She’s caught in her past until he shows her a future…

Some things can never be forgotten. A helicopter crash in Afghanistan. Capture. Torture. Now U.S. Navy nurse Skylar Pascal is struggling to regain control of her life after a trauma that nearly destroyed her. After losing so much, an ideal job at the Elk Horn Ranch in Wyoming offers Sky something she thought she’d never find again…hope.

Former SEAL Grayson McCoy has his own demons. But something about Elk Horn’s lovely-yet-damaged new nurse breaks something loose. Compassion—and passion. And even as Gray works with Sky to piece her confidence back together, something deeper and more tender begins to unfurl between them. Something that could bring her back to life.

But not even the haven of Elk Horn Ranch is safe from dangers. And all of Sky’s healing could be undone by the acts of one malicious man….

Praise for LINDSAY McKENNA

“A treasure of a book…highly recommended reading that everyone will enjoy and learn from.”

—Chief Michael Jaco, U.S. Navy SEAL, retired, on Breaking Point

“McKenna’s latest is an intriguing tale…a unique twist on the romance novel, and one that’s sure to please.”

—RT Book Reviews on Dangerous Prey

“McKenna’s military experience shines through in this moving tale.… McKenna (High Country Rebel) skillfully takes readers on an emotional journey into modern warfare and two people’s hearts.”

—Publishers Weekly on Down Range

“Gunfire, emotions, suspense, tension and sexuality abound in this fast-paced, absorbing novel.”

—Affaire de Coeur on Wild Woman

“Another masterpiece.”

—Affaire de Coeur on Enemy Mine

“Emotionally charged…riveting and deeply touching.”

—RT Book Reviews on Firstborn

“Ms. McKenna brings readers along for a fabulous odyssey in which complex characters experience the danger, passion and beauty of the mystical jungle.”

—RT Book Reviews on Man of Passion

“Readers will find this addition to the Shadow Warriors series full of intensity and action-packed romance. There is great chemistry between the characters and tremendous realism, making Breaking Point a great read.”

—RT Book Reviews

“Lindsay McKenna will have you flying with the daring and deadly women pilots who risk their lives.… Buckle in for the ride of your life.”

—Writers Unlimited on Heart of Stone

Wolf Haven

Lindsay McKenna

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

At last, my next Wyoming series book! In this story, you’ll get to catch up with Iris Mason and the expansion at her dude ranch. Iris is one of those people who will never let grass grow under her feet! She has a strong loyalty to the environment. And to that end, she has created a huge wildlife center on the ranch. She loves wolves and is lucky enough to snag Navy ex-SEAL Grayson McCoy to manage her facility. Now that he’s left the Navy, this is a dream job come true for him.

RN Sky Pascal, who has suffered torture at the hands of the Taliban and has serious PTSD symptoms, is desperate to find a job. Her last hope is at the Elk Horn Ranch as a nurse and a part-time babysitter. Further, she will be expected to assist Gray McCoy at the wildlife center. Sky was once a confident and competent ER nurse. Now, broken by torture, she struggles to reclaim herself.

We have many military men and women vets returning from Afghanistan. And PTSD is common to them. There are no “front lines” anymore. As a military veteran myself (US Navy), I’ve had a lot of friends and some family who have returned with PTSD. I know it up front and close.

By reading this story, I hope you will understand more deeply what this toxic trauma does to a person. The darkness of our wounds cannot hide any longer when love is brought into the mix.

I hope you enjoy Wolf Haven! Sign up for my newsletter and receive the latest news on my books. Exclusive previews, scenes and even a chapter from a book I’m writing will only be shared with you!

Warmly,

Lindsay McKenna

www.LindsayMcKenna.com

To Frances Ann Overton, one of my wonderful and inspiring readers, who has done so much for so many others. She is a role model as a special education teacher for the mentally handicapped in Kanab, Utah. Thank you for all you do, Frances. You have the biggest heart

of anyone I’ve ever met. The children under your care are very blessed to have you in their lives.

And

To Murray and Debbie Shields, owners of Eco-Treks, Toronto, Canada. You two truly inspire those who go on your offered trips a chance to reconnect with the beauty of our planet in so many wonderful ways. Thank you for allowing us to be with you on the Fraser River Bald Eagle Festival near Mission, British Columbia, Canada, November 2013. As photographers, we got so many wonderful photos of these incredible raptors. I recommend your tours to everyone around the world! You are a heart-centered couple who truly brings back the “wild” in wildlife, for beautiful hikes through rugged country, great for photographers, birders or those in need of healing with Mother Earth and all her relations. Thank you! www.Eco-Treks.com

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dear Reader

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

SKY PASCAL MOANED, tossing in her sleep on the hotel bed. Her stomach was in knots, with the pain radiating outward. She flinched and drew her legs up toward her body. The vibration of the Black Hawk helicopter surrounded her. She could smell the sweat from the bodies of the air crewmen on this flight to Forward Operating Base, or FOB, Charlie. The odor of the kerosene aviation fuel was always present.

She’d been asked to fly along with Dr. Aaron Zimmerman to take a look at an Army soldier who was thought to have appendicitis. They had been over at a different FOB when the call came in. The FOBs were only forty miles from one another, and they were the closest medical team that could respond.

Now the vibration of the Hawk skittered through her. Sky was on the metal deck of the medevac helicopter as it raced through the darkness to reach the soldier.

She was an emergency-room trained R.N. and Zimmerman, who sat near the door, was a surgeon, specializing in internal medicine. Two other combat medic crewmen, whom she could not see, were nearby. The two pilots to her left were wearing night-vision goggles.

The tension was so thick it felt like a wet blanket around her hunched shoulders. Her mind raced.

She was assigned to the Army hospital at Bagram Air Base near Kabul, Afghanistan. A first lieutenant, she had three years under her belt in the U.S. Navy. It wasn’t unusual for different military services to have personnel assigned to the huge, busy hospital. She loved her job in the E.R. Sky was good in a crisis—cool and calm. That was why Zimmerman had asked her to go with him as he visited the outlying FOBs. If he had to perform surgery on the spot at the FOB, he wanted someone like her with him.

But now her mouth was dry, and her heart was skipping beats in her chest. She was dressed in Navy fatigues, the “blueberries” coloring standing out starkly against others who wore desert-hued uniforms. Glad to have the forty-pound Kevlar vest on, Sky lived for missions like this. They were exciting and scary as hell.

She knew there was danger with any helo flight. The Black Hawk Army pilots, who were from the black-ops Night Stalker squadron, were flying high enough so the Taliban couldn’t send grenade launchers up at them. However, the Stinger missiles were always a threat. One could blow them out of the sky regardless of their altitude. Sky was a knot of excitement and fear, adrenaline leaking through her bloodstream.

She couldn’t see through the darkness because she wasn’t wearing night-vision goggles. Only the four crew members were wearing NVGs. The flight wasn’t long to FOB Charlie, located three miles from the Pakistan border. There were only two platoons at the Army base.

Sky was told this particular FOB was an essential stopgap measure to halt or slow down the Taliban and al Qaeda soldiers trying to sneak into Afghanistan. FOB Charlie was an important deterrent.

Zimmerman had warned her beforehand that this would be a dangerous mission because of the FOB’s location. Sky had leaped at the chance. Maybe she was bored. But that couldn’t possibly be. She lived on the same dicey border of stress and pressure in the E.R. Night and day, men and women were brought in chewed up by the weapons of war. She felt no small amount of pride in being part of the E.R. team who helped save those lives. Now she was going to help a young soldier with appendicitis.

The sound of the engines changed on the Black Hawk. Sky felt a sudden lurch, the nose suddenly dropping. She inhaled sharply, throwing out her hand on one of the litters against the wall. Wearing a helmet, she heard the tense, short exchanges between the two pilots.

Something was wrong.

She caught a whiff of what smelled like burning oil entering the cabin. Her pulse ratcheted up.

A sudden shrieking, screaming noise blasted through the cabin of the Black Hawk. The bird banked sharply right and plunged downward. It happened so fast. The thumping of the blades. Being thrown up against the skin, striking her head hard on the bulkhead, nearly losing consciousness. Suddenly, they were upside down. She hadn’t been able to wear the seat belt. The other crewmen were thrown around, as well. Yelling and sharp orders from the pilot filled the ears of her helmet.

They were falling out of the sky. The screeching of metal upon metal continued to shriek through the cabin.

Her mouth went dry. Sky bit back a scream. Oh, God, they were going to crash! It was some sort of mechanical malfunction. Her mind swam with terror. Where were they? She couldn’t see out the window! Gravity was shoving her hard against the aluminum skin of the Black Hawk. She was scared. She was going to die!

* * *

SKY REARED UP in the bed, screaming. The sound echoed about the small hotel room. Sweat leaked down her temples. Her ginger, shoulder-length hair swung around her face, momentarily blinding her as she threw her hands out, as if to stop herself from falling. Her legs were entangled in the sheets. She breathed in heaving sobs as she opened her eyes, trying to get rid of the sensation of the plummeting helicopter she rode down in the crash.

Still reeling from her nightmare, Sky lurched jerkily out of the bed and fell onto the carpeted floor. Landing with an oomph, her head slamming into the floor, she snapped wide-awake. She groaned, drawing up her hands, covering her face, lying flat on her belly, unable to move.

If she closed her eyes, she saw the crash behind her eyelids. If she opened her eyes, she could still smell the burning oil in the cabin, feel the helo vibrating like a wild, wounded thing around her. She heard the terse commands and tightness in the pilots’ voices up in the cockpit as they wrestled to stop the bird from augering into the Afghanistan mountains.

Her nostrils flared, and she felt the sweat running down her face. Her breath came out in explosive gasps. Her heart pounded. Oh, God... Oh, God... I’m here. Not there. I’m here. I survived... God, I survived.... And she kept up the litany in her head, unable to erase the coming crash. Or what happened after that.

Sky pushed her trembling fingers into the tight weave of the carpet, trying to orient herself to here and now.

Why wouldn’t the images go away? Why wouldn’t she stop feeling the Black Hawk shivering and whumping around her? Get up! Get up!

Sobbing for air, Sky forced her paralyzed body to move. Her nightgown was soaked with sweat. Shaky and unsteady, she got to her knees and slowly straightened her long fingers against her curved thighs. It was nearly dawn, the light leaking in around the drapes of the Wyoming Inn. Looking over at the bed stand, she saw the red numbers: 5:20 a.m.

Pushing the damp strands of her hair off her face, Sky hung her head, trying to steady her breathing. At the Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego, this was what they’d taught her when she’d get anxiety reactions or a full-blown panic attack. She’d been a broken shell of a human being when she’d been rescued by a SEAL team two weeks after being captured. They’d brought her fractured soul and tortured body to Bagram hospital, where she’d been an E.R. nurse.

Whispering her name, she held on to it. Skylar Pascal. First Lieutenant. U.S. Navy. She repeated her name again and again. She had to concentrate on her physical body. Damp palms moved down the soft cotton of her damp gown. She forced her attention to the temperature in the room on an early-June morning. Focused on any sounds she might hear, like the ticking of the clock. Finally...finally...the sensations of riding the helo down into a crash left her. The terror of thinking she was going to die in that moment eased, as did the harsh gasps tearing out of her mouth.

Slowly, Sky lifted her hands, threading her fingers through her long, straight hair. She reveled in its silkiness. Feeling how soft and sleek it was compared to the nightmare’s smells, sounds and sensations. Ground. Ground. Get back in your body, Sky. Her throat tightened, and tears jammed into her eyes. No longer did she see the movielike frames of the nightmare. Relief shattered through her as the hot tears fell down her cheeks.

Pulling her thick hair off her shoulders, the bulk of it falling between her shoulder blades, Sky didn’t even try to stop the tears. Her therapist, Commander Olivia Hartfield, a specialist in PTSD at Balboa Naval Hospital, had told her they were good. It would help to cleanse her, help her emotionally stabilize. Above all, she’d told Sky, never fight crying. Let the tears flow. They were healing. Sky wiped the perspiration off her wrinkled brow. Gulping, her mouth dry, she wanted water.

Water.

Opening her eyes, Sky let the word filter through her and bring up the soul-destroying sensations and what they did to her. Water. Once, she’d loved water, loved swimming, loved walking in the rain, running outside to feel the fury of a thunderstorm as a child. Not anymore. Water was her enemy. Water had nearly killed her. But she was thirsty.

The nightmare was leaving her, and Sky looked around. She was in a small hotel room in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. She had a job interview at 9:00 a.m. She frowned, and her heart began a slow beat, underscoring her trepidation. Sky absently touched her heart. She desperately needed this job. She’d gone through so many of them and had been either fired outright or let go with apologetic sympathy. Either way, she was unemployed when she had to find a way to survive and work like everyone else.

Water.

As she forced herself to stand, her knees felt wobbly. Sky sat down on the bed, understanding she was having an adrenaline crash. It made her weak. Made her unable to do much of anything until it passed. Her mouth felt dry and cracked. Thirsty. She was so thirsty. Sky couldn’t stand to see a pitcher of water. Shaking her head, she forced herself to lie down. Usually, once she had a nightmare, she could go back to sleep. Since Afghanistan, since the Black Hawk crash, she was lucky to get two or three hours a night. Sky closed her eyes and didn’t even try to pick up the sheets off the floor. All she wanted to do was escape into sleep. There, she didn’t have to feel anything. There, Sky could go away for just a little while....

* * *

THE ALARM STARTLED Sky out of her badly needed sleep. She jerked up, the noise sending her into panic. Heart crashing, she quickly pushed the buzzer on the clock, and it stopped shrieking at her. Looking up, she saw sunlight around the curtains. She’d set the clock for 7:00 a.m.

I have to get up. Get moving...

Glancing at the sheets and blanket strewn across the floor, she felt guilty. Sky got up and walked slowly toward the bathroom. She smelled of fear sweat. As she ran her hand down her cotton nightgown, she felt the dampness from the nightmare. She would wash her hair, as well. Today she needed to be presentable. Needed to look normal. Whatever normal meant.

She’d never be normal again. After turning on the water for a bath, she closed the bathroom door. This was the hardest thing to do: take a bath. Water meant suffocation and dying. It meant terror beyond anything she’d ever experienced. Olivia had worked long and hard with her that six months she was recovering. Worked to get her to take a bath. Sky would never take a shower again. Not ever. It would remind her of the torture she’d endured. At first, she’d wash only with a cloth and water in a steel bowl. In six months, she’d graduated from a bowl of water to taking a bath with a small amount of water in the tub. It was progress, Olivia said, congratulating her for her courage to challenge the very thing that had nearly killed her.

