Protecting His Own Read online

  “Nice to see you again, Lieutenant,” Roc drawled.

  “Liar.”

  Stunned, Roc stared at Dr. Samantha Andrews. “Excuse me?”

  Sam met and held his surprised gaze. “You’re a liar, Captain Gunnison. And don’t try and sweet-talk me, because it won’t work. I call a spade a spade.”

  Lips tightening, Roc stared at her. “Okay, Doctor, have it your way. I was just trying to be social.”

  “Yeah, right. I saw the look you gave me. I know where I stand with you on this mission.”

  He glared down at her. “We need to talk. But not here. And not now. Once we get to Area Five, you and I are going to chat. Alone.”

  Giving him a cutting smile, Sam said, “Fine with me, Captain. Because frankly, you’re the last man on earth I’d ever want to have with me on a mission.”

  Dear Reader,

  Things are cooling down outside—at least here in the Northeast—but inside this month’s six Silhouette Intimate Moments titles the heat is still on high. After too long an absence, bestselling author Dallas Schulze is back to complete her beloved miniseries A FAMILY CIRCLE with Lovers and Other Strangers. Shannon Deveraux has come home to Serenity and lost her heart to travelin’ man Reece Morgan.

  Our ROMANCING THE CROWN continuity is almost over, so join award winner Ingrid Weaver in Under the King’s Command. I think you’ll find Navy SEAL hero Sam Coburn irresistible. Ever-exciting Lindsay McKenna concludes her cross-line miniseries, MORGAN’S MERCENARIES: ULTIMATE RESCUE, with Protecting His Own. You’ll be breathless from the first page to the last. Linda Castillo’s A Cry in the Night features another of her “High Country Heroes,” while relative newcomer Catherine Mann presents the second of her WINGMEN WARRIORS, in Taking Cover. Finally, welcome historical author Debra Lee Brown to the line with On Thin Ice, a romantic adventure set against an Alaskan background.

  Enjoy them all, and come back again next month, when the roller-coaster ride of love and excitement continues right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments, home of the best romance reading around.

  Yours,

  Leslie J. Wainger

  Executive Senior Editor

  LINDSAY McKENNA

  Protecting His Own

  Books by Lindsay McKenna

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  Love Me Before Dawn #44

  ∆∆Protecting His Own #1184

  Silhouette Special Edition

  Captive of Fate #82

  *Heart of the Eagle #338

  *A Measure of Love #377

  *Solitaire #397

  Heart of the Tiger #434

  †A Question of Honor #529

  †No Surrender #535

  †Return of a Hero #541

  Come Gentle the Dawn #568

  †Dawn of Valor #649

  **No Quarter Given #667

  **The Gauntlet #673

  **Under Fire #679

  ††Ride the Tiger #721

  ††One Man’s War #727

  ††Off Limits #733

  ‡Heart of the Wolf #818

  ‡The Rogue #824

  ‡Commando #830

  **Point of Departure #853

  °Shadows and Light #878

  °Dangerous Alliance #884

  °Countdown #890

  ‡‡Morgan’s Wife #986

  ‡‡Morgan’s Son #992

  ‡‡Morgan’s Rescue #998

  ‡‡Morgan’s Marriage #1005

  White Wolf #1135

  ◊Wild Mustang Woman #1166

  ◊Stallion Tamer #1173

  ◊The Cougar #1179

  ∆Heart of the Hunter #1214

  ∆Hunter’s Woman #1255

  ∆Hunter’s Pride #1274

  §Man of Passion #1334

  §A Man Alone #1357

  §Man with a Mission #1376

  ◊◊Woman of Innocence #1442

  ∆∆The Heart Beneath #1486

  Silhouette Romance

  ‡The Will To Love #1618

  Silhouette Desire

  Chase the Clouds #75

  Wilderness Passion #134

  Too Near the Fire #165

  Texas Wildcat #184

  Red Tail #208

  ∆The Untamed Hunter #1262

  ‡Ride the Thunder #1459

  Silhouette Shadows

  Hangar 13 #27

  Silhouette Books

  Silhouette Christmas Stories 1990

  “Always and Forever”

