Grayson's Surrender

Only he would notice the hitch in her breathing—and wished like hell he didn't know her well enough to understand its significance.



Meanwhile, his patients had to be his priority, and that included ignoring the wisp of hair sneaking free from Lori's braid to caress her brow.



Gray opened the next file. "Okay, kiddo."



As he'd done in the plane, Gray escaped into the reliable routine of his job. He evaluated one child at a time, not a chart or a case, but a person. Nikola, Antonije, Goran, Vasiliji, Jelena, each the complete focus of Gray's attention for his or her ten minutes while he checked vitals, cleansed and bandaged cuts, assessed broken teeth, ground his own teeth at the sight of a partially healed gunshot wound on an eight-year-old.



Gray passed off a chart and stretched his shoulders, glancing at his watch as his arm arced up. An hour and a half until takeoff. The walls rattled with another burst of gunfire—and something else. A grenade? Or a land mine? Did they sound closer or were his heightened senses exaggerating?



Lori didn't flinch, but her complexion downgraded from ivory to milky. Noise inside the hangar waned for five heart-stopping seconds, then resumed. Gray glanced around the warehouse and caught the commander's attention two tables over. "Can we step up the pace, Colonel?"



Lt. Col. Zach Dawson's tense nod wasn't reassuring, but Gray had been through worse. Just not with seventy-two children and Lori depending on him.



The next child shuffled forward, clinging to the hand of a soft-figured orphanage worker in a dulled-out white uniform. Gray spun his chair to face her fully and found a little girl, around three or four. Sprigs of hacked, dark hair damp with sweat curled along her round face. With those cropped locks, she'd probably been deloused. Poor kid.



A harsh cough rumbled from the tiny chest as she tucked behind the woman's long skirt. Gray looked up at Lori. He knew when he was out of his league.



She crouched in front of the girl. "Hello—" slowly Lori reached to tap the name tag "—Magda."



Dirty little fists eased their grip on the dress. One wide, dark eye peeked warily, her cough dwindling to a raspy sigh. Lori kept her hand extended and steady.



The older woman mumbled a few words in another language, pried her skirt free and nudged Magda forward. If only they had more time to ease this kid through the exam. But they didn't. Gray stifled the rush of frustration over things he couldn't change.



Lori extended her other hand to the girl. A look of resignation crossed the tiny face. Magda dropped her arms to her sides and waited, helpless.



Lori gasped, the first substantial reaction he'd heard from her all day. Who could blame her? This kid was a heartbreaker.



She stood, small and still, her navy cotton dress a size too big and drooping off one shoulder. A grubby Barbie poked from either end of her clenched grip. Magda met his gaze dead-on, her eyes flat. A living casualty of war.



He'd seen the look too often in his father's eyes, a look cultivated in a Vietnamese POW camp. A look the old man still carried in unguarded moments. Gray had long ago accepted he couldn't heal his father or his family any more than he could fix the real problem for these children. He could only bandage them up and pass them off to true healers like Lori.



Too many emotions churned within Gray. Complicated mishmashes of things he couldn't deal with now, didn't want to wade through ever again. Keep it simple. Give the kid a bandage and a smile. It was all he had to offer.



Lori heard the creak of Gray's chair as he shifted. She wanted to ask for his help with this child whose soulful eyes lashed at emotions already too bare after a draining day.



But she wouldn't. She could handle it on her own. Asking for help had never been her forte, anyway.



Gunfire grumbled outside. Not much time. Lori eased forward, no fast motions, and carefully picked up the little girl. She placed Magda on the gurney, then hitched up to sit beside her.



Gray pulled the stethoscope up to his ears. Magda cringed back. Lori encircled her shoulders and squeezed. "Shhhh. It's okay."



"Yeah, see." Gray held the stethoscope on his own chest.



Magda frowned. He grinned, put it on his forehead, his chin, his nose, like any mischievous kid except for that beard-stubbled jaw. Magda buried her face against Lori's shoulder.



"Ah, playing hard to get are we, little Magpie." Gray held up the stethoscope. "Look. Here's how it's done."



He reached toward Lori and paused, as if waiting for permission. She swallowed and nodded. The disk rested safely in the center of her chest, no accidental brushes. Good.



Except he would hear her heart tap dancing double time.



Heaven help her if he flashed that wicked grin of his her way, because she didn't think she could keep from blushing—or screaming.



He didn't look up.



Worse, his head bowed and he simply listened. Disk pressed against her chest, he listened without moving as if the sound of her racing heart might mean something to him. Lori stared down at that strong neck, his dark hair peeking from the edges of his red bandanna. Boyish, rugged, appealing.



Wrong.



She'd had enough of playing doctor with him for one day. For a lifetime.



Magda's hand untwined from Lori's shirt and inch by tentative inch snuck forward until she touched Gray's bandanna.



He jerked away. Magda winced. The tight lines around his eyes eased, and he tapped his head. "You like this? With that stylish 'do' you're sportin' little one, I can't say I blame you for wanting some head cover. I'd give you mine, Magpie, but it's probably soaked by now." His hand snaked into his thigh pocket. "How about this?"



Tugging free a blue bandanna, he waved it in front of her. Her brown eyes sparkled to life for the first time. Her fingers gripped the Barbie in an excited, tight fist.



Gray folded the fabric into a triangle and draped it over Magda's head. His total focus on his small patient riveted Lori. He knotted the three ends over Magda's butchered hair.