As Sky turned off the faucets and slowly put one foot into the tub and then the other, she got herself to focus on her coming job interview. She was to see Iris Mason, owner of the Elk Horn Ranch, at 9:00 a.m. This morning. Somehow, Sky would find the strength it’d take to gut through that interview. She needed the job. Would she get it? Or would Iris Mason see right through her and turn her down as so many other employers already had?

* * *

GRAYSON MCCOY WAS walking from the main office of the Elk Horn Ranch after talking with Iris Mason when he saw a silver Kia Sorento SUV pull up in front. He’d settled his black SEAL baseball cap on his short brown hair and slowed a little. The early-June morning was near freezing, not uncommon at this time of year for this part of Wyoming. To the east rose the jagged, tooth-shaped Teton Mountains, their slopes glazed with white snow.

Because he’d been a SEAL for seven years, he was alert and watchful. Iris, the owner of the Elk Horn Ranch, had been excited about a woman named Skylar Pascal, who was coming to interview for a job. It wasn’t just any job, either. Gray wasn’t sure he wanted to work with a woman at the wildlife center. He’d been hired a year ago because his mother, Isabel McCoy, was a noted wolf biologist and wildlife expert. Iris had wanted to create a one-hundred-acre wildlife preserve on the Elk Horn for their dude-ranch families who came every year for a vacation.

Further, Iris, who always had an eye on saving the planet, wanted part of the refuge for timber wolves and to bring them back to the States. His mother had told him about this job, and Iris had hired him on the spot.

The green grass beneath his cowboy boots was thick with dew as he slowed. Across the dirt road stood the log cabin. He watched with a little more interest as a woman dressed in a tasteful, coffee-brown pantsuit with a white blouse emerged from the SUV. His eyes narrowed speculatively as he absorbed her.

Being a SEAL, he had the ability to see all the details, which was always important. She was young, mid-twenties, with long, beautiful, ginger-brown hair that swung gently around her shoulders. The way she squared them, the way she walked, made Gray think she had a military background. Military people walked a certain way: shoulders back and proud, a straight spine, the chin slightly tilted upward. This woman was probably around five foot ten or so. Long, lean and damned graceful. She had a white leather purse she pulled over her left shoulder. Another sign of being in the military. Gray smiled to himself. It left the right arm free to salute with, and women in the military always carried their purses on their left shoulder as a result.

He didn’t want to be swayed, but when she lifted her chin and looked around—looked at him—his heart unexpectedly thumped once. It was a crazy reaction and surprising to Gray. He had been emotionally numbed out for a long time...ever since Julia’s murder.

Frowning, Gray slammed the door shut on his aching past. Instead, he zeroed in on the woman’s square face, her high cheekbones and wide-spaced blue eyes. Damn, she was good-looking as hell. A ten in his book. Yet his SEAL senses warned him that something wasn’t right about her. Nothing appeared out of place, but his finely honed intuition was never wrong. It had saved his life way too many times to count over in Afghanistan when he was with SEAL Team 3.

Not close enough to really dig into her eyes to ferret out what he sensed, Gray saw her mouth was full. Even lush. Brushed with pink lipstick. Her cheekbones were high. He wondered if she had Native American blood in her. There was keen intelligence in Skylar’s eyes, and Gray applauded that. Iris wouldn’t hire someone for the wildlife center who didn’t have a lot on the ball. His heart stirred for the first time in two years. What was it about this woman that was making him feel once again?

Gray rubbed his recently shaved chin. Skylar Pascal dressed conservatively. Even her footwear showed that. She wore no heels, just commonsense white leather shoes. Sunlight glinted off her plain gold earrings and a practical watch wrapped around her slender right wrist. He liked the way her hair glinted with red, brown and blond highlights as the early-morning sunlight slanted across the narrow valley. His fingers positively itched to tunnel through that shining, thick mass.

Gray turned away, snorting to himself. He headed down the path toward the one-story redbrick building not far away. The sign above the two main double glass doors read: Elk Horn Wildlife Center. He’d helped lay those bricks to create the building as well as the sidewalk he traversed. Glad to have his black nylon goose-down jacket on, he saw his breath turn white in the freezing air. The sky was a light blue, cloudless, and he loved this quiet time of the day.

His heart turned back to Skylar Pascal. Who was she? Iris had her résumé on her desk, but hadn’t offered it to him. She’d interviewed ten people so far, and none had met her criteria. Iris was in her seventies and knew what she wanted.

She’d single-handedly built the Elk Horn into one of the most economically successful ranches in the valley. Iris was like a sweet, silver-haired grandmother to him. That nurturing exuded from her. Iris and her second husband, Timothy, along with her son, Rudd, and the rest of her family, ran the ranch.

Halting, Gray partly turned to see Skylar Pascal disappearing inside the office door. He wondered obliquely how her interview would fare with Iris Mason.

Iris had the skill of a SEAL when it came to ferreting out a person and looking behind their game face. That was one of the many things Gray liked about the woman. She saw far and deep into a person. She’d seen him, and he hadn’t tried to hide who and what he was. He’d been a wounded military contractor who had lost his wife to Russian mafia drug runners in Peru two years ago. He’d been flown home physically wounded and emotionally devastated by the experience. And when he’d interviewed with Iris, she’d seen him, warts and all. Every question she’d asked, Gray answered truthfully and without hesitation. Iris liked his honesty. And she’d hired him on the spot.

Gray wondered what Iris would think of Skylar Pascal. She appeared elegant, beautiful and confident to him. But he knew from his twenty-nine years of living that looks were deceiving. Iris had a hunting-dog nose for people, for their foibles, their weaknesses and their strengths. She’d certainly dismantled him in a hurry during his interview. But Gray hadn’t been threatened by Iris or her questions. And he had been a SEAL where one’s honor, never telling a lie, worked in his favor during that two-hour interview with Iris.

As he wandered toward the center, Gray found himself wishing that Skylar Pascal would pass the test. He didn’t know why. He really had wanted a male assistant, not a woman. But his desire was based upon a very brutal experience that would live with him until the day he died.

Iris had been rather upbeat about this woman coming in for the interview. She was an R.N., and Iris wanted someone with that degree here at the ranch. He found it synchronistic Julia had been an R.N., too. Shrugging, he put it all out of his mind. He had no say in who Iris hired or fired. He was just grateful she’d hired him because in doing so, Iris had given him his life back whether she knew it or not.

* * *

“THANKS FOR COMING,” Iris said, gesturing for Skylar to sit down in front of her desk after shaking her hand. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

Sky sat down, placing the purse in her lap. Her heart was beating so hard she wondered if the older woman could hear it. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Just ate?” Iris asked, smiling briefly as she sat down.

“Yes, ma’am, I did.” Well, it wasn’t a lie. Sky had had coffee and some toast. It was all her tense, tight stomach would hold. When she got nervous like this, if she ate too much, she’d get sick. Not what she wanted to happen this morning.

Iris tilted her head and studied the woman. “Ma’am?” She tapped the résumé beneath her hand. “Must be your Navy training coming out?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sky murmured. She liked the maternal energy she felt around Iris Mason. The elder was about five feet five inches tall, with merry-looking blue eyes that missed nothing. Her silver hair was up in an askew knot on the top of her head. On the corner of the desk was a beat-up straw hat that she probably wore when outside.

“You don’t need to call me ‘ma’am.’ Do you like to be called Skylar?”

“Actually, if you don’t mind, most people call me Sky.”

Iris nodded. “Pretty name, either way.” She frowned and went over her résumé. At certain points, Iris had a red circle next to the item. “You were in the Navy after you graduated from college. What pushed you that direction, Sky?”

“My father had been in the Marine Corps for four years. He always talked enthusiastically about the military and how it made him a man.” She shrugged, her hands damp on her purse. “I loved all his stories about the Marine Corps. I thought it would be a good fit.” Sky tried to keep her voice low and even. Inwardly, she was taut with anxiety. Luckily, there were lots of windows and light around her. Sky couldn’t stand closed-in places. It would send her into a full-blown panic attack. Or a dreaded flashback.

“So you did this out of duty to your country?”

“I wanted to be of service. My specialty is emergency-room medicine. I thought I could be of more help at the front lines.” She shrugged a little shyly. “Maybe save some lives...”

Nodding, Iris said, “I like people who like to serve. Here on our ranch, we get six dude-ranch families in every week from June first to September first. I like people who want to help others.” She squinted her eyes and studied Sky. “Did you get that service gene from your mother or your father?”

Sky tried to smile. “My mother.”

“Tell me about her.”

Sky felt suddenly exposed. Normally, interviews were straightforward and about only her job. Iris, however, seemed to have another agenda. Why? “My mother, Balin, is a full-blood Cheyenne. From the time I could remember, she taught me about generosity, being accountable and helping others. She has always been my role model.”

Iris nodded. “Native Americans have a high ethical code, and you are lucky you have a mother like that to raise you in those traditions.”

“Yes, Ms. Mason, I think so.”

“Call me Iris,” she said. “I don’t stand much on ceremony around here. Okay?”

Sky relaxed slightly. “Of course, Iris.”

Tapping the résumé with her pen, Iris said, “The job I’m looking to fill requires someone who is a multitasker of sorts, Sky. I need an R.N. here who can take care of bumps, bruises and scrapes our ranch guests get. I need a babysitter from time to time because some families bring in very young children. Even babies. And they need to be watched and cared for. Then there is my wildlife center. I need to hire an assistant to help Grayson McCoy, who runs it. That means cleaning up poop from the wild animals and doing any other dirty, grimy job that needs to be done. We have two timber wolves, for starters. Gray’s mother, Isabel McCoy, is a world expert on wolf behavior. How are you around kids, babies and animals?”

Sky felt some of her tension bleed off. “I love children, Iris. Babies especially. And animals always lift my spirit.”

“Good. What about playing nursemaid to the kids if they get a cut or bruise?”

“My E.R. background can take care of just about anything that comes up without any problem.”

“Are you afraid to work around wild animals?”

No. Just human animals. Sky compressed her lips and shook her head. “I’m not afraid of animals, Iris.”

“With your Native American blood, I’m guessing that nature and anything livin’ in it would appeal to you?”

“I love being outdoors,” Sky whispered, suddenly emotional. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes and forced them back. “I live to breathe fresh air, feel the wind on my face, the warmth of sun on my skin. I love all animals. I respect them.” And in the two weeks she’d endured torture, it had been in a cold, damp, airless room without any windows.

“Thought you might,” Iris said with a grin. “It’s in your blood. In your bones.”

“Yes,” Sky said with a slight smile.

“How are you at getting along with men?”

The question startled Sky. She saw the bulldog set of Iris’s expression. “Why...er...fine. I was in the military, and although I was a nurse, I worked around far more men than women without any problem.”

“I see.” Iris tapped the résumé. “If you were doing so well in the Navy, why’d you leave it, Sky?”

Her throat tightened. Her fingers clenched the leather purse in her lap. Sky was about to give her a standard, pat answer, but something warned her to be honest with Iris. Was it because the woman was so nurturing and warm? “Well,” she choked out, “I actually received an honorable medical discharge. I—I didn’t want to leave the Navy, but I had to.”

Iris sat up, studying her in the thickening silence. “Can you tell me why you received that kind of a discharge? Did you have some kind of health condition that wouldn’t allow you to continue being a Navy nurse?”

Sky knew in her heart that the job was hers if she just came clean. There was something magical about Iris Mason. The feeling that she wouldn’t hold the truth against her gave Sky the courage to answer her.

CHAPTER TWO

SKY TOOK A deep breath. Iris was the only other person, besides her parents, that she would tell. Too afraid of judgment from others, Sky evaded and avoided the truth at every turn with everyone. Even her father, who had told her to grow up and take it like a man. She licked her lower lip, and the words came out in a strained whisper. “I was in a helicopter crash and was one of the two survivors. I was then captured by the Taliban.” Her brows dipped, and she closed her eyes for a moment, all the terrifying emotions welling up inside her as she brought it all back. “I—uh...I was tortured for two weeks before a SEAL rescue team found me.” Lifting her head, Sky tried to steel herself for a reaction similar to her father’s. Instead, she saw nothing but sympathy in Iris Mason’s wrinkled face.

“I’m so sorry,” Iris said, her voice heavy with regret. “Do you have any physical problems because of it?”

Sky shook her head. “No...none. I’m a hard worker, Iris. I love outdoor, physical work. It actually helps me....”

Iris nodded, frowning and giving her a patient look. “It took a lot of courage to tell me this.”

Her fingers knotted a frayed thread on the edge of her purse. “Yes, ma’am...I mean...Iris.” Sky wanted to cry because Iris’s reaction was the same as her mother’s. It gave her the courage to look up and meet the elder’s darkened gaze. “You should know,” she went on, “that I have PTSD. The six months I was at Balboa Naval Hospital I received therapy for it.”

Iris nodded. “You’ll be glad to know you have company here on the ranch. Gray McCoy, the man who runs my wildlife center, is an ex–Navy SEAL. He has PTSD, too.”

Sky’s eyes widened, and she stared over the desk at Iris. “Really?” He was in the military. In the Navy. She knew a lot about the SEALs because so often these operators were wounded in action and arrived at her E.R. at Bagram. They were true heroes in her eyes. Men made of flesh and bone with lions’ hearts. She’d treated them over the years and had come to admire and respect them for their courage, their grit and toughness.

“Really,” Iris murmured. “Can you still operate with people, around children and babies, with your PTSD?”

“Yes, I can.”

“What can’t you do?”

Sky liked her question. “I, um, don’t do well in dark, enclosed spaces that have no fresh air.”

“Crowds?”

Sky shrugged. “I don’t like going into a movie or restaurant that’s full of people.”

“Would six dude-ranch families be too much for you to be around?”

“No.” And Sky’s mouth drew up a little. “Besides, I love kids. And babies. I never feel anxiety around them. Just...crowds.”

“I like your honesty, Sky. It becomes you.”

“Thank you. I feel as if I can trust you. I don’t know why, but I do. I don’t want to be hired without you knowing that....”

“I’ve got a small office in back,” Iris said, pointing behind her. “I was thinking it could be used as a medical office.”

“Does it have at least one window?”

She nodded. “Has two. That work for you?”

“Yes, that would work. Thank you.”

“What kind of symptoms do you have, Sky?”

“Nightmares,” she admitted, scowling. “I have them a lot, and I wake up screaming.”

“Well, Gray and you have another thing in common—nightmares.”

Sky almost felt as if she already knew this man. “I feel for him,” she said. “I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.”

“Do you lose a lot of sleep because of it?”

“I get between three and five hours of sleep a night.” Sky shrugged. “I’m a nurse, and I hate taking drugs. I refuse to take sleep medication. My mother told me a long time ago that dreams were a way of healing ourselves, and I believe her. If I take sleep meds, I don’t dream. I guess I’d rather tough through the nightmares because sooner or later, the trauma will defuse itself through them, and I’ll be free. I hope.”

