on the table where her hand had been, and she suddenly missed the reassurance of his touch. But the warmth in his eyes wrapped around her heart.
She could face this. Whatever it was. Whoever it was.
“So here’s the thing. Those ladies, they’re like my big sisters. And their husbands, they’re my bosses and friends. If I let anything happen to you, I’m pretty sure they’d take out my other knee.” He chuckled at the half joke, but the truth about his injury kept his jaw tight.
“What are you saying?”
He shrugged. “I’m available.”
She knew what he meant, what he was offering. She just wasn’t ready to give him an answer. Accepting him meant allowing him into her life, and her track record with that had led to her very worst mistake. Even if this wasn’t a romantic relationship.
But refusing him left her out in the open, unprotected.
Neither was a good option.
So, instead of responding to his offer, she asked a question of her own, forcing her smirk back into place and hoping to make him squirm. Just a little bit. “Are you trying to ask me on a date?”
Without missing a beat, he winked and replied, “Whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
With a shake of her head and a low chuckle, she sighed. He was far too charming for his own good. For her own good. But his proposal was too important to ignore. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
“As a matter of fact, I don’t.” He thumped the brace on his leg. “I’m supposed to be resting my knee when I’m not in physical therapy. My life is looking pretty dull from where I’m sitting.”
“A SEAL without a mission...”
“About the worst hand a guy could be dealt.” There was truth in his tone, a longing in his voice to return to a life of significance.
Except...well, she wasn’t sure a guy in his condition could keep her safe.
As soon as the thought crept in, she laughed it away. He’d saved her from a speeding car while using crutches and carrying his dinner. And he’d kept his cool the whole time. He was capable, even with his injury.
But letting him help her also meant allowing a man back into her life. It meant being reminded of another relationship that had turned sour, that had turned her into someone she hated.
Do not be afraid.
She could handle this. She would handle this, by setting up the boundaries from the start.
“Just so we’re clear, I was joking before about you asking me out.” He raised an eyebrow in question. “There’ll be no—” she waved her finger back and forth between them “—dating.”
He winked again, that saucy grin falling back into place. “Whatever you say.”
Her stomach swooped and tightened, and she leaned toward him, needing him to understand, to agree. “That’s a nonnegotiable. I don’t date patients. Period.”
Both of his eyebrows went up this time. “So, I’m a patient now?”
She was as surprised as he looked. When had she decided to take on his case? She hadn’t. Not consciously anyway. But...
“I suppose so. I spend most of my time at the office, and if you’re going to be around, you might as well be getting your feet back under you.”
His smile turned from playful to appreciative. “I won’t let you down.”
She wasn’t going to overanalyze whether he was referring to her situation or his healing. Either way she was stuck with him now. At least it would be on her terms. “All right. But no dates.” His Cheshire grin never wavered, and she had a sinking feeling that his flirting was going to play a prominent role in their relationship.
It was worth it.
Because maybe, just maybe, he could help her stay safe long enough to figure out who was trying to kill her.
THREE (#ulink_4a1c0c44-cd15-5986-8528-1fbeef490c12)
Mandy spent the entire night before Luke’s first appointment calling herself every name in the book. She was a special kind of crazy to take him on. If she had half a brain, she would have found a way to put as much distance between them as she could.
Except she hadn’t had a choice.
And his eyes had spoken volumes across the table two nights before. He could help her. And as much as she didn’t want to need him, she did. The exact kind of professional help he could offer.
But the more she thought about having Luke around, the more she recalled the other man in her life. The one who had wormed his way into her personal life and into her home. Who had made her miserable.
Chills raced down her arms, and she hugged her knees into her chest, pushing away all thoughts of someone else being in her house.
Suddenly being alone was too much, and she threw back the covers on her bed and ran for the bathroom. Slamming and locking the door behind her, she got ready in record time. Her hair was still damp as she raced down the road to her office.
She skidded into her regular parking spot on the side of her building and ran through the nearly empty lot, past the scene of the would-have-been hit-and-run.
When she reached the glass double doors, they were already unlocked. She hesitantly ducked her head inside until Tara waved at her from behind the desk. “Morning, boss.”
“Hi, Tara.” Mandy slipped the rest of the way in, wrestling her overstuffed tote bag through behind her.
“You’re in early today.” Tara’s grin sparkled as though she knew a big secret.
