Lethal Attraction Page 2

  Her last thought was for the man who’d captured her heart. The man whose rejection had broken her heart. Would he grieve for the girl who’d been his friend? For the woman he’d refused to know?

  She’d never see him again.

  She’d die, without ever knowing what might have been.

  That hurt worse than anything her assailants could do.

  A boom shattered the silence. Sabrina flinched as brilliant heat seared her closed lids. Then the bullet slammed into her head—and everything went black.

  “Sabrina.”

  She surfaced to consciousness. A man was calling her name.

  “Can you hear me?”

  Was she hallucinating? Or dead?

  “Sabrina, wake up.”

  “Di-did…” Her mouth wouldn’t work right. “Did I die?”

  “No, sweetheart. You’re very much alive.”

  She jerked. She recognized that low, husky voice. She forced heavy eyelids open, and her heart kicked. She knew those sooty-lashed mossy eyes. Knew that square jaw and stubborn chin. Knew the full, sensual curve of that gorgeous mouth.

  She blinked at the hovering man in camouflage fatigues. “Grady?”

  Grady O’Rourke’s concerned gray-green gaze tangled with hers. Grim emotion flickered in those expressive eyes before he shuttered his expression. “You’re gonna be fine.”

  “Now I know I’m not dead. Because you’re no angel.”

  “Not even close.” Relief warmed some of the anxiety from his handsome face. “The halo doesn’t fit over the horns.”

  Gunpowder stung her nostrils, mixed with the metallic tang of blood. Sensation returned, flooding her with pain. Her head pounded with each heartbeat. “Ow.” She frowned. His hand was applying aching pressure to her right temple. Was he shaking? Or was she? “Some suit shot me. Call 911.”

  “Honey, I am 911.” The SWAT cop/paramedic smiled crookedly. “Nobody shot you. I had to take you down from behind to get you out of the line of fire. You cracked your head on the doorjamb.”

  Grady was here. Her coconspirator. Her confidant. Her childhood hero. He cupped her cheek with his other hand. He was trembling. What was that? Nothing rattled her Irish daredevil. She’d never seen him fazed by anything, except…Terror hurtled back. “Two men! Guns!” She struggled to sit up.

  “Stay still.” His big body filled her field of vision. “The threat has been neutralized.”

  The former Army medevac chopper pilot’s capability was no surprise. The loud boom she’d heard must have been his gunfire. “You mean dead.”

  His features hardened from caring friend to lethal soldier. “It was them or you. I picked you.” His dual nature never failed to fascinate her. A Gemini, Grady managed to meld two disparate instincts often at war with each other—healer and warrior.

  “Those men tried to murder you, Sabrina. Would have, if I hadn’t arrived when I did. Too bad I wasn’t able to interrogate the bastards first. I overheard the confrontation while I did recon. You have no idea what this is about?”

  “Zero.” Someone had sicced pros…maybe government pros…on her. They’d send more. Grady had saved her life; she had to save her strength. Not only was she down, injured and under attack, but being with him again would require shoring up all her defenses.

  She needed to keep what wits she had functioning. “Did you call the station?”

  “Perps aren’t going anywhere. I’ll call it in when I’m sure you’re okay.”

  “I didn’t hear you break into the apartment.”

  A dark, glossy brow arched. “You weren’t supposed to.”

  “What if more goons show up?”

  “Then I’ll handle it.”

  Her glance drifted to the Glock holstered on his thigh, then back to the glittering resolve in his eyes. His expression might be hard, but his heart was not. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  His pale face was somber. “Just doing my job.”

  She frantically inventoried his muscular torso. “You weren’t hit?”

  “I dodge bullets for a living.” His warm fingers pressed against her jugular. “You were only out a few minutes and your vitals are strong. Relax and let me fix you up.”

  That’s what he’d done his entire life. Fixed wounded animals and found them new owners. Fixed broken people and sent them home. “Am I bleeding?”

  “All head wounds bleed profusely.” He gently caught her hand and pressed it to the cloth-covered injury. “Hold this. I’m going to lift you.”

