Colton's Ranch Refuge

by Beth Cornelison

  * * *

  Violet stared up at the natural timber ceiling of Gunnar Colton’s cabin and listened to the low rumble of voices from the next room. She fought her heavy eyelids, her fatigue the result of both blood loss and the powerful painkiller Dr. Colton had given her. If the Colton clan was going to make decisions that affected her, she wanted to be part of the conversation. But so far, because of her weakened condition, she’d been told who and what and when and where, and she’d feebly gone along with what Special Agent Colton and Dr. Colton—Emma and Derek, they’d said she could call them—had decided for her.

  Sophie, her black cat, hopped onto the bed and climbed onto her chest, where she head-butted Violet’s hand, demanding attention. Violet nudged her off her bruised and aching chest, then scratched the feline behind the ear. “Hey, Sophie girl. Crazy day, huh?”

  She heard the front door open and click shut, followed by heavy footsteps. Soon Gunnar appeared in the door of the spare room she’d been assigned, his large frame filling the portal. Though she’d been drifting in and out of sleep since receiving the painkiller for her leg, she’d been fully aware of Gunnar’s muscular arms and broad chest each time he lifted her, moving her from one place to another as if she weighed no more than a rag doll. The blinds in her room were drawn, but enough sunlight seeped around the edges and through cracks that she could make out every hard line in his rough-hewn face. He wasn’t smiling, though the day’s events gave neither of them reason to smile.

  “Do you need anything?” he asked.

  Sophie eyed him warily, and Violet stroked her cat’s head to calm the travel-stressed kitty. “Do you have any news about Mary Yoder?”

  “That the girl who was abducted?”

  Violet nodded. Her heart sat like a rock in her chest, full of fear for the girl, loaded with guilt that she’d survived the attack and not been taken, and aching with grief for the loving family who had to be missing Mary terribly tonight.

  “No. But Emma said she’d be by later tonight to talk to you again. You can ask her then.” He propped his shoulder on the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest. “So here’s where we are. I’ve got instructions from Derek to make sure you stay in bed and rest, see to it you eat three squares a day, take your meds on schedule and watch your wound for new bleeding. Apparently tomorrow morning Emma will be dropping off your kids for me to babysit until Piper and Sawyer get home from school and their nanny arrives to supervise overnight at the main house.” His frown deepened. “For the record, I have absolutely no experience with little kids. I’ll keep them from sticking a fork in the electric outlet and make sure they don’t sit around in messy diapers, but don’t expect me to be all Mother Goose with them. I didn’t sign up for this. I was drafted from a short list after my brother diagnosed your nanny with the flu and sent her to quarantine.”

  Violet closed her eyes with a resigned sigh. “I was afraid she was worse than she let on.”

  Gunnar was silent for a minute, and when she opened her eyes, he was staring at her with a wrinkle of consternation in his brow. Finally he pushed away from the wall and squared his shoulders. “Anyway...that’s the sitrep. Any questions?”

  “Sitrep?”

  “Military shorthand. Situation report. Where things stand.”

  “Oh.” Violet sank her fingers into Sophie’s fur, drawing comfort from the presence of her pet in these strange and awkward circumstances.

  “So...questions?”

  She was too tired to think, to sort out everything that had happened today. “No.”

  He jerked a tight nod. “If you need anything, I’m in the next room.” He turned to leave, and his tense manner reminded her of their first meeting. Had it only been yesterday?

  “Gunnar?”

  He stopped, his back visibly stiffening before he faced her. “Yes?”

  “Why didn’t you refuse? I can’t believe there was no other possible arrangement for me and my children. I have resources...health insurance, money to hire a private nurse...”

  He stared at her for a moment, his hazel eyes penetrating with their intensity. “The majority consensus was that this arrangement was best for you. To protect your privacy, to keep you safe and to allow you the quiet and calm you needed to recover.”

  “May I assume your vote was not part of that majority?”

  He shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “You don’t want me here.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You don’t have to. It’s pretty clear I’m an inconvenience. And my kids—”

  “Look,” he interrupted and stepped closer to the bed, “I didn’t like the plan when Derek proposed it, no. But I’m not an ass, either.”

