“Positive,” Gray said, lifting his hand in farewell and leaving out the front door.
After backing the pickup to the wooden dock, Gray climbed out, took the set of wooden stairs and moved into the huge, cavernous barn that held everything a rancher would need to feed his stock.
Gray had gotten Andy to bring in a line of special food for wild animals, and he knew exactly where it was kept. The barn grew shadowy in the rear, and most of the lights were turned off in order to save electricity. Gray’s eyes adjusted, and he found the food sacks. They were a hundred pounds each. He easily hefted one over his broad shoulder and carried it out across the wooden floor of the barn to the truck bed.
Gray never tired of the sweet smell of alfalfa and timothy hay that were baled and sitting fifty feet high in stacks at the rear of the barn. He had one more sack of special feed to go. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was 4:00 p.m. His mind and heart were centered on Sky. Gray always looked forward to having dinner with her. It was a chance to relax, listen to her day and get to know her a little better than the day before.
The back of his neck prickled. What the hell? It was an old warning signal that had saved his life many times as a SEAL. Gray slowed as he approached the sacks of feed in the corner. His radar went online, and his hearing keyed. Danger. Where?
As he turned to look to the left, in the darkness near the feed sacks, Gray heard a sound behind him. Just as he turned, he saw a large man with a three-foot length of metal pipe in his hand. And it was coming down at him.
Gray swung to avoid it.
Too late!
The pipe slammed into him, striking him across the left shoulder. Gray felt the bite of the metal into his flesh. A grunt tore out of him as the powerful pipe knocked him to his knees, sending him sprawling across the floor. He blacked out for a second, his head striking the wood. Instinctively, he scrambled to get up. This time, he felt another pipe slam into him, striking his left side. Pain arced upward, but Gray turned and fought off his attacker.
The man who assaulted him was his size. And there was murder in his eyes as he hauled back to hit him with the pipe again. It was muscle memory that saved him from the next blow. Gray lunged forward, fist striking out. His knuckles hit the flesh of the man’s jaw. The man screamed, his hands opening and dropping the pipe.
Sonofabitch! Gray staggered, the pain in his side searing through him. He heard another man running toward him. Whirling around, he noted in the shadows a man wearing an Ace Trucking blue uniform. His mind spun.
Chuck Harper had sent some of his truck drivers to teach him a lesson!
Anger roared through Gray. The pipe in the man’s hand came down on him. Using several swift moves known as Close Quarters Defense, he sent the second attacker to the floor with a yelp.
Gray heard the other man get up behind him. Spinning on his heel, the man struck out with his meaty fist. Flesh met flesh. Gray’s head exploded. He stumbled, but as he did, he swung upward, catching the man’s jaw with a sharp, short jab. Hearing bone crack, Gray fell and rolled, knowing he’d broken the bastard’s jaw. His whole body ached as he forced himself to his feet, turning to face his two assailants.
Breathing harshly, Gray’s eyes narrowed, his fists cocked and ready. The two men looked at one another. And then they looked down at the pipes lying on the floor between them. “You pick one of those pipes up, and you’re dead men,” Gray snarled. Because he knew how to kill with his hands. And he would.
Each man hesitated, breathing hard, glaring at one another.
Gray remained on the balls of his feet, crouched, ready. “You tell Harper that I’m coming for him,” he growled.
The men backed off. They turned and raced for the side entrance door of the barn.
Gray watched them flee. He grimaced, feeling the bruising welt growing across his left shoulder. Rubbing the area, he turned and walked over to the lengths of pipe on the floor. Stupid bastards weren’t wearing gloves. There would be fingerprints on them. Gray smiled tightly as he pulled on his leather gloves.
These two goons were going to be charged with assault and battery by him. Picking up the two pipes, Gray walked out of the barn and to his truck. He set them on the front seat and climbed in. His next stop would be the sheriff’s department. And he hoped like hell his friend Cade Garner was on weekend duty. Because when it was all done and over with, Gray would be sending out a deputy to arrest those two men as soon as their fingerprints were run through the system. And even if their prints didn’t show up, and Gray felt they would, he’d press charges.
