She woke slowly, her mind foggy and body leaden, her leg a dull distant throb of tenderness. It was an effort to crack her eyes open and peer around. Her murky brain catalogued the space. A small white room, wires running in and out of her body, a bed. She was in a hospital. Struggling to remember why, she shifted, trying to sit up and gasped at the sharp twinge of pain as she jostled her leg.

The door slid open and a young woman in surgical scrubs came in. Grace squinted at her nametag, but couldn't make it out.

The woman smiled. "Good. You're awake."

"What happened?" she managed to croak in reply and was suddenly aware of how dry her throat was.

The other woman picked up her wrist, fingers pressed to her pulse point and silently watched her watch. When she released it, she smiled gently.

"You just came out of surgery. The doctor removed the bullet and everything looks fine."

Grace dropped her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes. She'd been shot?

"Mr. Graham is on his way. We should have you moved out of recovery and into ICU before he arrives." The nurse winked. "Tell me, is he as sexy in person as he is on the phone?"

Shit. Walker was coming? She wasn't sure she could take him right now. Or maybe the nurse meant his brother, Boyd?

"Walker?" she whispered. "Or Boyd?"

The woman cocked an eyebrow. "There's two of 'em?"

Grace couldn't help the grin that rose in response. Yes, God help us all. There are two of them. It was too many words to force through her parched throat so she just nodded.

"Which one?" she asked when the silence stretched.

"Oh sorry!" The nurse paused while recording the various instrument readings. "Walker." She flashed another wicked grin. "And he sounds yummy."

Grace forced a smile. "He is."

Hot. Territorial. Possessive. Well, he would be if she hadn't managed to keep him at arm's length. She didn't delude herself into thinking that was due to anything but pure dumb luck--she lived in Atlanta and he lived in that little hick town in southern Alabama, Duluth, where she was originally from. She wouldn't be able to resist him if she had to deal with prolonged exposure. She groaned. Damn. He was coming here. He would go all macho and alpha male on her now. Her body tingled and it wasn't from the morphine injection she'd just received.

Definitely yummy, but she felt a trickle of unease the more she thought of him coming, something she was forgetting, a reason she wanted space before dealing with him again. Something that refused to rise to the surface of her drug-addled brain. She fought a great yawn as the nurse slipped out the door, tried to force the correct synapses to fire in her head, but couldn't fight the slide back into oblivion.

Walker pulled into a parking slot, slipping the gear into neutral and yanking up the emergency brake. The engine still roared in his ears and he clutched the steering wheel, trying to get a grip on his wild emotions. He wouldn't be any help to Grace if he came at her all Neanderthal. Not that it wasn't tempting--grab her by the hair and drag her home where he could keep her safe. He grinned. Figuratively, of course. She'd cut his balls off otherwise. Plus she was hurt.

Fear rose like bile in his throat. He--finally--almost had her, after years of want, years of working his ass off trying to become the kind of man she'd have, but he could have lost her with this incident. He forced the panic away and replaced it with anger. At her. At the son of bitch who shot her. At himself. She needed space. He gave her space. And look what happened. If she weren't so damned busy pulling away from what was between them maybe he'd have an idea what she was up to. Maybe he could have kept her safe. What the hell was she doing in Birmingham anyway? The answer came to mind in an instant. Something that got her shot.

His fist landed with a thunk against the steering wheel. Fuck! He looked out the window at the brown building in front of him. This wasn't helping. He needed to be cool and in control when he went in there. Forcing his breathing to even and his rioting emotions behind an impassive mask, he exited the car.

The parking garage was across the street from the hospital and he jogged down the stairs and out to the street. It was late, almost midnight, and the place looked deserted. He glanced up and remembered one of the things he'd most hated about living in Birmingham. You couldn't see the stars. Even at midnight the city was too bright. Why the hell was she here? In the city where he'd spent some of his worst years, years he was far from proud of? Shaking off the feeling of gloom he crossed the street, entered the building and looked for an elevator.

He'd kept in touch with the nursing staff on the drive up. Technically, they shouldn't have told him anything but he claimed to be her fiancé so they made an exception. He knew she was stable and where to find her.

He found an elevator and slid through the closing doors just in time. The occupants, two young women, edged away from him and he sighed, rubbing a hand over his stubbled head. Yeah. He probably did look a little rough. He'd rolled out of bed this morning, threw some clothes on and headed straight for the garage. He had a ton of work to do and with Boyd and Lynn on their honeymoon, only two hands to do it with. He hadn't been concerned with how he looked.