  Violet considered reminding him that his behavior yesterday suggested otherwise but kept the commentary to herself, considering she was dependent for the time being on his good graces.

  “I’m not going to kick an injured woman and her children to the curb when they need help, even if that means I’m inconvenienced for a while. Derek and Emma are right. You’re safest here. This is the quietest place on the ranch, where you’ll also have someone around 24/7 to keep an eye on you. Derek says hiring outside help jeopardizes your privacy.”

  She narrowed her gaze on him. “And what about your privacy? Yesterday, you were pretty worried about the film crew bothering you in your refuge.”

  “Yeah, well, so I give up my privacy for a few days. Small price for the greater good, huh?” But his tone said that his sacrifice still chafed.

  Violet studied his strong jaw and rumpled dark hair. She’d wager the creases bracketing his mouth and eyes were the result of hard living, not laughter. Still, even with his grim expression, he was a strikingly handsome man. His impressive size and obvious physical strength filled her with a welcome sense of security. The sights and sounds of her attack were all too fresh in her mind, replaying in snatches like fast cuts from a movie. She suppressed a shudder and met his eyes. “Just the same...I appreciate your...cooperation. Your willingness to allow me—”

  “Stop it.” The furrow in his forehead deepened, and his mouth pressed in a hard line.

  She blinked her surprise. “Excuse me?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Don’t thank me.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not doing this for your gratitude or to curry favor with the ‘big movie star.’” He drew quotation marks with his fingers, and his sarcastic tone spoke for his disdain.

  Violet wilted into the pillow, rolling her head to the side and averting her gaze. “Forget it. I’m too tired, too emotionally wrung out to butt heads with you. Just let me sleep, okay?”

  He said nothing for a while, then huffed a sigh and grumbled a curse word under his breath. “Sorry. That was a crappy thing for me to say.”

  She turned her head toward him again and forced her weary eyes to stay open. “Yeah. It was.” He quirked an eyebrow, clearly surprised by her agreement, but she had always spoken her mind, even when her opinion wasn’t popular. “What’s more, it kinda negates your previous assertion that you aren’t an ass.”

  His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth but made only a strangled sound of dismay. He stared at her, looking as guilty and chastened as a little boy caught kicking a puppy.

  The corner of her mouth twitched in amusement. Apparently, she’d rendered him speechless, something she felt sure didn’t happen often.

  Gunnar rubbed his chin and narrowed a pensive gaze on her. “Granted, we got off on the wrong foot yesterday. But you can’t judge me on—”

  “I can’t judge you?” she said with a startled laugh that made her ribs hurt. She winced and held her side, then returned her attention to him. “You’ve judged me based on your narrow, negative stereotype of Hollywood actresses, but you know nothing about the real me.”

  He braced his hands on his hips and gave her measured scrutiny. Twisting his mouth in thought, he nodded. “Touché, Tinkerbell. So what do you say we start ov
er? Clean slate.”

  She smiled tiredly. “Works for me.” Her eyelids drooped again, and this time she didn’t fight the pull of sleep. “And now, I’m pretty worn out. I’d like to sleep before Emma comes by.”

  “Good idea.” She heard the thud of his feet on the hardwood floor, but his steps halted too soon for him to have left the room. She sensed his gaze, studying her, staring at her. She knew she had to look pretty terrible after being roughed up: no makeup, her hair pillow rumpled—but she couldn’t muster the energy to care. If he wanted to know the real Violet, this was who she was at the moment—ragged, worried, heartbroken...but determined to help the police bring Mary Yoder back home.

  * * *

  Gunnar took a beer from the refrigerator and twisted off the cap. He drank a swig of the cold brew as he walked into his living room and sank down on the leather couch. Lifting the remote, he turned his TV on to ESPN but left the volume muted in deference to Violet’s need for sleep. Considering that the broadcast at this hour featured two analysts debating hot sports topics, watching the program without sound proved kind of pointless.