  Her fingers tangled in the fabric, and she groaned. “Please tell me my new silk dress isn’t a field dressing.”

  His lips twitched. “I didn’t exactly have time to be choosy.”

  “Sorry.” She groaned again. “Of course not.”

  He yanked the comforter from her bed. “Hey, you just got clocked. You’re not thinking clearly.”

  She probed her injury through the silk. “Youch. How bad is it?”

  “Stop that, and keep the pressure on.” He covered her hand with his. He wasn’t shaking anymore, but was still far too intense. What was wrong with him? “It’s not critical. How do you feel?”

  “Like I was trampled by a 190-pound SWAT cop.”

  “There’s my girl.” His smile warmed into a grin.

  And there was the Irish daredevil she knew and loved. Those killer twin dimples so did it for her. And she so didn’t want them to. “Did you at least call an ambulance?”

  “No need.” He wrapped her in the comforter and scooped her up. “Average ambulance ETA to this neighborhood is eighteen minutes. I’ll have you patched and into Mercy before they can even process the request.”

  “No doubt.” He was the best—at everything. With one infuriating exception. Cooking a microwave dinner took longer than what passed for Officer I-Live-for-Excitement’s “relationships.”

  He carried her out the bedroom door. When she tried to look back, he blocked the view. “Don’t, Sabrina.”

  She pressed her cheek to his broad chest and inhaled his familiar essence of fresh citrus and warm man. The reassuring thud of his heartbeat was rapid. He probably had a major adrenaline rush going, which would account for his earlier shakiness.

  His stride was easy, as if she weighed nothing. “I left my medical bag in the Jeep. Do you have a first-aid kit?”

  “Bathroom cabinet.”

  He laid her on the sofa. “Be right back.” He returned within seconds and sat beside her. He found gauze, and then tugged a Swiss Army knife from his cammo pants pocket to slice tape. She still remembered his proud grin when his dad had bestowed the traditional O’Rourke thirteenth-birthday gift.

  “Grady?” Reality clouds rolled in, and the initial luster of seeing him again dimmed. “Nobody has heard from you for seven months.” Two weeks after he’d gone missing, Sabrina had learned from his sister-in-law Zoe that he’d taken a leave of absence from his Riverside SWAT paramedic job. But nothing more. His disappearance shouldn’t have shocked her. When the climate turned stormy, Grady was a pro at fast takeoffs.

  “I’ve been…busy.” His enigmatic gaze flickered. Busy with another woman? She had no ties to him. No right to ask. He’d just evade questions.

  But the flash of a bullet fired at her head had illuminated her perspective. Nearly dying had snapped her priorities into clear focus. She would settle things with Grady O’Rourke, once and for all.

  Even if neither of them liked the answers.

  She touched his hand, now strong and steady at her temple, and taut awareness hummed between them. “Where have you been? And how did you get here just in time to save me?”

  Chapter 2

  2:00 p.m.

  Grady had known the ground-breaking ceremony was today. He might have been out of touch, but Sabrina was never far from his thoughts.

  He stared into her smoky amber eyes. Her confusion had dissipated, and she was asking lucid questions. Tough questions. “I’ve been working for an independent covert high-risk extraction squad
.”

  “You’re a mercenary now?” She studied his camouflage gear and frowned. “Interesting development.”

  So, she’d caught the lack of insignia on his fatigues. “Something like that.” He had to give her props. In spite of being terrorized and injured, her bravado was firmly intact. She was maintaining almost too well. Usually, victims fell apart when they were rescued.

  This time, he’d freaked.

  He’d picked up his new assignment hyped by the chance to save another civilian from execution in a third-world hellhole. Until he’d read Sabrina’s name on the dossier. A greasy ball of fear had churned in his gut as he’d pushed his chopper through the endless night.

  “Care to explain, Dimples?”

  “Not really.” Grady smoothed back her silky blond hair and applied a gauze pad. He’d trained hard not to let emotion dictate his actions. It had paid off when he’d done recon on her apartment and seen her facing down two armed men. He’d been forced to form and execute an instant tactical plan. Before they could execute her.

