by Alex Lidell
“What’s wrong with Reynolds?” Cullen asked, stepping in front of Yarborough the moment the pair of them entered one of the empty enclosed treatment rooms. “Is she—”
“Why the hell are you reducing a dislocation in the field when you’re thirty minutes away from an ER?” Yarborough demanded. “This is Denton Valley, Colorado, Cullen. Not Afghanistan. It isn’t even a back country where you’ll be hiking a patient out.”
Cullen’s jaw tightened. “She was in pain when she didn’t need to be. Is there a problem with the shoulder?”
“I don’t think so, but even I won’t know until I see an X-ray. And I’m saying that after a full exam in a treatment room, not a field assessment in the dark with her fully clothed.” Yarborough put his hands on his hips and leveled him with a hard gaze. “There’s a reason we don’t treat people we care about, Cullen. Because sometimes letting a patient be in pain is the right call.”
“I—” He rubbed his face, swallowing the lie from the tip of his tongue. “Fine. Message received and understood.” He sighed, glancing at the door.
“Not yet.” Yarborough forced Cullen into meeting his gaze. “Take off your shirt.”
“You aren’t my type, Ricky.”
Yarborough didn’t even blink. “I would usually simply charge some extraordinary penalty for someone who missed three appointments, but given your bank account, I’m going to resort to more underhanded measures. Take off your shirt and get on the exam table, or I’ll leave a copy of your X-rays with Liam, Eli, Kyan, Ms. Reynolds over there, and Catherine.”
Cullen had been right. Yarborough was not in the ER by chance.
“I’m going to fucking fire Michelle,” Cullen muttered, pulling his shirt off in a smooth motion, his only further protest limited to refusing to wince when Yarborough palpated the shoulder and the shrapnel embedded in it.
“The longer you put this off, the more difficult the surgery is going to be,” Yarborough said. “And yes, I said it is, not may. I know the notion scares you shitless, but—”
“It doesn’t bother me much, Ricky,” Cullen said. “The shoulder. It really isn’t much trouble.”
“No shooting pains?” the doc prodded. “No numbness or tingling? No stiffness or achy joints?”
“I didn’t say I have no pain, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I need to stay on task at the Rescue. It’s important work.”
“Which is all the more reason to take care of this.” Yarborough sighed, his tone softening as he handed Cullen’s shirt back. “How are the nightmares?”
His jaw tightened. They were going over all the fun things tonight. “Rare.”
“How rare is rare?”
“Every other night.” Cullen sighed. “And I had a flashback a couple of weeks back.”
“The field hospital?” Yarborough asked.
“In full color.”
Yarborough nodded, unsurprised. “Are you still taking your prazosin?”
“Yes, Doc. Every day.”
“All right. You’re free for now. But listen to me—you can’t keep ignoring the shrapnel. You’ve been lucky that it hasn’t migrated too drastically, but luck isn’t what I want to rely on, especially not with how physical you get.”
The sound of a bed being wheeled across the floor echoed from the hallway. Sky being taken to CT? “I hear you,” Cullen said, his attention on the door.
“Do you?” The doctor’s tone dropped low and harsh, snapping Cullen’s attention right back to him. Yarborough was in the med corps and had a way of putting any SEAL in his place.
“Yes, sir,” he answered, this time with more fidelity, and tried not to look like he was escaping as Yarborough bladed his body to let Cullen out of the room.
Returning to Sky’s bed, Cullen was relieved to find her still there and looking as comfortable as someone could in the ER. Pulling up a chair, he heard Yarborough’s words echo in his mind. Ricky was wrong, though—Cullen cared about Sky because she worked at the Rescue. The reduction decision was a risk benefit analysis, not a judgment impaired by emotion. It wasn’t.
“Why did you go to that house alone?” Cullen asked Sky, more harshly than he’d intended. “I told you not to.”
Her brilliant blue eyes zeroed back in on his. “I’m not going to dignify the latter part with a response. As for the former, I was given an assignment. As you very well know.”
