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Protector's Instinct
Janie Crouch
When former police detective Zane Wales couldn't protect Caroline Gill, he left both her and the force behind.But now a psychopath has Caroline in his sights, can Zane find the courage to face the past and this time protect the woman he still loves?
He knows he failed her once before. This time he’s determined to protect her by any means necessary...
Former police detective Zane Wales won’t let history repeat itself. He couldn’t save the woman he loved from a brutal assault, so he left the force—and Caroline Gill’s life. But now a psychopath has her in his vengeful sights. And the only way Zane can keep the strong-willed paramedic safe is to stay close 24/7—even as their reignited desire burns out of control.
Caroline can finally face down her past by helping Zane catch this perp. And she’ll give Zane all the passionate healing he needs to show they have a future together. But a danger they never saw coming will turn their second chance into a lethal, inescapable trap...
Omega Sector: Under Siege
“You’ve got to prove it, Zane.”
“Prove that I want you?” His hands gripped Caroline’s hips and pulled her down harder against him. “I don’t think there can be any doubt of that.”
“Prove that you really think I’m strong. That you’re not afraid I’ll break at the least little thing.”
“I know you won’t.”
“That you can still get lost in me. That we can get lost in each other.”
Zane’s hand reached up and tangled in her hair, bringing Caroline’s lips down hard against his. Caroline moaned. Yes. Yes, this was what she wanted...
Protector’s Instinct
Janie Crouch
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JANIE CROUCH has loved to read romance her whole life. The award-winning author cut her teeth on Mills & Boon Romance novels as a preteen, then moved on to a passion for romantic suspense as an adult. Janie lives with her husband and four children overseas. She enjoys traveling, long-distance running, movie watching, knitting and adventure/obstacle racing. You can find out more about her at www.janiecrouch.com (http://www.janiecrouch.com).
This book is dedicated to Girl Tyler. It’s wondrous to have a friend who can walk with me through this craziness known as—duh, duh, duh—writer’s life. Thanks for all the talks, encouragement, TMI shares and getting messages to me from editors when I’m out of the country. And ALL CAPS. And All the Words. Boldly go, babe.
Contents
Cover (#ufcb4dcd4-2d58-5e4a-a577-df738af24bda)
Back Cover Text (#u8626243c-7763-56a5-a13b-6f1a44337aea)
Introduction (#u9ef3b35f-08bf-57fd-a57d-06e3b845e743)
Title Page (#u2d0f1327-8a0d-5a70-af0a-bded6c1c7040)
About the Author (#ua5a650d7-0f8c-54f9-8b50-8498cc9bcf73)
Dedication (#u41819155-3225-59f6-a7b1-c59aa744eeb3)
Chapter One (#u0d54997d-1e29-5c41-96a7-27672257f4b1)
Chapter Two (#ud79d1e96-6a50-5e16-8908-5e21f07496dd)
Chapter Three (#u858b253e-ab71-5587-8265-44c9a16e305d)
Chapter Four (#u6ced0f17-6062-58b3-877e-0ead87f2c7ca)
Chapter Five (#u57da99ec-e49f-53c9-8ac5-c0189faa58f9)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#uf1013233-bc21-5782-ba30-641a26ae6dc7)
You’re a liar. And everyone is going to know.
Caroline Gill glanced at the text on the phone, then promptly shut it down and put it away. She had ignored similar texts for the last four days, hoping they would stop. Someone obviously had the wrong number.
Caroline may be a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. Life was too short to live surrounded by lies.
She’d learned that the hard way eighteen months ago.
She made a mental note to call the phone company or look into how to block texts on her phone after her shift tonight.
Because she definitely didn’t have time to do it right now. She had a real crisis to deal with. As the ambulance pulled to a stop, Caroline jumped out of the passenger side and surveyed the utter chaos around her.
As she looked around the wreckage, she took a deep breath, trying to ascertain what she needed to do first. The thick morning fog that had blown in from the coast of Corpus Christi made everything more difficult to deal with—especially a deadly crash.
As a paramedic she dealt with accidents and injured people on a daily basis. Thankfully she didn’t experience a situation as bad as this often: at least seven cars in a deadly pileup.
She turned back to her partner, who was just getting out of the ambulance. “Kimmie, radio Dispatch. We need help. Mass casualty. Let them know.”
Kimmie did so immediately as Caroline further studied the situation before her. The fog had been a big factor in what caused this multicar pileup on State Highway 358. But a bigger factor looked to be like some idiot who had been driving the wrong way down the crowded street.
“Help me.”
Caroline heard the weak voice coming from a truck a few yards away, just one of many. Some were sobbing, some begging for help, some basically screaming. Absolute chaos in a situation where no one could see more than two or three feet in front of them.
Caroline blocked out the voices—she had to, despite their volume or the words or sounds they made. She had learned a long time ago as a paramedic that the loudest people weren’t always the ones who needed the most help.
Caroline pulled on gloves as Kimmie came running around from the driver’s seat of the ambulance they’d arrived in together. “Dispatch is sending who they can. There’s multiple calls because of this fog.”