Mandy covered a yawn with the back of her hand. “I didn’t get my paperwork done last night.” There. That was a very valid excuse for running away from her own home.
“Su-ure.” Tara singsonged the word as if she knew more than Mandy gave her credit for.
“And I need you to pull out an inactive file. I took on a new client.”
Tara’s eyebrows rose, her forehead wrinkling as she steepled her fingers beneath her chin. “Oh.” Again, that knowing tone. “Do tell.”
“Dunham. Luke Dunham.”
With a low cackle, Tara pulled his file from a stack on the side of her desk. “I had a feeling we hadn’t seen the last of him.”
“It wasn’t... I... Things changed.”
“Uh-huh.” Tara tapped the point of a pen against her tongue before scribbling a note on the chart. “First appointment?”
Mandy hated the guilt that tumbled within her. She still owned this practice. She was still in charge. So why hadn’t she told Tara about Luke’s appointment until today?
There wasn’t time to dig into her real reasons for it, and if she let the conversation go any further, she’d have to explain to Tara about nearly being hit by a car and someone breaking into her home. Better to keep this conversation short. “Four o’clock. Today. I’ll be in my office until my first appointment arrives.”
The rubber soles of her shoes squeaked against the laminate flooring as she kept her stride even and unhurried. She had no reason to run. At least not from Tara.
The day passed like a minute, each patient taking all of her focus, deserving all of her energy. It was after three when she finally looked up and realized she hadn’t eaten anything since the banana she’d snatched on the way out the door that morning. Her stomach growled loudly as she marked another patient’s progress in his chart.
With a quick sweep of the exercise room, she confirmed that the only other occupants, a teenage girl working on a balance ball with one of Mandy’s physical therapy assistants, hadn’t heard her body’s retaliation for not feeding it. Stretching her back and shoulders as she stood, she headed for the front office to see if there were any leftovers to be had.
“Haven’t seen you all day.” Tara didn’t even look up from the computer where she navigated complex medical-charting screens that fed to area hospitals. “I thought you were avoiding me, boss.”
“I was.” Mandy laid the sarcasm on thick, and Tara glanced up just long enough to offer a smile.
“Hungry?”
“So much. Anything good back there?” Mandy peeked down the hall toward the office kitchen. It was a tiny room with a round table big enough for only two chairs. The counters boasted only a coffeemaker, sink and a toaster oven. Even the fridge looked as if it belonged in a dorm room rather than in an office.
As Mandy slipped toward the break room, Tara scrambled out from behind her desk, the wheels on her chair clacking against the tiled floor as she ran to catch Mandy. “So are you going to tell me what happened with the SEAL?”
Mandy frowned as she eyed a half-eaten salad and a tray of veggies left on the counter. A wilted piece of roast beef squished between two slices of bread sat beside the tray, the last in what had been a plate of sandwiches. The soggy bread and warm meat looked as appetizing as congealed gravy. Someone had ordered in, and she’d missed the invitation.
Rats. Now she was going to have to face the SEAL in question on an empty stomach.
“He has a name, you know.” Mandy plopped several pieces of limp lettuce onto a plate before digging her fork into it.
Tara nodded. “I do. But if the rest of his team had any intelligence, they would have nicknamed him Adorable.”
Mandy snorted so hard, she nearly choked on her bite. Quickly swallowing the offending mouthful, she was about to respond when the bell on the front door rang, and Tara dashed to man her post.
She’d just taken another bite when Tara called down the hallway, “Mandy? You have a visitor.” Her words were stilted, hesitant, as though she didn’t really want to say them. And they turned leaves of lettuce into gravel as Mandy swallowed.
Setting the plate on the table, she tiptoed down the hallway, poking her head around the corner just as the bell above the front door jingled again.
Luke appeared at the entrance. The setting sun behind him left him in shadow, but she could still feel the weight of his gaze as he maneuvered his new crutches through the door.
“Luke.” Her voice went higher than she’d expected, and she quickly cleared her throat. “You’re early.”
“Thought I’d bring back the chair you let me borrow.”
“Thanks.”
Suddenly someone else cleared his throat. It was low and tinged with mild annoyance, as if he’d been put out by her short exchange with Luke. Mandy didn’t really need to look at him to identify the visitor Tara had announced.