  But Gunnar’s mind wasn’t on the BCS standings or the trouble a certain NBA star had gotten into. His mind was absorbed by the image of Violet laid up in his guest bed, her bruises standing out against her pale skin and her doelike eyes flashing with indignation at his thoughtless “big movie star” comment. Even after the hell she’d been through that morning, the woman had the pluck to put him in his place. The smile she’d given him after their truce had shot straight to his core, firing his protective instincts, his libido and his compassion at the same time. He couldn’t remember another woman ever having such a potent effect on him.

  When he recalled how small and vulnerable she’d looked when he first saw her at Derek’s office, his gut wrenched. He was now responsible for her throughout the course of her recovery. He didn’t take anything about that duty lightly.

  He set his beer aside and leaned his head back on the sofa to stare at the natural-wood beams of his ceiling while pondering his uncharacteristic reaction to Violet Chastain. At some point, he closed his eyes and drifted off, because the next thing he knew, an odd noise was rousing him from a light sleep. Gunnar raised his head and rubbed his neck, which had gotten stiff as he slept. Darkness had fallen outside, and his stomach rumbled, telling him it was dinnertime. He was considering his food choices, knowing he had to fix something for Violet as well, when he heard the noise again—a cross between a puppy whimpering and woman’s pleasured moan during sex. The sound came from the guest room where Violet was sleeping.

  Gunnar sat forward, perched on the edge of the couch, and listened. The whining grew to more of a frightened whimper, and he swiped a hand over his face, debating his options. Did he charge in there and comfort her, as if he were a mother coddling a child or should he give her space and let her—

  A loud thump and a sharp cry settled the matter for him.

  Chapter 5

  Adrenaline spiking, Gunnar lurched off the sofa and rushed into the dark room.

  “Violet?” He heard the note of panic in his voice, a concern that ratcheted up a notch when he discovered she wasn’t in the bed. A muffled sob reached him from the far side of the bed. He rounded the queen-size mattress, clicked on the bedside lamp and found Violet huddled in a ball on the floor, her feet tangled in the sheet that trailed off the bed.

  “What the...?” Gunnar dropped to his haunches beside her and touched her tentatively on the back. “Violet?” Had the crazy woman tried to get out of bed and fallen?

  A shudder shook her body, and she angled a teary-eyed look over her shoulder. “I was fighting...the men, and...I fell out of bed. I—”

  Gunnar tensed and swept a searching glance around the room. “What men? Were they here?” Damn it, had someone broken in his cabin while he was asleep?

  She shook her head. “Nightmare. I was reliving...” Her face crumpled, and tears spilled from her eyelashes. “It was terrifying. I’ve never been so scared.”

  He gritted his back teeth and swallowed a groan. Women’s tears terrified him. What the hell was he supposed to do?

  “Um, hey, let’s get you back in bed. Okay?” He slipped his arm around her back and hooked the other under her legs. “Did you hurt yourself when you fell?” He picked her up from the floor and carefully settled her back on the bed, propping up the injured leg again on an extra cushion.

  “It hurt, but I don’t think...” She sighed and sniffled again. “I don’t know. I just...” Violet wiped her face with her fingers and rolled her head back into her pillow. “I keep seeing Mary’s face. The pleading look she gave me when they shoved her in the car...begging me to help her.” Her voice cracked, and her wet brown eyes lifted to his. “I tried to reach her but I...I couldn’t. I...”

  Gunnar’s stomach tightened, and he averted his gaze, focusing his attention on her bandaged leg. He didn’t see any fresh blood that might indicate she’d pulled a stitch, but he made a mental note to call Derek and have him check on Violet later tonight.

  “God only knows what those creeps are doing to that poor girl,” Violet mumbled under her breath, her expression stricken, anxious.

  Gunnar didn’t tell her he had a pretty good idea what the girl was enduring, based on what he knew through Emma and Tate about the previous kidnappings. Rather than answer her, he worked on untwisting the sheet that was tangled around her ankle. “I was just about to make some dinner. Are you hungry?”

  She shook her head.

