Lydia knew that getting personally involved with Lukas Graywolf broke all the rules.
But not getting involved with him would have been a waste. A waste no matter how this was all destined to end—tonight, or a week from tonight. That it would end she never questioned. What she questioned was whether or not it would affect her judgment or her performance as an FBI agent.
She told herself it wouldn’t. That she was thinking as clearly as ever.
And what she thought—clearly—was that what was happening here was too intense for her not to explore. Being with Lukas made her aware that she needed more than work. It made her aware that there was another Lydia Wakefield, one who needed the touch of a man’s hands.
A Lydia who had a woman’s needs—needs that had not been met in a very long time….
In Graywolf’s Hands
MARIE FERRARELLA
Books by Marie Ferrarella in Miniseries
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Heart of a Hero IM #1105
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Caution: Baby Ahead SR #1007
Mother on the Wing SR #1026
Baby Times Two SR #1037
Baby of the Month Club
Baby’s First Christmas SE #997
Happy New Year—Baby! IM #686
The 7lb., 2oz. Valentine Yours Truly
Husband: Optional SD #988
Do You Take This Child? SR #1145
Detective Dad World’s Most Eligible Bachelors
The Once and Future Father IM #1017
In the Family Way Silhouette Books
Baby Talk Silhouette Books
An Abundance of Babies SE #1422
Like Mother, Like Daughter
One Plus One Makes Marriage SR #1328
Never Too Late for Love SR #1351
The Bachelors of Blair Memorial
In Graywolf’s Hands IM #1155
Those Sinclairs
Holding Out for a Hero IM #496
Heroes Great and Small IM #501
Christmas Every Day IM #538
Caitlin’s Guardian Angel IM #661
Two Halves of a Whole
The Baby Came C.O.D. SR #1264
Desperately Seeking Twin Yours Truly
The Cutlers of the Shady Lady Ranch
(Yours Truly titles)
Fiona and the Sexy Stranger
Cowboys Are for Loving
Will and the Headstrong Female
The Law and Ginny Marlow
A Match for Morgan
A Triple Threat to Bachelorhood SR #1564
*The Reeds
Callaghan’s Way IM #601
Serena McKee’s Back in Town IM #808
*McClellans & Marinos
Man Trouble SR #815
The Taming of the Teen SR #839
Babies on His Mind SR #920
The Baby Beneath the Mistletoe SR #1408
*The Alaskans
Wife in the Mail SE #1217
Stand-In Mom SE #1294
Found: His Perfect Wife SE #1310
The M.D. Meets His Match SE #1401
Lily and the Lawman SE #1467
*The Pendletons
Baby in the Middle SE #892
Husband, Some Assembly Required SE #931
MARIE FERRARELLA
earned a master’s degree in Shakespearean comedy, and, perhaps as a result, her writing is distinguished by humor and natural dialogue. This RITA® Award-winning author’s goal is to entertain and to make people laugh and feel good. She has written over one hundred books for Silhouette, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide and have been translated into Spanish, Italian, German, Russian, Polish, Japanese and Korean.
To
Patricia Smith
and
fairy tales that come true
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
Chapter 1
He was going to live.
Jacob Lindstrom was going to live to see his first grandchild born. Maybe even his first great-grand-child, if the man played his cards right. All because he, Lukas Graywolf, the first in his family to graduate from college, let alone medical school, had decided to make cardiac surgery his field of expertise.
That, and because Jacob’s wife had nagged him into taking a treadmill test, whose alarming results had sent the middle-aged corporate CEO to the operating table almost faster than he could blink an eye.
With excellent results.
Walking out of the alcove where friends and family were told to wait for news about the outcome of surgeries, Lukas let the door close behind him and took a deep breath. Never mind that it was basically recycled hospital air, it felt good, sweet, life-giving. And soon, Lukas thought, a hint of a smile finding its way to his lips and softening his chiseled features, Jacob Lindstrom would be able to say the same thing.
It was a good feeling to know that he had been instrumental in freeing another human from the grasp of death. His smile deepened ever so slightly as he turned down the long corridor.
This was probably the way his forefathers had felt. Those ancestors who, more than a handful of generations ago, had relied on the knowledge of plants and spiritual power to heal the sick and injured. There had been more than one shaman found in his family tree and, if he were to believe his mother’s stories, a few gifted “seers” and “healers” across the ocean in Ireland, as well.
It was a heady legacy, indeed, he mused. Lukas was one-quarter Irish, three-quarters Navaho but right now he was four-quarters exhausted. It had been a taxing surgery, not without its complications.
Turning a corner, he entered the doctors’ lounge. Shedding his scrubs, he put on his own clothes by rote, leaving behind his white lab coat. He was off duty, had technically been off duty for the past two hours. Except that Mr. Lindstrom’s surgery hadn’t exactly gone as planned. They’d almost lost the man twice.