  Lovers Dark and Dangerous 1994

  “Seeing Is Believing”

  Morgan’s Mercenaries:

  Heart of the Jaguar 1999

  Morgan’s Mercenaries:

  Heart of the Warrior 2000

  Morgan’s Mercenaries:

  Heart of Stone 2001

  Harlequin Historicals

  Sun Woman #71

  Lord of Shadowhawk #108

  King of Swords #125

  Brave Heart #171

  LINDSAY McKENNA

  A homeopathic educator, Lindsay teaches at the Desert Institute of Classical Homeopathy in Phoenix, Arizona. When she isn’t teaching alternative medicine, she is writing books about love. She feels love is the single greatest healer in the world and hopes that her books touch her readers’ hearts.

  To Lynda Curnyn, my editor, who works so hard

  on my behalf and always makes my day.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  February 2: 0700

  “How do you get oil and water to mix?” Morgan Trayhern asked out loud as he stood looking out the window of his office at Camp Reed. The marine base near Los Angeles had been operating twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week since an earthquake registering 8.9 on the Richter scale, had hit the Orange County area on New Year’s Eve. The devastation had left millions of people without food, water or medicine. Only this base had the air facility and personnel to even begin to try and save lives in that destroyed region. As an ex-marine and the head of Perseus, a covert agency that provided top-secret assistance to the government, Morgan had signed on to help with the recovery efforts. It hadn’t been easy. And with this next problem on his plate, his job had gotten a bit tougher.

  Tucking his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, Morgan scowled. How was he going to get two very strong, bullheaded people to work as a team out in area 5 without killing one another? Morgan studied the faint pink color along the desert horizon, the sight of the new dawn filling him with hope.

  The airport, a mile below the hill where the headquarters and logistics buildings sat, hummed like a stirred-up beehive. Fifty helicopters, mostly Sea Stallions and UH-1N Hueys, were lined up for takeoff—the backbone of the relief fleet. They had all been loaded the night before, and today two pilots would man each one, to fly goods into assigned areas. The flights would continue nonstop all day. Hardworking marine crews were also unloading huge Air Force cargo planes coming in regularly from points east. It was backbreaking work.

  Absently, Morgan adjusted the collar on his red Polo shirt. Even though it was winter in Southern California, with temperatures dropping down to the thirties and forties at night, he wore short-sleeved shirts most of the time. His wife, Laura, always teased him about being so warm-blooded.

  Turning, Morgan sighed, glancing around the tiny room and taking in the standard-issue gr
een metal desk, the maps tacked to every inch of wall so he could plan and organize the flights. The radio on his desk was connected with each of the supply and rescue camps they’d already established in the devastated area. Each channel was designated for a specific region. It was also connected to the brain of the operation, in HQ, where the generals convened to create workable strategies along with federal and local government officials.

  “Knock, knock?”

  Morgan lifted his head. He smiled when he saw Dr. Samantha Andrews peek her head around the corner of his partially opened door. Seemed he was going to have that oil and water problem sooner rather than later. “Good morning, Sam. Come on in.” He lifted his hand.

  “Thanks, Morgan. How’s Laura? I haven’t seen her since her last official checkup with me, a week ago. How’s her ankle doing?”

  “She’s now on crutches. She hated that wheelchair, but she also hated being in bed with her leg suspended. I think the surgery you performed was successful.”

  Frowning, Sam muttered, “Yes and no. When she got that blood clot later, that was a bump in the road to her recovery. I’m just glad we were able to fly in the drugs to get rid of it, since drugs of any kind are on short supply around here due to the earthquake crisis.”

  Morgan nodded. “Well, like I said, she’s happy being on crutches. She was so elated when you gave them to her last week, and thrilled to be able to send the wheelchair back to Supply.”