He was tall and broad, his dark hair still falling over his forehead, no matter how many times he pushed it out of the way. His smile still ticked up to one side, but where it had once been charming, now it was smarmy, turning her skin to gooseflesh at first glance. His eyes were deep brown, but they lacked any compassion or understanding of the part he’d played in her greatest regret. And now they shot from Mandy to Luke and back, filled with questions.
But she didn’t owe Gary Heusen any answers. In fact, she had plenty of questions of her own.
“What are you doing here, Gary?”
He held out a bouquet of roses. More white roses. More reminders that he’d once known her and claimed to care about her.
Her heart picked up speed, and a bead of sweat formed on the back of her neck, trailing below the collar of her shirt. She pressed a hand to the wall for support, hating her body’s reaction. Hating that she couldn’t control the way she responded to the memories and that the broken heart he’d left behind suddenly felt all too fresh.
“Luke, why don’t I go with you to get the wheelchair?” Tara’s voice broke the trance in the room, but Luke scowled at the idea.
“Are you okay, Doc?” While he clearly addressed Mandy, his eyes narrowed on Gary, a warning written across his features.
“I’m fine. Please, would you go with Tara? I can handle this.” She could. She would. Forcing her shoulders square and her back straight, she watched Luke follow Tara out of her office.
When the door closed, she turned on Gary in a hushed but firm voice. “What are you doing here?” she repeated. “I don’t want you here.”
Gary’s eyes looked in the direction of the path Luke had just taken. “So you’ve replaced me?”
Anger shot through her like a volcano, unbridled, untamable. “What are you talking—”
Two voices from down the hall suddenly joined them, and Mandy clamped her mouth closed, trying for a stabilizing breath. “We can’t do this here.”
“Then let’s go to your office.” He tucked the flowers back into the crook of his arm and held open the wooden door to the back hallway. She didn’t have any choice. She knew he wouldn’t be going anywhere until he said whatever he’d come here to say.
Marching down the hall, she led him to her office. The minute he was inside, she spun on him in a hushed growl. “You have two minutes. This better be good.”
The cool assurance on his face dimmed for a split second, before he amped up his toothy smile and held out the flowers. “You’re as pretty as ever, Dee.”
“Don’t call me that. I don’t like it,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You used to.”
No, I didn’t. But this was not the time to argue with him. “Get to the point. What do you want?”
He twisted the bouquet in his hand, showcasing his empty ring finger. “A lot’s been going on lately.”
The last time she’d run into him, Gary had been wearing a gaudy gold ring, a symbol of his marriage. The one he hadn’t bothered to tell her he was about to enter while he wooed her. The one she hadn’t asked about. Mandy pinched the bridge of her nose and pressed her other hand to her hip.
“I’m not interested in playing your games. I have a busy day, and you don’t need to be here.”
“Don’t you understand? Camilla and I aren’t together anymore. You and I can finally have a future.”
“What?” She shrieked the word so loudly that everyone in the building probably heard it.
Gary reached for her hand, but Mandy jerked away, shaking her head. “Camilla knew,” he continued. “She knew that I always loved you best.”
“Love? Is that what you call it?” Mandy gave up trying to keep her voice low, her tone even. This man was crazy if he thought she’d have anything to do with him after what he’d done. “Lying to me? Leading me on? Breaking my heart? That’s love?”
“Baby, it was you the whole time.” He gave her his best smile, and it succeeded only in making her stomach turn.
“Listen to me very carefully. You’re not welcome here. I don’t want your flowers. I don’t care what happened between you and Camilla. I don’t want to see you again.” She took a step in his direction, hoping he would back up, but he didn’t, and suddenly they were closer than she wanted.
His smarmy grin turned just a little bit cruel.
How had she ever fallen for his act, for the facade? Oh, he’d been a good actor, for sure. Attentive. Interested. Caring. And she’d wanted to see those qualities in him. She’d wanted to believe the best in him so much that she’d ignored every warning.
Except he’d done it all to feed his own ego, to prove to himself that he still had whatever it took to win a woman’s heart. But after the winning, he’d been more than happy to crush it. And now that she knew it, it was easy to see in every facial expression, easy to hear in every word.
“Oh, you’ll see me around,” he said. “You forget we have ties to the same circles.”
“What circles?”
“The Pacific Coast House carnival fund-raiser is next week.”
“You wouldn’t.” She narrowed her eyes and pressed her hands to her waist. “You’ve never cared about anyone as much as you care about yourself. You wouldn’t show up at the carnival.”