“You and I hate drugs,” Iris murmured, amusement in her eyes. “I have no problem with you having nightmares and not wanting to take meds to knock you out.”

“Good.”

“Any other symptoms I should know about?”

“I get panic attacks if I’m in a small, dark room.”

“What else?”

Sky bit down on her lower lip, her lashes sweeping downward. Iris was acting as if none of this bothered her. Was she really contemplating hiring her? How much should she divulge? Fear gnawed at her. “I get anxiety when I’m overly stressed.”

“Can you give me an example of it, Sky?”

She lifted her lashes and raised her head. “I got hired at a hospital over in Casper when I got released from the Navy. I found out very quickly I couldn’t stand the constant stress of E.R. work like I had before. I get rattled, and I’m no longer cool, calm or collected in that circumstance.”

“The stress level around here on a scale of 1 to 10 is a 3. Can you handle that?”

“Sure.”

“Good,” Iris said. She folded her hands and gave her a gentle look. “I like you, Sky. We try and hire vets around here. Vets have always been good for our ranch because they are hard workers who are responsible, and they’re loyal. I see those same qualities in you. I’m okay with your PTSD. We have good health insurance for all our employees. Your wounding came from war. It changes a person sometimes permanently, but you know what? No one can steal your soul from you.” She smiled a little. “I’d like to hire you, Sky. I think you’ll be a fine addition to our growing staff. How about I take you around and show you our place, the dude-ranch portion, the medical office? After this we’ll go over to the wildlife center and you can meet Gray, your boss. How does that sound?”

Sky’s heart skittered briefly with joy. It was the first time since her torture that happiness had threaded through her dark depression. “Thank you, Iris. I’d love to come work for you, for the ranch.”

Eyes twinkling, Iris slowly stood up and threw the old straw hat on her head. “Kinda thought this might be the perfect environment for you, Sky. You ready to check out your new digs?”

Was she? Euphoria, sweet and strong, soared through Sky. She sat there savoring the hope that came with it. Iris was smiling at her, kindness shining in her eyes. “More than ready, Iris.”

“Come on,” she urged, waving her hand toward the door.

* * *

“HEY, IRIS, YOU wanted to see me?” Gray closed the screen door to the office. His boss was sitting behind her desk.

“Indeed I do. Come on in for a minute.”

Gray removed his baseball cap and sat down in front of her desk.

“I’m sorry we missed you this morning. I just hired Sky Pascal. She’s an R.N., and I was hoping to have her meet you at the wildlife center.”

Gray grimaced. “Sorry. I had to run into town unexpectedly and pick up some supplies from the Horse Emporium.”

Waving her hand, Iris said, “I understand. Anyway, we need to have a chat about our latest employee, who will be your assistant.”

“Okay.” Gray saw some darkness in Iris’s normally bright, shining blue eyes.

Iris handed him the résumé. As Gray read through it, she shared the details from the interview she’d had with Sky. When she mentioned the PTSD, his head snapped up, his eyes narrowing intently on her.

“None of this is in her résumé,” he said, handing it back to her.

“She came clean with me.” And then Iris smiled faintly. “Just like you did during your interview with me.”

Gray flashed her a wry look. “I like her already. She’s honest.”

“That’s what I felt. It took a lot for her to discuss the situation with me. It was highly stressful on her.”

“What caused her PTSD?” Gray knew nurses would sometimes be at forward operating bases, and they got shelled and attacked by the Taliban. That was enough to give anyone PTSD.

“She told me she was in a helicopter crash and then captured by the Taliban and tortured.”

Instantly, Gray’s brows went down. He felt suddenly protective of the woman he’d seen this morning. “What?” That blew him away.

“Yes,” Iris said, going on in a low voice, “she said a SEAL team rescued her two weeks later. She spent six months at Balboa Naval Hospital after that. And then the Navy gave her an honorable medical discharge.”

His knuckles whitened around the arms of the chair he sat in. Gut tightening, he felt sick about it. “She looked fine this morning,” he muttered. “I saw her drive in and get out of her car.”

Iris raised an eyebrow. “Looks are deceiving, Gray. You probably know that better than most of us because of your SEAL training.”

Stunned by the information, Gray sat there, a host of raw, painful feelings twisting through his gut. “Yeah, I do know. But, Iris, this is rare. Rare for a woman to be captured and tortured. I mean, I’ve never heard of it while I was in.”

“It was bound to happen,” Iris said bluntly. “Women are serving in combat zones now. There are no lines of demarcation any longer.”

“I don’t deny that,” Gray said, scowling. Sky Pascal had looked so clean, untouched and beautiful this morning. God, what must she have gone through? “Did she say what kind of torture?”

“No, and I didn’t ask. I felt it was enough she told me. And it took everything for her to say it. She really struggled.”

Nodding, Gray felt his throat close up. His mind clicked along at a million miles an hour. “Damn.”

“Look, Sky knows you were a SEAL. I told her you two shared one thing in common—PTSD.”

“Yeah, that’s the truth,” he admitted darkly.

“But I need to warn you she has nightmares. Told me she wakes up screaming from them.”

His heart ached. For two years, Gray had been numb. Now he was filled with all kinds of emotions, as if his feelings were pulling out of their dormant state and coming to life once again. Reeling from the information, he rasped, “How often?”

“She said pretty often.”

“It’s still fresh in her,” he said. “That’s why.”

“Last I heard, you were getting nightmares about once every couple of weeks.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “But initially, especially the first year after the experience, a person can get nightmares three to six times a week. It’s brutal, Iris.”

“Guess that’s the phase of healing she’s in,” Iris said. “You up to dealing with this? Because the employee house is where both of you will be living when you’re not doing your eight hours of work around here.”

“It won’t be a problem,” Gray assured her.

“Maybe you can be of support?”

“Sure.” Pushing his fingers through his short brown hair, Gray added, “I can help, but damn, Iris, I’m not a psychotherapist. I could do more damage to her than help.”

“You know,” Iris drawled, sitting back in her chair, “the one thing age has taught me is if you come from the heart, it’s never wrong. Keep that in mind, Gray. Love of a sister or brother human being is pure light and never damages, but heals.” She wagged her finger at him. “I know you haven’t practiced much love as a SEAL, but you have a heart, you have feelings, and I believe that you can be there to help Sky if she needs it. Don’t you?”

Hell, he was already there, but he wasn’t going to tell Iris. He grinned a little. “Yeah, I can do it.”

“Good,” Iris said gruffly. “I need you to go over with your truck and pick her up at the Wyoming Inn, where she’s staying. Pack up her stuff and bring her back here. She’s taking the East bedroom. You’ve been assigned the West one. I’m going to leave it up to you to get her up to speed on stuff. Any problems, you come to me. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gray said, rising. He saw the bulldog set of Iris’s mouth and knew she was invested in Sky. And why not? From what he’d seen from a distance, Sky was worth fighting for. Worth caring for. Worth protecting.

He could sense all those SEAL feelings coming to life once more within him. When Julia had been murdered in South America, because he’d been unable to protect her, he’d died, too, in a different way. Now he was like a grizzly coming out of winter hibernation, coming back into the light of day. The fact Sky had been tortured twisted him in an unexpected way.

Iris sat there watching him. “I know you’re thinking of Julia,” she said softly. “Maybe this is a way to help you along with closing that wound within yourself.”

Wincing internally, Gray stood there absorbing Iris’s words. He’d fallen in love with Julia. He had been a military contractor assigned to protect her. And a year later, when she’d been caught in a cross fire, she had thrown herself in front of him. Taken bullets meant for him, such was her love. The guilt he carried was like an elephant sitting on his chest all the time. To this day, he faulted himself. He and Julia were married, and she’d sacrificed her life for his. Gray’s mouth flattened, and he slowly put the baseball cap on his head. “I don’t know about that, Iris.”

“It’s just a thought,” she said. “Now, skedaddle. Let me know when you have Sky here and acclimated. I’d like her to start day after tomorrow. Give her a ride around the ranch some morning.”

“Roger,” he said, leaving. Every time Julia’s name was brought up, it was like a branding iron savagely burned into his heart. The pain was insurmountable. The grief, equally serrating. As he took the wooden steps down to the lawn surrounding the building, he scowled. So far, he’d stuffed all his feelings into his kill box regarding Julia’s murder. SEALs learned to completely bury their emotions, leaving them clear-minded and free of distraction so they could operate efficiently. Emotions brought murkiness, indecision and hesitation. It could be a deadly distraction. Unsecured emotions could get a SEAL killed.

* * *

A SOFT KNOCK came at Sky’s hotel door shortly after lunch. She had opened up her suitcase, packed her toiletries and was getting ready to leave. She looked through the peephole.

A man with a weather-hardened face, his hazel eyes large and intelligent, stood relaxed at the door. Sky had seen him briefly the morning of her interview. Remembering Iris had said she’d send one of her wranglers to help her pack and get to the grocery store, she opened it.

The man wore a black baseball hat, the SEAL symbol embroidered in gold on the front of it. Her heart picked up in beat. He was built like all the other SEALs she’d ever seen at the E.R., lean, hard muscle. Not muscle-bound. She saw the creases at the corners of his eyes, telling her he’d spent a lot of time out in the elements. He had a square face, a nose that had been broken at least once, a scar that ran along the left side of his jaw. His eyes were narrowed upon her, and she could feel him instantly begin to catalog her; that was what SEALs did. They left no stone unturned.

SEALs reminded her of a primal animal in his element of raw survival.

“Ms. Pascal?” he asked in a low voice.

Her gaze moved down his arms. He wore a blue chambray shirt, the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. His arms were darkly haired, his hands large, fingers long and capable. She gulped. “Yes. Did Iris send you?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m Grayson McCoy. I run the wildlife center for Iris.” He saw how pale she’d become, her gaze showing her uncertainty. Wanting to put her at ease, not place her on terror alert, he forced a slight smile. “Iris asked me to come over and help you out. I’ll take you to the grocery store and anywhere else you might want to go to before you move into the employee house this afternoon.”

Her fingers went to her throat. Sky could feel her pulse bounding beneath her fingertips. That was how much this man, this SEAL, affected her. When the corners of his mouth drew up, his game face dissolved. He looked approachable, human. “That would be nice. Thank you, Mr. McCoy.”

“Call me Gray. I’m not much on protocol, either,” he said. The change in Sky was stunning. Color rushed back to her cheeks. He liked her long, narrow hands. Seeing her pulse on the side of her slender neck, Gray found himself wanting to explore her as a woman. Sky Pascal was a looker. If he’d thought she was beautiful from a distance, she was exquisite now. “Can I help you pack or carry your suitcase down to your car, Ms. Pascal?”

Flustered, Sky saw the intense look he gave her. She might be all of twenty-six, but she knew when a man was appreciating her as a woman. For a moment, she was tongue-tied, which wasn’t like her at all before her capture. Since then, broken psychologically by the torture, she’d become shy and unsure of herself, her old self murdered by the Taliban. “Just call me Sky.” She stepped aside and gestured him into the well-appointed room. “I have one suitcase.”

Gray nodded deferentially and entered the room, feeling the woman’s nervousness. She wore the same pantsuit, looking quietly elegant. He watched as she quickly closed the door, noting her hands trembled. Purposely backing up so he wasn’t crowding her, Gray couldn’t stop liking what he saw. The sunlight was pouring into the window, and her ginger hair shone with gold and red highlights. It swung clean and shining across her shoulders. “Iris said she’d have me pay for the room. She doesn’t want you paying for it.”

“That was very kind of her. Thank you.” Her heart was going crazy in her chest. Gray McCoy reminded her of a lethal snow leopard, never hearing him come until it was too late. He had that distinctive SEAL walk, one of complete silence. Sky hadn’t been interested in a man for a long time. Now her body was behaving as if it had a mind of its own. She could feel her breasts tightening, feeling the heat of his gaze.

What was wrong with her? Was the stress too much? And yet, Sky didn’t feel anxious. Oddly, she felt protected by Gray. It was a sense, an energy. Nothing overt or obvious. Maybe it was the care she saw burning in his hazel eyes that missed nothing. She noticed how he gentled his tone of voice, as if dealing with a hyper wild horse. On some days, that was exactly how Sky felt. Bad days. On good ones, she was emotionally stable. But not today.

“Here,” he said, stepping forward, placing his hand around the handle of the suitcase, his chest barely brushing her shoulder, “let me get that for you.”

Sky stepped out of the way, her shoulder tingling wildly in the wake of Gray accidentally brushing against her. He smelled of sunshine, pine and a hint of sage that grew so prolifically in other parts of Wyoming. A man’s smell. Masculine. It made her ache. Sky hadn’t felt sexual in such a long time. She’d thought the capture had killed her femininity. Apparently not. At least, not with Gray McCoy, who stood patiently waiting with her suitcase in his hand. As a nurse, she was good at small talk. Now words just jammed up in her throat, and she couldn’t get anything out of her mouth. Sky missed that ability because in the past, she’d been able to gently communicate with men who were in excruciating pain and calm them with her voice and touch.

Picking up her purse, she said, “I’m ready.” When he smiled a little, one corner of his mouth hooking upward, his green, gold and brown eyes soothing, she felt a sheet of heat wind through her like a warm spring day.

Gray opened the door and stepped out, holding it for her. “Do you, by the way, have any jeans or work clothes with you?”

“I don’t.”

“No worries,” he assured her, shutting the door. “We’ll stop by the Horse Emporium on the way out of town. They have men’s and women’s work clothes. Iris wants you to start the day after tomorrow at 9:00 a.m.” He looked down at her. “That work for you?”

“Yes.”

Gray saw her hesitate, sort of looking like a deer in headlights, paralyzed. He knew PTSD could do it to a person when they were becoming overwhelmed with too much information, and they couldn’t process it as quickly as other people. “What would you like to do first?” He knew how important it was to hand back the control to her. It would ease her anxiety.

Sky gave him a look of apology. “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed. I wasn’t really thinking I’d get the job.”

Gray smiled. “Iris knows what she wants. And she likes you a lot. Had nothing but praise for you when she told me she hired you.” He watched her begin to relax, some of the tension leaving her face. Did Sky know how beautiful she was? Was she in a relationship? Iris never said.

“Thanks for understanding.”

“Follow me,” Gray urged quietly, heading down the hall toward the elevator.

Sky felt pleasure watching this man walk with such silent grace. The breadth of his shoulders, his well-sprung chest narrowing into a flat, hard belly and narrow hips. The Levi’s hugged his long, thick thighs, telling her he spent a great deal of time in the saddle. As they waited for the elevator, she said, “Iris mentioned you were in the Navy like me.”

“I was a SEAL.”