  “It will be eight weeks total before she can put real pressure on that ankle and the pins in it,” Sam said. “Hopefully, we can get her out of here by that time, back to Montana, and she can begin physical therapy at that point, to bring it back to almost full use.”

  Lifting a pot from the coffee dispenser, Morgan held a cup in Sam’s direction as she stepped into the room. “Coffee?”

  Laughing huskily, she said, “You need to ask a navy person if they want coffee?”

  Chuckling, Morgan poured her a cup. “Right now, Laura is keeping busy by helping the pediatric ward take care of the babies. My wife is especially fond of Baby Jane Fielding, the little girl we found buried in the rubble while I was still out there in the field looking for Laura.”

  “Ah yes, that cute little tyke,” Sam murmured, smiling. “Well, at least Laura has something to do. That’s important for her right now.” She came over and extended her long, thin hands toward the white ceramic cup he held out. “Coffee…” she sighed. “Nectar of the gods and goddesses….”

  “Marines like java, too.”

  “Yeah, marines aren’t far behind on that one,” she said genially as she watched Morgan pour himself a cup.

  “Even ex-marines like me never lose the habit. It’s ingrained, I think.”

  Laughing, Sam slid her hands around the thick cup and lifted it to her lips. “Understandable. The navy pays marines their checks twice a month, so they’re a part of us whether they like to admit it or not.”

  “There’s the rub,” Morgan said. “Marines like to think they’re a stand-alone service, like the army and Air Force.”

  Sam took a chair in front of Morgan’s desk, rearranging her white lab coat and the stethoscope hanging around her neck. “Yeah,” she said wryly, “I know. I run into that attitude all the time. Marines are too proud to admit they’re a part of something else. I think they forgot the concept of teamwork a long time ago.”

  “Maybe so,” Morgan murmured as he sat down in the squeaky desk chair. “But the esprit de corps of the marines is known around the world and it’s very real.”

  Sam sipped the coffee gratefully. She’d just gotten off a twelve-hour tour of duty, and it was 0700. She had twelve hours of rest coming to her before she went back on duty in the emergency room of the base hospital. “No question about that. It’s just that marines have a real problem working with anyone but their own kind. You used to be one. You know that.”

  Grunting, Morgan nodded. “No question, at times, that it gets in the way of good teamwork with others,” he said, studying the young woman before him speculatively. Sam’s shoulder-length red hair curled about her thin, proud shoulders, a bright contrast to the white lab coat she wore over her standard navy issue light blue, long-sleeved blouse and dark blue slacks. Despite his concerns about her ability to work with others, Morgan knew Sam was a damn good surgeon. She had saved his wife’s badly injured ankle after Laura had been dug out of the rubble of the hotel they’d been staying in. If not for the doctor’s knowing hands in surgery, Morgan knew his wife might have lost her whole foot.

  In fact, Sam, the head of E.R. for the navy hospital on Camp Reed, had insisted upon performing the surgery herself when she’d heard that Laura was married to the famous Morgan Trayhern. Morgan was forever grateful for Sam stepping in. Especially since the M.D. had already put in fourteen hours in E.R. that day, trying to help the hundreds of patients flowing through the doors in the wake of the earthquake. The hospital was on triage standing, and when Morgan had flown in with Laura, he had wondered if they’d get any help at all.

  He remembered seeing Sam in the busy passageway just inside the double doors of the hospital when he’d arrived with Laura, who had been carried in on a stretcher by two marines. With her bright red-gold hair, Sam had been hard to miss beneath the fluorescent lights. The hallway was jammed and crowded. Morgan had heard the moans, the cries, had seen the obvious shock on the faces of dozens of people sitting on the floor, lying on gurneys, or standing and holding their bloody wounds, waiting for medical help.

  Laura had been in deep shock herself, Morgan knew. Making his way through the crowd, he’d grabbed hold of Sam’s bloody white lab coat to get her attention. Automatically, he’d sensed she was in charge, because of the way she gave orders to the corpswaves and corpsmen, as well as the nurses. Her voice was cool, calm and authoritative. When she spoke, people settled down and listened. It was obvious Sam Andrews knew how to get things done, and that was the type of person Morgan wanted helping his wife.

