Page 61 of Shielded Hearts

“We need a plan of attack,” Colt ground out.

“Today.” Carson gave a hard nod of agreement.

As Colt turned to the exit and quickly crossed the short span of yard leading to the ranch house, he swung his head right and left, on high alert. He wished to hell he had his sniper rifle at the ready and that Gideon would step out and show himself.

When he entered the house, he strode directly to the guest room. He needed to see Aspen with his own eyes. He was her protector.

He was also her lover, and he had to make sure she was okay.

They had planning to do. He and his brothers needed to prepare for the worst.

* * * * *

Aspen quietly padded through the spacious ranch home. The early hour meant the place that was usually bustling with multiple siblings was still. The golden morning light streamed through east-facing windows and puddled on the dark hardwood floor.

She wasn’t exactly sure where she was going, only who she was searching for.

Colt’s brother, Gray. Ever since Colt slipped out of bed before dawn, she had been lying awake, worrying about Gray’s injuries. If not for her, he wouldn’t have been hurt, and she hated thinking that she was the cause of his suffering.

A long corridor with several doors on each side led to the main rooms of the home. Typically, hallways were just quick pathways to reach the place you wanted to go, but whoever decorated this one—probably Willow—had added family photographs interspersed with artwork that made Aspen stop to study them.

She stopped in front of a group photograph of all seven Malone children sitting on the front porch of a house she didn’t recognize. They looked like any kids—like they’d been riding bikes all day and slurping down cups of Kool-Aid. She leaned in close, trying to pick out Colt in the bunch.

She smiled when she spotted his red drink mustache and some red drops on his faded gray T-shirt. From what he told her about his father, the Malones didn’t have it easy. But they had each other.

She had to make sure Gray was okay so he could spend many more moments with his family just like these captured in the photos.

She continued on to the bedroom she’d seen him slip into the previous night. When she reached it, the door was cracked open wide enough to give her a view of his bed. Neatly made with the covers tucked beneath the mattress, tight enough to bounce a quarter off, it looked pristine.

Pausing, she listened hard for sounds coming from inside, but she didn’t hear any.

She moved on down the hallway, past a pretty collection of art featuring wildflowers done in pastel watercolors, and a funny photograph of an old horse that someone had stuck a straw hat on.

As she neared the end of the hallway, she caught the soft clink of a coffeepot being set down.

When she stepped into the kitchen, Gray looked up from the coffee he seemed to be scowling into. Seeing her, he made an attempt to rearrange his features into something more pleasant.

“You don’t have to pretend your head’s not aching. I can see it does.” Aspen crossed the kitchen to him. As soon as she saw the bruise across the bridge of his nose and extending beneath each of his eyes, sadness washed over her.

“Gray…I’m so sorry.”

He searched her face. “Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything.”

“If not for me, you wouldn’t have been put in a position to be injured.”

He shrugged, the bulk of his shoulders heaving in an almost exact mimicry of how Colt shrugged. “It’s part of the job.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re part of the security agency.” She reached for a mug on the shelf and flipped it over to pour dark coffee into.

“I’m not, but I’m a Malone. We have each other’s backs.”

Relief that he was feeling well enough to talk, and not slurring his words or anything that would show his head injury was more serious than they were letting her believe, filled her. She tipped her head toward the kitchen table in silent question.

He nodded and carried his mug over. She followed, and they sat down together.

“You two are up early.” The soft voice coming from the doorway made Aspen and Gray look up at the person joining them.

Willow wasn’t only dressed for the day but already dusty from what Aspen guessed were barn chores. Her dark hair was piled up in a messy bun, and several wisps floated around her striking face.

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