“You have to be smarter than that. Frank doesn’t give a damn about you. He’d send you into a burning building if he thought he could get more newspaper subscribers out of it.” In deference to their location, Cullen kept his voice low, but his aggravation twisted his words into a rough growl. “Hell, you dying would just make that issue sell even faster.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“Could’ve fooled me today.”
Eyes flashing, Sky grabbed Cullen’s shirt with her good hand. “You might be my boss when I’m at Trident Rescue, Cullen Hunt, but what I do as a professional journalist is not up to you. Are we clear on that?”
Cullen’s breath caught as a zap of energy shot from Skylar’s tight grip right to his cock, her fire-filled eyes heating his blood, her sweet floral scent grabbing his chest. For a heartbeat, he could do nothing but scrutinize that mouth of hers, the way it hung open just a little in her indignation, her lips soft and supple and goddamn kissable.
“My job is to get the story. The end,” Skylar went on, chest heaving.
Cullen’s chest was heaving too, though fury at Sky’s stubbornness was only half responsible. The rest had to do with how the top of her gown exposed a lacy white bra. Lace that was, for all intents and purposes, transparent.
“And only I get to decide for myself how much risk I’m going to take,” Sky finished, scowling as she let go of his shirt. Her voice softened. “Besides, I hadn’t actually meant to get so close to the house. But once I saw Zack…” She shook her head, her face changing to a distant pain-filled look. “They hurt a child. I couldn’t leave him. And no matter how much you growl, I’m willing to bet you wouldn’t have left him either.”
“No, I wouldn’t have,” he agreed quietly. “But you aren’t me. And I promise you, that’s a very good thing.”
16
Sky
I meet Cullen’s gaze. His face is inches away from mine, his breathing accelerated. His eyes—typically a gorgeous mossy green—have darkened to near blackness, and I can feel the heat pouring off him. His firm lips are so tight that they’ve basically disappeared, and the smooth expanse of his wide forehead is creased. I want to slap that perfectly formed face of his for insulting me, and I want to pound my fist into the bastard’s massive, muscular chest. And damn it, I want to crush my lips to his mouth all at the same time.
I fight against the magnetic force drawing my face closer to Cullen’s. Everything about the man, including the pull he has on me, is wrong. Insane. Unwanted. And yet the distance between us still closes, our mouths millimeters apart. I can feel Cullen’s breath mixing with mine, tickling my skin—when there’s an expulsion of breath from someone else.
Cullen and I freeze.
“Excuse me.” The woman who appears in my peripheral vision clears her throat nervously. “I’m here to take Ms. Reynolds for some scans.”
I peer over my shoulder to find a tech with a white lab coat and turquoise hair hovering by the door.
“I’ll have her back to you as soon as I can, Mr. Hunt,” she promises, her face coloring as Cullen swings his gaze to her. I get the feeling that she’d ask him for an autograph if she could.
“Of course, Summer. Thank you,” Cullen says politely, and I swear the tech’s blush deepens another two shades. What is it with these people treating Cullen like a celebrity?
What is it with me that I care?
After I’ve endured X-rays and a scan in a big donut-shaped machine, Summer of the turquoise hair returns me to my alcove. We’re almost there when I hear Cullen’s voice mixing with several others. Eli’s, Liam’s, and Kyan’s
deep masculine tones I recognize immediately, but the fifth—a bubbly musical soprano—is something new.
“Lovely to see you again, Jazzy-girl,” Eli says with a warm chuckle. “When did you get in?”
“My question exactly.” Kyan sounds much less amused.
“A few hours ago, and don’t you dare look at me that way, Kyan. If you’d read any one of my emails, you wouldn’t be standing here with your mouth hanging open like a fish now, would you?”
“I might be somewhat behind,” Kyan grumbles.
“Might be?” Jazzy-girl’s voice rises, the rich notes filled with incredulity. “I sent you five. And I sent you the first one a month ago.”
I come up to the threshold to see five people crammed into one miniscule space, the hulky size of the men making the room feel even more cramped than it did to begin with. Now also with them is a young woman with rich tanned skin, flowing black hair, and beautiful dark eyes. Despite Kyan’s scars, the resemblance is obvious.