Flexing his fist, his knuckles raw, bleeding and swelling, Gray disregarded the pain. He put his truck in gear and headed for the sheriff’s department. Rage simmered in him. Harper had warned him he’d get even. Well, he’d tried. Now it was Gray’s turn to strike back, only he’d use law enforcement.
As he drove down the street, his mind hovered on Sky. What if Harper got even with him by hassling her instead? She came into town several days a week to pick up items for Iris or for the center. She definitely wasn’t safe.
His instincts kicked in even more. For sure, Harper would try to get even with him for tossing his men in jail for assault and battery. Damn. Gray rubbed his jaw and cursed softly. He didn’t care if Harper came after him. He had the ability to defend himself. But Sky was another situation altogether. The last thing she needed was to be stalked or grabbed by Harper or his goons. Shit. What was he going to do? What was he going to tell her tonight when he got back to the ranch?
* * *
GRAY TRIED TO steel himself for Sky’s reaction when he finally arrived home at 6:00 p.m. Grimly, he climbed out of the truck and put the sacks in the center. His ribs hurt like hell.
The sun was just starting to set behind the mighty Tetons in the west. The warmth of the day was beginning to recede. He hadn’t told anyone what had happened. Not yet. His worry centered on Sky for any number of reasons. He dreaded saying anything to her because with her PTSD, it would stress her out enormously, and that was the last thing he wanted. Rage toward Harper grew within him as he climbed into the truck and drove it over to the employee house.
He saw all six families were already in the wrangler dining room in another building. Sky would be home, their home of sorts, probably making a late dinner for them. His heart ached for her. Damn. He took off his baseball cap as he entered the house. The scent of spaghetti sauce filled the air, and he looked to his left as he entered and closed the door. Sky was in the kitchen cooking.
Gray knew the side of his face would alert her soon enough. He’d taken a direct hit from one of the goons. His face ached nonstop, and the flesh around his cheekbone and jaw was swollen.
“Hey,” he greeted her, dropping his hat on the peg, “sorry I’m late.”
Sky turned and frowned. She was boiling the pasta in a large pot. She saw him scowling as he turned toward her. Instantly, she homed in on his face. “Gray? What’s wrong? What happened?” She turned down the fire beneath the pot and set it aside. Wiping her hands on the apron she wore, Sky turned and walked quickly toward him. She lifted her hand, lightly touching the injured area.
Gray wasn’t prepared for her soft, cool hand to touch the throbbing area, but he didn’t wince. “Got into a fight,” he offered. “I’m okay. Really.”
Sky looked more closely at his injury. “You’re not okay, Gray. I’m a nurse. I have eyes in my head, and this is bad.” She stepped away and picked up his right hand, observing his swollen, bruised knuckles. Lifting her eyes, Sky matched his gaze. He seemed unwilling to open up to her. Why? He always had before.
“Look, we’ll talk after dinner, okay?” he said, pulling his hand out of hers. “I’ve been in more fights than I care to think about, and this one wasn’t anything.” He tried to take the growl out of his voice and lifted his head. “You making spaghetti?”
Reluctantly, Sky stepped away and frowned. She knew SEALs would never admit they were hurting. They fought hurt. Pain was something they easily disregarded. And they didn’t lapse into suffering if they were in pain. For them, it was business as usual. She raked him from feet to head. He looked okay otherwise, but Sky felt he was hiding something. What, she didn’t know. “Could you tell me what happened?”
Gray muttered, “After dinner? I’m hungry.” Well, that was a bald-faced lie. His left shoulder was aching like a bastard, and he desperately wanted to get beneath a hot shower to ease the swelling and bruising he knew was there. Worse, when he moved, the ribs on his left side took off with grinding pain. It hurt to breathe deeply, and Gray feared he’d fractured a couple of them.
As he saw the worry in Sky’s blue eyes, the tense set of her lush mouth, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Come on. It smells good. I’ll tell you everything later.” Above all, Gray wanted Sky to eat. She’d regained some of her lost weight, and he was damned if his aches and pains were enough to halt dinner. He’d survive just fine.
