Page 6 of Grayson's Angel

Kara sighed and checked the time on her phone. She had one more hour before she landed and had to deal with her father’s issues. “I can handle my father.”

Grayson wrote something on a napkin and handed it to Kara. “Here is my number. If you need anything, I can help.”

She took it but knew she wouldn’t bother the man on his vacation.

“You know I’m retired military and working on the family ranch. What do you do for a living?”

“I work as an ER nurse at the Mile-High Medical Center.”

“I suppose you see some interesting things come through the ER doors.”

The vodka was flowing through Kara’s veins, and she couldn’t hold back the giggles, thinking about the case that came in the previous night.

“Now you have to tell me. What has you giggling?”

“Last night, I had a patient who got her boyfriend’s phone stuck in her cookie.”

Grayson looked puzzled. “Cookie?”

“You know, her kitty, whisker biscuit, coin purse, banana basket.” When it looked like Grayson wasn’t catching on, she said, “Her vajayjay.”

Grayson’s smile took her breath away. “You mean vagina?”

Kara reached for her drink and downed the remaining vodka. “My friend Steph and I don’t like the word vagina, so we come up with alternate words.”

“How did she get her phone caught in her”—he raised his hands to make air quotes—“goop chute?”

Vodka flew out of Kara’s mouth. “That is the worst name I’ve ever heard! You need to work on your wordplay.”

For the remainder of the flight, she talked about funny things she’d seen in the ER. He told her about daring his younger brother to shove marbles up his nose. One had gotten stuck, and they had to go to the emergency room.

When the buckle seatbelt sign flashed, Kara looked at the cowboy in the seat next to her and memorized his features for later. He would be at the forefront of some future fantasy, she was sure.

She gripped the armrest tightly during the descent, and the plane came to a bumping halt on the airstrip in Bozeman.

She was back in Montana, and every inch of it was full of memories she didn’t want to resurface. The first one to appear was of the week after Mom passed. Dad had come home drunk and accused her of killing her mom. She never saw the first strike coming. By the time he landed the fifth, she was out cold. The memory sent a shiver down her spine.

“Here you go, Kara.” Grayson handed her the carry-on bag she’d boarded with. “If you ever want to go riding, make sure you call me.”

She croaked out an “Okay.”

He tipped his cowboy hat before grabbing his camouflage backpack and exiting the plane. Kara hefted her carry-on and scurried across the seats to exit the plane. Grayson was walking up the jetway to the airport. His tight jeans accented his fine ass. When he turned and winked at her, a blush crept up her neck. The man knew how sexy he was.

Grayson gave her a wave as he walked toward the car rental. Kara continued down the escalator to baggage claim to retrieve her second bag.

A man approached her, dressed in a red velour tracksuit with gold chain necklaces that hung to the middle of his chest. “Ms. Davidson?” he asked in a thick Russian accent.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. “I think you’ve got the wrong person,” she replied. Kara searched her soundings, looking for a cop or anyone that could assist if things went wrong.

“No. You are who we are looking for.” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a picture of Kara in her senior year of high school. He pointed at the picture. “That’s you.”

“Why are you looking for me?”

“Your father owes my employer lots of money, and he promised you as payment. Time to take a ride.”

Kara had taken self-defense classes. She knew if she got in the car with the man, there was no turning back. If she was going to make a run for it, she needed to do it immediately. The Russian was blocking her way to the exit. He was around five feet nine and slender, so she might be able to take him.

“Excuse me if I don’t take your word for it.” Kara spun on her heel to run back the way she had come, up the escalator to the other exit. When she spun, however, she ran smack dab into another velour-tracksuit-wearing Russian. His arms wrapped around her, leaving her with no way to escape. He smelled of alcohol and stale smoke.

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