He worked straight through lunch and dinner, music cranked up loud enough to wake the dead. He heard the phone ring in the lull between two songs and almost ignored it. Some sixth sense made him pick up. Thank God. With mounting terror and rage, he'd hurried through the shower and then grabbed the first clean clothes he came across before dumping the rest of the basket into a duffle bag and running for the car.

The elevator dinged on his floor snapping him back to the here and now and he stepped out, following a nurse's directions to Grace's room. A young cop stood outside the door and moved in front of it when Walker reached him.

"Move," he said, fury that someone tried to block his way to Grace coloring his vision nearly red. That was his woman in there, whether she acknowledged it or not, and no one was keeping him from her.

The cop crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Walker suspiciously. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. I look like a thug, therefore I must be one, right? The younger man wasn't far off in his assessment. Walker looked the cop over. I can take him. He might have done just that if not for the voice at his side. He must be slipping--he hadn't even noticed the other cop approach.

"Walker Graham. What are you doing here?"

He struggled to control the chill that ran through him at the sound of that voice and turned to answer, but before he could a nurse hustled down the hall. She stopped and looked Walker over slowly, arching a brow and grinning. He wondered what the joke was.

"You're Walker?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

She turned a stern eye to the two cops blocking the door. "I think you gentleman can wait to speak to Mr. Graham until he's seen for himself that his fiancé is okay."

The nurse was an ally. Grinning he turned back to the two cops, hands on his hips and nodded at the door. John Brady--the one he knew--cocked an eyebrow, but moved, pulling the younger cop with him. Walker pushed the door open and behind him he heard Brady's quiet question.

"Walker's her fiancé?"

He ignored that, his gaze riveted on Grace. It was worse than he'd feared, seeing her in the hospital, wires and tubes everywhere. His feisty, sweet, stubborn Grace. A lump clogged his throat and he angrily pushed it down. It wouldn't help anyone now. Maybe later he'd give in to the urge. Approaching the bed, he sat on the side picking up her hand and smoothing her hair away from her face.

Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey, baby." His voice was hoarse from unshed tears. He'd have to do better than this.

She looked around him and arched an eyebrow.

"How did you keep Lynn and Joanne away?" Lynn was her cousin, recently married to his brother Boyd, and Joanne was Lynn's mother. They were Grace's only family. He was less worried about her asking for them while he was right there and more concerned that she didn't recall where they were.

"They're still out of town. Remember?"

Confusion briefly marred her brow.

"Ah. Yeah. The honeymoon and the cruise." Joanne had decided to take her own trip while Lynn and Boyd were gone.

She yawned and her eyes closed. "So tired." She smiled again and whispered. "Glad you came, Walker."

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles before answering. "Wouldn't be anywhere else, baby."

She was asleep again so he stood and faced the room's other occupants. His cold mask was firmly back in place, but he saw from Brady's expression the man had seen it slip. Walker jerked his head at the door and they preceded him out.

"Lynn?" Brady asked out in the hall.

"Lynn Jameson. Lynn Graham now." He smiled tightly. "I'm sure you remember her."

Brady's eyebrows shot to his receding hairline.

"She married your brother?" he asked in disbelief. It was an unexpected match. Lynn was the Chief of Police in Duluth and everyone in that small Alabama town knew Boyd had been in prison. Some of them even knew the circumstances, that he'd killed a man in a bar fight ten years ago when the idiot had been stupid enough to make a grab at Lynn while she and Boyd were on their first date. It may have taken all those years for Lynn and Boyd to mend the rift her father, the judge who'd sent Boyd away for so long, had caused, but the couple was definitely good now. Walker crossed his arms over his chest and grinned.

"She did. She'll probably be here tomorrow unless Boyd can talk her into waiting."

"What's her connection to Ms. Monroe?"

"Cousins." Had to love Alabama. Everyone was connected to someone you knew from one end of the state to the other.

"I'll be damned," Brady muttered.

If memory served, and Walker was pretty sure it did, John Brady had been Lynn's shift sergeant years ago when she had started her first year with the Birmingham Police Department. After only a couple of years at the BPD, she'd moved on to the state police before eventually deciding to take the chief's job in their hometown. He wondered what Lynn would think about running into Brady again, especially under these circumstances. She and Grace were as close as sisters and had always both been on the side of the angels, while Walker and Boyd were definitely not. They all had one thing in common though: they took care of their own. Lynn would probably be raising hell about right now.

