Harlequin Medical Romance July 2015 - Box Set 2 of 2: Her Playboy's SecretTaming Her Navy DocHer Family for Keeps

by Tina Beckett

  She wasn’t weak. She was tough and stalwart and could take whatever was dished out. She’d told him as much.

  This she could handle. It didn’t unnerve her. When he’d shown that moment of weakness, begging for his leg, that had shaken her resolve.

  “No,” he finally said, breaking the tension. “I suppose you haven’t seen much of the base.”

  Erica nodded. “No, I haven’t, but I’m not complaining.”

  A smile broke across his face, his expression softened. “I know you’re not.”

  “What’s going on out there?” she asked.

  “SEAL training,” he said and then shifted his weight, wincing.

  “I didn’t know this base was equipped for that.”

  “Yes. It’s where I did my training.” He cleared his throat. “I mean…”

  “I knew you were a SEAL.” She held her breath.

  He feigned surprise. Captain Wilder might be good at interrogating and striking fear into subordinates, but he wasn’t much of an actor. “How?”

  Erica wanted to tell him it was because she’d been the one who’d operated on him—that he’d been on her ship—only she didn’t think that would go over too well. He was obviously hiding from her that he had a prosthesis, as if such a thing would make her think differently of him.

  Did he think it was a sign of weakness? If he did, he was foolish, because Erica saw it as a sign of strength. A testament to his sacrifice for his country. Only she kept that thought to herself. She doubted he’d be overly receptive to it right now. The last thing she needed was to tick him off and have him state she was mentally unstable or something.

  So instead she lied. “I looked up your record before I shipped out. I wanted to know who my commanding officer was in Okinawa.”

  His gaze narrowed; he didn’t believe her. She could tell by the way he held himself, the way his brow furrowed. Only he wasn’t going to admit it. “Is that so?”

  “How else would I know?” she countered.

  “Of course, that would be the only way you’d know.” Thorne crossed his arms and turned back to look at the ocean. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m not out there swimming with them?”

  “No,” Erica said.

  He glanced over at her. “No?”

  “With all due respect, Captain Wilder, that’s not my business.”

  “Yet knowing I am a former SEAL was?”

  “Any good officer worth their salt tries to find out who they’re serving under. The reasons you left the SEALs or aren’t active in missions any longer is not my concern. Some things are better left unsaid.”

  His cheeks flushed crimson and she wondered if she’d pushed it too far.

  “You’re right. Well, I may be retired from the SEALs, but I still oversee some of their training. Anything to keep involved.”

  Erica nodded. “A fine thing to be involved with.”

  Thorne smiled again, just briefly. “Well, I don’t want to keep you from your run. If you continue on down the beach, there’s another nice path which wraps around the hospital and forks, one path leading into the village and the other back to base. If you have the time, be sure to check out the village and in particular the temple.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  “When we’re off duty, you can call me Thorne.”

  Now it was Erica’s turn to blush. It came out of the blue; it caught her off guard.

  Maybe it was supposed to.

  “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”

  “What harm is there in it?”

  She didn’t see any harm. When she went on shore leave with other shipmates or was off duty she didn’t address them so formally. What was the difference here? The difference was she was never attracted to any of them, had never seen them so vulnerable and exposed.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I have to say, I’m hurt. Am I so monstrous?”

  “No.” Erica grinned. “I only address my friends so informally.”

  “I’m not your friend?”

  Now it was her turn to cock an eyebrow. “Really? You’re asking me if we’re friends?”

  “I guess I am.” He took a step closer to her and her pulse raced. She’d thought he was handsome when she’d first seen him, but that was when he’d been injured. Now he was healthy, towering over her and so close. She was highly attracted to him, she couldn’t deny that. He stirred something deep inside her, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Yearning.

  There had been a couple other men since Captain Seaton, but not many, and none in the Navy. She didn’t have time or interest.

  Until she met Thorne.

  Thorne was dangerous and, being her commanding officer, he was very taboo.

  “We barely know each other, Captain. How can we be friends?”

  “Easy. We can start by using our given names. I’m Thorne.” And then he took her hand in his. It was strong and sent a shock of electricity through her.

  Get a grip on yourself.

  She needed to rein this in. This was how she’d fallen for Captain Seaton. He’d wooed her. She’d been blinded by hero worship, admiration, and she wouldn’t let that happen again.

  “We’re not friends,” Erica said quickly.

  “We can be.” His blue eyes twinkled mischievously. He was playing with her and she didn’t like it. Thorne ran so hot and cold. He was trying to manipulate her.

  “I don’t think so, Captain.” She suppressed a chuckle of derision and jogged past him, laughing to herself as she continued her run down the beach and perfectly aware that his eyes were on her.

  * * *

  Thorne watched her jog away and he couldn’t help but admire her. Not many had stood up to him. He had the reputation of being somewhat of a jerk, to put it politely. He’d always been tough as nails. As Liam had always said. Yet Liam had gone straight into Special Ops and Thorne had become a medic. He wasn’t without feelings.