“Sure I would.” He let the flowers drop to his side, still holding her gaze. “And Camilla might be there, too.”
“Why? She has no connection to PCH.”
He shrugged one shoulder beneath his dark brown leather jacket. “She always said she didn’t like you. Maybe she thinks you’re the reason our marriage fell apart.” He turned on the charm as if he’d flipped a switch. “Of course, I know that’s not true. We were doomed from the start. She has a terrible habit of lashing out when she’s angry.”
A scene from Mandy’s waiting room four years before flashed through her mind, and her insides twisted like a screw. Camilla’s eyes had been wild with rage, her motions fierce. She had knocked over chairs and broken a lamp and left the office in disarray. Gary had sworn she wasn’t normally like that. When she was on her medications.
Mandy covered her mouth with her hand, her breath suddenly short.
If she wasn’t taking her medications, Camilla was prone to lash out. Like trying to run someone over.
A brick settled on her lungs, and Mandy fought to speak. “Is she taking her meds now, Gary?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure.”
“Okay. You need to go now.”
Gary opened his mouth to refuse the request, but instead of his voice, another one filled the room. “You heard the doc. It’s time for you to go.”
* * *
The guy Mandy had called Gary took one look at Luke—even on his crutches—gave a silent nod, tossed the flowers on Mandy’s desk and ducked out of the room. The bell on the door declared his exit from the building.
Luke kept his distance from Mandy, trying to read her face, but she’d put a mask on, all professionalism. “Let’s get to work.” She marched past him and down the hall toward the exercise room. She pointed to the closest exam table. “Hop on up.”
He bit back every question racing through his mind and did as she said, letting her have this moment of control.
When he was settled onto the table, she rested her hands on his back. Even through his T-shirt, they were like icicles, and he jumped.
“Sorry.” She blew on her palms and rubbed them together until they whistled at the friction. “Go ahead and lie down. Let’s get this brace off and see where your range of motion is at.”
He did as she instructed while she began loudly peeling back the Velcro strips. “Lift your leg.” She helped him raise it just enough to slide the brace out of the way. He felt a hundred pounds lighter and also as if he might fly apart given a stiff breeze. The knee brace had been his companion since the surgery, and without it, he was incomplete.
“All right. Really carefully, we’re going to bend your knee.” She put her hands around his calf and pulled gently.
He inhaled sharply. His leg felt as if it would split into two pieces. Like a freight train running him over, the pressure against the stiffness was more than he could handle. He pinched his eyes closed and brought a fist to his mouth.
“Good. You’re doing really well.” Mandy’s tone was soothing and calm as she straightened his leg and then bent it again.
“Are you trying to tear my whole leg off?”
She laughed. “No. But this is your first appointment. You never know about next time.” On the fourth pass, she said, “Think about something else. What did you think about when you were in SEAL training?”
“About how much I wanted to be a SEAL, but now...” He let the silence that followed finish the thought. He didn’t have to say it. They both knew that now there were no assurances. There was no certainty that he’d ever be on another mission with his SEAL brothers.
Nothing was a guarantee. No matter how much he’d begged God to heal him, to give him a new knee, he hadn’t heard anything from above.
But he did have a mission now. His assignment was Mandy’s safety. And he could think on that.
“So, are you going to tell me about the guy in your office?”
“No.” There was no humor in her response.
“Okay. What about the Camilla woman? Sounds like she might be holding a grudge.”
Mandy kept her hands gentle, but her tone firm. “Maybe.”
“What happened with her?”
“I don’t know.”
Luke frowned at her.
Even though she kept her gaze firmly locked on his knee, she said, “I only met her once.”
“Then why would she have it out for you?”
“She thinks I tried to steal her husband.”
Something strange and altogether unwelcome roared inside him, but he couldn’t call it by name. It burned like anger but not quite. It twisted his insides like bitterness, only not as strong. It was indistinct but demanding.
One thing he knew for sure. Mandy hadn’t stolen anyone’s husband.
He’d known her barely three days, and he already knew she wasn’t capable of such a thing.
“Why does she—” He groaned as she bent his knee farther than it had moved since Lybania. Since the explosion.
Mandy didn’t bother to apologize, but she did give his quad muscles a gentle massage. “You’re going to be a little stiff tomorrow, but it’ll be the good kind of sore.”
After a few more minutes, she reached for his brace.
