Acceptable Risk - Lynette Eason Page 0,110

let out a low sigh. “It’s probably a moot point by now. It has over six million views and is climbing. Talk shows are calling me. Can you believe it? I’ve had to refer them to my agent.”

“Your agent?”

“Sarah.” Sarah Denning, another good friend and fellow vet.

Brooke laughed. A deep laugh that reminded Heather once again why she and Brooke were friends. “Oh my. She didn’t tell me that.”

Four weeks ago, someone had posted a video of Heather performing surgery while in Kabul. It had gone viral within hours. When it had gotten to the point that people were stopping her in the grocery store to either lambast her for trying to save a suicide bomber or regale her with praise for her “saintly” heart, she’d had enough. For a week, she’d worked to get it pulled from the internet—all to no avail.

“Hello? Are you still there?”

Heather jerked. “Oh. Sorry. I’m here.”

“Well, are you going to sit out there all evening or come in?”

Heather closed her eyes and pulled in a deep, cleansing breath. “Sorry, I was just thinking about something. I’m coming.”

“You brought your suit, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“Great. We’re in the pool. Get changed and join us.”

“Bossy today, aren’t you?”

Brooke simply laughed and Heather couldn’t help the smile that curved her own lips.

“You do realize it’s two measly degrees above freezing out here?”

“That’s why my husband put the heater in, and plus, we have the hot tub now.” Asher and Brooke had been married for about six months now. “Trust me, you’ll love it. It’s really relaxing.” She paused. “And relaxing sounds like it might be beneficial for you.”

Heather laughed. She couldn’t help it. “I’m on the way.” She hung up and grabbed her bag from the floorboard. When she looked up, her gaze zeroed in on a shadow of movement on the street in front of Brooke’s neighbor’s house. A fleeting glimpse of someone in a ballcap, scarf, and plaid jacket. The same outfit she’d seen yesterday when she walked out of the hospital. He disappeared behind the van parked on the street, then reappeared, hands shoved into his coat.

She shoved open the door, bolted from the seat, and raced in the direction she’d seen the person.

“Heather!”

The shout from behind her reached her ears, but she couldn’t stop to acknowledge it. Just ahead was her stalker. Watcher. Whatever. She’d seen him yesterday outside the hospital and the day before wearing the same outfit. And now he was here?

Her feet pounded the asphalt. “Hey! You!”

The man froze, then he turned and ran, hopped into a dark sedan, and sped off down the street.

A hand on her arm spun her around.

On instinct, she lashed out with a fist that connected to flesh. A harsh grunt escaped her attacker while pain exploded from her knuckles to her wrist. Her victim stumbled backward.

“Heather!”

She floundered to a stop, panting, heart thundering in her ears. “Travis?” Heather flexed her fingers to make sure she hadn’t broken anything. When they moved freely, if painfully, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Travis Walker, bent at the waist, one hand covering his cheek. “Holy cow, you have a mean right.”

Horrified, Heather gaped. “Oh, my word . . . oh no. I’m so sorry. What were you doing?” She’d hit him. The guy whose attention she’d been trying to get since the day she’d met him a little over a year ago. Well, she had his attention now.

“I pulled in behind you and saw you sitting in your car,” he said. “I was coming to walk inside with you when all of a sudden you were racing down the street.”

“So, you decided to chase me?”

“And catch you, much to my regret.” He straightened and winced. “What were you running from?”

“Not from. To.” She glanced back in the direction she’d seen the figure. Gone now, of course. “It’s not important.” The urge to share her fears and concerns nearly overpowered her, but she swallowed the words and stepped closer to him, eyes on his wound. He still looked amazing to her even with a bruised eye. “Let me see it.”

“It’s fine.”

“Travis, come on.” She leaned in and caught a whiff of that cologne he used. A scent she’d come to associate only with him.

“Nope.” He actually backed away from her, the expression on his face grabbing her curiosity. He rubbed just under the wound, his blue eyes glinting at her, a mixture of admiration and . . . fear?

She raised a brow. “What in the world is wrong with you?”

He flushed. “Nothing. Doctors make me nervous.” He bent and picked up the black Stetson that had flown from his dark head when she belted him.

“Doctors make you . . .” She sputtered to a stop. Then laughed. When he didn’t join her, that trailed off too. “You’re serious?”

“Now you know my deepest, darkest secret.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

He raised a brow.

“Heather?” Brooke’s concerned call from her front porch sent a deep sigh shuddering through her.

Heather motioned with her hand toward the house. “Why don’t we go join the party and put some ice on that eye?”

His eyes narrowed, and for a split second, she thought he might insist on an explanation for her mad dash, but he agreed with a quick nod.

With one last glance behind her, she shook off the ominous feeling that her watcher was escalating and vowed to have a good time tonight.

Even if it killed her.

Acknowledgments

As always, the list of people to thank is long.

For this book, I have to thank my brainstorming team. So many brainstormers! Thank you to Colleen Coble, Carrie Stuart Parks, Pam Hillman, Robin Carroll, Karen Solem, Lynn H. Blackburn, Edie Melson, Alycia Morales, and DiAnn Mills. I could NOT have come up with this story without you.

Thanks once again to Vincent Davis for providing his expertise on military matters. If I got anything wrong, that’s on me! 

Thank you to Tamela Hancock Murray for being such an amazing agent.

And thanks to my incredible editors, Andrea Doering and Barb Barnes. You guys are amazing, and I’m beyond grateful for you and the whole Revell team.

Thank you to my family. I really couldn’t do what I do without your encouragement and support.

And, of course, I have to thank the readers. I REALLY couldn’t do this without you! Thank you for reading and loving the stories.

Mostly, I thank Jesus, who allows me to create stories that, hopefully, bring glory and honor and praise to him.

Lynette Eason is the bestselling author of Protecting Tanner Hollow, as well as the Blue Justice, Women of Justice, Deadly Reunions, Hidden Identity, and Elite Guardians series. She is the winner of three ACFW Carol Awards, the Selah Award, and the Inspirational Reader’s Choice Award, among others. She is a graduate of the University of South Carolina and has a master’s degree in education from Converse College. Eason lives in South Carolina with her husband and two children. Learn more at www.LynetteEason.com.

LynetteEason.com

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Table of Contents

Cover

Praise for Collateral Damage

Half Title Page

Books by Lynette Eason

Title Page

Contents

An Excerpt from Book 3 in the Series

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Back Ads

Back Cover

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Cover

Acceptable Risk - Lynette Eason Page 0,110

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