Grayson's Surrender (Wingmen Warriors 1)

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.