“Already? I can do more.” He swiped his arm across his upper lip, wiping away the sweat that had pooled there, even from such a light workout.
“I know you can. But you shouldn’t.” Helping him sit up and swing his legs back over the edge of the table, she looked right into his eyes. “I have a feeling half of your battle is going to be just letting it rest. The surgeon didn’t repair your medial collateral ligament. That’s only going to heal with rest. So you have to take it slow.”
He leaned into her until their foreheads were only a couple inches apart. She smelled of hand sanitizer and citrus, and he offered her a compromise. “Then you’ve got to give me more to work on than the first name of a woman you haven’t seen in years.”
She reached for his crutches and wedged them in front of her. “You need to rest.”
“And you promised to let me help you.”
She lifted her eyes toward the ceiling as though asking for patience from above. “I don’t have anything else to give you right now. I’m going to call Detective Fletcher, who I reported the almost hit-and-run to, and tell him what Gary said so he can look into Camilla. And then I’m going to go home.”
“At least let me walk you to your car?”
A slow smile lifted her cheeks, despite the shadow of fear reflected in her eyes. “All right.”
He trailed after her as she went to her office and called the detective. It must have gone straight to voice mail, and she left a short, succinct message. “This is Mandy Berg. I have a tip on someone who might be taking her frustrations out on me. Would you call me back as soon as you have a chance?” She gave him her number before hanging up. Then she tossed the flowers, which were still sitting on her desk, in the trash and scooped up her tote bag. “Let’s go.”
“Good night, Tara,” Luke said as they walked through the lobby.
“Have a good one,” she hollered over the sound of her radio, which was playing a hit from the mideighties.
Luke clattered down the ramp beside Mandy, thankful she hadn’t suggested taking the stairs. “Is everything all right at your house? No one’s tripped the alarm?”
“It’s all fine. Nothing new since two nights ago.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “Well, nothing except finding out about Camilla.”
“Do you think she’s capable of this?”
Mandy dug her hand into her bag, rooting around for her keys for several seconds before producing them. “I don’t know. I don’t know her. But a woman scorned, well, she’s capable of nearly anything.”
Luke nodded as the lights on her white SUV blinked. He glanced at the wheel as she opened her door, and the parking lot lights reflected off a puddle peeking out beneath her front bumper. “I think you’re leaking.”
“I know.” She threw her bag into the car and slid behind the wheel. “It’s been leaking antifreeze for a couple days. I need to have it looked at.”
He nodded. “You’ve had other things on your mind.” He put his hand on her door to close it. “Have a good night. Drive safe.”
“I will.”
The door clicked closed, and he stood silently watching her pull out of the lot and onto the major cross street. When she had disappeared, he moved toward his car, watching the pool of liquid in her empty parking spot to make sure he didn’t slip in it.
The yellowish lights above made the puddle’s color hard to distinguish, but it wasn’t a neon color like many antifreeze brands. In fact, it looked more like oil.
A knot in his stomach went taut, and he shifted one of his crutches to the other side so that he could bend almost all the way over. Stretching his arm as far as he could reach, he swiped a finger through the fluid. Dry and oily. Lifting it to his nose, he inhaled. It smelled like fish oil.
Like brake fluid.
Like her brake lines had been cut.
“Mandy!” He yelled her name, even as his throat closed. The strangled cry died quickly on the wind, and he ran as fast as his crutches would carry him to his car.
Get to her. Get to her. Get to her.
He had to find her before she couldn’t stop. Before she sailed through a red light or flew off a mountain road.
He flung his crutches into his car, gritted his teeth against the eruption in his knee when he bumped his leg and peeled out of the parking lot. He whipped in front of another car and floored it in the direction she’d gone.
She hadn’t given him her cell number. Too personal.
But this, this was beyond personal. This was a matter of life and death.
FOUR (#ulink_aab8227a-cec7-5271-b9cd-55cd5da2a771)
The light before the highway entrance turned yellow, and Mandy pressed her brake pedal.
Her car barely slowed and coasted through the red light, accompanied by the angry honking of several other drivers. Her SUV let out a squeal of pain. With white knuckles, she gripped her steering wheel and tried to pull over, but there was no shoulder and she was moving too fast. A car at her side blocked her in, and one in front of her slowed way down.
“Please. Please. Please,” she begged as she pressed her sluggish brake again. Her car gave a woeful shudder, stopping just inches from the bumper in front of her.