Leaning back, he smiled a full-out grin and gave the girl a thumbs-up. "Beauty."



Lori wanted to gut punch him.



How dare he be so … so … everything.



Her mind wandered angry paths as he warmed the stethoscope on his hand. Gray should have left her alone and let her work with Tag in his baggy flight suit. Or with happily married Lancelot. Or with Bronco, who was more like a big brother. A really big brother.



Instead Gray had to torment her with all those appealing ways that had rattled her world first time around. Except she would be smarter now, resist temptation. She would heed his warnings and the warnings of her own heart, a heart she had no intention of entrusting to Grayson Clark.



She wouldn't be fooled by his bandanna-bonding. This charming vagabond had zero interest in happily-ever-after, and she couldn't settle for less. "I think she's ready for you to check her out now."



"Okay, Miss Magpie, let's listen to those lungs." He rested the disk on her reed-thin chest, moved it around, frowned, moved it along her back, then front again, lingering longer than he had with the other children.



"Damn," he whispered, before draping the stethoscope around his neck while he used the otoscope to look up her nose and in her ears, his doctor-face smooth and expressionless.



"What?"



He palpated the glands in her neck. "Pneumonia most likely. Not to mention a vicious double ear infection. This kid's not in any shape to fly."



Horror sliced through Lori like one of those scalpels in the instrument tray. "You're joking, right? Have you listened to what's going on out there? We can't leave her here."



"Hold it down." Gray held his hands up. "I didn't say she wouldn't fly. Just that regulations say she shouldn't."



The sick twist of her stomach eased, only to knot again. Regulations. "What can you do?"



He scrubbed a hand over his bandanna and glanced at the tray of supplies beside him. "Screw the regs. Pump her full of meds. Keep quiet. Pray like hell."



She prayed—prayed for the day to end, so children like Magda could crawl into a safe warm bed, so she could crawl into her own … alone. Far away from having to watch Gray be the honorable hero of the day, saving and charming children with heartbreaking ease.



A cleared throat sounded just behind Gray. Lori jumped and peered over his shoulder as he glanced back.



Lancelot stood behind them, a ridge creased between his brows. "Problem with this one?"



"No problem." Gray filled a syringe and pierced Magda's arm before she could blink, much less cry. He flung aside the empty needle. It clattered to rest in a tray. "All set."



"Good, 'cause we're gonna have to clear out. Now. Radio report says…" He paused, his gaze flickering to Lori, then back to Gray. "We should start packing. Load 'em up and finish the rest in-flight."



An eerie quiet mushroomed in the warehouse.



Panic pierced her like that needle he'd tossed aside, seeping fear into her veins. Not exactly what she'd wished for with that prayer, but then, things rarely turned out as she hoped around Gray.



He shoved to his feet, his body humming with tension. "Roger that, Lance. Ready to roll."



Gray extended a hand to Lori just as an explosion ripped the air outside the hangar.



Chapter 3



"Incoming!"



The warning echoed through the hangar, in Gray's ears. Lori's horrified eyes met his. Too distracting.



Gray kicked aside his chair. He flung his body over Lori and Magda, pinning them to the gurney.



Braced his arms. Cursed. Prayed.



A whistling premonition increased. Incoming. Another explosion. Metal walls rattled like a drum.



Reverberated. Waned. Silence.



Then shouts and orders for evacuation zipped around them. He couldn't afford mind-numbing fear for the woman beneath him. He had to get her out. Fast. Gray hauled himself off Lori.



"To the plane," he barked. "Now!"



He yanked her up, trying to pry Magda from her arms. Spindly arms and legs held tight.



Lori shoved his shoulder. "Just go! I can carry her." With a terse nod, Gray grabbed Lori's hand. He called on his training to overcome emotions that could dull his reactions. He bolted forward. They followed loadmasters herding clusters of children out the door. Local officials darted through the crowd, scooping up children.



Sunlight and carbon-tinged air assaulted his senses. A distant explosion plumed smoke. Damn, why hadn't he pushed to leave sooner?



He checked left, right and sprinted, Lori's hand locked in his. A few more feet to the cargo plane.



Whump, sounded just beyond the trees. Mortar fire launched.



Lori's soft hand felt too mortal in his.



Her fingers jerked free.



Panic popped through Gray like a semiautomatic. He spun to find her darting away.



Toward a weaving toddler heading for the trees. Mortar rounds shattered the asphalt inches from her feet. She stumbled, righted herself and plowed forward, her body curved protectively around Magda.



Fury and fear discharged within him. "Lori!"



She didn't hear, or chose to ignore him, damned reckless, selfless woman.



He dodged left, putting his body between her and the spewing rounds. His boots pounded pavement in time with his heart. His left calf stung. Pain spread into a flame he had to ignore for now. He ran faster, frustration clawing through him.



She scooped up the child, balancing one orphan on each hip. Already her eyes scanned the cracked runway as if searching for someone else to save. Did she intend to carry them on her back?



Gray skidded to a stop beside her. He whipped the extra kid from her arms. He crowded behind her, nudging, urging, shielding her back with his body. "Go! Go! Go!"



"Wait!" She pointed across the runway at another group of children. "They need—"



"Damn it, woman! They're fine. Tag's got 'em. Now move!" he shouted over the mayhem. Hours of restraint expanded within him as he raced a serpentine path. The percussion from another blast slammed Lori back against his chest. She staggered, paused.