Texas Tough (The Tylers of Texas 2)

What if he’d already waited too long?

After scribbling a note on the pad he kept in the glove compartment, he climbed out of the cab and stuck it in the screen door. Back in the truck, he started the engine, switched on the lights, and raced toward the highway.

Twenty minutes up the main road, he spotted his worst nightmare. The flashing red and blue lights of Highway Patrol cruisers, clustered on the opposite side of the highway, could only mean one thing.

Sick with dread, he parked on the shoulder of the road, climbed out of his truck, and crossed to the other side. There were two patrol vehicles, the troopers standing together, looking down at something in the deep barrow pit—something Sky couldn’t see until he came up even with them.

The white Cadillac lay upside down, its crumpled chassis gleaming in the moonlight. The driver’s side door hung open as if it had been forced. Sky’s heart dropped. There was no sign of Lauren.

“Where’s the driver?” he asked one of the troopers.

The man eyed Sky suspiciously. “Do you know her?”

Sky struggled to downplay the anxiety that was eating him alive. “I came out here looking for her. Her name’s Lauren Prescott. She’s the congressman’s daughter. That’s his car.”

The lawman nodded. “We already ran the license, so we know that much. She’s on her way to the hospital. The ambulance took her ten minutes ago.”

“Then she’s alive?” He forced his voice past the icy fear that clutched his throat.

“She was when they took her. But she was unconscious. Looked like she smashed her head pretty bad on the steering wheel. She was hanging from the seat belt, bleeding the whole time. No telling how long she’d been there before somebody saw the car and called it in.”

Sky’s first impulse was to jump back in his truck and race after the ambulance. But right now he needed to know more about what had happened and why. He stared down at the wrecked car. The front end was battered but pretty much intact. From the doors on back, however, the Cadillac’s solid body had been crushed like a tin can.

“That car didn’t just roll,” he said. “Looks like it was hit from behind, hit hard, by something big enough to do a lot of damage.”

“We figured the same—maybe a big truck. She could’ve braked for something, an animal maybe, while the truck was coming up behind her, going too fast to stop.”

“Then where’s the truck? The driver had to have known he hit her. Why would he leave?”

The trooper shrugged. “Suspended license, maybe. Or something in the back he didn’t want us to find. Or maybe he just didn’t want trouble with his boss. Things like that happen out here, with nobody around to see. Since the wreck took place in Blanco County, it’ll be up to Sheriff Sweeney to look into any criminal charges.”

Abner Sweeney. As if any news could worsen the situation after what had happened to Lauren. But Sky had spent enough time here. Right now all he wanted was to get to the hospital and find her.

As he turned to cross the highway, back to his pickup, his eyes caught the gleam of light on the asphalt. He could see where the Cadillac had torn up the shoulder as it careened off the road. But it was what he didn’t see that chilled his blood.

There were no skid marks on the pavement. The driver who’d hit Lauren had made no attempt to stop or swerve.

To Sky, the crash no longer looked like an accident. It looked more like attempted murder.

Lauren stirred and moaned. Her first awareness was pain stabbing her head, pain in every joint, every muscle of her body. Her eyes opened, taking in the white ceiling tiles, the cold lights. A plastic clip on her finger was attached to the monitor above her bed. An IV bag dripped clear liquid into her arm.

“Thank God.” The voice was Sky’s. His big hand tightened around hers, gripping hard, as if he never wanted to let go.

“What . . . happened?” She had vague memories of shattering glass and crumpling metal, the seat belt snapping against her body. Were those memories real, or was she waking up from a nightmare?

“You were in a wreck,” Sky said. “You’ve got a couple of cracked ribs, a nasty gash on your head, and a concussion.”

Lauren’s free hand went to her forehead, fingers feeling the thick bandage. She struggled to sit up, then fell back as the pain lanced her ribs. “I’m in the hospital?”

“You are. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“What time is it? What day . . . ?”

Sky glanced up at the wall clock. “It’s five-fifteen in the morning. You’ve been unconscious almost eight hours.” He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. “You gave me a bad scare, Lauren.”

She turned her head and looked at him. His clothes were rumpled, his eyes bloodshot and shadowed with fatigue. “You were here all night?”

“When you didn’t show up, I went looking for you. By the time I got to the wreck, the ambulance had come and gone. I took a minute to talk to the troopers, then got here as fast as I could. I knew you didn’t have anybody else.” His fingers tightened around her hand. “I’m not a praying man, but I prayed last night. I was so scared I was going to lose you.”