  He hadn’t always been so closed off, but when you saw your identical twin brother lying broken on the ground after an insurgent attack, after he’d pushed you out of the way, then pieces of you died. Locking those parts of him away, the parts which still mourned his brother, was the only way to survive.

  The only way to continue the fight, so that his brother’s death wasn’t in vain.

  Thorne had hardened himself and, in doing so, had driven so many people away. They kept out of his way, they knew not to mess with him or challenge him. It was better that way. No one to care about. He didn’t deserve it.

  Erica was different.

  You knew that when you approved her request to come to Okinawa.

  His commanding officer still talked about the courage it had taken to stand up to him during that covert operation. How Erica had been adamant that Thorne was to remain on the USNV Hope. It had impressed Mick and that was hard to do.

  Perhaps in Erica he’d met his match?

  She’s off-limits.

  He needed that internal reminder that Erica was indeed off-limits. Thorne couldn’t let another person in. There was no room for someone else in his life, so he had to get all these foolish notions out of his head.

  Except, that was hard to do when he saw her, because those hazy, jangled memories from that time flooded his dreams—only now she wasn’t just some ghost. The face was clear, tangible, and all he had to do was reach out and touch her to realize that his angel was indeed on Earth.

  “Captain!” The shouts from the water caught his attention and he tore his gaze from Erica and out to sea.

  The few men who had been doing their training were trying with futility to drag one of their comrades from the water, but the waves were making it difficult and the crimson streak following the injured man made Thorne’s stomach knot.

  Shark.

  It was one of the dangers of training in the sea, though attacks were rare.

  His first instinct was to run into the fray to help, but
he couldn’t step foot into water. His prosthesis had robotic components and it would totally fry his leg. He needed his prosthetic leg to continue his job.

  He was useless.

  So useless.

  He pulled out his phone and called for an ambulance, then ran after Erica, who wasn’t far away.

  “Erica!” he shouted, each step causing pain to shoot up his thigh. He hadn’t run in so long. “Commander.”

  Erica stopped and turned, her eyes wide and eyebrows arched with curiosity. Without having to ask questions, she looked past him to the blood in the water and men struggling to bring their friend safely ashore.

  She ran straight to them, whipping off her tank top to use as a tourniquet, wading into the surf without hesitation to aid the victim, while all he could do was stand there and watch in envy.

  Only for a moment, though, before he shook off that emotion.

  He might not be able to help in the same way as Erica, but he’d do everything he could. As soon as they had the man out of the water and on the beach, Thorne dropped down on one knee to survey the damage to the man’s calf.

  “What happened?” Thorne asked, not taking his eyes off the wound as Erica tightened the tourniquet made out of her Navy-issue tank top.

  “We were swimming back in and Corporal Ryder fell behind. It was then he cried out. We managed to scare the shark off,” one of Corporal Ryder’s comrades responded.

  “My leg!” Corporal Ryder screamed. “My leg is gone.”

  Thorne’s throat constricted and his phantom leg twinged with agony, which almost caused him to collapse in pain.

  You’re fine. Your leg is gone. There is no pain.

  “Your leg is there, Corporal,” Erica responded. “You hear me? Your leg is there.”

  Corporal Ryder howled in agony and then cursed before going into shock.

  “Lie him down, he’s going into shock.” Thorne reached out and helped Erica get Corporal Ryder down.

  Erica was helping the other recruits assess Corporal Ryder’s ABCs, the water still lapping against them as they worked on the leg, and Thorne stood there useless because he couldn’t get his prosthetic leg wet; the corporal was still half in the water.

  “How bad?” Thorne directed his question to Erica.

  “We can probably salvage the leg. We won’t know until we get him into surgery.”

  The ambulance from the hospital pulled up in the parking lot. Two paramedics were hurrying down the hill to the beach with a stretcher.

  “Well, Commander Griffin, it looks like we’re both scrubbing in. I don’t know how many shark attacks you’ve seen…”

  “Enough,” she said, interrupting him, her expression soft. “Thank you for letting me assist you, Captain Wilder.”

  Thorne nodded and stood, getting out of the way as the paramedics arrived. “Commander, you go with the paramedics in the ambulance. I’ll be there shortly.”

  There was no way he could keep up with the stretcher.

  He’d get there in enough time.

  Corporal Ryder needed all the help he could get.

  Erica nodded and, as the ABCs of the corporal’s condition were completed, he was on the gurney, headed toward the ambulance.

  Thorne stayed behind with the other men, his stump throbbing, phantom pain racking him as his own body remembered the trauma he’d suffered.

  He needed a moment to get it together.

  To lock it all out, so he could be of some use to the corporal and help save that man’s leg, where his own hadn’t been.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “MORE SUCTION.”

  Erica glanced up from the corporal’s leg wound, but only briefly, as she carefully suctioned around the artery.

  “Thank you, Commander,” Thorne responded.

  Their eyes locked across the surgical table. Even though she’d been here two weeks she had yet to operate with Thorne. When he had stitched his own leg, Erica had admired the work, given the condition and the crude tools he’d used. Now, watching him in action in a fully equipped and modern OR was something of beauty. She was so impressed with his surgical skill. There was a fluid grace with his hands, like a fine musician’s, as he worked over the corporal’s calf.