  When he’d grabbed her sleeve, Sam had stopped, turned her head, and then stared at him in surprise. Morgan had introduced himself, though he’d seen recognition in her eyes. For once, his legendary reputation had paid off. To Sam’s credit, she’d dived through the crowd to examine Laura’s mangled extremity, and then had called two orderlies over to take Laura up to an operation theater for immediate surgery prep.

  Morgan would never forget the intense look of compassion in Sam’s eyes as she’d turned back to him. Gripping his hand briefly, she’d promised him that she would perform the surgery on Laura herself, and that everything was going to be fine. He’d nearly broken down and cried then. The genuine understanding in her eyes of what he was going through after nearly losing his wife in the hotel collapse had touched him deeply. Sam was a noble person, with such integrity and grit that Morgan had sworn he’d somehow repay her. Right now, he was going to do that, but he wasn’t sure she’d be thankful.

  Leaning back in his chair, he said, “Sam, I’m pulling you from the ranks to help me. You’re the head of E.R. for good reason, and I need someone with your brains, moxie and abilities. Right now, we have an epidemic starting to flare up in the L.A. basin.”

  Nodding, Sam sobered. “Yeah, I know. It’s inevitable, Morgan. The basin has no good local sources of water. I knew it would happen. A lot of people are gonna die if we can’t get someone in there to help, and soon. I know thousands of people are leaving the affected area and our agencies are trying to take them in, but they’re overwhelmed, too.”

  “No disagreement. We have info that roughly a hundred thousand people have walked out of the area seeking help. But there are still those in the area who need medical attention. That’s why you’re here, Sam.”

  She sat up and crossed her legs, resting the coffee cup on her knee. “Oh?”

  “Yeah.” Morgan eased upward and placed his own cup on the desk in front of him. “Starting tomorrow morning I want you to go into area 5 with a Recon team to protect you, and set up three site
s for medevacs—medical evacuation areas—where people can get help for the dysentery, typhoid, food poisoning and other acute medical emergencies that are cropping up. Many people can’t walk ten or twenty miles to get out of the area, either because they are injured too badly or ill, elderly, or they are parents with children who might be more at risk on the road. These centers are being put into each area to take care of the people who are left behind. Plus, critically injured people have to be flown out ASAP because our road system is completely destroyed. We need you to formulate a medical system in one area, make it work, refine it if necessary, and then take that model to the other areas. You would be the advance medical team going in, setting up things for the regular teams.” He looked into her narrowing green eyes. Morgan could see she was very interested in the project. That was good. Maybe that would make up for the part he knew she probably wouldn’t like. “You think outside the box, Sam. I saw that when Laura was brought in and we were standing there in the passageway of the E.R., waiting for medical help. I watched as you assessed a lot of different triage situations, set things in motion and catalyzed everyone around you. You’re efficient. You grasp the whole of a problem, but you get the details right, as well.”

  “Thanks,” Sam murmured, pleased. “Maybe you could suggest to the higher-ups to write that on my next six-month fitness report,” she said with a chuckle. Twice a year every person in the service was rated. The members on the fitness report determined whether or not a person would get promoted. A good report in one’s personnel jacket guaranteed it. A bad one could keep a person stuck in a job for years. It was a brutal, inflexible system, and many times, politics got involved. In these cases a career could be sandbagged and go to hell in a hurry, just because a superior didn’t like someone.

  “Don’t worry,” Morgan promised her fervently, “after I get done talking to your superiors you’re going to get such a glowing report that you’ll jump from lieutenant commander straight to commander.”

  Sam grinned mischievously. “That I have to see.” She warmed to the genuine sincerity in Morgan’s eyes. “I’m interested in this mission. That is why you called me in, right? To head up an advance medical team to create medevacs?”