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The big man went behind the bar just as Ford rolled in, followed by a limping Ethan. They all gathered around as Doc held the inhaler up and they went through the process again. Five men and one small woman inhaled, held their breath for ten seconds, then exhaled together.
The entire time, Magnus kept his hand on her chest, his thumb notched at the bottom of her throat as he buried his lips in her hair. “Shhhh, you’re okay, sparkles. I’ve got you.”
The third inhalation did the trick. After they all exhaled together, she sucked in a breath on her own and coughed harshly. Magnus felt the crackling vibration in her chest as her whole body jerked, curling in on herself. Someone stuck a box of tissues in front of them and he grabbed a handful before giving her one. She coughed into it until she caught her breath, then blew her nose with a cute little honk. Finally, she heaved a careful sigh, leaned into Magnus’ chest, and closed her eyes.
The whole world seemed to pause as he accustomed himself to the trusting weight of her head, relaxed against his shoulder. She was his now. His to care for, his to support and shelter and adore.
Doc gestured with the stethoscope, then maneuvered around Magnus’ arms to press the disc to her chest again. With her eyes closed, she followed Doc’s instructions to breathe in and out for a couple of minutes before he began putting his gear away.
“We all right?” Magnus asked quietly so as not to disturb his precious burden.
“Should be. She’ll probably be tired for the rest of the day, so she needs to take it easy. Her lungs sound okay, so I’m guessing this isn’t something that’s been building up. Make sure she drinks that water - not too hot, not too cold, so her muscles don’t seize up from temperature shock. And that’s it. When she’s ready, she can go on her merry way.”
“Not fucking likely,” he muttered. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Doc shoved all the little packages that were scattered around back into her purse, then tidied up his med kit. Magnus noticed his hands shook slightly.
“Kyle, you okay?” Doc was the youngest of them, still in his twenties, but Magnus knew he’d seen as much as death and destruction in his two tours with the Navy as some career Marines.
A lot of corpsmen and medics ended up in some kind of medical profession after getting out of the military, but not Kyle. Though the nickname of Doc stuck, he swore he never wanted to see blood on his hands ever again and was perfectly content in his new role as bar manager at The Grange. Yet despite his oath, he kept his med kit up to date and was still the first one the men called on for any kind of first aid or advice.
Doc snapped the last buckle and gave Magnus a tight smile that said he’d rather eat his own entrails than talk about the darkness in his head. “I’m good, boss.”
“Thanks for your help.” Magnus gave him a chin lift before turning his head to take in the rest of the crew with his single eye. “Don’t the rest of you have work to do?”
Ethan sneered, the expression stark in his murky eyes rather than visible through the thick scars on his face, and turned away, wobbling slightly as he found his balance with the cane he was now forced to use. Insubordinate asshole. Maybe it was time to stop letting him get away with the attitude he’d adopted since he was finally released from the veteran’s hospital down in Denver. Yeah, Ethan had gotten the shit end of the stick on their last mission, but he was alive and back home. It was time for him to pull his panties out of his ass-crack and get back to the life that was waiting for him.
Doc followed him out and everyone knew he was heading up to the strange little crow’s nest he’d cleaned out on the roof of the old building. He was working on some mysterious project up there and they left him to it, knowing he’d share when he was ready and not a moment before. For as easy-going as the man seemed, he could dig in like a fucking tank and refuse to budge no matter how hard anyone pushed. It was easier to wait him out, so he passed without comment.
Ford and Riley, however, waved away Magnus’ words like so much wind and leaned in with avid looks. Whoever thought women were terrible gossips had never hung around a bunch of Marines.
“That’s a shit-ton of pink she’s wearing. Who is she, Odin?” asked Ford, elbows on his knees as he peered down at her from his wheelchair.
It had been bad enough when he was just a giant blond Swedish guy named Magnus Lundgren, but when he lost his eye in combat, then came home and grew out his hair and beard, the call sign virtually replaced his real name. Even his sister, Hanna, had started using it, because she knew that calling him by the name of the Norse father-god was infinitely more irritating than the already cringe-worthy Magnus. Still, the moniker stuck, like Kyle had become Doc, and bitching about it would just make it worse.
“No idea. She came in here and I startled her into an asthma attack.” The woman in his arms murmured and roused a bit. She’d fallen abruptly asleep as soon as her breathing regulated, but now she was beginning to stir.
“Well, you are a scary motherfucker,” said Riley, and Ford nodded along like a goddamn marionette on strings.
An unfamiliar pang of doubt assailed him. Shit. What if hewasscary? Too scary for such a pink and perfect woman like the one nestled against his shoulder? She murmured again and blinked, her eyes squinting as she adjusted to the dim light of the bar. Her hand, which had come to rest on his chest, clenched slightly. Her nails raked over his nipple and he sucked back a groan. He wanted her to do it again, but for real, leaving red scrapes on his skin that branded him as hers, as surely as he’d leave his own marks on her.
CHAPTER2
Something was different.
Everything hurt.
It was going to be one ofthosedays, Greer realized as she curled in on herself a little. One of those days where she woke up out of sorts, there wasn’t enough coffee to grind for a full pot, she was down to the panties that always crawled into her butt, and her most comfortable shoes would leave a blister.
It was going to be one of those days where the venue for the bachelorette party she’d planned for tonight canceled abruptly. One of those days where the bride would either scream or go catatonic… or both. Where the mother of the bride would bare her teeth like a tiger at her next meal. Where the bridesmaids would gather around her like scavenging ravens and peck at what was left of her after the tiger finished.
One of those days where disappointment flowed abundantly and her business would wither before it had a chance to grow. And if it was going to be one of those days, she could forgive herself for taking an extra few seconds to wallow a little.
But something was different this time.
Her mattress didn’t usually support her with hard, muscled limbs or cradle her to the firm, solid planes of a man’s chest. Her sheets didn’t usually smell like herbal soap with a hint of rich oil - although now that she’d smelled it, she wanted to switch laundry detergent.
And her bed didn’t usually breathe with her, then murmur “Good girl” into her hair.