  It was a simple wound to the leg, if you could call a shark bite simple. It didn’t need or require two seasoned trauma surgeons, but Thorne had requested she be in there with him.

  “You triaged him in the field. You have the right to be there too, Commander.”

  Even though she wasn’t needed and it was her day off, Erica went into surgery with Captain Wilder against her better judgment. He’d been accommodating, but she still had a feeling that she was being scrutinized, manipulated, and that one wrong move and he’d send her packing. Well, maybe not personally send her packing, but she was sure he’d expedite it.

  He probably wants to make sure you don’t hack off Corporal Ryder’s leg like you did to his.

  Erica tsked under her breath, annoyed she’d let that thought in.

  “Is something wrong, Commander?” Thorne asked.

  “No, nothing. Why?”

  “I thought you might have been annoyed about working on your day off. I know I’ve been pretty hard on you since you’ve arrived.”

  “No, I’m not complaining—far from it.”

  “You were huffing.”

  Erica glanced up again. Thorne’s blue eyes twinkled slightly in what she could only assume was devilry.

  What was that old saying her grandma had had? Keep away from men who are de pouille or who are possede. They’re just as bad as rocachah.

  Or, keep away from men who are a mess or mischievous children. They’re like beach burrs. Erica had thought at the time her mamère’s advice was a bit nuts, but Captain Seaton certainly had been a peekon in her side and Thorne had the look of a possede for sure.

  Great. I’m now channeling Mamère.

  “I wasn’t huffing over the work. The work, I love.”

  “Yet something rankled you.”

  “Why are you being so tête dure?” Then she gasped, realizing some of her Cajun had slipped out.

  “So what?” Thorne asked, amused.

  “Tête dure is stubborn, persistent and hardheaded. I’m from Louisiana.”

  “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed it.”

  Erica rolled her eyes. “Don’t judge a bed by its blanket.”

  “You mean a book by its cover?”

  “Whatever.”

  “So why are you huffing?”

  “Why are you being persistent?” she asked.

  “Why not? I am the commanding officer of Trauma. I want to make sure those under my command…” He trailed off and Erica’s stomach twisted. Was he alluding to her past in Rhode Island again?

  Not everyone is out to get you. Just because one commanding officer accused you based on what happened to Dad doesn’t mean they all will. Captain Dayton hadn’t.

  Then why did he keeping hinting at it? Maybe it was some kind of psychological warfare. Not that Thorne was at war with her. Perhaps it was some kind of SEAL training? It probably was and she shouldn’t take it personally.

  Erica cleared her throat. “If you want to know the reason I’m tsking, which is totally different from huffing, the reason is the wound. He’s pretty mangled.”

  Thorne sighed. “His dreams of being in the Special Ops are over.”

  “He’s lucky it didn’t sever his femoral artery or we would have lost him on the beach.” Erica continued to work, her hands moving as fast as Thorne’s, working to repair the damage. It was an automatic process, one she didn’t have to think too hard about. “More people die being trampled by hippos than by shark attacks.”

  “Hippos, Commander?” There were a few bewildered looks in the OR.

  “Twenty-nine-hundred people annually.”

  “You’re joking. That can’t be right.”

  “It is. Look it up.”

  “Hippos?”

  Erica chuckled. “I know, rig
ht?”

  “Do you think the leg is salvageable?” Thorne asked, changing the subject.

  “Yes.” Their gaze locked again for a brief instant. The intensity of that shared moment made her think he wanted to ask her why his, which hadn’t been as mangled, hadn’t been saved.

  She’d wanted to save his leg, but the infection had been too virulent.

  Still, she’d always thought about him. What had happened to him, that gorgeous, brave Navy SEAL who had begged her. Who had called her beautiful.

  “Like an angel.”

  Erica tried not to let those memories back in, but it was a failure. Hot flames of blood rushed up into her cheeks and she was thankful for the surgical mask. She broke the connection, her pulse racing.

  You can’t have this. He’ll turn on you like Seaton did.

  “I think Corporal Ryder, barring any post-op infection, will keep his leg,” she said.

  “Infection. Yes.” His words were icy. “Well, look at this.”

  Erica glanced up and in his forceps there was a milky-colored sharp object, which looked like a bone fragment.

  “What is that? Did it come off his femur?”

  “It’s a shark’s tooth.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with a smile obscured by his mask. He placed the tooth in the basin. “That will be something the corporal will want to keep.”

  “Like a badge of honor,” Erica chuckled.

  Thorne laughed quietly. “That, or he’ll be out hunting the shark that ended his career prematurely.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  Thorne nodded. “Corporal Ryder has it in him. He had a passion to be in Special Ops; he’s going to be annoyed.”

  “His life was saved. The animal didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Thorne snapped. “You don’t know what it’s like to be in such an elite force, protecting your country. Nothing else matters. You endure endless hours of torment to train, to make your body ready for the most treacherous conditions, and you gladly do it. You’d gladly lay down your life for a chance to keep your country free.”

  “Very patriotic,” Erica said, trying to control her annoyance. “I may not be part of that elite crew, but what I do serves my country as well. I feel the same way.”