“What’s wrong with you?” Leaning back, she glanced at her floor mat, which seemed to be bunched under the brake. Giving the carpet a tug, she pressed the pedal again. Her little SUV lurched but stopped.
Much better.
Even so, the interstate’s stop-and-go traffic could be more than trying if her brakes were being cranky. With a quick turn, she slipped into another lane. She’d take the back roads home. Dark and windy, but at least they weren’t quite as busy.
Mandy zipped along the twisting roads as she headed up the hill, hugging the center line, keeping her distance from the sheer cliff to her right. The vertical wall of stone on the far side of the two-lane highway was almost invisible against the black sky as she worked her way out of the city. One pair of headlights in her rearview mirror and the fading red lights of three other cars in the distance before her were her only company.
She let out a breath, already feeling the stress of the day and Gary’s visit lifting.
Until she tapped her brakes as she crested a summit.
Nothing happened.
She punched them hard and gasped as the pedal reached the floor. With no response.
Grabbing the wheel with two shaking hands, she tried to keep her vehicle in her lane as it picked up speed.
The road before her curved back and forth, a black snake—and just as terrifying.
Blood rushed in her ears, swallowing every other sound, including the frantic prayer leaving her lips. “Help me. Please. I need help.”
The car behind her seemed to be gaining on her, but she couldn’t let herself be hypnotized by the white lights. Her lane seemed to narrow, and she focused on the center line.
Just stay away from the edge. Don’t go over. And don’t miss a turn.
Her palms turned slick, but she couldn’t risk wiping them. Mandy squeezed the steering wheel tighter, praying she wouldn’t make a wrong turn. The road had to level out. It had to.
But it just continued its steep decline. No escape. No emergency exit.
Emergency.
Her emergency brake.
She grabbed the handle next to her seat and pulled it as hard as she could. It refused to engage. The red light on the dashboard didn’t even appear. The rapid-fire beating of her heart drowned out everything except the truth. Someone had cut her brake lines and disabled her emergency brake. Someone wanted her to go off that cliff.
The same person who had tried to run her over.
Suddenly the headlights in her mirror barreled down on her, almost reaching her bumper before swinging up beside her.
She couldn’t make out the car or the driver in the dark, and he swerved closer. As if in slow motion, she waved him off, but he just drew nearer. Was he trying to push her over the edge?
She wouldn’t give him the chance.
Leaning into the steering wheel, she swallowed the lump in her throat and pressed the gas. Her car gained a little ground before her pursuer caught up. His whole car seemed to be shaking with the effort to maintain the speed, but he kept his distance from her, hugging the far line as he whipped down the opposite lane.
Risking a glance in his direction, she caught a waving hand and a familiar mane of shaggy blond hair.
Luke.
He motioned for her to roll down her window, but did she dare risk taking her hand off the wheel again? But what did she have to lose? She was dead either way.
With one flick of her finger, the window automatically went down. Tears filled her eyes at the wind’s unrelenting assault.
“Emer—cy. Bra—”
The howling wind seemed to steal his words, but she tried to respond. “Broken!”
He didn’t reply. Maybe he hadn’t heard her. She tried again but stopped short as a set of headlights glared right at them.
“Car!”
Luke shook his head and cupped a hand to his ear. Forgetting all about her sweaty palms, she jerked a hand in the direction of the truck heading right for him. At the same moment, the other driver leaned on his horn.
Suddenly Luke was gone. Vanished as the truck careened past her, still honking his displeasure. But all she could hear was the no, no, no that crashed through her mind.
She craned around as much as she could without losing sight of the road and caught a glimpse of the car behind her, just as the road swung wide. Overcorrecting for it, her back wheel caught the yard of gravel at the edge of the incline. The back end of her car whipped to the left. Then dangerously close to the cliff. Her heart stopped.
This was it.
She was going over.
Suddenly she was back on the road, her speedometer pushing ninety.
She wanted to cover her eyes or hold her breath or do anything to keep from seeing her inevitable end.
Lord, let this be quick.
“Run—way. —uck. Ramp!”
Luke had returned to her side, and he pointed just to her left.
A brown sign pointed to a gravel runaway-truck ramp. It was going to total her car. And maybe her body. It was also her only hope.
Heart in her throat, she jerked the wheel toward the exit, praying that she hadn’t chosen the wrong way out.
