"What?"

He palpated the glands in her neck. "Pneumonia most likely. Not to mention a vicious double ear infection. This kid's not in any shape to fly."

Horror sliced through Lori like one of those scalpels in the instrument tray. "You're joking, right? Have you listened to what's going on out there? We can't leave her here."

"Hold it down." Gray held his hands up. "I didn't say she wouldn't fly. Just that regulations say she shouldn't."

The sick twist of her stomach eased, only to knot again. Regulations. "What can you do?"

He scrubbed a hand over his bandanna and glanced at the tray of supplies beside him. "Screw the regs. Pump her full of meds. Keep quiet. Pray like h.e.l.l."

She prayed-prayed for the day to end, so children like Magda could crawl into a safe warm bed, so she could crawl into her own ... alone. Far away from having to watch Gray be the honorable hero of the day, saving and charming children with heartbreaking ease.

A cleared throat sounded just behind Gray. Lori jumped and peered over his shoulder as he glanced back.

Lancelot stood behind them, a ridge creased between his brows. "Problem with this one?"

"No problem." Gray filled a syringe and pierced Magda's arm before she could blink, much less cry. He flung aside the empty needle. It clattered to rest in a tray. "All set."

"Good, 'cause we're gonna have to clear out. Now. Radio report says..." He paused, his gaze flickering to Lori, then back to Gray. "We should start packing. Load 'em up and finish the rest in-flight."

An eerie quiet mushroomed in the warehouse.

Panic pierced her like that needle he'd tossed aside, seeping fear into her veins. Not exactly what she'd wished for with that prayer, but then, things rarely turned out as she hoped around Gray.

He shoved to his feet, his body humming with tension. "Roger that, Lance. Ready to roll."

Gray extended a hand to Lori just as an explosion ripped the air outside the hangar.

Chapter 3.

"Incoming!"

The warning echoed through the hangar, in Gray's ears. Lori's horrified eyes met his. Too distracting.

Gray kicked aside his chair. He flung his body over Lori and Magda, pinning them to the gurney.

Braced his arms. Cursed. Prayed.

A whistling premonition increased. Incoming. Another explosion. Metal walls rattled like a drum.

Reverberated. Waned. Silence.

Then shouts and orders for evacuation zipped around them. He couldn't afford mind-numbing fear for the woman beneath him. He had to get her out. Fast. Gray hauled himself off Lori.

"To the plane," he barked. "Now!"

He yanked her up, trying to pry Magda from her arms. Spindly arms and legs held tight.

Lori shoved his shoulder. "Just go! I can carry her." With a terse nod, Gray grabbed Lori's hand. He called on his training to overcome emotions that could dull his reactions. He bolted forward. They followed loadmasters herding cl.u.s.ters of children out the door. Local officials darted through the crowd, scooping up children.

Sunlight and carbon-tinged air a.s.saulted his senses. A distant explosion plumed smoke. d.a.m.n, why hadn't he pushed to leave sooner?

He checked left, right and sprinted, Lori's hand locked in his. A few more feet to the cargo plane.

Whump, sounded just beyond the trees. Mortar fire launched.

Lori's soft hand felt too mortal in his.

Her fingers jerked free.

Panic popped through Gray like a semiautomatic. He spun to find her darting away.

Toward a weaving toddler heading for the trees. Mortar rounds shattered the asphalt inches from her feet. She stumbled, righted herself and plowed forward, her body curved protectively around Magda.

Fury and fear discharged within him. "Lori!"

She didn't hear, or chose to ignore him, d.a.m.ned reckless, selfless woman.

He dodged left, putting his body between her and the spewing rounds. His boots pounded pavement in time with his heart. His left calf stung. Pain spread into a flame he had to ignore for now. He ran faster, frustration clawing through him.

She scooped up the child, balancing one orphan on each hip. Already her eyes scanned the cracked runway as if searching for someone else to save. Did she intend to carry them on her back?