Walker's grin turned feral as more of his memories of Brady intruded, more complicated and unpleasant than Lynn's must surely be. His light-hearted mood, his relief that Grace was going to okay, evaporated. He didn't want this man anywhere near Grace, didn't want his old life to touch her.

"She still Chief down there?" Brady asked. Speaking of Walker's new sister-in-law. Lynn. The woman who defied a small town to marry an ex-con.

"Yep."

Brady laughed. "Bet that's interesting."

Walker just shook his head, neglecting to mention the town hadn't renewed her contract when she'd married Boyd, not trusting him even after serving his time in prison and helping Lynn bust Tim Monroe, a local drug runner, when he returned home. Walker didn't see how that was any of Brady's business. "You ever seen anything Lynn couldn't handle?"

Brady's smile was almost genuine, but Walker saw through it. "No. Don't think I have."

"She's doing just fine." Not that he'd tell this asshole if she wasn't.

Brady's gaze narrowed on his face in a calculating look. The look raised Walker's hackles. He wasn't here to get sucked into his old world.

"And you? What have you been up to?"

Walker smiled and watched the younger cop, the one he'd never seen before, jerk at the expression. He knew it was cold and savage, a look from a life he'd thought he left behind him long ago.

"Fine. Running my own garage. Completely aboveboard."

Brady's doubt was clear on his face. Walker just shook his head. "I'm serious." He nodded towards the room Grace was in. "She used to be in the Army. Military police. Think she'd have me any other way?"

Brady's expression cleared and he nodded understanding if not agreement. Walker was growing impatient with the chit chat. Enough of old home week. They walked down the hall to a small waiting room and Walker sat down.

"Now tell me what happened here, Brady."

The other man shrugged and sent the young cop for coffee before continuing.

"Not much to tell. Looks like a run-of-the-mill carjacking."

"Where?"

"Downtown. A few blocks from the station."

Walker scowled and muttered. "What the hell is she doing in Birmingham?"

He didn't intend to voice the question, didn't expect an answer from Brady who cocked an eyebrow in response.

"Don't you know?"

He just stared the cop down. No way in hell was he going to admit he didn't know what his woman was up to. Brady knew the tactic for what it was and grinned maliciously. Walker hated being at a disadvantage with this guy and he knew it.

"She was asking questions about Hugo Beaumont at the station..."

The voice droned on but Walker couldn't hear what was said over the roaring in his ears. Answers about Hugo Beaumont would inevitably lead to him and to questions about his less than upstanding old life. Why the hell was she asking about Hugo? What was she working on? Not much to tell my ass.

"...looking for Hugo's killer."

That snapped him out of his thoughts and he met Brady's gaze, studied him. He had a good poker face, but it was obvious he didn't want anyone looking into Hugo's murder either. The cop's smile was grim.

"I don't think either one of us wants that past dredged up."

"No skin off my back." Walker shrugged as he answered, careful to keep his expression neutral while his guts twisted in knots and he saw the future he'd imagined with Grace going up in flames. "I didn't kill him."

His hands fisted. He needed to focus on the present. Carjacking? He didn't think so. He glared at Brady, pinning him under a cold and angry gaze.

"There's no way this shooting was a coincidence."

He stood and stepped close to the other man, suspicious and enraged. Reaching out, he grabbed Brady's shirt and pulled him close. Brady tensed, his body telegraphing anger, but he made no move to defend himself.

"I will find out who did this. And then I'm going to take him apart piece by piece."

Walker let him go, patted one hand over the cop's chest. His tone was purposefully condescending. "Better hope it wasn't you, Brady."

Brady's eyes narrowed, his anger morphing into something more dangerous, aggressive and deadly, and Walker rolled to the balls of his feet. He'd love an excuse to pound on something and the cop was just as good a target as any. Better than most in fact. Brady shoved him, pushed him into the wall and got in his face. Walker saw red.

"I didn't do this. I know you want a target to vent your anger at, but this was just random shit. It happens."

He backed off, putting space between them while Walker struggled against his instinct to lunge against the hold. Getting his ass thrown in jail for assaulting an officer--even a dirty one--wouldn't help Grace. Brady gave him a knowing look.

"Which doesn't change the fact that neither of us, and a whole lotta other people, don't want Hugo Beaumont's murder dredged up. Especially you, if you really have gone straight." He turned his head, watching the young cop come down the hall towards them, and lowered his voice. "Take her home, Graham. Distract her. Make her give up this investigation."

He started to walk down the hall to intercept the kid but paused, turning to level a gaze on Walker.

"It's safer for her ... for everyone that way. And you know it."