Big Shot. Joanna Wayne
They’d decided the west wing was the better choice for them, probably because it offered more play space for their foster daughter, Belle. Tague and his new wife, Alexis, and stepson, Tommy, had the suite on the second floor above Damien’s, though they were already planning to build their own cottage on the ranch.
Durk’s quarters were just off the huge billiards and game room on the second floor in the east wing of the house. He didn’t need much space since when he wasn’t traveling he spent most of his time in his penthouse condo in downtown Dallas.
In less than twenty minutes, he was standing at the admittance desk in the E.R. The young blonde nurse on duty looked a bit harried, but she managed a smile when she looked up at him. “How can I help you?”
“My aunt, Sybil Ratcliff, should have arrived by ambulance in the last few minutes. I’d like to check on her.”
“Yes. I think the doctor is with her now.” The nurse rifled through a half-dozen admittance slips. “She’s in Room Four. I’ll have someone escort you back there. You say she’s your aunt?”
“Yes, I’m Durk Lambert.”
“Durk Lambert.” She repeated the name as she placed her hands on the counter, showing off her perfectly manicured nails and her ringless wedding band finger. This time her smile lit up her face. “Actually, I’ll walk you to your aunt’s room. If there’s anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to let me know. My name’s Pam.”
She looked around and motioned to a middle-aged nurse who was adding information to a chart. “Can you man the desk for a minute, Ethel? I need to see that Durk Lambert finds his aunt.”
Ethel eyeballed Durk, nodded and smiled conspiratorially. “Sure. Take your time.”
He felt like a participant in The Bachelorette. No doubt the nurse had read the stupid article in a local publication that had named him the wealthiest and most eligible bachelor in Texas.
It amazed him what people posted in the name of entertainment.
They passed several partitions and had almost reached the fourth one when Durk had to step aside to permit a gurney guided by two paramedics to pass. The patient was muttering and fighting the restraints that kept her from propelling herself to the floor. Blood stained the white sheet.
Another nurse rushed over to meet them.
“We called ahead as soon as we got her on board,” one of the paramedics explained. “Patient was attacked in her condo. She was unconscious when we got there and blood pressure is roller-coastering. A Taser was found on the premises. Not sure if it was used on her or not, but somebody’s fists definitely were.”
“Trauma unit is expecting her. Did she call for the ambulance before she blacked out?”
“No. A neighbor dialed 911. Apparently he heard her yell for help and went to her rescue. Huge guy with bulging muscles. Just the kind you want around when you need help. He took a couple of blows himself, but he refused to come in.”
The gurney’s occupant groaned and tried to sit up.
“You can relax. You’re safe now,” the nurse said. She walked beside the patient as they hurried off.
“Who’s driving my car?” the woman asked.
“You’re not in a car. You’re in a hospital.”
“Someone has to drive.”
The voice was slurred, the tone bordering on delirious, yet the familiarity of it cut through Durk like a knife. He caught up with the gurney and caught a glimpse of the battered, confused patient. The right side of her face was red and swollen and her hair was matted with blood.
His insides rolled violently. “Meghan.”
She showed no response. He reached for her hand. “It’s Durk, Meghan.”
“The car is going to wreck.”
She was so out of it that she wasn’t aware he was standing there, nor even where she was.
Pam caught up with him. “Do you know this woman?”
“I do.”
“Are you related?” the other nurse asked.
“No, just friends.”
“Then please stick around in case we need some information about her that she’s not coherent enough to give.”
He followed the gurney around the corner.
“You’ll have to wait out here,” the nurse said as they rolled Meghan through a set of double doors.
“I’d like to make sure she’s okay.”
“Someone will talk to you after she’s been examined. There’s nothing you can do now. She doesn’t even know you’re here.”
He took a few steps back and then leaned against the wall while he struggled for a grip on reality.
Meghan Sinclair, the one woman he’d never been able to forget. Brutally attacked. So confused she didn’t know where she was. Likely suffering from a concussion. Possibly much worse.
Durk had never sought vengeance before, but this was different. Whoever did this to Meghan would live to regret it. He would make damn sure of that.
Chapter Two
“They’ll be awhile. Would you like to see your aunt now?”
Pam’s question jerked Durk back to the situation that had brought him to the hospital in the first place. He nodded his agreement and followed her back down the hall, though his concern for Meghan didn’t let up.
“How qualified is the trauma unit to handle head injuries?”
“We have one of the best in Dallas. Your friend is in good hands.”
“Is there a neurologist on duty?”
“There is and several others they can call in if your friend’s condition warrants it.”
“Good.”
“You seem very concerned. The patient must be a very close friend.”
He let Pam’s comment go without a response while he tried to deal with the emotions bucking inside him. It had been two years since he’d seen Meghan. But he doubted there had been a day since then that he hadn’t thought about her. Not a night that he hadn’t ached to hold her in his arms again.
He heard Sybil’s voice even before they reached her curtained cubicle. She sounded a bit croaky, but her words were distinct.
Pam shoved the curtain back enough to peek inside. “You have a visitor, Mrs. Ratcliff.”
“Who is it?”
“Your nephew, Durk Lambert.”
“Durk. Really? My sister-in-law must be calling the whole family.”
“He can come in,” another female voice said.
Pam pushed back the curtain and ushered Durk inside. “I’ll be back to check on you and your aunt in a bit,” she said. “But don’t leave before the trauma team can talk to you.”
“No, I won’t.” That was a definite.
A female in a white doctor’s coat looked up from the chart she was reading. “I’m Dr. Preston. And this is Bill Henley,” she said, motioning to the nurse who was adjusting a blood pressure cuff on his aunt’s arm. “We’ll be looking after your aunt.”
“Except that I don’t need looking after,” Sybil protested. “What I need is to go home.”
“If you keep saying that, you’re going to hurt my feelings,” Bill teased.
“It’s not you. In fact, you should go home with me,”