Lindstrom’s vital signs were good now and there was every chance for a strong, rapid recovery.
Lukas had said as much to the man’s wife and grown children, who had spent the last few hours contemplating the possible demise of a man they had heretofore regarded as indestructible. He had barely finished talking when Mrs. Lindstrom had hugged him and blessed him.
He wasn’t much for physical contact, but he knew the woman needed it so he had stood still and allowed himself to be embraced, had even patted her on the shoulder. He’d left the woman with tears of joy in her eyes, counting the minutes until she could see her husband again.
Lukas’s mouth curved a little more as he shut his locker door. This was why he’d become a surgeon in the first place, why he had set his sights on heart surgery. The heart was the center of everything within a human being.
His goal was simple: to heal and preserve as many lives as he could. He figured the reason he’d been put on earth was to make a difference and he intended to do just that.
The rush that came over him was incredible and he paused beside the locker for a moment to savor it. He was one of the lucky ones, he knew. He could still feel the overwhelming elation after each surgery tha
t went well. There were many in the medical community who had burned out, who performed surgery by the numbers and felt none of the gratification that he was feeling now.
They didn’t know what they were missing, Lukas thought, pity wafting through him. He picked up his windbreaker, feeling as if he could pretty near walk on water. Or at the very least, on some very deep puddles.
As he started to open the door to leave, it swung open. Allan Pierce, a first-year intern, stumbled in on the long end of a thirty-six-hour shift. His eyes brightened slightly, the way a private’s did in the presence of a four-star general.
“You on duty tonight, Dr. Graywolf?”
“Off,” Lukas told him crisply.
He could already visualize his bed, visualize his body sprawled out on top of it, the comforter lying in a crumpled heap on one or the other side of his body. Though it was only a year in his past, he’d gotten completely out of the habit of the long hours that interning and residency demanded. It wasn’t something he cared to revisit on a regular basis.
“Wish I were,” Allan mumbled. His shaggy blond hair drooped into his eyes, making him seem years younger than he was.
“You will be,” Lukas promised, feeling uncustomarily lighthearted. As a rule, he was distant with the interns. “In about five years. ’Night.”
So saying, Lukas walked out of the lounge and directly into the path of turmoil.
The rear doors of the emergency room sprang open as two ambulance attendants rushed in. A gust of leaves, chasing one another in the late autumn wind, swirled around the wheels of the gurney. The wounded man strapped to its board was screaming obscenities at anyone within earshot, but most were directed at the slender, no-nonsense blonde keeping pace with the attendants.
For just a second, as the wind lifted the edge of her jacket, Lukas thought he saw the hilt of a revolver. But then her jacket fell closed again and he found himself wondering if he’d just imagined the weapon.
Another man, older than the woman by at least a decade and wearing a three-piece suit, followed slightly behind her.
The man looked winded as he vainly attempted to catch up to the woman. Carrying a little too much weight for his age and height, Lukas judged. He wondered when the man had last had a treadmill test.
But there was little time for extraneous thoughts. The noise level and tension rose with each passing second. Nurses and attendants began to converge around the incoming gurney. From where he stood, Lukas had a clear view. He could see all the blood the man had lost. And the handcuffs that tethered him to the gurney.
One of the attendants was rattling off vital signs to the nearest nurse while the blonde interrupted with orders of her own. The screaming man on the gurney was a gunshot victim.
And then suddenly the patient fell eerily silent, pale in his stillness. He sank back against the gurney.
Lukas lost no time cutting the distance between himself and the injured man, pushing his way into the center of what looked as if it could easily become a mob scene.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the blonde frown at him. Placing his fingers on the artery in the man’s neck, he found no pulse.
The blonde grabbed his arm. “Who are you?” she demanded.
Lukas saw no reason to waste time answering her. There was a life at stake.
“Crash cart,” he ordered the closest nurse to him. “Now!” The dark-haired woman quickly disappeared into the crowd.
“Is he dead?” The blonde wanted to know. When Lukas didn’t say anything, she moved so that he was forced to look at her. Her hand gripped his wrist, her intent clear. She was going to hold it still until she got her answer. The strength he felt there didn’t surprise him. “Is he dead?” she repeated.
“Not yet,” Lukas snapped, jerking his wrist away.
The nurse he’d sent for the crash cart returned, hurrying to position it next to the gurney. There was no time to get the man to a room. What had to be done was going to be done in the corridor, with everyone looking on.
“Someone get his shirt open!” Lukas ordered.
He was surprised when the blonde was the first to comply, ripping the man’s shirt down the center. He saw the blood on her hands and arm then. Lukas pushed the questions back as he held the paddles up to have the lubricant applied. Directing the amount of voltage to be used, he held the paddles ready as he announced the customary, “Clear.” At the last second he jerked back the paddles when he saw that the blonde had one hand on the victim.
What was she doing, playing games? “Clear!” Lukas shouted at her angrily. “That means get your hands away from the patient unless you want to feel the roots of your hair stand on end.”
