Dahlia had it all—a good home, loving parents, and a job. Not a great job, but it was a job. Now if she can get her boss to stop being such a sleaze! Then her very world rolls and rumbles, literally. One minute she was on her feet, and the next a sexy doctor was leaning over her, reassuring her everything would be just fine.
A whirlwind romance, heartache, and there's only one place they want to be—in each other’s arms. The cosmos throws them back together for one last go. Can they make it work?
She looked up at her boss and frowned. “I’m sorry, what did you say to me?” She surely hadn’t heard
right. There was no way in hell that this man who was at least forty years her senior had asked her out.
“If you want to move up in the office, you need to learn ‘tit for tat,’” he stated and looked,
rudely, at her tits.
“Fuck you, sir,” she muttered darkly and turned to leave the room. When she was about to leave the
entire world shook. “What in the—?” she asked and grabbed onto the doorframe.
She had no idea what happened next, but the very world around her seemed to rock
and roll. Her entire world rumbled around her, and the world went black.
She heard him then. She heard the sound of the man. “Help!” she screamed. “Please, help!” The
building must have crashed. That was the only thing she could think of. The building must have crashed down around them, and because she was inside of the doorframe she had thankfully been somewhat protected, somewhat.
When the large man found her, she reached out a hand to him. “Please? Help me?” She was buried
under far too much rubble still and could barely breathe, but she reached for him, pleaded and begged for help.
“Be still,” he said to her, softly taking her hand in his. Checking her pulse automatically, he
reached out to stroke back her hair with his other hand and checked the wound on
her forehead. Shifting, he pressed the comms. “I have two more live ones, one
female and one male, older. The male appears unconscious, and I’m going to need
a hand getting him free. The female is conscious and coherent, a bit banged up.
Bring in two backboards and collars just to be safe,” he advised before looking
to her again. “It’s all right, I’m a doctor with the Teams working to get
everyone out. Is there anyone besides you and the older gentleman in this area?”
he asked her, pulling out a small light to check her pupil dilation and
“No, just me and that old piece of crap who thought it was good to hit on me. He actually thought that
because I’m a twenty-five-year-old virgin I would leap into his bed. Idiot.” All right, so maybe she was more than slightly concussed, but still. “I can’t believe that jackwagon idiot,” she muttered. “Who does that? I mean seriously, who?”
“Dirty old men who think they can get anyone they want because of their position and or influence,”
he told her, gently running his fingers over her head and face. “Couple of good
scrapes, one slightly deeper gouge, but no broken bones,” he said. Digging out a
compress, he applied it to her forehead and continued his check down her neck.
He didn’t feel anything out of place, but he’d feel better after a full set of
X-rays and scans.
“Here.” Tryggr passed him a collar as Mac set one of the two backboards down next to
“Can you go and start getting some of the crap off the older guy?” he asked the jaguar. “Keep him
still if he’s conscious, but ask him his name, the date, and who the president is if he is awake. If he’s unconscious, we’ll deal,” he said, shifting to let Trey and Aiden past him to the guy with Tryg. Looking back at her, he smiled. “I’m going to put on the collar just to be safe. You seem fine, but I prefer to
be overly cautious, especially given you lost consciousness,” he murmured, gently slipping the neck brace around and tightening it properly.
“I would prefer to be overly cautious as well.” She closed her eyes and drifted again. When she came
to it was to the most beautiful man once more over her, and she found herself smiling. “You have got to be an angel, because men simply aren’t as beautiful as you are naturally.” She knew she had lost consciousness again, and that was bad, right? “Hopefully the old bastard broke his you-know-what. Stupid old buzzard,” she grumbled. “I’m Dahlia, who are you?” she asked softly.
“Davyn Montrose,” he murmured with a frown as he continued to check her limbs gently. “Mac, let’s
roll her, and, Tryg, can you slip the backboard in place?” He looked to the others as he settled at her head. “Nice and smooth in three, two, and one.” He held her head between his forearms as he rolled her by her shoulders. “And back in three, two, one,” he said when the backboard was in place. Moving, he strapped her down after covering her with a light thermal blanket. “We’re going
to fly you to the local hospital,” he told her. Digging out a card, he gave it to her. “But you need anything at all, you call me, all right? I have privileges in most of the local hospitals around here, so I don’t mind coming in and butting my nose where it doesn’t belong.”
She took the card and smiled up at him. “Thank you, Davyn Montrose.” She reached a shaky and filthy hand up and touched his cheek. “For saving my butt, thank you.” She winced again
and shuddered. “I seriously hope that I have some drugs waiting for me at the hospital.” She only half teased. Reaching out though, she grabbed the man’s hand with hers. “I’m scared.”