Chapter One

Chapter One

Wrong Body For The Job

Hidden in the tree, Raptor watched the smoke curl as it exited the chimney. Tucked into a beautiful green valley, the small, pretty cabin was in an ideal location that should guarantee the occupant peace and serenity. Instead, surrounding the small home were several men—all of them armed.

What the hell had the woman done? He'd been on this planet for only a few minutes before he discovered he wasn't the only one watching her house.

The other men were human, so they didn't pose a threat to Raptor. But given the number of weapons each man carried, he bet they planned to harm the woman who lived here. It didn't matter what she'd done, or why they wanted her—he wouldn't allow them to harm a hair on her head.

Raptor sighed. He intended to give the female Falcon sent him to find—a week to pack and straighten out her life—before he ripped her away from this planet. By the looks of things, he didn't think the one called Grace had a week.

After hiding his spaceship in the woods, Raptor planned to watch the cabin tonight and approach the woman during the daylight. He'd been told she would be less afraid if he did this. So, he scouted the space around her cabin and figured the tree in the front had the best view. If she walked out her front door or through the carport to her vehicle, he would see her.

Evidently the three armed men on the ground below him—who were loudly discussing the best way to break into the cabin and extract the woman—decided it was the best place to watch her, too. They had no intention of climbing the tree and they never looked up. It was simply a convenient place for them to discuss the woman's demise.

Raptor knew a fourth man sat in a black car that was pulled off the road and hidden in the trees at the top of her driveway. He'd seen the men drive up. Heard them argue the merits of waiting for the woman called Grace to walk out the door so they could pounce—or if they should go in after her. He watched them swing their flashlight over the ground and at the house, guaranteeing the woman would know they were out here waiting for her. They'd lost the element of surprise.

And screwed up his chances as well.

The men were idiots. Not only were they loud, but they paid little attention to the house holding their intended victim. No one noticed the woman turn out the lights shortly after they drove up. Or see the curtain move a few inches once they walked into her yard, so she could check on the lights and noise coming from her nocturnal guests. Falcon's information on the woman indicated she'd been in her country's army. There was a good chance she was armed and ready for any trespassers.

Shaking his head, Raptor watched the men for a few moments as he tried to come up with a plan. Normally, it wouldn't be difficult. He'd simply kill them and move on. But he hesitated. Not knowing what type of woman Grace was. He didn't know if these men were the bad guys.

Raptor made a face at his inner musings. Who was he kidding? He knew they were the bad guys. Good guys did not surround a single woman's home with this much firepower and menace. Besides, after listening to them for a few moments, it was obvious by the stilted conversation they were here to kill her. Again, not the good guys.

So, it wouldn't matter if he killed them. The question was how.

Raptor was a Guardian. His natural form was close to seven feet tall, his skin was silver and thick enough to stop most bullets. All the hair on his body was dark olive green. His eyes were a shimmering gold. Jumping down in front of these idiots would probably scare them to death. Or it would if he'd been in his natural form.

He glanced down at the body he currently wore and sighed. This form wouldn't scare anyone.

When Raptor visited his Guardian friends, the ones who found their mates on Earth, he chose whatever humanoid form he wanted. Tall, short, skinny, fat, musclebound, weak... it was a bit of a game to come up with different body types.

When Falcon asked him to retrieve this human woman, he'd suggested Raptor appear as a tall, muscular, long-haired male. He could choose whatever hair and eye color he wanted. Falcon's advice was that the Earth woman, who was his mate's friend, would be more friendly to Raptor if he took pains with his appearance.

Raptor didn't want her to be friendly. He had no intention of trying to impress the Earth female because it didn't matter if she wanted to come with him or not. The form he'd chosen for what was essentially a kidnapping mission—was that of a short, chubby man who had dirty brown hair and dark brown eyes.

Turned out it was the wrong body for the job.

He'd picked a form that would do nothing to intimidate the bad guys below him. And if he changed his form now, the woman was liable to see him. It would scare her, too.

Worse, Raptor left all his weapons on his ship because he didn't think he'd need them to capture a female baby doctor. Also, a terrible choice.

What else could go wrong?

Grace

She wasn't an idiot. Grace knew several men were surrounding her home.

She also knew if she took one step outside, they'd either kill her or wrap her up and take her to the man pulling their strings.

Sighing, she checked her handgun, carefully loading it before she put it in the holster hanging on the belt around her hips. Then she steadied her rifle on the tripod. Moving a chair in front of the gun, she sat down. The lights in her house were off. The curtain on this window was parted just enough to allow her to use her scope. She'd been a sharpshooter in the army. When she came home, she purchased a gun, a tripod, and a couple of scopes for target practice and hunting. She didn't want to lose her skills.

