“This is Dr. David Gunnar.”
Kye stood stock-still. Concern had sent him looking for Yardley when she didn’t immediately return from her walk with Oleg. They could have been working in a classroom because the weather had turned nasty, as expected. But after all that had occurred within the past twenty-four hours, he wasn’t taking any chances.
Now he wished he’d come looking for her a lot sooner.
Dr. David Gunnar. In the flesh.
He took in the guy on the bed in a glance. Male. Fit. Probably what women would call dreamy. Kye hated dreamy. In fact, instantly, everything about the guy irritated him.
The doc’s teeth were too white in a face weathered by the elements. Even the squint lines around his light eyes seemed calculated to attract. His light hair, streaked almost platinum in places by the sun, made him look ruggedly handsome. His dirty and mud-spattered clothing should have ruined the effect. It didn’t. Well bred in rustic clothing, the doc looked like a blond David Beckham.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Doc?” He added a hard glance for Yardley. She offered one right back but kept silent.
The man struggled to a seated position. “Who are you?”
“We’ll get to that when it becomes relevant.”
“It’s okay.” Yardley reached for the doc’s hand. “This is Kye McGarren, a friend of the family.”
Kye’s attitude took a further nosedive. Of the family, my ass. I was the guy moving hot and heavy between your thighs not three hours ago.
He shoved that thought aside as less than helpful at the moment. He pointed at the man’s bloody sleeve. “What have you got there?”
“He’s injured,” Yardley said tightly.
Ignoring her, Kye pointed again. “Mind if I look at it?”
Gunnar gave him a hard man-to-man look. “You know first aid?”
“MP. Two tours. Afghanistan.”
The doc jerked his head once in the affirmative.
Kye produced a Swiss army knife from his pocket. “Cutting your sleeve is the most efficient way to get to the injury. Sorry if it ruins your ensemble.”
Doc gave up a ghost of a laugh.
Kye frowned. Sense of humor. The annoyance factor with this guy just kept ratcheting up.
Kye slit the sleeve before untying the bandage and slowly peeling it back. It was stiff with blood. He was more interested in the shape of the wound it covered. He pulled in a breath at the sight that was at once familiar, but shocking when discovered at Harmonie Kennels.
He locked gazes with the doc. Confirmation was there in those steely blue depths. “He’s not hurt, Yard. This man’s been shot.”
“Shot?” Yardley turned to David.
The man’s expression went remote as it locked with Kye’s. “I need to talk with Yardley. Alone.”
“Not going to happen.” Kye leveled him with a cold blast of distrust and pulled out his phone. “I’m calling the sheriff.”
“Excuse me.” Yard’s voice was sharp enough to cut through the testosterone standoff. “Last time I checked this was my property. I make the decisions.” She looked down at David. “You want the police involved?”
“We need to talk first.”
She glanced up at Kye. “No police.”
Kye rejected the first two, maybe three, thoughts that came to mind. Every one of them would be something he’d later regret. It was her eyes that won him over. There was a plea for understanding. Well, he didn’t understand. But he didn’t need to hurt her because of that.
“Right. You two have a chat while I find something to bind up the doc’s wound. But don’t take long. It’s snowing like fuck out there.”
“Wait. I’m coming with you. You don’t know where anything is.” She gave David a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right back. Don’t worry. Oleg will protect you.”
Kye waited until they were both beyond the bunkhouse before turning and blocking Yardley’s path. “What the hell, Yard! When were you going to tell me he was here?”
She jutted out her chin, the bruises smudging the lush beauty of her face but not dimming it. “I didn’t know. I had just stumbled upon him.”
“You weren’t holding back earlier about your text messages?”
“Why would I lie to you?”
Kye ran a hand through his hair to dislodge the salting of snowflakes lighting there. “It’s fucking obvious he’s on the run, Yard. From something bad.”
“I know that.” She swallowed, blinking snowflakes from her dark lashes. “He was about to explain what’s going on when you barged in.”
Kye reared back. “So this is suddenly my fault?”
Yard brushed snowflakes from her face. “Can we do this indoors?”
“Fine. But I’m not going to back off.” She wasn’t listening to him, she was plowing ahead, leaving him to follow in her wake.