  Then he’d spun around after the firefight and found her crumpled on the floor, pale and bloody. He thought he’d been too late. Thought she’d been shot. The impact had rendered him dazed and shaky and sick to his stomach. And too damned slow.

  Corporal Cool had lost his friggin’ mojo in the middle of a mission.

  He swore under his breath. That’s why he didn’t let himself get attached. When feelings cluttered his radar, he couldn’t help anyone. Couldn’t save anyone. A gut-wrenching lesson learned when he was seventeen.

  “No discussion. Gee, what a surprise.” Her full pink lips pursed, making his body tighten. “How did you know I needed help? How did you get here just in time?”

  “Twelve hours ago, I received orders, intel and payment like always, in a secure satellite transmission. Someone shocked the hell out of me by claiming you might be in danger and paying me to guard you. As for my arrival on the razor’s edge—”

  He almost hadn’t.

  His helicopter’s radio and half the electronics had blipped offline during a mission, and he had returned to HQ early. He’d seen the new orders bearing Sabrina’s name and immediately grabbed another bird. It was luck. Chance. If his chopper systems hadn’t failed, the assignment would have sat until morning. Sabrina would have died.

  Taking his heart with her to the grave.

  Grady clenched his jaw. His prized detachment had been blown to hell. “Your guardian angel must be working overtime.”

  “Who hired you?”

  “No idea.” But he would damn well find out.

  “You flew off without knowing who hired you or why?”

  “That’s how the company operates. Our clients prefer anonymity.” But this time, whoever had hired him was aware of the plan to kill Sabrina. And Grady had a few questions for the bastards.

  “Okay…” Her eyes sparked, and he steeled himself. Incoming. “The reason you came is because someone paid you?”

  Ouch. The hero-worship phase of the rescue was obviously over. “I don’t give a flying Finnegan about money, and you know it.”

  “What do you care about?”

  You. More than I want to. More than is safe for either of us. “This isn’t the time, Sabrina.”

  She scowled. “It’s never the time.”

  Dammit. Neither the Army nor the police academy had trained him for heart-to-heart combat. He stood to pick her up. “Time to go to the hospital.”

  “Wait! I am not going to work in my underwear.”

  “You’re not going there to work. You’re a patient.” He gestured. “You have a blanket.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “It’s a hospital, not a burger joint, sweetheart. You don’t get to have it your way. They’ll just take them off.” He frowned. “CSI goes ballistic when the first responders muck up the scene. One stray hair can affect a case, and I’ve already compromised by covering you with the blanket. Do you have clothes anywhere else?”

  “No. What will I wear home?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled chin. Damned stubborn woman. “I’ve extracted special-ops units from a firefight and taken less flak,” he muttered. “Too bad I left the tranquilizers in the Jeep.” He yanked his fatigue shirt from his waistband and unbuttoned it, revealing the black T-shirt beneath.

  Eyes wide, Sabrina sat up. “Ow!” She winced. “What are you doing?”

  Literally giving her the shirt off his back. “You wanted clothes.” Squelching his own desires where she was concerned was tough enough. He’d always found it nearly impossible to deny her anything—may God have mercy on his soul. His only option was to force himself to stay away from her. The attraction that sizzled between them was deadlier than bullets.

  A muscle ticced in his jaw as he draped the garment around her. “It’ll cover you. Take it or leave it.”

  “Thank you again. This time for saving my pride.” She rested her hand on his chest, and his heart leaped. “As a blond woman and the head trauma surgeon’s daughter, I have to fight for credibility. You know the razzing I’d take if my coworkers saw me in nothing but scraps of scarlet satin.”

  Yeah, he knew. And Sabrina strove not to show vulnerability to anyone…except him. “Which is the only reason I didn’t shoot you up with happy juice and pack you outta here…sexy red undies be damned.” The red lingerie did leave an enticing expanse of creamy skin exposed.

  She’s simply another patient.

  Yeah. And he was the Dalai Lama.

