Page 73 of The Troublemaker

Speaking of the big, bad wolf.

“Oh. My. God,” she rushed out breathlessly.

“Is everything okay?” Victoria asked from behind the counter.

Instead of answering, Gemma’s shaky hands went back to the deadbolt, certain she had to be hallucinating. The bell overhead jangled as she pulled the door open and the second she came face to face with the man from her past, the same man who’d rebuffed her seduction days after her seventeenth birthday, she feared nothing would ever be okay again.

Moving with the confidence of a man on a mission, he came closer, the long length of his powerful legs eating up the black sidewalk in record time. Even in the dark she’d recognized that hard body of his, developed from hardcore military training rather than endless hours in some sleek gym. Her gaze took in the leather motorcycle jacket stretched over broad shoulders before traveling back to his chiseled face. Dark, penetrating eyes—harder now from having seen too much carnage—locked on hers, and the raw strength of the impact hit like a physical blow.

He came barreling through her front door. “Gemma,” he rushed out breathlessly. The urgency in his voice had the fine hairs on the back of her neck spiking with worry.

“Cole,” she somehow managed to say around a tongue gone thick as she stumbled backward. “What…how…?” She choked on her words as she glanced past his shoulders to see where he’d come from. She’d been positive that after the funeral last year she’d never set eyes on this man again, and if she did, their chance meeting wouldn’t go down like this.

Worried eyes full of dark concern cast downward. “Gemma…it’s…it’s Charlie…he’s hurt…” Cole’s fractured words fell off and that’s when Gemma’s gaze dropped.

Her heart leaped into her throat and she instantly snapped into professional mode when she caught the silhouette of the Labrador Retriever bundled in his arms. “Follow me.” Jumping into action she turned and found Victoria rushing down the hall toward Exam Room 1, already a step ahead of them.

Gemma moved with haste and worked to quiet her racing heart. “Tell me exactly what happened.” She kept her tone low a

nd her voice controlled in an effort to calm Cole and minimize his anxiety.

Keeping pace, he followed close behind her, his feet tight on her heels. “We were out for a run in Sherwood Park,” he began. “A squirrel sidetracked him, and he veered off the beaten path. He was jumping a log and didn’t see the sharp branch sticking up.”

She stole a quick glance over her shoulder and when dark, intense eyes focused on hers, her stomach clenched. “It’s going to be okay, Cole. I promise.” She drew a breath and gave a silent prayer that it was a promise she could keep. Gemma pushed through the swinging door and gestured with a quick nod toward the sterile examination table while she hurried to ready herself.

Understanding her silent command, Cole secured the whimpering dog onto the prep counter. Gemma’s heart pinched when he placed a solid, comforting hand on the animal’s head and spoke in soothing tones while Victoria went to work on preparing the pre-surgical sedative.

Gemma scrubbed in quickly and put on her surgery gear. She gave the dog a once-over before she dabbed at the blood to assess the depth of the wound. Angling her head, she cast Cole a quick glance. “Why don’t you take a seat in the other room. This could take a while.”

“I’m staying,” Cole said firmly, their gazes colliding in that old familiar battle of wills.

Uncomfortable with the idea of him watching while she worked, and fully aware that he was a distraction she didn’t need during surgery, she urged, “It could get messy.”

“I’ve seen blood before, Gemma.” With his feet rooted solidly, he folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not leaving him.”

“Cole—”

“I’m fine.”

Not wanting to waste time with a debate and knowing Cole was a bomb expert who’d seen his fair share of blood in the field, she gestured toward the chair in the corner. Once Cole stepped away, she cleansed the animal’s wounds and continued her assessment.

She checked temperature, pulse and respiration before evaluating Charlie’s gums. She shot Victoria a look as her assistant secured the blood pressure cuff and waited for the go ahead on the pre-surgical sedative.

“He’s already trying to crash,” Gemma said. “We have to go straight to surgery.”

Working quickly, Gemma hooked the dog to an I.V. catheter and induced anesthesia while Victoria began the three-scrub process to shave and sterilize Charlie’s skin.

Once the dog was clipped and scrubbed, Gemma reassessed. “He’s lost a lot of blood, but I’m not seeing any visible organ damage. We’ll have to flush the cavity to clean out the debris before we stitch.”

As Gemma sprayed the area with warm saline, Victoria called out, “Pulse ox dropping, heart rate down to forty-five.”

Damn, this was not good. Fearing she was missing something, she sprayed the area again and gave the cavity another assessment. That’s when she noticed the tree had nicked a vessel on the liver. Gemma’s heart leaped and worry moved through her as she exchanged a look with Victoria. Keeping her fingers steady and her face expressionless for Cole’s sake, she worked quickly to tie the vessel off before it was too late. Once complete, she rinsed the area, and when the bleeding came to a halt, she exhaled a relieved breath.

She turned her attention to her suture. A long while later she glanced at the clock, noting that more than an hour had passed since Cole had first stepped foot in her door. Gemma secured the last stitch, wiped her brow and stood back to examine the dog.

“Vitals are good,” Victoria informed her. Gemma gave a nod and took off her surgery garb. She quickly washed up and let loose a slow breath, confident that the dog would recover.

“Will he be okay?” Cole whispered.

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