Colton's Ranch Refuge. Beth Cornelison

      Icy fear settled over her like a cold morning fog. “They … they meant to kill me,” she rasped.

      “What?” Tate asked stepping closer to the bed, his brow furrowed.

      “Because I saw his face. I can identify him and—” she shivered “—he said he had to kill me.”

      Emma and Tate exchanged worried looks.

      “I think they believed I would die from my wounds … or they wouldn’t have left me.”

      The monitor registering her heart rate began to beep loudly, and Derek Colton, followed by a blonde woman in scrubs, hustled into the recovery room. “Interview’s over. Her heart rate is too high.”

      Emma scowled. “Derek, we still have questions about—”

      “The interview is over,” the doctor repeated firmly. “For now. My patient needs rest, not more stress.”

      “We need to arrange protection for her.” Tate slid the mini-recorder in his shirt pocket. “If word leaks out that she survived the attack, the thugs who stabbed her will come after her.”

      Violet’s stomach pitched. “Oh, God.”

      “We can post an officer at the door of your hospital room,” Emma offered.

      Violet raised a trembling hand to her temple and shot a pleading glance to Dr. Colton. “Please … can’t I recover at home? Hospitals … there’s no such thing as privacy for a public figure at a hospital. There’ll always be another patient or dietary worker or orderly looking to make a fast buck selling info about the famous patient in room 323.” In the case of her late husband, the leak had been a candy striper confiding to the wrong friends that she’d delivered flowers to the Adam Ryder, who was recovering from a drug overdose. Except Adam hadn’t recovered and the media frenzy had been salt in an already bitter wound. Violet sighed. “News that I survived the attack is sure to get out if I go to the hospital.”

      “Do you really think the bed-and-breakfast where the movie crew is staying will be any more private?” Dr. Colton asked. “You need to be somewhere a medical professional can keep tabs on your progress or any setbacks.”

      Violet frowned, too tired to have to deal with major decisions but desperate not to be thrust into a volatile situation. “I can … hire a private nurse.”

      “Derek,” Emma started, clicking her ball point pen closed and clipping it to her pad, “we have plenty of rooms at the ranch. With Tate and I both staying in the main house until this case is closed, she’ll have protection. Plus you can check in on her anytime.”

      Derek arched an eyebrow, and Violet shook her head. “I couldn’t impose. Surely, there’s some other—”

      “The ranch is the perfect solution. Privacy, protection, someone there around the clock …”

      “But—” Violet glanced from one Colton to another “—I …”

      “Unless you have serious objections or a comparable, viable alternative …” Derek folded his arms over his chest and cocked his head, inviting her to state her case.

      “I … I …” Violet’s muddled and weary brain blanked.

      “Then the ranch it is. Doctor’s orders.” Derek lifted the corner of his mouth in a Denzel Washington–worthy grin.

      “And you’re not an imposition. We’re glad to have you,” Tate said.

      Violet’s head spun, and she couldn’t be sure if it was the painkiller or the speed of changing events. “My kids …”

      “Bring them and their nanny. The nursery hasn’t been used since Sawyer outgrew it. Your boys will love it.” Derek headed for the door, aiming his finger at his siblings. “I’m going to take care of another patient now. No more questions for her until she’s had a chance to sleep a few hours.”

      Tate scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll go make arrangements to transfer her to the ranch. We’ll need a way to distract the media long enough to get her in a vehicle without detection.”

      Violet’s heart sunk. “The media is here? Already?”

      “We had to notify your director, and word got out.” Emma sat back in the chair and pulled a face that expressed her low opinion of the paparazzi. “Don’t worry. We’ll get rid of the vultures before you’re moved. I promise we’ll keep you and your family safe.”

      “Vampires.” Casting a disgruntled glance to the gathering of reporters and photographers crowding the parking lot, Gunnar left the ranch’s SUV at the back door to Derek’s office and punched the keypad to the security system to let himself in his brother’s clinic. He’d been having a late breakfast with Emma at the main house when his sister had been called in to Derek’s clinic to follow up on a new development in the Amish kidnapping cases. Apparently another girl had been abducted, and the bloodthirsty media couldn’t wait to broadcast the juicy details of the poor girl’s misfortune. “No comment!” he shouted to the news crew that shoved a microphone in his face and tried to shoulder their way into the clinic. “Get lost or we’ll arrest you for trespassing.”

      He yanked the door closed and stalked down the hall, grumbling under his breath. He found Derek in his office and folded his arms over his chest. “So … what’s going on? Emma was all cryptic on the phone about needing the SUV and some muscle for a transport.”

      Derek rose from behind his desk. “That’s right. First we have to send a decoy out, a goose for the paparazzi to follow, then we’ll load Violet and her kids in the SUV for you to drive to the ranch.”

      Gunnar frowned. “Violet? As in Chastain? As in the starlet I met yesterday?”

      “The same.” Derek motioned for his brother to follow. “She’s back here.”

      “Whoa. Hold up, Doc. Are you telling me you got me out here to play chauffeur for an actress?”

      Derek faced him. “We need your help, and we needed the SUV. It’s important that Violet not be followed. We have to protect her, assure her privacy.”

      “Why?” Gunnar grumbled. “That part of the contract you signed yesterday for them filming on the ranch? I asked to be left out of that, remember?”

      Derek frowned and stepped closer, pitching his voice lower. “This has nothing to do with the movie. Violet is my patient. She was attacked today and nearly bled out. The girl she was with was kidnapped.”

      Gunnar stiffened, straightening his back and raising his chin. A prickle of guilt for his surly assumption slithered down his back. “Oh.”

      “Yeah, oh. Violet got her attacker’s ski mask off for a moment and saw his face. Emma fears the guy might come after Violet. Try to kill her to keep her quiet.”

      Gunnar drew his brow into a V. “Hell.”

      “Guess you saw the cameras outside?”

      “Out in force.” Gunnar rubbed his unshaven chin, an itch of suspicion starting between his shoulders. “So I’m part of some police operation to get Violet into hiding somewhere?”

      “Exactly.”

      His fists clenched. He might be highly trained and capable of this bait and switch transfer, but the idea of putting his skills on the line left him unsettled. When he’d left the military, he’d thought his “operation” days were over. Helping execute Emma’s plan was an uncomfortable reminder of his last mission in Afghanistan—and his greatest failure.

      A high-pitched squeal rang down the hall, and Gunnar turned in time to see a blond-haired toddler race into the corridor giggling … and then a second, a carbon copy of the first.

      A young woman of about college age appeared, her face pale and her eyes reflecting deep fatigue. “Come on, you rascals. Not today. Rani is too tired to play