Caroline pulled out her triage kit, including the tags of four different colors inside. “We’re going to have to tag everyone until help gets here. Thirty-second evaluations, okay? Green for minor injuries. Yellow for non-life-threatening. Red for life-threatening. And black...”
Caroline faded out. They both knew what black meant. Dead or so near to dead the victim couldn’t be helped now.
Kimmie looked a little overwhelmed. Caroline’s partner was relatively new and this was probably her first mass casualty situation. “Kimmie, you can do this. You’ve done it in training. Don’t spend more than thirty seconds with each person and make sure the tag is the first thing seen when more help arrives.”
They split up and began the always difficult job of choosing who would be treated first when more help arrived. Everyone was hurt. Everyone was scared. Everyone wanted to be the first ones treated. But they couldn’t all be.
Caroline sprinted to the first victim, who unfortunately didn’t take long to be evaluated. He was lying on the pavement covered in blood. He obviously hadn’t been wearing his seat belt and the force of the impact had thrown him through the windshield. Caroline quickly searched for a pulse, felt none, so removed her hands before trying once more, hoping she was wrong. A lot of blood loss didn’t always equate to death.
But in this case it did. “Damn it,” she muttered under her breath before pulling out a black tag and placing it near the man’s head. This would discourage other first responders from stopping for him until the other more critical cases could be taken care of.
She ran to the man screaming at the top of his lungs next. His car was the one facing the wrong direction. She braced herself for what she would find because of the sheer volume of the man’s yells. But instead of finding some gaping wound or bones protruding in a hideous injury, she found a man, probably in his late twenties, holding his hand where it looked like his pinkie was dislocated.
“Thank God,” he said as soon as she got close enough. “What took you soo-long?”
If the words slurring together didn’t give her enough of a clue of his drunken state, the stench of alcohol that immediately accosted her senses did.
“Sir, are you injured besides your finger?”
“My finger is broken, not injured.” He held it up as proof. “And the window of my car is smashed and the door won’t open. I need you to fix that right away.”
What did he think this was, AAA? Caroline didn’t have time for this jackass who—coupled with the fog—had probably been the cause of this entire situation.
“Sir, I need to know if you have any more injuries. There will be someone here soon who can help you get the door open.”
The man just narrowed his eyes and let out a string of obscenities. “Don’t you leave me here, you bitch.”
Caroline could hear the cries of other people, including at least one child. She vaguely wondered if she smashed her elbow in this guy’s face if it would look like something that just happened in the wreck. But she forced herself not to.
She handed him a yellow card. “Sir, give this to the next EMT or firefighter who comes your way, okay?”
The man immediately scoffed and threw it on the ground. “Don’t you dare leave me. All these people were driving on the wrong side of the road.” He grabbed her arm through the window. “I’ll have your job if you leave me.”
She grabbed his other, uninjured, pinkie, bending it back, knowing the pressure would cause him to release her arm. It was one of the self-defense moves she’d learned in the multiple classes she’d taken over the last year and a half.
No man would use his strength against her and make her a victim ever again.
“Unless you want me to break your other pinkie,” she said to the drunk guy, “I suggest you let me go. Besides, you’re going to be too busy sitting in jail to have my job.”
The man released her and went back to yelling his obscenities at the top of his lungs. Caroline picked up the yellow tag and removed the adhesive cover on the back, sticking it to the outside of the car. Hopefully the guy wouldn’t mess with it. She quickly moved on to the next car.
“Please help me.” A mother was sobbing in the driver’s seat, blood dripping from her face. A young girl and a baby sat in the back seat. The little girl was crying also.
“Ma’am, I’m here. It’s okay,” Caroline said, taking in the situation. The woman was pinned inside her vehicle where the front end had been crushed when it had been rear-ended into a safety railing. Her legs were trapped.
“My kids.” The mom was hysterical, unable to see or help her children in the back. “Why is Nicole crying? Are they hurt? Is the baby okay?”
Caroline used her flashlight to shine into the car as she talked to the woman. “Hey, what’s your name?” she asked the mom as she pulled on the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. The woman’s legs were definitely pinned. The firefighters would have to get her out of here.
“Jackie.”
Caroline couldn’t tell what state Jackie’s legs would be in, but for right now she was a yellow card. Needed help, but wasn’t life-threatening. But the woman was still sobbing.
“Jackie, I’m going to check the kids now. But I need you to stop crying, okay? And hold this.” She gave the woman the yellow tag. “This lets the firefighters know what to do.”
She could see Jackie try to get herself under control. “My kids. Please, my kids.”
Caroline touched her on the shoulder through the window that had been broken. “I’m checking right now.”
She moved to the back door and opened it. A little girl in the back, about three years old, was sobbing, obviously terrified.
“Jackie, what’s your daughter’s name?”
“Nicole.”
“Hey, Nicole,” Caroline crooned. “You doing okay, sweetie?” The fog floating around the car and her mother’s cries were frightening the girl. Caroline touched her gently on the cheek and she settled a little bit.
“I want Mama,” the little girl said, hiccuping through her tears.
“I know you do. It will be just a few minutes, okay? Does anything hurt, sweetheart?” The girl seemed to be fine, but it was difficult to tell.
“No. I want Mama.”