“What team?”

“ST3.” He angled his head to see if she understood the terminology.

“I patched up a few ST3 operators the years I was at Bagram,” she said softly.

“You never saw me,” he said wryly, holding open the elevator door for her to enter first. “In a way, now I’m sorry you didn’t.”

“No, I never saw you in my E.R.,” she noted wryly. There was something about Gray McCoy that was allowing her to relax for the first time since being released from the hospital. Maybe it was his easygoing way, the warmth and care she saw burning in his eyes toward her. Or? Again, she felt him silently appreciating her as a woman. It lifted her spirits. Sky swore masculine heat radiated off his body. And she felt she could trust him. Maybe because he was an ex-SEAL? Her experiences with them had always been positive in the past. Why not now?

CHAPTER THREE

SKY WORRIED THAT Gray McCoy would ask her too many questions about her stint in the Navy. But to her relief, he didn’t say another word. He was quiet as he drove her over in his truck to Albertson’s, the main grocery store for Jackson Hole. They would pick up her SUV at the inn afterward. He walked quietly behind her, reminding her of a guard dog watching over his mistress. She pushed the cart around, gathering the food for her dinners. Like a silent shadow, he wasn’t one for small talk, but then, SEALs were a very closed-mouth bunch anyway. As she went to the vegetable section, Sky saw Gray’s face grow amused.

“Are you vegan?” he wondered, watching her put a lot of green stuff into her cart.

“No. Why?”

Shrugging amiably, Gray enjoyed watching Sky’s grace as she moved. He liked following her, the sway of her hips inciting a cauldron of heat in his lower body. She had healing hands with long, tapered fingers. “Employees have a house on the ranch. There’s a full kitchen, living room, an office with a computer, and there’s two bathrooms. Since I was the only one living there, I made meals every night.” He gave her a hopeful look. “I was going to ask if you wanted to cook, and then I’d take the next night and make us a meal.”

Sky laughed a little. It felt so good to laugh! “Let’s see if I’m following this. You’re afraid I’m going to make rabbit food when you’re a strapping wrangler who’s wanting a beefsteak instead?”

God, she looked incredibly desirable when she smiled. Really smiled. A smile that went straight into those shining dark blue eyes with huge black pupils. Those ginger lashes were long and emphasized the cobalt color of her eyes. Gray had the good grace to look down at his dusty boots for a moment. When he lifted his head, his mouth twitched with a smile. “You’re pretty good. Is that your nurse’s radar in action? Reading a patient?”

A surge of joy tunneled through Sky as she basked in the sunlight of his masculine smile. He’d hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his Levi’s, standing with his weight on one boot. He was comfortable in his skin as a man. And he was comfortable with who he was. “It’s nurse’s radar for sure. Was I right?”

“Yes, you were.”

“What do you like to eat?”

“Meat and potatoes. A salad is okay, too.”

“Where were you born, Gray?” It was the first time she’d said his name, and it rolled off her tongue like a delicious chocolate. Sky liked the sound of his name. It fit him. Gray was a color that was neutral, a combination of black and white. His dark side was as a shadow warrior in black ops. His light side? Did he have one? Sky thought he did. In time, perhaps he would reveal that side of himself to her.

“Cheyenne, Wyoming.”

“Ah, the capital of the limited palate?”

He grinned a little. “Guilty as charged.”

Sky leaned against the cart and studied Gray openly for the first time. He didn’t seem to mind her looking him over. His cheeks had turned ruddy even beneath his deep tan. There was a little boy hidden in this man’s body; she could feel it. Sky bet he had a little boy’s awe of the world and that it was magical. Maybe she’d find out later. “I’m kind of a garbage-can eater,” she confided. “I’ll eat just about anything.”

“Where were you born?” he teased.

Laughing softly, Sky said, “Casper, Wyoming.”

“Vegan city?”

“Not really. My mother’s full-blood Cheyenne, and I was raised on venison and buffalo for the most part. That and a lot of trout. My father is a gourmet chef when he gets in the mood, and growing up, he taught me about spices, sauces and gravies.”

“Gravy is definitely something I could get used to.”

“Figures. Meat, potatoes and gravy kind of guy.”

His straight, dark brows rose. “Is there anything else?”

Sky shook her head and gave him a sour grin. “I don’t mind cooking dinner every other night. The real question is, will you eat what I make or starve?”

“I won’t starve,” Gray assured her. “I probably don’t have a gourmet gene in my body, but I’ll do my best. My mother always said when food is cooked with love, it always tastes good.”

“I like your can-do spirit,” Sky teased. “Are you open to Chinese?”

“Sure, as long as there’s some meat with it.”

“Middle Eastern food?” Because it was a favorite of hers. His smile deepened.

“Yeah, I like lamb, couscous and stuff like that.”

“See? This isn’t going to be a food nightmare for you like you thought.”

Gray enjoyed their repartee. “What’s that bok choy you just grabbed used for?”

“It’s for wonton soup. The Chinese version of chicken soup. You’ll love it.”

“As long as it has a healthy amount of meat in it, I’ll survive.”

Sky smiled and continued down the row of vegetables. “Lots of chicken,” she promised.

“Gray!”

A woman’s voice floated over the veggie department, and Sky stopped the cart, looking in that direction. A red-haired woman in her early thirties smiled and came their way. Sky saw that she was decidedly pregnant.

“Hey, Val, good to see you,” Gray greeted her warmly, grinning as she walked over with her arms full of plastic vegetable sacks.

Val nodded. “Who is this, Gray?” And then she got devilry in her green eyes. “Your new girlfriend?”

Sky felt her cheeks go red hot.

Gray winced. “No. Val McPherson, meet Sky Pascal. Iris just hired her today to be my assistant. She’s also an R.N. and will be setting up a small medical office at the ranch.”

“Hey, Sky, welcome to Jackson Hole,” Val said, shifting all the veggies to one arm and thrusting her hand out toward her.

“Here...” Gray muttered. “Let me...” He took all the sacks from Val.

“Hi,” Sky said, liking the woman immediately. “How far along are you?”

Val looked over her shoulder and watched as what had to be her husband rounded the corner. She waved him to come over. He had the cart. Turning, Val placed her hands on her swollen belly. “Seven months and counting.”

“That’s wonderful,” Sky sighed.

“It is now,” Val griped. “Morning sickness sucked, I’ve got to tell you.”

Laughing, Sky nodded. “Yeah, it’s a real pain. Are you going to have a home birth or go to the hospital?”

Val raised her brows. “I want a home birth, but my husband here—” she grabbed the man’s hand and drew him to her side “—is scared out of his mind I’ll end up dying at home trying to give birth. Griff? This is Sky Pascal. She’s an R.N. and will be working at the Elk Horn Ranch.”

Griff doffed his gray Stetson. “Nice to meet you, Sky. You say you’re an R.N.?”

“She is,” Gray said, reaching over and shaking Griff’s hand.

Val grabbed Sky’s arm. “Listen, I’m all ears. What’s your speciality as an R.N.?”

“Oh, I wasn’t in obstetrics. I was an E.R. nurse. Sorry.”

“Well, no matter. Did you ever deliver any babies?”

Gray watched Sky’s face light up with unabashed joy.

“Yes, I’ve delivered about forty babies while I was over in Afghanistan.”

Val blinked. “You’re military?”

“Was,” Sky admitted.

“I was in the Air Force. An intel officer.”

“I was a first lieutenant in the Navy.”

Griff looked at all of them. “Now I’m feeling left out. I’m the only one here who hasn’t been in the service.”

Gray patted his shoulder. “You’ll get over it, Griff.” And the two men traded grins.

Val patted Sky’s hand. “Listen, we must get together. Okay? We’ll do lunch over at Mo’s Ice Cream Parlor. Best food in town. I’d love to hear about your military experiences.”

Sky’s smile faded a little. “I’d love to, Val. Maybe when I get my feet under me with my new job over at the ranch?”

“Of course,” Val said. She gave Gray a teasing look and then whispered in her ear so everyone couldn’t hear, “He’s single....”

Sky wanted to melt into the floor and disappear. “I figured he was since he’s living at the employee house like I am,” she said.

Val nodded sagely. “You two would make a lovely couple. Well, gotta run! I’m going to be late for my ob-gyn’s appointment if I don’t get these veggies to the cash register. Gray, see you later.” And then Val gave him an evil look. “And you be nice to Sky. No pranks.”

Gray managed to look puzzled at her assumption. “Yes, ma’am,” he teased back, leaning down and giving Val a swift kiss on the cheek. As Gray straightened, he patted Griff on the back. “Hang in there, McPherson. Two more months...”

Sky watched the warm and affectionate banter among the three of them. Gray’s guard had gone down when Val and Griff arrived. They were clearly good friends. She hoped Gray would be that relaxed around her, one day soon. When he looked at her, she felt as giddy as a teenage girl swooning over the football captain who gave her a glance.

Sky wasn’t sure what was going on, so many different impressions hitting her. With the PTSD, every sense was heightened, even her intuition. It was almost too much busy activity with Val coming in like a tornado out of nowhere. She saw Gray’s smile dissolve and concern appear in his darkening hazel eyes that turned more brown in color.

“You okay?”

Sky collected herself and said, “Yes.”

“Iris said you had PTSD like me.”

Her stomach tightened. “Uh, yes, I do.” Please, God, don’t let him ask me anything about it. Please...

“Val is high energy,” Gray told her in a quiet tone. “And people with PTSD feel like they’ve been blasted by a bomb around a person like that. You’re looking a little exhausted.”

Rattled by his insight, Sky grimaced. “God, am I that readable? I hope Val didn’t notice. I really like her, and she was very nice.”

Without thinking, Gray placed a thick strand of hair behind her ear. It had been an unthinking reaction. An intimate act between a man and woman. He cursed himself because no woman had drawn him out like this since Julia. What was it about Sky that invited his touch? His fingers fairly itched to feel that thick, loose, shining hair of hers. He wanted to smell it, run the strands against his cheek and feel the silkiness of it, of her. He saw the shocked response in her expression after his hand fell to his side. Her eyes went huge, and her lush lips parted.

“Sorry,” he muttered, frowning. “It won’t happen again.”

Sky’s ear tingled in the wake of his touch. Her heart was thudding in her chest. Her lower body flexed. Sky knew what that meant. Before her capture, she’d had two other healthy relationships in her life. She enjoyed sex immensely and had grieved over the loss of it later.

The look in Gray’s eyes had warmed as he’d caught the strand on his finger and eased it behind her ear. She felt him wanting her. Man to woman. And he looked properly sorry that he’d done it when she’d overreacted to his gesture.

“No,” Sky whispered quickly, “it’s not you, Gray. It’s me. I’m just jumpy when someone makes a fast move toward me with their hand.”

Now Gray felt like a jerk. She was tortured, you asshole. He had no idea what had been done to Sky. He had to be careful with her.

“Listen,” he said, holding her gaze, “I am really sorry, Sky. I didn’t think. I’ll try and watch myself so I don’t accidentally scare the hell out of you.”

“No...it’s me. It’s okay. I—I just have to learn to not overreact like this, that’s all.”

Nodding, Gray forced a slight smile to help her defuse her wariness. Sky was so readable, unlike SEALs, who had the best poker faces in the world. “You got a deal.” He had no desire to push her about her experience. In time, maybe she’d trust him enough with that volatile and terrifying ordeal. Until then, he was going to try to make damn sure he never startled her as he just had. “So,” he said, trying to sound light and teasing, “do you have enough vegetables now? The fridge is only so big.”

Sky managed a slight smile. “Yes, I’m done shopping.”

“Would you like a bouquet of flowers?” Gray wondered as they walked toward the front of the store. “Kind of a welcome to Elk Horn Ranch?” He noticed how she gazed longingly toward the area where the bouquets were kept.

“No...not right now. I’m really short on cash at the moment. Maybe in a few weeks.”

Gray cursed silently. He was like a bull in a china shop with her. If she was looking for a job, she probably had very little money, if any, to live on. “Well,” he told her sternly, pulling out his wallet, “you’re not paying for any of this.”

“But—”

Gray flashed her a dark look. “Listen, consider this a celebration gift that you got a job.” He slid the bills into her hand and said, “I’ll be right back.”

Shocked again over his generosity, Sky had purposely chosen only rice, beans and vegetables because she couldn’t afford expensive meat. She had only twenty dollars left to her name. And a maxed-out credit card. As she got in line at the cash register, she watched Gray walk into the flower section. He moved through the pails of flowers like a cougar hunting prey. Finally, he chose a large bouquet and turned, walking toward her. The look on his face showed her he had his game face on once again. As he drew closer, however, the hardness in his eyes thawed, and she saw that gold-and-green warmth shining in them again. For her.

“What do you think?” he asked, handing her the bouquet.

Sky was dazzled. The flowers were pink and white oriental lilies, yellow Asian lilies, fragrant white roses and red Gerbera daisies. Seeing the price, she said, “They’re beautiful, Gray, but they cost too much.”

“I’m buying,” he informed her. “Do you like them?” He held her upturned gaze. Her mouth was driving him crazy. Her lips were full, soft, and God, he wanted to taste them beneath his mouth.

“Are you sure?” Because since being discharged by the hospital, she’d not been able to keep a job, and her nest egg was dwindling away as she had to buy a car to get around in, pay for insurance and buy food.

“Listen, you’ve been going through a rough patch. The least I can do is something that will bring that beautiful look to your eyes.” He lowered his voice, and it turned gritty and intimate. “I want to see you smile again, Sky.”

Their last stop was the Horse Emporium. Gray introduced her to Andy, the owner. It was a busy place where ranchers bought their hay, straw and grain. Sky found the women’s section in the clothing area of the main store. Gray was shooting the breeze with Andy at the counter, catching up on what was going on in the valley.

She looked at the price tags on the sale jeans. She simply didn’t have the money. Feeling shame, Sky worried her lower lip. Gray had already sprung for food, and she wasn’t about to ask him for any more money. Nor did she expect him to pay for her needs. She’d just have to wait.

“Problem?”

Sky sucked in a quick breath, hearing Gray’s low voice nearby. She snapped her head up, and he was standing across from where the women’s jeans were hung on the rack. “You scared the hell out of me!” she whispered, giving him a distraught look. Blinking, Sky placed her hand against her throat, trying to control her reaction.

“Bad habit,” he said apologetically. Gray looked toward the counter. “I saw you standing over here, and you looked upset.” He met her wide, fearful gaze. “I’ll make you a loan so you can buy what you need, Sky.” He held up his hand when she started to protest. “Look, we all need help every once in a while.” He dug into his wallet. “I’ll put it on the credit card. It won’t be due for thirty days. Iris pays us every two weeks, so you can easily pay me back.” Gray searched her tense features. “Okay?” He said it softly. With understanding.