“Sky.” Cullen steps forward, taking the bed away from the tech and locking the wheels into place. “The imaging came back clean. How are you feeling?”
“Like I want to know how you know my imaging results before I do.”
Eli snorts. “She seems fine to me.”
Jazzy-girl clears her throat, and Kyan throws her an irritated look.
“Jazmine, meet Sky, the Rescue’s new administrator and dispatcher,” Kyan says solemnly. “Sky, meet Jazmine, an impossibly irritating human being who was just leaving.”
“I go by Jaz.” She grins at me. “And if Kyan calls me Jazmine one more time, I’m going to get this whole town to start calling him… What was the name of Jafar’s parrot in Aladdin?”
“Iago?” I say.
“Right. Iago.” Jaz’s smile broadens, Kyan’s resulting eye roll seeming like something from an alternate universe. Customarily, the man is the most closed-off of the Trident gods, and considering Cullen is part of that group, that’s saying something. Jaz’s attention returns to me, open and infectiously friendly. “I hear you were Wonder Woman today, busting up drug rings and saving children.”
“She busted something, all right,” Cullen mutters under his breath.
My mood sobers, my attention turning to the guys. “Does anyone know what happened to Zach? And everyone else?”
“The boy’s been admitted,” Liam answers. “Child protective services will take him once he’s discharged. Dad—that’s the drunk asshole who attacked you—was charged with aggravated assault, felon in possession of a gun, and drug possession. The two others, his business partners, are in custody as well.”
I shudder. “What about Zach’s mom?”
“Methhead,” Cullen answers for Liam, butting his way into the conversation. “She was high the entire time—and apparently is still confused as to what’s happened. The social worker is trying to get her to rehab, but… It wasn’t a good house to go near, Sky.”
“Well, somebody had to,” I shoot back, regretting it a moment later as pain sings up my arm in protest.
Cullen opens his mouth, but Jaz plants her hands on her hips and glares up at him. “How about you broody bunch go get us some Frappuccinos,” she says, herding the men out of the curtained-off room. Liam and Cullen scowl, though Eli snorts in amazement. And Kyan… Kyan digs his car keys out of his pocket and walks away.
Jaz swallows, her eyes sad as she watches her brother’s back. I want to ask what’s going on, but it’s beyond none of my business. Plus, I owe Jaz for getting me some breathing room.
“So what brings you to Denton Valley?” I ask.
“School.” Forcing her gaze back toward me, Jaz conjures a smile and sits cross-legged on one of the chairs. She has a small, strong physique, which makes even the sweats hanging off her hips look like a designer outfit. “I’m getting my masters in exercise science at University of Colorado at Denton Valley. I’m not gonna lie, the rock climbing here might have snagged me as much as the program.”
“Oh my God, you climb too?” My spirits lift despite the night. I’ve always loved the outdoors, from camping and hiking to climbing, but it’s rare to find another woman who likes the rocks as much as I do. I haven’t rock climbed once since the Jaden fiasco. “Actually, I don’t know why I’m surprised. You look like you should be modeling climbing gear.”
“Oh, I do.” Jaz shrugs. “Well, did. Kyan and I did a whole bunch of that type of work as kids. Now I have to stick to the brands who sponsor me and stuff.”
From someone else, the words might have sounded like bragging, but the way Jaz’s jaw tightens when she mentions Kyan tells me her thoughts are solidly on her brother. Her scar-covered brother who used to be a model. Shit. Kyan…
As if having read my thoughts in my face, Jaz shakes her head. “Our whole family in California is in the acting and modeling circuit. I’ve a suspicion that’s part of the reason Kyan hasn’t stepped foot in LA since coming back. Which is just stupid because all we care about is that he came home alive, you know?” Jaz winces. “I’m sorry, I just kicked the guys out for spoiling the mood, and now I’m doing the same thing. So, it’s decided—the moment you’re cleared to go climbing, we’re going to the cliffs.”
I smile. “Deal.”
Jaz holds up a finger. “Though I highly recommend you don’t share those particular plan details with Cullen until we’re well on our way.”
My chest tightens at the sound of Cullen’s name, the phantom feeling of his mouth so close to mine washing over my memories. I clear my throat quickly. “Why do you think Cullen would care if we go climbing?”