  He guided Sabrina’s arms through the sleeves and rolled the cuffs. As he rebuttoned the placket, his knuckles brushed the warm, soft swell of her breast. She inhaled, and heat blasted through him. Chill out, boyo. That’s all he needed to make this cluster bomb complete. Total loss of objectivity.

  He drew his Glock, and she raised her hands in mock surrender. “Stand down, Officer O’Rourke. I wasn’t going to take your pants.”

  His lips twitched into a grin. Most of the time he wanted to toss her down and make love to her until she lost the power of speech. The rest of the time she tempted him to throttle her. He’d die before doing either. “I’m gonna sweep our escape route. Do not move.”

  The outside was clear, and he holstered his weapon and returned to Sabrina’s apartment. The stench of gunpowder and death hung in the air. Yeah, the unavoidable killing bugged him. The day he didn’t feel a twisting ache in his chest when he shot someone was the day he’d surrender his shield.

  But the scumbags weren’t the real opponents. Death was his personal enemy. An evil fought on two fronts, as a cop and as a medic. Didn’t matter if the Grim Reaper rode in on a bullet or drunk behind the wheel of a speeding car…dead was dead.

  His mission to save lives didn’t leave much personal time.

  “All clear. Let’s blow this pop stand.” He gathered Sabrina up. Gun hand at the ready, he strode across the living room.

  “I’m perfectly capable of walking.”

  “Don’t bother. Not going to happen.”

  She frowned. “At least grab my shoes and purse from beside the door.” He scooped up the items, and she clutched them to her chest. “Aren’t you going to call the police?”

  “Yeah, on the way to the hospital.”

  “You’re going to earn a reprimand for not following procedure.”

  Rules were a safe place to hide when you didn’t have imagination, and the stones to see it through. “If I call from here, dispatch will order me to put you in an ambulance and stay at the crime scene. I’d be snarled in red tape for hours.” He scanned the perimeter before stepping away from the building. “I’m on leave from the Riverside PD. I still have my badge, but don’t officially have to answer to anyone at the moment.”

  “Convenient. Just the way you like it.”

  “The PD doesn’t have a spare officer to ride shotgun, and I’m not about to let whoever ordered the hit take another whack at you. Screw that.”

  “You never were good at
coloring inside the lines, O’Rourke.”

  He snorted. “If the good die young, then why be good?”

  Grady carried her to his Jeep and settled her into the passenger seat. “Keep a low profile until I get the top up.” He adjusted the seat to a reclining position. “On second thought, just stay down.”

  She touched his arm as he buckled her seat belt. “Why didn’t you call one of your brothers to check on me? Or another officer?”

  “I tried. At the time I had no idea the scenario was critical. But Riverside PD is short-handed because something big is going down in Eastern Oregon, and central has loaned out most of our officers.” He went cold again thinking about how close she’d been to death. He cupped her cheek. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Sabrina.”

  Her smile was wobbly. “I trust you to keep me safe,” she whispered.

  “You couldn’t be in better hands in combat.” As he sprinted around the front of the vehicle and jumped into the driver’s seat, his heart stumbled painfully in his chest.

  If only he deserved her trust everywhere else.

  Grady started the engine and raised and locked the ragtop. He’d customized the top himself. It worked like a convertible, except the locks and lift activated from inside the car. That way, he never had to screw around when the sky was pouring buckets or he was in a rush to load bulky sporting equipment. A canvas roof wouldn’t thwart a bullet, but it was hard to hit what they couldn’t see. He wheeled into traffic and sped down the street.

  After the third signal light abruptly went green at their approach, she turned a puzzled face toward him. “What are you doing?”

  He tossed her an innocent look. “Driving to the hospital.”

  Her brows scrunched. “That hydraulic top lift isn’t the only gadget you rigged in this Jeep. You’re changing the traffic lights somehow.”

  “I’m blowing on them.” He pursed his lips, another light flashed from red to green and they sailed through the intersection.

  “Give it up, Dimples. I haven’t believed that trick except for a few gullible weeks when we were in first grade.”

  He grinned. He’d never been able to snow her for long. “It’s a MIRT…a mobile infrared transmitter hidden in the grill. A lot of emergency vehicles have them. It’s faster.”