He watched as she battled back tears. Gray cursed inwardly. He was a sucker for any kid or woman who cried. Sky had turned away, taking a sharp swipe at her eyes. Moving around the rack, Gray gently laid his hands on her tense shoulders, not wanting to scare her again.

“Sky, it’s okay. What are friends for? If we can’t help one another out in bad times, what does that make us?” He gently turned her around, her eyes downcast, her hands knotted against her heart, knuckles white.

“I—I’ve just never been this poor,” she uttered, unable to look at Gray. His hands were so warm and large on her shoulders. They felt good. Steadying. When he laid his hands on her, a soothing calm overtook Sky. “I—I just don’t know how to thank you, Gray.”

“You can pay me back by buying everything you need, Sky. I make a very good salary, and I’m not hurting for money, so use it. Okay?”

Sky wished she wasn’t so emotional. It just wasn’t like her. All her calm, cool collectedness was gone now, it seemed. In its place were razor-sharp emotions, many of them tearing her inwardly apart. She felt Gray’s care, his strength and something else. Something she couldn’t define even though she wanted to. His mouth was so strong, and his lips were pulled into a faint smile. The tenderness he exhibited surprised her. She just wasn’t used to someone caring for her like this.

“Okay,” she said, her voice strained. “I’ll pay back every penny. I promise.”

“I have no doubt, Sky. So, go ahead and buy what you need.” Damn, he wanted to touch Sky everywhere. He wanted to smell her, taste her, touch her, love her. Gray knew he could give Sky the security he knew had been destroyed within her by the torture. And God help him, his protectiveness was at an all-time high with her. He’d confront anyone who got near her with any intent to harm her. That was the SEAL in him, a part of him that would always exist regardless of whether he was out in the civilian world or not. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL.

* * *

EXHAUSTION WAS LAPPING at Sky as she got to see her new home. Gray unlocked the employees’ house, a two-story redbrick building with a dark green painted metal roof. Her bedroom was amazing. The East bedroom, as Iris called it, reminded Sky of the 1930s era. A rainbow quilt lay over the queen-size bed. There were brass head-and footboards, as well. The furniture was all handmade out of walnut. An air of femininity permeated the room. The cream-colored walls reflected ample light, and Sky loved it. The room was so large it contained even enough space for a desk, chair and stained-glass lamp.

Gray helped carry all her purchases from the Horse Emporium into her bedroom. And then he placed all her groceries into the fridge or the large pantry. As Sky quietly shut the door, she felt weary. It had been a long, stressful day. She didn’t even have the energy to put all her jeans and other clothing items away. All she wanted to do was lie down on that heavenly bed. And she did, promptly falling asleep.

* * *

WHEN GRAY QUIETLY opened Sky’s bedroom door at 6:00 p.m., he saw that she was still sleeping. His heart lurched in his chest as he saw how fragile she appeared on the large bed, her hand near her cheek as she slept on her side. It hurt to see she had drawn her body up into a fetal position of protection.

Mouth thinning, he closed the door and walked down the hall to the kitchen. He would make dinner for them tonight. He’d just returned from talking with Iris and giving her feedback on Sky’s lack of money. Tomorrow Iris was going to advance her two weeks’ pay, and that would help de-stress Sky to a degree.

Gray knew she liked salads. He liked meat. Deciding to bake some chicken breasts, he noodled through all the veggies and chose the ones he recognized. A chef he was not. But he could make Sky a nice salad to go with the baked chicken. He also knew how to make rice, so that would be in the mix, too.

Unable to explain the happiness filtering through him as he focused on the food, Gray realized it was because Sky had unexpectedly walked into his life. As he worked, he kept one ear keyed on the hall for a door opening. How long would Sky sleep? No one understood the tentacles of PTSD unless they’d experienced it themselves.

His mind flew from one terrible atrocity that had been done to her to another. When he’d appeared quietly in front of her at the Horse Emporium, she’d nearly lost her composure. Cobbling together all her actions and reactions, Gray had seen recent pink scars around each of her wrists. Granted, he knew the Taliban often skinned an enemy alive, cutting and pulling an inch of skin off the back or front of their body each day. The victim eventually bled to death or had a massive infection, and sepsis killed them. He’d not seen any scars along Sky’s shoulders. She’d worn a blouse that he could look beneath just enough to see her shoulders were clear of any scarring.

His brows fell, and his mouth compressed as he ran through torture procedures. As a SEAL, he’d gone through SERE—Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape—and had every kind of torture experience.

He poured the brown rice into a long Pyrex dish and added water. As he picked up the chicken breasts, his hand halted with the meat midway to the dish.

No, can’t be! No fucking way!

Gray turned, staring down the hall, his heart picking up in heavy beat. A SEAL could control his physical body unlike any other person on the face of the earth. When he was on a mission, his heart rate was slow, his blood pressure normal even though danger and threat surrounded him and his team. But now, as he stared down the dimly lit hall that led to the bedrooms, he felt nausea. And terror.

It can’t be. It just can’t be...

Hissing a curse, Gray placed the chicken breasts into the rice and then covered it with a piece of foil. Washing his hands with soap and water, Gray slowly dried them off, not wanting to admit that he knew without ever being told what kind of torture Sky had endured.

She’d been waterboarded. The scars on her wrists verified it. A person was laid on their back on a wooden board the length of their body, their wrists and ankles manacled to hold them down. The board was canted slightly, so a person’s head was below their chest. A strap was then placed across their brow so they couldn’t move their head as the water was poured slowly into their nostrils. The terror of drowning made them panic and jerk at the restraints, causing deep scarring. And Sky’s wrists proved it to Gray. He cursed beneath his breath, wanting to vomit.

CHAPTER FOUR

GRAY TRIED TO put a choke chain on his emotions when Sky sleepily appeared down the hall near 7:00 p.m. His anger had simmered nonstop when he put the pieces of her torture together. Waterboarding broke a person psychologically and emotionally. And it didn’t take long to do it.

As he moved the dinner plates and flatware to the oak table in the dining room, he savagely stuffed all his feelings into his kill box. Until he could verify what he thought was true, Gray could only conjecture. And looking at Sky’s drowsy features, her hair mussed around her face, she appeared damned fragile. Too fragile to talk about something he knew was terrifying for her.

“Hey,” he called, laying out the flatware, “did you have a good nap?”

Sky yawned and rubbed her face as she walked toward the open area that housed the kitchen, dining room and living room. The cathedral ceiling made the place feel airy and large.

“I did, thanks. Sorry I slept so long. Something smells good.” She halted at the edge of the kitchen where Gray was working. Her mind was spongy. It had been so long since she’d slept so deeply and without interruption. They’d returned from town at 2:00 p.m. Looking at the clock up on the wall, Sky realized she’d slept a solid five hours.

“I threw together what I know,” Gray warned her with an amused look, pulling out the salad dressing from the fridge. He handed it to her. “I even made you a salad.”

Touched, Sky took the bottle of dressing. Their fingers briefly met. Warmth sheeted up her hand and into her arm. There was just something calm and soothing about being around Gray. He moved with a masculine grace around the galley kitchen. Sky couldn’t take her gaze off him. He was handsome in a rugged kind of way, his face hard and weathered by working outdoors as a SEAL. “This will do fine,” she said, turning and taking it to the table.

“You have good timing,” he said, putting on the oven mitts that were really too small for his large hands. Opening the oven, he drew out the chicken-and-rice dish.

“I guess I do. Can I help you at all? Get some water or something to drink with our meal?”

“Nah, I’ll get it. Why don’t you take a seat? My turn to serve you.” He set the dish on a trivet in the center of the rectangular table. Gray had put one plate at one end of the table and the other plate to the right of it. He wanted Sky close, not far away from him. He watched as she chose the seat on the side of the table. Her movements were slow, and he could see how cloudy her eyes were from the sleep. Good sleep. Badly needed sleep. Gray was always grateful when he could sleep without nightmares. At least Sky hadn’t had one yet.

Sky pulled the white linen napkin and placed it across her lap. If nothing else, Gray was quick and efficient. In no time, he’d put the steaming, delicious-smelling dish in front of her. He got rid of the oven mitts, dropping them on the granite counter, and pulled her salad from the fridge.

Sitting down, Gray placed the bowl near her plate. Her eyes widened a little as she stared at it.

“Is something wrong?”

She smiled a little. “That’s a huge salad, Gray. I’m not sure I can eat all of it.” Moved by his thoughtfulness, Sky saw he’d sprinkled tomatoes, sliced carrots and celery across the top of the greens.

“You’re underweight,” he growled, slipping a chicken breast onto his plate. He gave her one, as well.

“I just don’t have much appetite,” Sky protested, apology in her voice. She eyed the chicken breast and then spooned the fluffy brown rice onto her plate. It all smelled so good, though. She was wildly aware of how close she was to Gray. He wasn’t wearing his game face, either, and that helped her relax. She watched him enthusiastically dig into the meal and wished her appetite would return.

“Eat what you can,” Gray urged her gently. “In time, your PTSD symptoms will start to lessen, and you’ll be a little more hungry.” He saw the stressed look on her face as she stared at all the food on her plate.

“It hasn’t been that long,” Sky admitted, picking up the fork and knife, cutting into the juicy chicken breast. “I have good days and bad days.”

“That’s to be expected. You’re in the primary healing phase right now.” Gray wanted to change topics, give Sky something to look forward to. “We’re going to be riding a half a day, starting tomorrow morning,” he said. “Iris wants me to take you around the ranch and start getting you acquainted with the property.”

Maybe that would urge Sky to eat. When her eyes widened, he felt himself go hot with longing. Much to his chagrin, he felt himself growing hard. What a helluva situation. Gray forced control over himself. His desire for her wasn’t smart under the circumstances, yet this was the first time since losing Julia that he was actually interested in another woman sexually. Hell, this was going to be tougher than he’d anticipated being around Sky. After her ordeal, she wouldn’t be thinking about him in that way. Not at all.

“Seriously? Horseback riding?” Her heart opened with excitement.

“Yep,” Gray said, noticing she was beginning to eat. “You need to get the layout of the ranch. Then we’ll be back by lunch, and I’ll give you the grand tour of the wildlife center I run.”

“This sounds like a dream,” Sky said softly.

You’re a dream. But Gray kept the comment to himself, forcing himself to pay attention to his dinner and not Sky. Her cheeks had become infused with a pink color. Her eyes were such dark blue pools. Gray felt as if he could drown in them. And in her. His body was going crazy, and he wasn’t thinking clearly around Sky. Why?

“I think you’ve got the best job in the world,” Sky said. “You work with animals.”

He smiled a little, hearing the breathy quality of her voice. “My mother is a world expert of wolves. She’s got a degree in wildlife biology. I was raised around wolves and all kinds of other North American animals while growing up. She’s the one who suggested I try out for the job a year ago. I was lucky enough to get it.”

“What a charmed childhood,” she sighed.

“I was very lucky,” Gray agreed. He watched her begin to relax. The tension disappeared from the skin across her broad cheekbones, her Native American heritage on display. He found himself like a thief, wanting to absorb her into him. Sky’s blue eyes were slightly tilted, giving her an exotic or mysterious look. “What about you, Sky? Tell me about your parents.”

“My mother stays at home. She has a small cottage business and creates one-of-a-kind gorgeous elk-and deerskin bags. She beads them.” Sky turned pensive. “She taught me to bead when I was about ten years old. She makes incredibly intricate flower designs.”

“And your father?” Gray saw her enthusiasm wane a little.

“My father was in the Marine Corps for four years. When he got out, he went to cooking school for four years and became a chef. Then he came back here to Wyoming and met my mom.”

“I’ll bet he was proud of your Navy service.”

Shrugging, Sky picked at her salad. “I guess.”

“Was he unhappy you didn’t join the Marine Corps instead?” There was a lot of challenge and testing between the Navy and the Corps.

“No, not really.”

Gray frowned. “You look sad, Sky.”

“I must be really easy to read.” She cut him a glance. When his mouth curved faintly, all she could think about in that moment was gently touching that full lower lip of his and exploring it with her index finger. Gray had a beautiful mouth. And her instinct told her he would be a good kisser.

“SEAL intuition at work,” Gray teased, wanting to keep her relaxed and open. “Was I wrong?”

Shaking her head, Sky muttered, “No.”

“I imagine your parents were beside themselves when they found out you’d been captured.” He saw her brows dip, her fork suspended in midair for a moment.

“Yes, I found out later after they transferred me back stateside, and I could talk to them via phone, that they had been sick with worry.”

“Were they able to come out and visit you while you were recovering in the hospital?” Gray had been wounded before and knew how boring and lonely it was to be in a hospital half a globe away from his family.

“I—I didn’t encourage them to come and see me at Balboa Naval Hospital.” She gave a small shrug. “I was an emotional basket case, Gray. I just wasn’t myself... I felt so out of control.”

Sky was closing up on him. Though he wanted to reach out and touch her, give her some care, Gray forced his hands to remain right where they were. Time to switch topics. “The first time I got wounded,” Gray confided quietly, “I woke up and found myself at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany.”

“Gunshot wound?” Sky winced inwardly when he nodded. Gray seemed so strong and vital, as if nothing could harm him. Yet as she saw the darker brown in his eyes, she began to understand that when he was emotionally upset about something, that color was more prominent.

“Yeah.” Gray finished off his chicken breast and the rest of the rice. Pushing the plate aside, he said, “I was with a good team. Kell Ballard was the lead petty officer. We were going in to rescue an American doctor who’d gotten kidnapped by the Taliban. It was a night mission, and I took a bullet to the left arm during the op. Kell saved my life. I was bleeding like a stuck hog from a torn artery, and he got a tourniquet around my arm. I don’t remember much after that, passing out.”

Taking in a slow, ragged breath, Sky understood those types of wounds. “I saw my fair share of them at Bagram.” She lifted her gaze and held his turbulent-looking eyes. “Do you have any residual issues from the wound?”

“No, not enough to get me medically discharged from the Navy,” he admitted.

“Did you like being a SEAL?”

“I liked being a shooter, and I was good at what I did.” He didn’t want to go any further with his life as a SEAL. Gray patted his thigh. “Later, I took another bullet. It took out fifty percent of my femur in the area where it struck. Even though I healed up, my leg was never going to be as strong as before and take the weight and beating it could before. My days with the SEALs were over at that point.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sky whispered, seeing the sadness in his eyes. “SEALs are special. They’re a tight group of men. I’m sure your platoon were like brothers to you.”

“They still are,” Gray said, always feeling the loss. “We stay in touch with one another to this day.”

Sky began to eat again. “So, you’ve been out for just a year? After being discharged, you got the job here?”