Gravel crunched beneath her tires, the momentum of the car sending her flying forward.
And then it all slammed to an end.
* * *
Luke skidded to a halt at the base of the ramp, grabbing his crutches and leaping from the car before it had fully stopped. He set the foot of his injured leg down, immediately regretting the decision. “Ahhh!” Fire shot through his knee at even the lightest pressure, but he swung his way toward the cloud of dust masking Mandy’s SUV. When he reached the rear bumper, he tossed his crutches down and used the vehicle to keep his balance as he hopped toward the driver’s door.
There was no sign of movement from within, and Luke forced his voice to remain steady as he called out. “Mandy? Doc? Are you okay?”
She didn’t respond, and he hopped a little faster, matching the rising tempo of his heartbeat. He hadn’t thought it could go any faster than it had when that truck had come flying around the curve and he’d had to slam on his brakes. He’d whipped behind Mandy only a fraction of a second before the big rig would have slammed into him.
But the thought of what he might find inside her car had his heart hammering a painful tattoo.
“Luke?”
The voice was no more than a breath, and he thought he’d imagined it until he hopped another foot in her direction.
“Luke? Are you okay?”
The sudden quiet in the center of his chest echoed through his limbs, and he closed his eyes to capture the memory of that peace. “Fine. I’m fine. You?”
There was a long pause. He couldn’t move fast enough to get to her door. Finally his fingers wrapped into the open window, and he pulled himself even with it, staring hard through the muddied air.
Large brown eyes blinked twice before closing for a long moment. Her pink lips formed a tight line as though she was trying to pull herself together before speaking. The rest of her face was painted in a fine layer of grime.
He reached for her cheek, but stopped short. She hadn’t moved any of her limbs yet, and he wasn’t about to touch her before he knew how badly she was injured. “Can you move your arms and legs?”
Without opening her eyes, Mandy waved both hands and bounced both of her knees. A soul-crushing groan followed.
“Where do you hurt?”
“Everywhere?” She swung her head in his direction, and only then did he see the streaming red line above her right eye.
Shrugging out of his long-sleeved overshirt, he pulled it inside out, wadded it up and pressed it against the gash. With his other thumb, he swiped at the dirt on her cheeks, looking for other abrasions. “You hit the steering wheel?”
She started to nod but seemed only able to manage a grimace. “How bad is it?”
“It could have been a whole lot worse.”
She opened her eyes at that. Fear and something close to panic lurked in the depths there. They were on the same page. She’d dodged another bullet, another attempt on her life. But someone was more calculating and brazen than they had guessed. Whoever it was had access to Mandy and her car. And he wasn’t going away.
After clearing her throat, Mandy reached up for the shirt pressed against her hairline. Their fingers brushed as she felt around for the right angle, and he was tempted to give them a comforting squeeze, until she took charge. “I’ve got it.”
“Honestly, how much does your head hurt?”
Without missing a tick, she replied, “Four out of ten.”
He’d guess from the size of the gash and speed she’d been going, she was more likely at a six. So she either had a high tolerance for pain or a low tolerance for letting people help her. Probably the latter. Doctors were notoriously bad patients.
“Do you have a flashlight?”
Rooting around in her center console, she finally pulled out a roadside-ready light and handed it to him.
“I was going to check your pupils—” he chuckled, pointing it at the ground and flicking it on “—but I think this thing would make you go blind.”
“I’m all right. Maybe a mild concussion, but I don’t have any nausea or ringing in my ears. And my head really only hurts right here.” She tapped the shirt still stemming the flow of blood on her forehead. “I didn’t lose consciousness, and I have no memory loss.”
“Clearly you remember all of your concussion training from school.”
She squinted sternly at him, but a tiny smile broke the facade. “Yes. I’m fine. How did you know to follow me? How did you even find me?”
“That puddle under your car wasn’t antifreeze. It was brake fluid. I had a hunch you’d skip the highway if your car was acting up, so I chased you down. Hope you don’t mind.”
Her grin managed to reach another level. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He nodded and leaned back enough to get a better look at her car, the tires nearly submerged in the sand. “You’re still sinking. If you can move, we better get you out of here and call CHP.”
The California Highway Patrol wouldn’t be too happy that their truck ramp had been used by a smallish SUV, but Luke had never been so glad to see a ramp as he was that night.
