Groaning, Gray attempted to put the back of her head through the hard pleather. Exhausted and running low on fucks to give, she’d much rather Chase deal with the colonel while she found a bed to fall into.
Just as she started to wonder where he’d gone, he reappeared, cutting off Cody’s response with a dark look. “A six-inch hematoma on her left hip. Doc had a look. She’s fine.”
Her heart tripped at the sight of him, and grateful for the assist, she shot Chase a half smile. It was the most she could manage under the circumstances. She took the hand he offered, and he pulled her upright. Crazy how much she’d come to rely on him in such a short period of time.
“You okay?” he asked, his thumb brushing across her knuckles, soothing her raw nerves with every pass.
She nodded, his calm going a long way to make her right. “I’m okay.” She needed a hot shower, a handful of Tylenol, and forty-eight hours of sleep. But when she came to, she planned to eat an entire cow, curse out her brother, and have her way with Sergeant Chase Mackenzie. Quite possibly not in that order. “I’m going to find a bed.” She squeezed his hand before letting go, hoping he got the hint and wrapped this up quick.
“I have questions, Grace.”
Halfway to the door, she threw out over her shoulder, “Ask your sergeant, Colonel.” Not watching where she stepped, she almost smacked nose-first into the man entering.
The corporal who brushed by her had a face like a canker. White and puffy in the middle, red and sore around the edges. The colonel’s personal assistant, Peter Hoyt, had been trailing along in her father’s wake for years—a yes-man to the core.
“Thank God you’re back, Mackenzie.” Canker slid a sly smile her way, and Gray had never felt a greater need for an immediate acid-based shower. “Your fiancée’s been calling every couple of hours. Do me a favor. Call her back, so she quits with the voice mails. She’s bogging up my system.”
Gray froze mid-retreat, the word “fiancée” echoing in her head before it sank in and tore her apart. The memory of Chase’s kisses invaded, and suddenly, “we can’t do this” took on a whole new meaning.
“It’s taken care of.” Cold as an arctic stone, Chase’s tone sent ice water through her veins. The bastard had left her alone with her father to run off and call his fiancée.
Oh God. Don’t vomit. Don’t vomit. Don’t—
In two short days, she’d broken every rule she ever made when it came to men. No Type A control freaks, no married-to-the-military fuckers, and no cheating bastards. Based on her limited exposure to Chase Mackenzie, he was all three.
Exactly like her father.
“Gray…” Voice wary, Chase took a step closer.
“No.” She shook her head and took a step back.
“Gray, it’s not—”
“No.” Panic took hold, setting her instincts to flight mode. She backed herself toward the door, picking up momentum with each step. About to turn and make a run for it, she came to an abrupt halt when her father stopped her with the only two words that could. “Grace Grayson.”
Hands balled into fists and nails digging into her palms, she froze. “What?”
“Why?”
He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. She knew what he wanted. Answers. Well, too fucking bad. She didn’t know why Jackson had sent her up onto that ledge. He’d asked her to go, and she went.
It was that simple. And that complicated.
Apparently, the look she leveled at the colonel spoke volumes because his agitation went up significantly. He shoved his phone across his desk, pointing to it for added emphasis. “Fucking Jackson. Get him on the phone right now.”
“Can’t.” Gray refused to look at anyone but the colonel.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know his number.”
“Bullshit.”
“Do you know mine?” Gray cocked a brow and waited for a heartbeat. “Yeah, didn’t think so, Pops.”
“So, look it up on your phone,” the colonel ordered.
She snorted. “Well, I would. But my phone was confiscated.” Meeting Chase’s gaze for the first time, she said with as much indifference as she could muster. “Look undercheating bastardsin my contacts. Jackson’s there too.”