Gray skidded to a stop beside her. He whipped the extra kid from her arms. He crowded behind her, nudging, urging, shielding her back with his body. "Go! Go! Go!"

"Wait!" She pointed across the runway at another group of children. "They need-"

"d.a.m.n it, woman! They're fine. Tag's got 'em. Now move!" he shouted over the mayhem. Hours of restraint expanded within him as he raced a serpentine path. The percussion from another blast slammed Lori back against his chest. She staggered, paused.

Hesitation could kill them. He chose words he knew well would fire her feet and distract her while they ran. "Why couldn't you have stayed home and baked cookies?"

"Fat chance." Her chest pumped for air as she shouted over the latest whistle. Explosion. Trees falling, burning. More running. "There's no one around to eat them."

Her accusation sprayed him like shrapnel. He'd fired her more than he could have hoped. Restraints fell away on his control in the madness of the moment. "You walked. Not me."

"I just," she gasped, cradling Magda's bandanna-covered head to her breast, "got to the door first."

And Lori was right.

His feet found purchase on the load ramp. More relief than he wanted throbbed through him. He plopped the toddler in a seat, then reached for Magda. She plastered herself to Lori, bandanna and Barbie secure.

"Stubborn women." Gray twirled Lori by the arm onto the red webbing. She sat, still and poised, with Magda in her lap. Both sets of wide brown eyes promised one great big distraction.

He jabbed a finger in Lori's face. "No more saving the world today, lady. Sit. Don't move until we get this plane off the ground."

Not waiting for any argument, he shouldered through the swell of bodies crowding onto the aircraft.

Lori's whisper dogged him all the way to the c.o.c.kpit. Be careful.

Operating through life solo was a h.e.l.l of a lot easier.

*** Gray stared out at the night stars blanketing the sky beyond his windscreen. The bombing in Sentavo was a world away. Or at least ten hours past.

Lori, little Magda, everyone had made it out unharmed. Gray didn't let himself dwell overlong on those seconds he'd stood horrified, watching Lori sprint into a shower of shrapnel. He focused on the plane, stick in hand, rudder pedals beneath his boots.

Only the fluorescent glow of the green instrument panel lit the confined s.p.a.ce. Bronco sprawled to his right in the copilot's seat reading a paperback. The aircraft hummed contentedly across the Atlantic.

Forget autopilot, he loved to fly.

The sky had been his salvation for years. As a child he'd dreamed of flying with his bomber gunner father. Later Gray's dreams had shifted to piloting a rescue for his POW father, easing the strained lines around his mother's eyes, bringing back her smile.

But he couldn't.

He'd settled for earning her smile in other ways. He was good at that, joking, keeping things light.

After his father's return, his mother still hadn't smiled. No one did. Before long, Gray traveled the skies in his mind to escape.

He was good at that, too. Running.

Gray called in a position report. In the homestretch, they only had three more hours before landing in Charleston. The children would be whisked away to their sponsor families. Lori would go home and find some great man, bake cookies for him, make babies with him.

The thought soured in Gray's brain, not at all comforting. As a matter of fact, it was d.a.m.ned depressing.

Gray reached to tighten his bandanna tied around his calf over the mortar nick. The bleeding was minimal, his need for a Band-Aid nothing compared to the other pilots' need for sleep. Air safety came first.

Forget the dull ache. Ditch the morose garbage. It had never been his style. He needed a few of those smiles for himself.

One thing he could always count on, crew dogs thrived on a good laugh, even in the middle of combat. Especially in combat.

Gray pivoted to Bronco. "Well, my friend, payback time."

"Payback?"

"Payback." Gray flipped a CD between his fingers and nodded to the makeshift CD player hookup he'd rigged into the interphone. d.a.m.n but he enjoyed flying with these guys. He would miss them when he transferred. "I feel like giving you boys a concert."

Bronco flinched. "Couldn't you limit your revenge to the physical?"