  “Come on now. I promised Derek I’d see that you ate something. You need to build your strength.”

  She stared up at him with hollow, haunted eyes. “Do you think they’re feeding her?”

  A fist closed around Gunnar’s heart, a sympathy and connection to Violet that he didn’t want to acknowledge. Trying to ignore the tightness in his chest and what he hoped had been a rhetorical question, he smoothed the sheet out and pulled it and the blanket over her. “I think I have some homemade vegetable soup in the freezer that Derek’s housekeeper made and sent over last week. Sound good?”

  Violet curled her fingers around his hand as he moved away, stopping him. “Will you stay here, just for another minute or two, until...”

  He felt the tremble in her grip as another shudder rolled through her, and his gut pitched. He hadn’t wanted to be drawn into the drama and tragedy of Violet’s situation. He had his own baggage and nightmares to deal with, thank you very much. But looking into her eyes, seeing the dark shadows lurking in her expression, he saw himself. He saw the uncertainty and ghosts that stared back from his mirror. They’d both survived a trauma, witnessed a tragedy. And lived with the guilt and pain of all the “what ifs.” What if he’d seen the suicide bomber sooner? What if the kidnappers had taken Violet instead of the Amish girl?

  When he squeezed her fingers and sat on the edge of her bed, she clutched his hand between hers and twitched a tear-filled smile. “Thank you.”

  “Look, maybe...” He sighed and searched for something comforting to say. “Maybe you survived the attack so that you could help the police find Mary and the other girls who were taken. Maybe this happened so that you can help catch the people who did this.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” She looked and sounded unconvinced. “But I’d trade places with Mary in a heartbeat.”

  “Really? What about your kids? Where would they be if something happened to you?”

  Her brow furrowed in consternation. “I don’t know. Of course I’d never want Mason and Hudson to lose me after losing Adam. But Mary...she’s so young and innocent. Being Amish, she’s led a sheltered life. She has to be terrified.” Her voice broke again, and new tears welled in her eyes.

  Violet’s concentration on Mary surprised him a little. Maybe she wasn’t the self-centered and superficial starlet he’d presumed.

  You know nothing about the real me.

  Violet was right. He knew nothing about who she was and what she wanted from lif
e. But he knew a little bit about where she’d been today and how she could get mired in the muck of her trauma. Unfortunately, he was still figuring out how to crawl out of that quicksand and not let it suck him under.

  For her sake, though, he searched for a way to give her hope and fire her will to fight back. “So here’s what you do, okay?”

  Her eyebrows dipped over her dark eyes, reflecting her skepticism, but her gaze held his as she listened.

  “You follow Derek’s instructions for getting better, and you work with Emma and Tate to bring Mary home and to help bring the bastards who took Mary to justice. Okay?”

  As she nodded, a spark lit Violet’s gaze, a resolve filled her expression with determination and hope. The fire reflected in her eyes burrowed into Gunnar and warmed him from the inside out. Without thinking about the gesture, he stroked her cheek with his free hand, drying the tears that had leaked from her eyelashes. She turned her face, leaning into his touch, and the intimate contact sent a shock wave rippling through him. He gritted his back teeth to rein in the kick of desire that pulsed through him. Wrong time and circumstance, buddy.

  Violet’s fingers tightened on his hand, and her gaze softened. “I like this side of you. Can you be this Gunnar—gentle and kind—when you’re watching my boys tomorrow?”

  He pulled his hand back from her cheek, self-conscious over his reaction to her. To cover his awkwardness, he flashed a lopsided grin. “What makes you think it’s just a side of me and not the essence of who I am?”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Seriously? I’ve met grumpy Gunnar the jerk, remember?”

  He pulled a face and shook his head. “Never happened. We started with a clean slate, right? Which means, as far as you’re concerned, nice guy Gunnar is all you know.”

  She rewarded him with a half smile that made his pulse do a stutter step. “How convenient for you.” Then, wrinkling her brow, she added, “But by that same reasoning, the only Violet you know is weepy, pitiful Violet who can’t shake the horrid images of what happened today. Not such a good first impression.”