It was his turn to feel under a microscope. Gray clasped his hands on the table. “I got out three years ago.” Hoping to avoid more questions, he added, “I took a contractor’s job down in Peru for a little while. After that, I came home to Wyoming. My mother had been working with Iris Mason on the wildlife-center concept. She suggested me to run the facility for Iris, and the rest is history.”

Sky sensed trepidation and grief around Gray. It was mirrored deep in his eyes. Nothing obvious. But there was a heaviness, much like a deep, untended wound in him. “Were you worried about finding a job when you got discharged? I know I was.”

“Like every vet, yes, I was. I was worried about my money I’d saved drying up while I tried to find something. If I hadn’t had my mother’s lead on this job, I’m not sure how long it would have taken to find work. Did you have the same problem?”

Groaning, Sky nodded. “I left the hospital and drove home to my parents’ place. I tried working as an R.N. at the local hospital, but the stress was too much for me.” She hitched her shoulder and whispered, “It was my PTSD. After that, I tried for any job that would hire me. I worked at a fast-food place, but again, the stress made me quit. I just couldn’t handle it, Gray.”

“PTSD does that,” he agreed gently, seeing the shame in her expression.

“My mother understood. But my father doesn’t to this day. He said it was all up in my head.”

Anger flared within Gray. He stared disbelievingly at her. “He said that?” Tension thrummed within him as he saw the devastation in Sky’s eyes. She could hide nothing from him.

“Yes. I just stood there looking at my dad, stunned. Wondering if he’d ever been tortured...ever been so scared of dying...” And she pulled her lower lip between her teeth, worrying it.

“I know what it’s like to be scared,” he said.

“You were a SEAL. You guys are always in danger. What you do could get you killed on any given day.”

Gray nodded. “Right on. But it’s different for you, Sky. I don’t think most women in the military ever think about the possibility of capture.” Or being tortured. He wanted to tread lightly on the subject, but felt starved to know exactly what had happened to Sky.

The only physical clues he could find were new, pink scars around her wrists. If she’d been waterboarded, Gray would bet his life she also had scars around her ankles. They tied the person down on a wooden board, cuffing their wrists and ankles. And knowing the Taliban like he did, they probably threw chains around her extremities, not caring if her flesh was ripped bloody as they dropped a cloth on her face and then poured water through it, suffocating her in the process.

Sky moved her fingers in an aggravated motion through her loose hair. “No...I never, ever thought about capture or—” her voice lowered with pain “—torture.”

He could see he’d pushed her far enough. There would be other days maybe, when Sky was emotionally stronger, that he could approach the topic with her again. “Hey, I made some chocolate pudding for dessert.” He rose in one fluid motion, picking up their plates. Giving her a warm smile, he asked, “Interested?”

His smile was like hot sunlight through her icy gut and heavily beating heart. Just talking about her capture sent adrenaline spiking into her bloodstream, still too fresh, like an open wound in her soul.

“Come on. You did a good job of eating,” Gray coaxed her. Indeed, she’d finished half the chicken breast, most of the rice and all of the salad. Not bad for someone who said they weren’t hungry. Gray gave her a pleading look and saw her resistance melt.

“Well...I’ll try a little....”

“I’m sorry I upset you,” Gray murmured, meaning it. “I’ll be back in a minute. Would you like some coffee? Water? Tea?”

Water. Sky jerked inwardly. Even the word made her feel terror. Sky was unhappy with her overreactions, and yet she couldn’t stop or control them. “Coffee.”

“Cream? Sugar?”

“Both.”

“You like it sweet and blond.”

Rallying beneath his warm teasing, she felt Gray’s caressing care and protectiveness descending over her like an invisible blanket. The sensation was so comforting that Sky took a long, deep breath, feeling the adrenaline fading in her bloodstream. She began to relax. “That’s a Navy saying.”

“Yep, sure is,” he said.

Sky watched him work quickly and efficiently in the kitchen. There was never a wasted motion to Gray. Shockingly, she felt sexually hungry. It was a welcome sign that showed her she was healing from the capture. Sky had given up ever feeling normal in any way again. She wondered if Gray was in a relationship. Val had told her he was single. It was beyond her to think Gray would be eligible. Why was she thinking in that direction at all? He was her boss. It wasn’t good to mix personal with professional, and Sky needed this job too much to risk it.

“Here you go.” Gray leaned over, handing her a white mug of steaming coffee. He placed a small bowl of chocolate pudding in front of her. He sat down, wrapping his hands around his mug.

“Thanks.” Sky sipped the sweet coffee. “You’re a much better cook than you led me to believe.”

“I reached my limit tonight, believe me.”

“I think people are more than what they believe they are,” she said, picking up the spoon and tasting the rich chocolate pudding.

“You’re a philosopher, too.”

Coloring, Sky gave him a pained look. “Me? No.”

“You have good insight into people. Maybe because you’re a nurse?”

“My mother is the deep philosopher,” Sky assured him. “And yes, you can’t be around wounded or sick people and not employ a little psychology.” She slid her fingers around the mug, absorbing the warmth. “That and a lot of compassion.”

Gray nodded and sipped his coffee. They talked as if they were old, longtime friends. Their connection reminded him of his days with his SEAL buddies. Maybe it was because Sky was a people person, loved helping others and clearly was compassionate. When a person cared, others knew it. He tried not to glance down at her hands because every time he did, he tried to imagine what they would feel like grazing his flesh. Completely inappropriate. Foolhardy. Crazy. “Maybe one of these days, you can return to the field of nursing,” he said.

“I honestly want to,” Sky admitted. “Maybe E.R. is too much for me now. I was thinking of switching to obstetrics. I love babies and children so much,” she said, her voice growing soft. “In school, I learned all areas of nursing. I would just have to be oriented to the obstetrics unit and have some in-house classroom training, but I think it’s what I’d like to do someday. I could look into it when I feel I can handle being back in a hospital setting.”

“Well, you’ll have babies and children galore around here,” Gray said, smiling.

Sky smiled dreamily. “I just love the babies. Holding them. Smelling their sweet smell, watching them watch the world around them...”

“Why didn’t you go into obstetrics in the first place?” Gray wondered.

“At the time I was a risk taker,” Sky admitted, shaking her head. “My father was a chef at a big cattle ranch, and I grew up around horses and wranglers and cattle. I was a real wild child, barefoot, daring, and I loved challenges.”

Gray felt her happiness and saw it reflected in the pools of her eyes. “You’ll do your fair share of riding around here.”

“Bring it on.”

“Maybe this job will help bring you out of the closet you got put into,” Gray said. “Riding in nature to me is a dream come true. I’d rather be outside than indoors.”

“I feel the same way,” Sky agreed, finishing her coffee. She felt tired again, knowing that she was sleep deprived. “Can I help you clean up in the kitchen? Wash dishes?”

“No,” Gray said, standing. “We have a dishwasher, and I’ll take care of things out here.”

Standing, Sky looked around the living room. There was a large television on the wall, comfortable chairs and a coffee table between two huge leather couches. “Listen, I’m turning in early.”

“You need more sleep,” Gray agreed.

“What time do we go riding tomorrow morning?”

Gray smiled a little after putting the cups in the sink. “I’m up at 5:00 a.m. to feed the animals, but you don’t have to be. Why don’t I meet you here for breakfast at 8:00? Then we can get our horses saddled and take off.”

“I love the idea of spending time in the saddle.” Sky felt her heart open, fierce emotions flooding her. “Gray...you’ve been so kind. Thank you for everything....”

Gray leaned against the counter, arms across his chest. Right now Sky appeared vulnerable. He knew the look because he’d seen it in other SEALs and had gone through it himself. It was when a person had chronic sleep deprivation, was stressed to the max and had no downtime to recoup. “Listen,” he said, “your first order of business is to get rested up. That’s number one. We’ll take your days ahead one at a time, Sky. Fair enough?”

“Yes.” She worried her lower lip and started to turn away. Then she halted and forced herself to meet his shadowed gaze. “Gray? I might have nightmares—”

“Don’t worry. I have them, too.”

“I might wake you. I scream...”

He wanted to kill the bastards who had done this to her. Forcing his reaction deep so she couldn’t possibly sense it, he rasped, “I’m here if you need me. Okay? You don’t have to go through this alone anymore, Sky. Got it?”

CHAPTER FIVE

THE NIGHTMARE BEGAN INSIDIOUSLY, like it always did. The blackness surrounded Sky. She felt the icy coldness of the Hindu Kush night as the Taliban dragged her and Dr. Aaron Zimmerman from the crash to a nearby cave. Everything was so dark. Sky was semiconscious, blood running down from beneath the helmet she wore, blinding her left eye. She heard the enemy speaking in Pashto, the words angry and sharp. Felt the men who half dragged her tighten their grip like talons around her upper arms until she cried out in pain.

She was thrown into a cage, barely large enough for a small bathroom. The doctor was dropped beside her. Gasping, pain in her head, unable to see anything, Sky heard the rattle of a chain and then what sounded like a padlock being closed. And then the Taliban’s voices drifted away. Fear rolled through. Her whole body ached from the crash. The Black Hawk had autorotated down a thousand feet, dropping out of the black night. Something happened as the bird hit the earth, suddenly flipping, the screech of metal tearing through the cabin.

Sky was thrown to the ceiling, blacking out for a moment. She vaguely remembered the sounds of shrieking metal being torn around her, a roar entering the cabin. One moment she was in the chopper; the next, she felt herself flying through the air. She’d landed outside it, slammed into the earth, knocked out.

“Aaron!” she rasped, finding his shoulder. God, if only she could see! “Aaron! Answer me! Where are you injured?” She wiped the warm blood away from her left eye, blinking, trying to see, but it was pitch-black. Her heart was pounding, and she was shaking with adrenaline.

Aaron groaned. “M-my leg. Busted...”

“Which one?”

“L-left... Shit...we’re in trouble, Sky....”

Didn’t she know it. “Be still,” she said, her voice shaky as she swiftly ran her hands as if she were reading braille down his body to his left leg. Her heart stopped when her fingers ran into his femur, which was sticking out of his pants. This was bad. Really bad. He had an open fracture, the bone broken and splintered, tearing through thick thigh muscles and breaking out of his skin and the material of his camos. Sky felt the warmth of blood pumping strongly out from beneath her fingertips as she tried to get a mental picture of how bad the injury was. Breathing in gasps, Sky realized Aaron would never survive if she couldn’t get him medical help right away. Without light, she couldn’t find the artery that had been torn and was pouring blood out of his body.

“Hold on,” she whispered. Quickly, she took off her heavy jacket. Sky always kept a small Buck knife in the pocket, just in case. Her fingers were shaking so badly, she could hardly pick up the knife. Finally, she did. Blindly, Sky cut her jacket front open so that she was able to create a canvas strip of cloth three inches wide.

“I’m creating a tourniquet, Aaron. Hold on...” She found his upper thigh, shoving the strip of cloth beneath it.

Aaron groaned.

“I’m sorry,” Sky whispered brokenly. If only she had some morphine to stop his pain, but she had nothing. Their medical bags had been in the helicopter and there was no telling where they were now.

Quickly, Sky pulled the strap of cloth as tight as she could around his thigh. Aaron groaned. But it was weaker-sounding. He was bleeding out. She had to save his life! He would die in less than three minutes if she didn’t get the tourniquet in place. With all her strength Sky pulled the strap hard, knowing it would cause Aaron more pain.

He made no sound.

Her breath hitched. No. Oh, God, no! Tightening the tourniquet even more, trying to stop the flow of blood from his torn artery, Sky fought back a sob. Her hands shook as she held it as tightly as she could. She was gasping so loudly she couldn’t hear anything else. Her heart jumped in her chest. She held the tourniquet tight, praying it would work. The muscles in her arms were shaking now, not used to such brute physical demands on them for so long. If she let the tourniquet go, Aaron would bleed out and die.

Sky blinked. Someone with a small lantern appeared out of the utter darkness. The shadow of the Taliban soldier, his bearded face, the turban he wore and his narrowed eyes upon her, sent a sheet of terror through Sky.

“Help us!” she called, her voice breaking. “He’s bleeding out! I need medical help. Please?” Her shaking voice echoed and reechoed in the cave. She watched as he set the lantern down. Soon two other men joined him. Their deeply shadowed faces were filled with hatred. She felt fear as never before. Hunched over Aaron’s leg, Sky sensed they were both going to die.

The one soldier, the tall, thin one, opened the wooden door. Their prison was makeshift at best, nothing but thin tree saplings bound together with rope every foot or so to create the cage. If she’d realized that, Sky could have thrown herself against the structure and maybe escaped to get help. But it was too late now.

The soldier leaned over her, curving his fingers like a painful claw into the shoulder of her uniform. He snarled something and yanked her upward. Sky was slammed into the rocky wall behind her, breath whooshing out of her. Dazed, she tried to get up as the other two soldiers entered. To her horror, one of them put a gun to Aaron’s head.

The pistol barked.

Sky screamed. She lurched to her feet, attacking the soldier who had murdered Aaron.

In one swift motion, the soldier backhanded her. Sky saw stars behind her closed lids, felt herself flying through the air. And then she lost consciousness.

* * *

IT WAS DARK. Sky whimpered. She was somewhere else, not in the cave. She could feel a mud wall as her fingers moved through the darkness across the rough material. Her body ached. Her head felt as if it would split in two. Where was she? What time was it? And then, remembering Aaron’s murder, she began to cry out softly in grief. Aaron had saved hundreds of men’s lives with his dedication as a surgeon at Bagram. Sky crouched on her knees, her face buried in her hands, sobbing.

Light suddenly flicked on overhead.

Jerking her head up, Sky held up her hand to shade her eyes from the sudden light. It was a lone, naked electric lightbulb hanging far above her. Wildly, she looked around now that she could see her prison. It was a mud room. She saw what looked like a narrow wood table, water buckets nearby, and chains piled at the four corners of the table. There was a heavy wooden door to her left. The only escape. There were no windows. Her mouth was dry. She was so thirsty that she crawled over to the one wooden bucket, quickly sluicing water into her cupped hands, drinking noisily.

The door pushed open.

Sky gasped, crouched over the bucket, her eyes widening as two men entered. These were different men than her original captors. One of them, a short, pudgy man with a well-trimmed black beard, entered first. He wore typical Afghan clothing, a rolled wool cap over his long, matted hair. The second man, taller and with hatred in his eyes, shut the door behind them.

Sky didn’t know what to expect. Adrenaline began pouring into her bloodstream as she watched the tall Taliban soldier swiftly come around the table. He reached down, grabbing her by the shoulder, forcing her to stand.

Sky’s legs were wobbly. She gave a cry as his fingers sank deep into her shoulder, forcing her against him so she wouldn’t fall.