Glaring at him, the blonde elaborately raised both her hands up and away from the man on the gurney.
The monitor continued to display a flat line as Lukas tried once and then again to bring the man around. Raising the voltage, Lukas tried a third time and was rewarded with a faint blip on the screen.
He held his breath as he watched the monitor. The blip grew stronger. Lukas began to breathe again. He replaced the paddles on the cart.
“Get him to Room Twelve,” he instructed Pierce, who had been hovering at his elbow the entire time.
“Right away.”
Lukas took another deep breath as his adrenaline began to level off. From the looks of it, his night had just gotten a whole lot longer. By the time they could get another heart specialist down to the hospital, it might be too late for the man they’d just brought in. Casting no aspersions on the doctor on duty, Lukas knew he was better at this sort of thing than Carlucci was.
As with every patient he came in contact with, he felt responsible. He blamed it in part on his grandmother’s stories about the endless circle of life, how each person touched another. Was responsible for another. Between his grandmother and the Hippocratic oath, there wasn’t much margin for indifference.
He paused only long enough to wash his hands and slip on the disposable yellow gown the nurse—who seemed to materialize from out of nowhere—was holding up for him. The surgical gloves slid on like a second skin. They very nearly were.
Entering Room Twelve, Lukas nodded at Harrison MacKenzie, surprised to see the man there. He must have been in the area when he heard about the gunshot victim. Following the light in Harrison’s eyes, Lukas became aware of the woman again. She was shadowing his every move. Or rather, the man on the gurney’s every move.
Lukas spared her a glare as the paramedics and attendings transferred the patient onto the examination table. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
The blonde didn’t budge a fraction of an inch. Even as the gurney was being removed. They went around her. “He’s here, I’m here.”
Lukas assessed the damage quickly. There was a bullet lodged dangerously close to the man’s heart. “I take it that it’s not filial loyalty that’s keeping you in my way.”
The term almost made her choke. Her eyes glinted with loathing, the kind displayed for a creature that was many levels beneath human and dangerous.
“He and his friends just tried to blow up most of the Crossways Mall,” the blonde informed him grimly. “His friends got away. I’m not letting this one out of my sight.”
“The windows aren’t made of lead.” His hands full, Lukas nodded toward the swinging doors. “You can keep him in your sight from the hallway.” The fact that she remained standing where she was threatened to unravel the temper he usually kept securely under wraps. “The man’s losing blood at a rate that could shortly kill him, he’s shackled to a bed and he’s unconscious. Take it from me, he’s not going anywhere in the next hour. Maybe two. Now I’m not going to tell you again. Get outside.”
Frustrated, Special Agent Lydia Wakefield spun on her heel. The flat of her hand slapped against the swinging door as she pushed it open and stormed out of the room. The older man who had come in with her followed silently in her shadow.
“I’d say someone needs to work on their peopl
e skills,” Harrison observed.
Lukas looked up at the man who had befriended him in medical school, the man he felt closer to than anyone, other than his uncle Henry. There was a mask covering his face, but Lukas could feel the other man’s grin. “You talking about me, or her?”
The smile reached Harrison’s blue eyes, crinkling them. “A little of both.” He looked down at the patient. “I heard the commotion all the way to the elevator. I thought I’d offer you an extra set of hands, but it doesn’t look like you’ll be needing me.”
Harrison’s field of expertise was plastic surgery. He specialized in trauma victims.
If he knew Harry, the man probably had a hot date stashed somewhere. There was no need to keep him from her. Lukas shook his head. “Not unless he intends to wear his heart on his sleeve.”
Harrison remained a few minutes longer, just in case. “Did I hear her right?” He nodded at the man on the table. “You operating on a bomber?”
“I’m operating on a man,” Lukas corrected. “Whatever else he is is between him and his god. I’m not here to play judge and jury. I just patch up bodies.”
Harrison stepped back, undoing his mask. Drooping, it hung around his neck. “Well, I see that, as usual, you’re keeping things light.” He looked at his watch. If he bent a few speeding rules, he could still make his date on time. “I’ve got cold champagne and a hot woman waiting for me, so I’ll just leave you to your jigsaw puzzle.” Shedding the yellow paper gown, he tossed it into the bin in the corner.
Walking out, Harrison stopped to talk to the blonde, who was standing inches away from the swinging door. He had a weakness for determined women.
“Don’t worry, he’s as good as they make ’em,” he assured her.
She frowned. Right now, she wasn’t all that concerned about tapping into miracles to prolong the life of a man she considered pure scum.
“Just means the taxpayers are going to have to spend more money,” she said without looking at the doctor at her side.
“Come again?”
Standing at the window, she watched as people ran back and forth, getting what looked to be units of blood, doing things she wasn’t even vaguely familiar with. “If your friend saves his life, there’s going to be a lengthy trial.”
In Graywolf’s Hands Page 1