“Well...” she said. “Okay. If you’re sure? Your jaw looks like it could use some help.”
He slipped his hand around her arm and turned her and headed her back into the kitchen. “Hey, finish the pasta. I’ll set the table for us.”
Easier said than done. Gray had to reach up into the one cabinet to get the plates. He tried his best not to flinch as he reached. Sky was covertly watching him off and on as she stirred the pasta in the pot. Gray knew he couldn’t fool her; she was too damned alert. “How did it go with Justin earlier? Did you take him in to let him see you feed the pups?”
Every warning alarm was going off in Sky as she stood at the stove, stirring the pasta with a long wooden spoon. “Yes, it went fine.” She followed Gray with her gaze as he reached up. For a split second, she saw him hesitate. Knowing he was injured beneath his clothing, she compressed her lips. If she didn’t know SEALs as well as she did, Sky would call him on it right now. And so, she played along because Gray wasn’t going to budge from his position. “Justin sat down beside me, and he watched me feed the pups.”
Gray set the plates on the table and sauntered into the kitchen and got the flatware. “Did he behave?”
Sky smiled a little. “He’s such a sweet child, Gray. He was perfect. He was so excited, but he remained still. When I was done feeding them, they all promptly piled into the corner and went to sleep. I let him go over and gently pet Gracie. She was on top of the pile.”
Gray nodded, putting down the pink linen and adding the flatware. “What happened then?”
“He started crying, the poor child. He used his little finger to pet Gracie and he just wept.”
Gray moved carefully, not wanting to engage his fussy ribs on the left side of his body. He got the salt and pepper and set the pair on the table. “Crying why?”
Shrugging, Sky took the pot off the stove. She carried it to the sink and poured the water and pasta through a colander. “I think it overwhelmed him, Gray. He loves wolves so much, and his little nervous system just couldn’t handle the joy of actually getting to touch one.”
Gray watched as she placed the empty pot in the other sink. Sky lifted the colander and then put the steaming pasta into a large green ceramic bowl. The sauce was already in another bowl on the counter and he picked it up and took it to the table. “And were you able to hold him when he cried?” Because he knew many autistic children didn’t want to be touched or held.
“Yes, he let me hold him.”
“Lucky little kid,” Gray teased, giving her a warm smile. He’d like to be held by Sky, too, but that couldn’t be broached.
Sky brought the bowl of pasta to the table. She straightened and untied the apron, hanging it over another chair. Gray brought over two glasses of water. She watched how he moved, and he was stiff, not fluid. Clamping down on the questions, she took her seat. Gray sat at her elbow. When he lifted the heavy bowl of pasta with his left hand, he flinched slightly. It wasn’t much, but she mentally noted it.
After piling a bunch of pasta on his plate and hers, he set it down. Sky picked up the marinara sauce and ladled as much as he wanted on his pasta. She did the same for hers, surrendering over to the fragrant basil in the sauce. Sky added three large meatballs to Gray’s plate and to hers.
“What did his parents think when you brought Justin back to them?”
Sky tried to focus on the delicious food she’d cooked. When Gray picked up his fork, the knuckles of his right hand were bruised, swollen and scraped. It upset her. “They were excited that Justin was so talkative. They told me normally, he wouldn’t say two words to anyone. Not even to them.”
“That’s sad,” Gray said. He forced himself to eat. Food was fuel. And he’d need to keep eating well so his body would quickly heal itself. Sky’s concerned looks in his direction didn’t go unnoticed. He kept his game face on because he wasn’t about to ruin this meal.
“I think,” Sky said, “that as the week goes on, and I’ll be babysitting him for a few hours every day, that Justin might just open up a little more. His love of wolves will provide that doorway.”
“Have you dealt with autistic kids before?”
Sky nodded. “Yes. When I was stateside on a military base hospital, we saw our fair share of them. Most were boys. The head nurse where I was receiving my E.R. training had a son who was autistic, so it was very helpful to me to understand the situation. No matter which way you cut it, Gray, it’s sad. The child is imprisoned in his or her mind. Some can’t stand to be touched, held or be around other people.” She shook her head. “Inwardly, I cry for Justin’s parents. It must be a special hell for them that he can’t show his affection to them.”