"Not a chance. You deserve my full retribution, and now that the squadron commander is snoozing away in the bunk... Well... Hey, Tag," he called into the headset. "Hear that, my traitorous crewmate? Time to pay up for your little scheduling stunt. What will it be? Eagles, Elvis, or Beatles?" Gray popped in the CD and depressed the interphone b.u.t.ton on the stick. John, Paul, George and Ringo's crooning blasted through, Gray joining in two seconds later.

Tag and Bronco's groans flooded his headphones, followed by light chuckles. Gray gripped the stick, flew his plane, sang. Escaped.

Just behind Gray, Lori leaned her head against the bulk-head and stared at him silhouetted by panel lights. The children settled, she could afford a moment to go up front and talk with Gray. Numbing exhaustion from adrenaline letdown left her languid and mellow.

Vulnerable.

G.o.d, he was gorgeous. Mud-splattered boots braced on the pedals, he relaxed in his seat, stick in his hand, in control. But on his terms, growling out tunes as he flew. His jaw and shoulders kept the beat. Bronco drummed percussion on the panel. Gray flipped switches, sang, piloted the aircraft.

So competent. Never serious. Always gorgeous.

Not that she'd come to check out the view. She just thought he would appreciate an update on Magda.

At least that gave her enough reason to be there so she wouldn't have to dwell overlong on the need to see him and rea.s.sure herself he hadn't been injured in their sprint to the plane.

"Gray," she called once, twice, before he stopped singing and looked over his shoulder. His eyes glittered an emerald echo of the fluorescent cabin lights.

He flipped his headset mouthpiece to the side. His thumb popped off the b.u.t.ton on the stick. "Hi. Problems with one of the kids?"

"No, I just-" Her gaze flickered to Bronco, then back to Gray.

Bronco disconnected his headset and shoved to his feet. "Think I'll step back to the head."

Lori twisted sideways as he squeezed his bulk past. Alone with Gray, she willed herself not to fidget.

He slid a CD free from a player and gestured to the vacated copilot's seat. "Go ahead and sit."

Lori sagged wearily. Her fingers twined in her lap to keep from touching the countless b.u.t.tons and switches in front of her-and to keep from shaking.

"What's up?"

"I thought you'd like to know our little pal Magda just drifted off. Her fever's down. She quit tugging her ear an hour ago. Her cough's still pretty harsh, but at least she's comfortable."

"Good. Thanks for the update. I'll check on her again when I'm through here." He nodded, eyes trained on the small holographic display above the console. "Is she saying anything yet? Communicating at all?"

Lori grasped the safe topic with both hands, although not sure what she hoped to accomplish by talking with him, anyway. "I tried to teach her a couple of basics like yes and no before she goes to her sponsor family. Who knows if she understood me."

Silence and dark hummed around her.

What now? If only she could will her feet to carry her back to her seat. But the cabin was so warm, dark, soothing, and she was beyond tired. Her temple settled against the copilot's headrest as she caved in to the temptation to spend a few more minutes with Gray. How could she resist the intimacy too reminiscent of another time?

Lori pointed to the small Plexiglas screen with holographic images floating across it. "What's that?"

"The HUD, heads up display, duplicates the instrument panel along the bottom of the windshield. It enables me to monitor the readings without taking my eyes off the sky."

More than a little awe swept over her for the extent of his technical training in two differing career fields. "Cool."

A familiar grin kicked up the corner of his mouth. "It sure is."

He had such a great smile and a real talent for making her smile as well-even when she wanted to club his thick, gorgeous head.

Memories crackled along the air like popcorn in oil, heating to life. Dancing at the Officer's Club. Beach picnics with the crew members. Stretching out together under a blanket of stars.

"And that sky." She gazed through the windshield. Regular stars she viewed every night glowed vibrant shades of orange, red, green, even an arctic blue. "Is it always this incredible?"