“Be gentle,” the pudgy man said softly in accented English, giving her an oily smile. “We don’t want her skin broken.” He held her wide, frightened eyes. “Take her to the table,” he ordered.

Blinking, Sky froze. The man spoke English very well. Her mind became paralyzed as she was dragged toward the table. Sky tried to fight. The soldier’s hands were like iron, and her struggles were useless.

“I am called Kambiz. What is your name, please?” he inquired solicitously, smiling at her.

Sky breathed raggedly, staring at the man across from the table. She knew she had to give her name, rank and serial number. And she did. He looked pleased and pulled out a small notebook and pen. Patiently, he wrote everything down.

“Continue to be cooperative, Lieutenant Pascal, and you won’t have to suffer,” he told her. Giving her an apologetic look, he said, “Now, I must ask you to not struggle. Jahid will have no choice but to hurt you.” He smiled a little more. “Your choice.”

Sky moaned and tried to free herself from the man’s grasp. She could feel her terror amp up as she stared at the fat man with the oily smile. She could feel his hatred of her behind that thick-lipped smile. “You can’t do this! There are Geneva Conventions you must follow. I won’t let you throw me on that table!”

In an instant, Jahid picked her up bodily and threw her on the table with stunning force. Sky gave a cry. Oh, God, were they going to rape her? She fought back. Every time she did, the soldier slapped her, stunning her. She felt the icy coldness as he jerked the cuffs of her shirt up to expose her wrists.

Kambiz scuttled around, holding her down on the table as Jahid jerked off her boots and then her socks. In moments, she lay gasping. The wood was smooth beneath her back. She fought to get up. Kambiz cursed and held her down. Chains rattled. Jahid quickly slipped them around her wrists and ankles. In moments, Sky was chained to the table, on her back, breath exploding out of her. The chains bit into her sensitive flesh, rough and icy cold. She shook with terror. What were they going to do to her?

“Now,” Kambiz muttered, angry at her resistance, “I am going to put this leather strap across your forehead.”

Sky’s terror and adrenaline blotted out her ability to think. Shame that she was unable to defend herself against these two men leaked through her. The soft leather strap, once in place across her brow, was tightened down until it was painful. She could not move her head one way or another. Further, she realized the board was canted downward just enough so her head was slightly below the rest of her body.

“Please,” she cried hoarsely, “don’t do this! Let me go!”

The pudgy man patted her shoulder gently. “Now, now, Lieutenant Pascal. As I told you before, if you tell me what I want to know, I’ll tell my friend Jahid to release you so you can get off this table. We will give you water and feed you.”

Kambiz dragged over a tall stool and situated himself close to her. He rearranged his long brown wool vest around himself, making himself comfortable.

She heard the Taliban soldier named Jahid move around to her left. What was going to happen? What were they going to do to her? Kambiz pulled a cloth from his pocket and laid it across his thigh with some pomp and flash.

“Now, Lieutenant,” he began, smiling down at her, “tell me why you were in that helicopter that crashed?”

Sky’s training warred with her terror and vulnerability. She saw the glint in Jahid’s eyes as he leaned forward, smiling down at her.

“I—I was with Dr. Zimmerman. I’m a surgery nurse. We were on a flight to save a man’s life. The soldier had appendicitis, and he needed emergency help.”

“Very good,” Kambiz praised, pulling out his notebook and writing down the information.

Sky became aware that Jahid held a bottle of water in his hand, waiting. Waiting for what? Her breath came in ragged gasps. The humiliation of being chained in front of them burned through her.

“Where were you flying to? What base?”

Sky shook her head. “I can only give you my name, rank and serial number.” She quavered as the man’s small eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“Pity,” Kambiz murmured. He put his notebook and pen into the pocket of his vest. And then he stretched forward, laying the cloth across her face. “Lieutenant, I don’t like doing this to you, but if you refuse to answer my questions, you must know there is a price to pay.”

Sky’s panic arced as the cloth covered her face. She didn’t know what to expect next. Suddenly, water rained down on her nostrils in a slow, continuous dribble. It quickly soaked the cloth. The water poured into her flared nostrils and she opened her mouth.

Gasping, Sky strained, trying to stop it, unable to move her head to avoid the water. The chains bit savagely into her wrists and ankles as she tried to escape. The water kept coming, funneling into her nostrils. Sky choked. She gasped. Coughed violently, water sputtering out of her nose and mouth. Oh, God, she was suffocating beneath that stream of water! Screaming, her spine arching upward, the chains biting deep into her flesh, she was drowning! Grayness began to move in front of her eyes. The water kept flowing into her nose. Oh, God, she was going to die!

* * *

GRAY WAS ROUSTED from sleep by Sky’s screams drifting across the hall. What the hell? Wearing only a set of boxer shorts, he staggered out of bed and threw open the door. What time was it? He saw milky streams of moonlight down the hall from the living-room area as he ran across it to Sky’s room.

Flipping on the light, he halted once inside Sky’s room. Jesus. Sky was on the wooden floor, her legs tangled up in the sheet and blanket. She was on her back, her eyes glazed and unseeing, fighting off an invisible enemy, arms flying, legs kicking outward. Breathing hard, Gray quickly crouched near her, but not so close to get struck by her flailing arms and legs.

“Sky,” he called. “Sky? It’s all right. It’s Gray McCoy. You’re not there. You’re here. Listen to me, will you?” Oh, he knew the virulence of flashbacks. Knew that Sky was caught up in her torture, saw it in the stretch and tension in her contorted face. His heart caved in with anguish. Gray wanted to scoop Sky up, hold her hard and safe. But that wasn’t how it worked. If he touched her, he could deepen the hold of the nightmare that had trapped her within its terrible embrace. She could think he was the enemy.

She was gasping and choking, jerking her head from side to side. If he had any doubts that she’d been waterboarded, they were gone now. Her reactions were consistent with that kind of torture.

“Sky? Sky, it’s Gray. Listen to me, will you? You’re safe. You’re not back there. You’re here with me in Wyoming. Come on. Listen to my voice. Let it lead you out of that nightmare you’re caught up in. Please? Listen to me?”

Gray spoke in a low, urgent tone to Sky, hoping like hell he could reach her, break the hold of the flashback that had her in its steel grip.

It hurt to watch her struggle. Her chest was heaving beneath her white cotton nightgown. The fabric had hitched halfway up her thighs, her lower legs caught in the sheet as she tried to kick out. Reaching out, Gray swiftly unraveled the tight bonds of the sheet from around her lower legs. Gray kept up the singsong litany. He wanted to kill those bastards who had done this to her.

Slowly, over ten minutes, Gray began to see Sky calming. Began to see the glazed look slowly leaving her wide, terror-filled eyes. Her hair was matted with sweat, the strands thick and twisted around her head. How badly he wanted to protect Sky.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said over and over.

Sky kept hearing a man’s low, urgent voice in the background. Finally, she recognized it. Instantly, she homed in on it as she fought, choked and screamed, trying to evade the water pouring down her nostrils.

Her legs were free! It broke the grip of the nightmare. She floated somewhere in between the paralyzing terror and Gray’s voice growing stronger, calling her back to safety.

Slowly, the adrenaline left her shaking body. She coughed violently, feeling the swell of water in her nose tunneling down into her throat, eventually receding. Sky stopped seeing the tiny mud hut room, stopped feeling the cold, wet wooden board beneath her body.

Blinking rapidly, she realized she was no longer there. She saw a crystal light in the center of a ceiling above her. She was warm. She sobbed for breath, raised her hands. She was no longer cuffed to the table. The pain, the blood flowing across her wrists had been very real. As she stared at her wrists in front of her face, she noticed the many long, pink, jagged scars around them.

“Sky? It’s Gray. Turn and look at me. Come on.”

His low voice was so close. Sky slowly turned her head, staring up into his worried, narrowed eyes. He was crouched near her head, his arms draped over his knees, watching her. There was anger deep in his eyes. Yet a sense of safety poured off him toward her; it was undeniable. Gagging, Sky fought the hold of the nightmare. She was here. She wasn’t there. She was safe! Hot tears jammed into her eyes. Tears of relief.

“Sky? I’m going to slide my arms around you. Can I hold you?” Gray watched the tears spilling down her tense cheeks. Her flesh was waxen. It ripped at his heart. He had to do something to get her out of that toxic nightmare.

She rolled slowly to her side and struggled to sit up. She pressed her hand against her tightly shut eyes. Terrible, gutting sounds tore out of her.

Gray didn’t wait for an answer. He moved in quickly, sliding his arms around her shaking shoulders and beneath her bent knees. In moments, he picked her up and carried her out of the bedroom and into the darkened living room. She collapsed against him, her face pressed and buried against his naked chest, her fingers digging convulsively into his shoulder, as if trying to hide. Gray understood.

The thin wash of moonlight gave him enough light to see where he was going. Sitting down in one corner of the leather couch, Gray settled Sky across his lap. He pulled a bright orange afghan from the top of the couch and hauled it across her, feeling how cold she was. She was a quivering mass in his arms. Her sobs serrated his pounding heart as he pulled her tightly against him, his arms around her, just holding her. Holding her safe in a world gone insane around her.

He tried not to be influenced by the sweet smell of her hair as he tucked her head beneath his jaw. Tried not to allow the soft firmness of her body against his to stir up his own male needs. Tears always made him feel so damned helpless, but at least Sky could release the terror.

Rocking her gently in his arms, he rasped against her ear, “It’s all right, Sky. You’re safe now. You’re with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you now, baby. It’s all right. You’re safe....”

CHAPTER SIX

WITHOUT THINKING, GRAY began to run his hand across Sky’s tangled, damp hair in an effort to calm her. He felt so damned bad for Sky as she cried in his arms. Her warm tears moistened the hair across his chest. Her fingers spasmed, opening and closing against his flesh. If anyone ever thought that waterboarding wasn’t torture, they were so full of shit. The proof was huddled in his arms. Sky physically shook, emotionally and mentally broken by the torture. Gray had no idea how many times it had happened, either. The more they did it, the more broken the human being became, splintered and fractured.

“It’s all right, Sky,” he murmured against her ear. “It’s going to be okay. Get it out. Let it go.” And then Gray grimaced. He was the last person a woman would want around when she was crying.

When Julia cried, which wasn’t often, he’d get up and leave the hut at the Peruvian village. He just couldn’t handle it then. But now... This was different. He’d matured, fast. And Sky was a military vet like himself. She’d paid the ultimate price of war. She was a nurse, someone who helped save people’s lives, and she should never have been put in this situation in the first place. But she had been. There was no defined front in Afghanistan, and that left all women serving in the military just as exposed as the men. Gray knew the statistics, that a hundred and fifty women had died in combat in Iraq and Afghanistan, untrained and yet out on the frontier of combat.

Gray smoothed her hair, allowing his hand to trail across her hunched, trembling shoulders, moving slowly down her long spine. Every time he caressed her, Sky relaxed a little bit more against him.

Sky needed a lot of care right now, and Gray didn’t mind giving it to her. What would have happened if he hadn’t been here to interrupt her grisly nightmare? How many times had they occurred and Sky had had no one to help her or talk her down?

Without thinking, Gray pressed a soft kiss to her hair, tightening his embrace a little, absorbing the continued trembling of her body. Sky’s weeping slowed and she finally grew quiet within his embrace. Gray could feel her naked vulnerability, her trust. It humbled him, since he couldn’t help but want her in other ways. She didn’t deserve that kind of reaction from him at all. Instead, Gray forced himself to focus on giving back to Sky, not taking. Too much had been taken from her already.

Sky finally unclenched her hand against his chest and wiped her face with her shaking fingers. Gray caught her hand, holding it within his own. Her hand was so small and white against his large, darkly tanned one. Pressing her hand against his chest, he whispered, “It’s going to be all right, Sky. You’re past the worst of it. Just rest. I’ll be here. I won’t let you be alone right now. I’ll stay with you as long as you want....”

Gray’s roughened words spilled through Sky’s fractured emotional state. Eyes tightly shut, her cheek resting on the damp, silky hair across his chest, she felt his male strength gently surrounding her, making her feel safe. His voice soothed her, and with each ragged breath she took, this new calm chased away the virulent terror still holding her in its invisible grasp.

Gray’s presence brought her back. They shared a common military background. Somewhere in her fragmented mind, Sky wondered if Gray had ever been tortured. It was as if he understood on levels she could never give voice to. And he was here for her. Present. Like a big, bad guard dog.

He was a large man, and she felt so small leaning against him. Gray was holding her gently as he might hold a hurt child. The PTSD, the waterboarding, had stripped her of her own internal strength. Whereas before she had always been the calm, quiet, strong one in charge of the E.R. at Bagram, she now felt as if she were constantly unraveling. Sky had been unable, thus far, to put up boundaries on her wild, rampant feelings, to stop them or not allow them to run her life as they did now.

If she’d been worried Gray wouldn’t understand, or that he’d be disgusted with her as her father had been, she was relieved. Sky had had several episodes of the same nightmare at home, her father aggravated with her, but she didn’t feel anything exuding from Gray right now except care and protection. Sky never thought in a million years she’d ever be the recipient of a SEAL’s guardianship. Right now she was like a starved animal lapping up anything Gray could give to her in the way of emotional support. There was no judgment emanating from him. Every time Gray’s large hand gently trailed across her hair and down her back, Sky felt a little more stable. A little more calm. His mouth lingered near her brow, the warmth of his moist breath flowing across her face. There was such tenderness in this man. She’d never experienced it quite like this. Gray was not only soothing her, but Sky also felt as if his presence were actually, in some miraculous way, feeding her strength she presently didn’t have. Feeding her hope. Tending to her torn soul.

“Better now?” he asked, feeling her sigh in response in his arms. Gray felt her head bob once, felt her unclench her hand and her long fingers smooth out across his upper chest. His flesh leaped and burned beneath her hesitant, innocent touch. He knew Sky wasn’t sexually coming on to him. She was lost in the ugly morass of her injured emotions. Gray shut his eyes tightly, resting his jaw against her hair, holding her a little tighter for a moment.

Sky cleared her throat that ached with tension. “I—I’m sorry....”

“Hush. It’s okay, Sky. I know what you went through. I’m just glad I was nearby when the flashback happened.”

Sky frowned, her mouth compressed. Shame flowed through her. “You shouldn’t have to see this. Or hear me...” In the hospital when she had the nightmares, they gave her an antianxiety drug to calm her down. Her screams woke up everyone else. She shared a six-bed unit with other wounded vets. If she didn’t have the nightmares, then one of them would. No one ever got quality sleep in that unit.

A chuckle rumbled up through Gray’s chest. She hungrily absorbed the sound of it, felt his hand slide along her jaw, tenderly smooth strands behind her ear. God, how pitiful she was. She was so starved for his continuing light caresses. So utterly needy, it shamed her. She was a nurse, the one to bestow care upon those who so desperately needed it. Now she was in their position.