Looking through the thermal imaging scope, she scanned the area in front of her house and was disgusted. Three men were standing out by the tree and another was about a dozen feet off the ground, in the blue spruce.

All four of them would be easy targets. She could take them out before they knew what happened. Grace didn't doubt that she would hit what she aimed at. She was an excellent marksman. Her shotgun was loaded. It was tempting to take the shots. Taking a deep breath, she stilled her body and her mind. Fingers brushed over the safety.

Sighing, she sat back. She couldn't do it. For one thing, there could be more men in the back or in the vehicle. She assumed they were parked up on the road since there wasn't a car in her driveway. More importantly, she needed the men to break through a door or window of her home before she could shoot them.

Once they broke into her house, killing them would be self-defense and supposedly she wouldn't go to jail. It would depend on how far Garret Johnson's influence stretched. She knew it was pretty damn far. But at least she would have a chance.

If she shot at the men while they were outside from her living room or took her guns outside and tried hunting the men in her yard—she'd end up in jail if they didn't kill her. It wouldn't matter that the men came on her property armed to the teeth and prepared to kill her. Nor did it matter that they had loudly discussed the options, including burning her out or blowing up her home. She'd recorded part of their conversations about their bad intentions.

These men were stupid.

But the law was clear when it came to defending your life and home. They had to cross the threshold before she could shoot them. If she didn't want one of them to present some sort of bullshit excuse for why so many men broke into her house—she needed to ensure they were all dead once they came inside.

So, Grace took the tripod apart and put it away. Then she hunkered down in the dark with her back to the rock wall fireplace. Quickly, she braided her long hair to keep it out of her face. Then positioned her body so she could see the front door, as well as the door to her carport. The heavy wooden doors had deadbolts, making them difficult to get through, but not impossible.

All the windows were locked, and the curtains were pulled. Everything was quiet. Almost too quiet. She knew the men were still out there. She hadn't heard their car leave. For the moment, she was as safe as she could get. Grace had already packed a go-bag with everything she needed. She was ready to leave... if she could find her cat.

She had no idea where Baby was.

She'd packed a bag for the cat too, with enough supplies for a few days. If she got the chance to run, she'd take it.

But only if she could find the damn animal. Baby was part of her family. There was no way she'd leave her.

Grace knew the person responsible for all this was her asshole boss. The billionaire idiot wouldn't be out there holding a gun, but she knew these were his men. Somehow, Garret must have discovered she suspected him of being a medical terrorist. But she didn't have enough information to prove what he was doing beyond any doubt, and she didn't understand why he was doing it. In order to shut him down, she had to find the proof and make it stick.

Right now, she was in trouble. She couldn't call the local sheriff. Markus and Garrett were friends. Weird friends as the men were polar opposites, but she felt like Garrett had developed that relationship on purpose. Now she knew why. Because no one could go to the law about his activities.

Even if she could convince Markus she needed help, Garrett's goons were carrying more firepower than he could handle alone. And Grace knew he would show up alone. This was a small community. The sheriff was it—unless he called in the state police.

So, what the hell was she supposed to do?

Hearing the cat door whoosh open, Grace picked up her shotgun and stepped into the room, expecting to see Baby. But her cat wasn't in the kitchen. All the lights were out in here as well. She had closed the curtain and knew that not only was the door locked, but there was a bar set across the front. No one could open this old kitchen door. Break the small glass window... yes. If they wanted inside bad enough, they could break the glass. But it was intact.

The curtain moved just seconds before a man stepped out of darker shadows. She raised the gun, pointing it right at his groin.

How in the hell had this man fit through the cat door? Because that had to be the only way he got into the house.

She didn't shoot the man because he wasn't at all what she expected.

All of Garret's men were tall, sleek, suit-wearing gangster types. This man... wasn't. He was short, a little chubby, and had a terrible haircut. Not to mention his dark brown hair was oily. He had pretty chocolate-brown eyes, though.

And he was smart. His arms went immediately over his head. The man's voice was deep, sensuous, and didn't match his body. He grinned at her. "Good. You have a gun. There are three men headed back to the front of the house. Another man is sitting in a vehicle up by the road. All of them were up there a few moments ago to call their boss. They asked if they should burn you out. I didn't wait to hear the answer. Their distraction allowed me time to get out of the tree and get in here to warn you."

"You were in the tree? Shit. I debated about shooting those three… and you." She was close enough she could smell his aftershave. It was amazing. So good, in fact, that she wanted to get closer to him. Maybe close enough to taste him.

Grace resisted the urge to roll her eyes at that ridiculous thought. She stiffened her spine and demanded, "Who the hell are you?"