“It makes you appreciate your own upbringing,” he said. He saw how deeply touched Sky was by Justin. Sky had slowed down eating, caught up in Justin’s predicament. “Hey,” he urged, “eat. You need to regain your weight. Okay?” Gray added an encouraging grin.
“You’re right,” Sky whispered, then went back to finishing off the food on her plate.
* * *
GRAY KNEW IT was time to come clean. He’d poured them coffee after the meal. He’d gotten up earlier, removed the plates and flatware, putting them into the dishwasher and making them coffee. As he sat down at her elbow, he saw the anxiety banked in her eyes. Feeling bad in one way, Gray told Sky what had happened. As he did, her eyes widened, her lips parting with surprise.
“Harper sent them to find me,” he told her, moving the mug slowly around between his hands. “It was his way of payback when I yanked him away from you in the drugstore.” Gray watched as her cheeks went pale. He wished Sky wasn’t so easily upset, but knew it was the PTSD fueling her response.
“I didn’t like his energy,” she muttered, frowning and looking down at her coffee. “I felt danger around him, Gray, when he touched my hair.”
“I know,” he said wearily. “Harper has a reputation in the town and should be in jail for what he’s done.” He risked a look over at her. Sky’s eyes grew angry.
“The bastard,” she whispered, her fingers tightening around the mug.
“Well,” he murmured, “Cade Garner is running those prints on the two that attacked me. If he gets a match, that’s good. Even if he doesn’t, we’re going over Monday morning and finding the two guys at Ace Trucking and throwing their asses in jail for assault and battery against me.”
Sky tucked her lower lip between her teeth, feeling anxious. “What will Harper do?”
“Be pissed.” And then Gray added quickly, “At me. Not you.” He didn’t know that for sure, but he didn’t want to put Sky on alert. At least, not yet. “I’m hoping that when the charges are slapped against them, and I go through a trial and get them put away, this will be the end of it. Harper is used to pushing his weight around. A
lot of people are scared of him, and he knows it. He wins through intimidation tactics.” Gray’s mouth became a slash. “Only this time, they picked on the wrong man.”
“Does Harper know you used to be a SEAL?”
“No. I don’t make that common knowledge to anyone. It’s just better that way.”
“Maybe if Harper had known, he wouldn’t have sent his men to attack you,” she pointed out.
Gray gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Possibly. But it doesn’t matter.”
“How beat up are you, Gray?” And Sky stared hard at him. “Really?”
He gave her a small smile. “You’re like a wolverine, you know that? You won’t let go.”
Sky grinned a little. “You can’t pull the wool over my eyes, Gray. Now, do you need some fixing up? I noticed you’re favoring your left side. Did you get hit in the ribs?”
He gave Sky a full grin. “You’re good.”
“I’m very good. Do you want me to examine your injuries?”
“Yeah, probably,” Gray said. He finished off his coffee. “First, let me get a hot shower. The heat will help.”
“You’re favoring your left shoulder, too.”
Rising slowly, Gray shook his head. “I see I’m not fooling you at all.”
“Nope, you’re not.” Sky pushed her coffee aside and stood. “I’ll get some medical supplies. Meet me out here in the living room. When you’re done with your shower, come on out, and I’ll see what I can do to help you.”
“Ibuprofen will do it,” he grunted.
“Ah, yes,” Sky said, “SEAL candy. Well, we’ll see, okay?” She wanted to reach out and hold Gray. He was a man used to pain, used to carrying on regardless. But that wasn’t always the smart thing to do. The amusement lingered in his eyes, even though pain was reflected in them, too. She watched him walk. It was clear injury was making him stiffen and favor his left side. Men.
“Gray? Do you need some help undressing?” When Sky realized what she’d asked, heat flew up into her face. Gray stopped and slowly turned toward her. This time, she saw a burning look in his eyes that made her knees weak. “I mean,” she stumbled helplessly, “you might need help unbuttoning your shirt because of your left side.”
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