“Hey, we’re vets. We’ve seen combat. SEALs never leave anyone behind, baby. I’m not leaving you behind. Okay?”

Baby. The endearment renewed her hope. A broken sigh escaped from her taut lips. Gray continued to shower her with his attention. How many times in her life as a nurse had she done similarly for her vets who lay broken and hurting in her hospital ward? So many that Sky had lost count.

Gray eased back again, no doubt seeing the tears. “Good tears this time?” he asked, his throat tightening. She looked up at him, feeling her world shift. The corners of his mouth lifted. “Talk to me, Sky.”

Her throat ached with tension from the rawness of her earlier screams. “Y-yes, good tears.” His dark eyes changed and grew kind. Sky leaned against his chest, the soothing sound of his slow heartbeat continuing to calm her. She had no strength with which to move. She didn’t want to anyway.

“How can I help you, Sky?”

His words sank into her heart, and she swallowed hard. “What you’re doing right now,” she whispered brokenly.

Gray nodded and slid his hand down her back. “It helps to talk about it, Sky. Maybe not right now, but later. I’m a good listener. I’ve been in combat. I’ve had friends captured and tortured. I know a little bit of what you’re going through because of them.”

Something broke inside Sky. She realized Gray cared deeply. The low tenor of his voice vibrated through her, giving her the courage she’d lacked for a long time. Opening her eyes, Sky stared out into the darkened living room. Thin, milky streams of moonlight made the window and other areas where the beams struck look gray instead of dark. “I was in a Black Hawk crash. They were flying me and a surgeon to a forward operating base near the Pakistan border. An Army soldier had acute appendicitis and needed immediate emergency surgery.” Sky swallowed and emotionally gathered herself. She told him about the crash, being captured and of Aaron being shot in the head. When she got to her torture, she rasped, “They threw me on a board, covered my face with a cloth and poured water into my nose.” She felt his arms tighten around her, as if trying to protect her from the terrifying torture. Words failed her. The shame and humiliation were right there, eating away at her.

Gray closed his eyes, battling his rage. He forced his emotions deep, opened his eyes and asked in a low tone, “Do you know how many times you were waterboarded?”

Sky shook her head. “I was a captive for two weeks. Th-they would come in two days between each waterboarding bout and do it again. They’d cuff me to that damned table... I lost count. All I know is that by the time the SEAL team came, I was a shadow of myself. They found me quivering in a corner, no clothes on... I—I really don’t remember much after that, Gray. Someone put a blanket around me. The next thing I knew, he lifted me up and carried me in his arms. He got me out of that horrid room. I could breathe fresh air. I heard a helicopter nearby, and that’s the last thing I recall. I woke up in Landstuhl a few days later.”

Sky swallowed hard tears in her voice. “Gray...I didn’t even get to thank the SEALs who rescued me. I feel bad about that. Those guys risked their lives for me....”

“I can find out for you,” he reassured her, pressing a chaste kiss to her brow. “That’s ST3’s territory you were in. I’ll make a call and get the intel. I know you’d probably like to email them, and they’d feel good hearing from you. Okay?” Because it could be part of her ongoing healing process.

Sky wearily nodded, pressing her cheek against his warm, hard chest. The soft, silky hair tickled her chin and nose. Gray’s scent was evergreen soap and his own unique male scent. Inhaling it, Sky felt as if she were inhaling life. “Th-thank you. It would mean so much for me to do at least that much for them. They’re all heroes in my eyes.”

Gray stared into the darkness, his mind moving at light speed. Sky had been waterboarded a lot. It was an ineffective way to gather intel, that he knew. It had been proved that when a prisoner thought he was dying of suffocation, he would say anything to get the waterboarding to stop. And Gray was sure Sky had told them what they wanted to know. God, she was only a nurse! She wasn’t privy to black-ops movements. She didn’t carry a security clearance. All that was above her pay grade. Then why the hell had they done this to her? To what end?

“You went from Landstuhl to Balboa Naval Hospital to heal up?” he asked.

Nodding, Sky opened her eyes. “I spent six months there. The first month—” she grimaced “—I was on a cocktail of drugs. Emotionally, I was a basket case.”

“Baby, anyone who’d gone through what you did would be, too.”

“It tore me apart.” Shaking her head, Sky sponged in Gray’s quiet strength, his warmth and his attentiveness. He understood. All SEALs went through SERE, where they were all waterboarded to show them what it was like. But because of her military classification, she never had to take that dreaded course. Maybe if she had, she’d have been more mentally prepared, not taken by the shock and terror of it. Maybe...

“You’ve come a long way in a short time, Sky, with those kinds of experiences behind you.” Gray held her desolate gaze. “You realize that, don’t you? You’re functioning at a high level despite it.”

“I feel so damn weak, Gray. I feel like I’m set back every time I have that same flashback.”

“That’s going to change,” Gray promised her quietly, curving his fingers against her cheek. “You’re with someone who knows the score. I’m here for you. I won’t walk away from you, either, so don’t think you’re taking advantage of me.” He smiled a little as he watched hope flare to life in her shadowed eyes. “We’ll take this one day at a time. What you have to do is tell me when the stress is getting to you. I can take you out of the line of fire, and you can come back here to the house and rest. Ramp down.”

“But won’t Iris be upset if that happens? She’s paying me for eight hours of work a day.” She saw Gray give her a very male smile.

“Technically, Sky, you work for me. Iris cuts the paychecks every two weeks. If I tell you to go back here to rest, you do it. Iris would understand anyway. She’s hired a number of returning vets from Iraq and Afghanistan in the past. She’s no stranger to PTSD and what it does to us. I know she wouldn’t be upset with you, so don’t you be.”

Sky nodded. “Okay. I get it.”

“Feel like moving? I can make us some tea. Or you tell me what you need.” Gray didn’t want her to leave him. She fit beautifully against him, her soft, womanly curves meshing against his hard angles. He didn’t want to stop touching her here and there, but he knew he had to. There was a difference between care and making love to this woman. He couldn’t cross that line with Sky.

Stirring, Sky sat up, pushing her tangled hair off her face. “I need to get a bath. I reek.” She wrinkled her nose and gave Gray an apologetic look. Touching the damp nightgown she wore, she added, “I’ll take a bath, change into a dry nightgown and then I need to try to go to sleep. Thank you, though, for the offer of the tea.” Thank you for saving my life tonight. Without thinking, Sky placed her hand against his square jaw, leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss against his sandpapery cheek. And then she forced herself to her feet, her knees mushy from fear. Gray held her arm until she got steady enough to walk slowly toward the hall.

He watched her slow progress, worry clouding his expression. His cheek tingled hotly in the wake of her lush lips kissing him. It took everything he had not to enclose her with his arms once more and turn and trap that mouth of hers. He watched her move robotically, her stride tentative, unsure of her balance. Once she reached the hall, Sky put out her hand, using the wall to help guide her toward the bathroom.

Gray wanted to help her, but he understood her need to try to get stronger despite her injuries. And he didn’t want to enable her. It was a fine balance to walk with her.

The door to the bathroom opened and then quietly closed. With the sound of water running in the bathroom, he sat there, elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped between them. Gray shook his head, feeling the rage and injustice of her torture by the Taliban. He’d contact the senior chief of ST3 and find out the SEALs who were involved in Sky’s rescue. And he’d talk to the men who had found her. She wasn’t telling him everything. If he was going to help her, he had to know the whole story.

Gray slowly got to his feet, very aware of his erection. When Sky had unexpectedly kissed him, he’d gone hot and burned with sudden need for her. Only seconds later did he realize she’d kissed him out of gratitude, not out of desire. His body had its own miniature brain, and sure enough, he’d hardened beneath her entirely innocent gesture. What Gray didn’t want was for Sky to feel he was a sexual predator, using her flashbacks as a way to get to her. She hadn’t said she’d been raped. But he needed to know one way or another. Tomorrow morning, he’d place that call to his old SEAL team in Coronado.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“GRAYSON, HOW ARE YOU, brother?”

“Hey, Jag, good to hear your voice.” Gray smiled as he stood near the door to the wildlife center. It was nearly 8:00 a.m., and he had put in a call to the senior chief of ST3 at Coronado. The senior had given him the contact number of the SEAL who had led Sky’s rescue mission. Gray knew him well, Petty Officer First Class Ryan Stark. He had been a shooter in his squadron, and Gray had been with him when Kell Ballard, the LPO, had headed up the team. When Kell left, Ryan took his place. Everyone knew him as Jag, for jaguar, because Stark was as silent and deadly as the legendary South American cat.

“How’s life in Wyoming? Last email I got from you was two months go. Did you get snowed in?” Jag teased and laughed heartily.

Gray could feel his stomach knotting. “No, just busy putting the final touches on the wildlife center I’m running. Look, I got permission from the senior back at Coronado to ask you about a rescue mission you headed up.”

“Sure. What do you need to know?”

Gray knew all their ops were top secret. But ex-SEALs or retired SEALs were sometimes cut some slack if there was a personal stake in needing to know. “Your rescue of Lieutenant Skylar Pascal. Do you remember it? It was about eight months ago?”

“I couldn’t forget it if I wanted to,” Jag growled. “How did you get wind about this op?”

Mouth quirking, Gray walked around the corner of the building where he was out of sight of everyone. No one was around on the cold, sunny morning, but he didn’t want this conversation being overheard. He filled Jag in that Sky was going to be his assistant.

“Now, I know a couple of things,” Gray went on in a quiet tone. “She was in a Black Hawk crash, and there were two survivors. The doc was shot in the head later in a cave, leaving her the lone survivor. The Taliban held Sky for two weeks and she was waterboarded.”

“You know a whole helluva lot,” Jag muttered.

“Not enough, though. I need your eyes on this, Jag. You were there. You pulled the op. What else can you tell me about that mission?” Gray held his breath, trying to prepare himself.

“It was a nightmare, man. Me and my team took down four Taliban guarding that Afghan house. We captured two others. The Taliban was hiding her in plain sight in a border village. We got inside the house, found this small room locked. I shot off the lock and kicked the door open. It was dark and smelled bad. Real bad. I aimed my rifle around with the light beneath it and spotted something in the corner of the room. At first, I thought it was just a pile of old, ratty wool blankets. There was a table in the center of the room with chains on each corner of it. I flashed my light around and there was blood all over the freakin’ place. There was vomit, shit and urine. The place smelled bad, man. When I went over to the blankets, I used the toe of my boot to nudge it, and it moved. Scared the hell outta me. I leaped back, ready to fire at it, thinking a Taliban was hiding under it.”

“But it was Sky?” Gray pressed grimly, his eyes narrowing, his gut knotted so tight it hurt.

“Yes, it was. She was naked, hair matted and filthy dirty. I tried to ask her name but she was dazed and in deep shock. All she could do was huddle, arms wrapped around herself, shaking. It was really bad, Gray. Never seen anything like it.”

Mouth tightening, Gray rasped, “What else? I need to know all of it.”

“I knelt down beside her and put my rifle aside, told her who I was. Told her we were there to rescue her. I saw her one wrist, Gray, and man, it was ground up like fresh, raw hamburger. And then as I slowly pulled the blanket off her back to examine her for other wounds, I caught sight of her left ankle.” Jag blew out a breath, his voice deepening. “She had blood poisoning from those chains they were wrapping around her ankles and wrists. Red stripes were running halfway up both her calves. She had a high fever, shaking with chills, and was completely out of it. She didn’t respond to me. They fucking broke her, Gray. And I mean in the worst kind of way. One of my other guys, a combat medic, came over and he about lost it as he quickly examined her for other wounds. She was so filthy, bloody and was sicker than hell.”

“Had she been raped?” Gray closed his eyes, steeling himself.

“We didn’t know at the time. When we got her to Bagram hospital, I talked to one of the doctors in the E.R. who admitted her. He said she hadn’t been raped. Shit, they’d done just about everything else to her. The doc wasn’t sure she was going to make it. Lieutenant Pascal had a fever of a hundred and five degrees with a very advanced case of sepsis, blood poisoning. She was severely undernourished and dehydrated, Gray. Literally, nothing but skin over her bones. I don’t think those bastards fed her at all. The corpsman gave me a clean blanket from his rucksack, and I wrapped her up in it and picked her up, got her the hell out of there. She went unconscious on me while I was carrying her toward the helo. The corpsman put an IV in each of her arms on the flight into Bagram. None of us were sure she was going to make it. She was in pitiful condition, Gray.”

“Did you get the bastards who did this to her?”

Jag laughed darkly. “Sure did. A little fat man and a tall, skinny bastard. We took ’em prisoner. Later the CIA boys at J-bad, Jalalabad, took them in custody. And after the spooks learned what they’d done to Lieutenant Pascal... Well, let’s just say those two got what they doled out to her in spades.”

“I’d like to kill them,” Gray snarled.

“Hey, man, no worries. I heard about four weeks later that they were found dead from trying to escape. I didn’t ask how. It just made me feel good those two sonofabitches were dead for how they treated that Navy officer.”

“Anything else?”

“No, that’s it. It’s enough,” Jag said wearily. “You say she’s with you now? How is she?”

Gray snorted and started pacing the length of the building. “Considering everything you just told me, she appeared normal to me and to everyone else around here.”

“Man, that’s unbelievable she’s rebounded like that. She’s got a real set of balls.”

Gray wasn’t so sure. “She had a flashback last night, screamed and woke me up. I eventually talked her awake, and she told me about her capture. But I knew there was more. Sky is a very strong woman to have handled everything that’s happened to her and still be able to function in society.”

“Man, I’ll tell you, busting into that room and the rank odor that hit us, the smell of her rotting, infected flesh...”

Nausea burned in his throat. Gray swallowed hard, his voice hoarse. “Did the spooks ever tell you if they learned anything from those two bastards? Why they did this to her?”

“Yeah. I met one of the spooks about six weeks later over at the J-bad chow hall. We were flown up there as part of a task force on an op going down that night. I asked him the same question. The little fat guy said they thought she was a spy.”

Grunting, Gray halted and took a deep breath. “Lying bastards.”

“Hell, yeah. The spook said they’d tortured Lieutenant Pascal just to get even with all Americans. One American was as good as another, as far as they were concerned. Didn’t matter if it was a man or woman.”

Rage flowed through Gray, his hand tightening on his cell phone. “Hey, I owe you on this, Jag. Thanks for letting me know the rest of the story.”

“No problem, man. It’s good to hear she not only survived, but she’s thriving, too. I’d never have believed it myself, seeing her in that state.”

Nodding, Gray said, “It gives me a lot of hope I can help her walk the rest of the way.”

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