Jaz shrugs one pretty shoulder. “Oh, just a hunch.”
17
Cullen
“I’m going to kill Frank Peterson,” Cullen told Eli and Liam as the three dutifully waited for the demanded Frappuccino.
“An appealing solution,” Eli agreed. “Did I tell you the wanker has been down at Harvest Bank a bloody lot lately? Visiting with Norwich?”
Cullen’s eyes narrowed. Darrell Norwich was that bank’s mortgage loan officer. Typically, mortgages were sold to big-name national companies or banking institutions, but according to Addie Peterson, Darrell had kept her and Bar’s mortgage loan local so far. This seemed a nonissue to Cullen before now, but if Frank was rubbing shoulders with the man in charge of Addie’s loan, there could be something to it.
“Tell me again how a guy like Bar managed to grow up in a viper pit of Frank and company without losing his shit?” Cullen shook his head. Addie was Bar’s widow, for Christ’s sake. And all Frank cared about was getting his hands on every penny his dead brother left. “All right. We all know Frank wants the money from the house, and that he can’t get it unless Addie’s loan goes into foreclosure. And I’ve got the payments on lockdown now, so he has very limited room to maneuver.”
Seeing the Frappuccinos come out, Cullen grabbed the pair and headed back to Sky’s room. The more he thought about Sky working for that piece of shit, the more he hated it.
“Speaking of getting back,” said Eli, directing his words to Liam. “Given that Kyan took off, do you want to give Jaz a ride, or should I?”
A muscle ticked at the side of Liam’s jaw. “If she’s getting into my car, she’s getting out at the damn airport.”
“Very mature, mate,” said Eli.
“If Kyan wants to be alone, she should leave him the fuck alone,” said Liam.
Eli cocked his head, everything about his posture seeming calculated to most get under Liam’s skin. “Aren’t you always going on about giving people what they need, not what they want?”
Liam pulled his shoulders back, his chest out as if the man was spreading wings. In his regular uniform of black jeans and tight V-neck tee, he tended to draw the eyes of every single female around.
Not for the first time, Cullen found himself utterly unsurprised at the number of women who dreamt of a chance to throw themselves at Liam’s feet. Literally. “Subs, asshole. Not friends.”
<
br /> Without waiting for Eli’s reply, Liam turned on his heels and headed for the door. Which was probably a good thing since a brawl in the middle of the hospital atrium, while stress relieving, was undoubtedly not going to be good for anyone’s public relations department.
In typical Eli fashion, the man merely turned his attention to Cullen. “You lost your Band-Aids.”
Cullen shook his head. “Christ, you’re a prick.”
“That’s already been established.” Eli stuck his hands into his back pockets, his long strides easily keeping up with Cullen’s double-time pace. “But just to point out the perfect little storm you’ve got going. Swooping in to rescue a damsel in distress, one who was kind enough to patch you up, just—”
Stepping in front of Eli, Cullen smacked the Frappuccino hard enough into the man’s chest that the icy crystals spilled over his shirt. Cullen might’ve enjoyed it more if he could’ve splashed it on one of his pristine suits instead, but Eli had removed his jacket before the tussle on Lincoln. “What’s with you today? First Liam, now me? Why are you baiting everyone?”
Eli glanced down at the Frappuccino, then extracted the cup from Cullen’s fist and sipped the whipped cream. “Liam, that was just for fun. You… I’ve not seen you like a girl before, Cullen—Betsy Delmata of ninth grade notwithstanding. I just want to make sure you aren’t so blinded by your own idiocy that you don’t see what’s right in front of you.”
“What are we, in high school?” said Cullen. “Reynolds works at the Rescue. That makes her my responsibility. And she’s too close to Frank Peterson, which puts her in harm’s way. The rest… It doesn’t matter.”
And that was the truth. It didn’t matter what Cullen did or did not feel for Skylar Reynolds, because he couldn’t have her.
“I beg to differ, Commander.” The humor seeped from Eli’s voice. “I’m not claiming to be any kind of expert, but I remember how good Addie was for Bar.”