Swinging her door open, he hopped on his good leg and offered her a hand to help her out of the car. When she landed on the shifting rocks, she stumbled against the car. Resting against its frame, she took several cleansing breaths.
“Dizzy now?”
“Just a little bit.” When she opened her eyes, she reached for his arm but stopped short. “How did you get over here? You can’t be walking on your own.” Her voice rose in volume and pitch with each word.
He nodded toward the crutches leaning against the bumper. “I just hopped the last eight feet.”
Her narrowed gaze homed in on his face. “Do you have any idea how badly you could have reinjured your knee? Sand, gravel, anything like this—” she stomped her foot on the yielding ground “—could mean the end of your full recovery. The end of your chances with the teams.”
Her words hit just where she’d aimed, like a punch to his gut and a left hook to his jaw, for good measure. But he didn’t look away, even as he tightened the muscles keeping his injured leg elevated. “I wasn’t thinking. I saw your car slam to a stop, and...” His voice trailed off as he waved a hand toward his car, its headlights illuminating them from the base of the ramp.
Mandy scrubbed her free hand down her face and rubbed at her eyes. “Thank you. Thank you for...” She finally looked away, long lashes shading the storm in her eyes. “Thank you for following me. For checking on me.”
The rush of fulfillment that always came in the middle of a mission surged through his veins, and he smiled at her. “I’m glad I was there.”
“Me, too. But promise me that you won’t be careless.”
He hopped several times and twisted to pick up his crutches—making sure his knee was completely out of danger—shooting her a wry grin in the process. “Why, Doc, you sound like you really want to see me pass my navy physical.”
“Of course, I do.” She began a slow, careful descent, passing him with ease. “I hate wasting my time.”
* * *
By the time they asked CHP to check for any evidence Mandy’s attacker had left behind on her car, said goodbye to the officers and arranged for the wrecker to pick up her vehicle, Mandy was ready for a hot bath and a full night of sleep. Neither seemed plausible, though. Even if she could get into a bath, she was pretty sure that she hurt too much to get out of it. And every time she closed her eyes, she felt that sickening lurch of her tire catching on the gravel, nearly flinging her off the road.
“Do you want me to take you to the ER to get that checked out?”
She jolted at the nearness of Luke’s voice, right next to her in the car, then groaned as she cradled her left arm across her chest.
Everything. Hurt.
And that ache was beginning to surpass the stinging on her head. Flipping down the visor of the passenger seat in his car, she opened the mirror and pulled the shirt back to reveal the wound. The hair right above her forehead was matted and brown, but the red stripe wasn’t oozing. She prodded it with a tentative touch. “I don’t think so. It’s not very deep. I just want to go home and get some rest.”
“Classic head wound.” Luke carefully positioned his injured leg below the steering wheel and closed the driver’s side door. “Those usually bleed like they’re going to kill you, even if they’re just a scratch.” He followed the motion of her hand with his eyes as she pulled her fingers away to confirm the bleeding had stopped.
The tips were clear, save for the dirt caked in every knuckle and embedded under every nail. She looked as if she’d been in war rather than simply doused in sand and grime. Maybe she could swap the bath in favor of a hot shower.
When she was clean and rested, then she could face whatever—whoever—was out there.
“Where am I going?”
She pointed him down the hill in the direction of her house, thankful for the telltale jerk as he tapped his brakes, pulling back onto the deserted highway. Still, her heart beat just a little harder with every swerve in the road and change in the slope.
They sat in silence for several minutes, her eyes glued to the edge of the reach of his headlights.
“You want to talk about it?”
“What, exactly?”
He lifted his right shoulder and dipped his head to the far side. “I don’t know. Anything. Like when you knew you were in trouble. How you’re feeling.” A hitch in his voice suggested that he wasn’t any more eager to talk about her feelings than he was to lose the brakes in his car.
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Liz Johnson
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: ANYTHING TO PROTECT HERWounded navy SEAL Luke Dunham’s only goal is returning to active duty…until he rescues his physical therapist from a lethal attack. Now he’ll risk everything—even his recovery—to keep Mandy Berg’s attacker at bay. Mandy’s been burned before when she trusted the wrong man. And she knows better than to develop feelings for one of her patients. Yet how can she help falling for a man who does not hesitate to put his strength, his skill and his very life in harm’s way to keep her safe? Relying on anyone feels dangerous…but turning away Luke’s protection could be deadly.Men of Valor: These navy SEALS were born to excel…