Texas Tough (The Tylers of Texas 2)

Lauren forced back a freshet of tears. “As you once told me, I’m tougher than I look.” She tried to smile. Even her face hurt.

“There are signs that somebody might have hit you on purpose. Can you remember anything about what happened?”

Closing her eyes, Lauren groped her fogged memory. “There was this big truck—brown, I think. It pulled out of the diner and stayed right behind me. I thought it was gone. Then it came out of nowhere and . . .” She’d hit a blank wall. “I’m sorry. It must’ve rammed me and run me off the road. That’s all I remember.” She opened her eyes. “You’re right. The driver must’ve done it on purpose. But why?”

“I’ve thought about that,” Sky said. “If the reports are true, your father could’ve been mixed up with some pretty rough people. And since they didn’t know he’d passed away, they wouldn’t have realized it was you, not him in that car. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“But what if—” She gasped as awareness struck her. “Oh no! My father, the funeral, the press release—” She pushed herself up, clenching her teeth against the pain. “Help me, Sky! I’ve got to get out of here!”

Rising, he eased her shoulders gently back down to the pillow. “You’re not going anywhere till the doctor says so. The funeral can wait as long as it has to. And if you’ll tell me what to say in that release, I’ll write it down and give it to the press myself—or find somebody else to do it.”

“Traitor!” She gave him a mock scowl. Her sudden movement had pulled the clip off her finger. At the sound of the beeping monitor the nurse came rushing into the room.

“You’re awake!” Her motherly face brightened. “Goodness me, but you had us worried, girl. This gentleman here never left your side. If you’re smart, you’ll hang on to him. He’s a keeper, and I can tell how much he loves you!”

Lauren felt the hated blush creep into her face. Sky had never said he loved her or given her any other reason to believe he wanted a long-term relationship. The woman had probably embarrassed him half to death.

“Hang on, and I’ll get the doctor,” she said. “He’ll be glad to know you’re awake.” She bustled out of the room, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.

“You look dead on your feet,” Lauren said. “Go home and get some rest. I’ll be fine here.”

“I’ll do it as long as you promise not to get up and try to leave,” Sky said. “You’re to stay put, hear?”

“You don’t understand,” she said. “My father had no family left but me. If I don’t take care of things—” She broke off, remembering. “Oh no! Where’s my purse? I need—”

“The troopers sent it with the ambulance. It’s in the cabinet with your other things. But I’m going to tell the nurse not to give it to you. You need to rest.”

“Stop trying to manage my life, Sky Fletcher!”

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He gave her a slow smile. “Hey, you’ve got your spunk back. I can tell you’re feeling better already. But you’re not doing anything till the doctor clears you.”

“He’s right.” The doctor—a short, balding stranger—strode in the door. “The fact that you’re awake and lucid is a good sign, Miss Prescott. But we’ll want to run a CAT scan to get a look at that bump on your head. Somebody will be here to take you down to Radiology in the next few minutes. After that, you’re under orders to rest. You can plan to be here through tomorrow, at least.”

With a mutter, Lauren lay back on the pillow. Her head was throbbing, but the pain was nothing compared to her frustration. It had fallen to her to deal with her father’s death and all its messy implications. And here she was, practically shackled to the bed, forbidden to move. If she ever got her hands on the scumbag who’d rammed her off the road, so help her . . .

“Give me the name of the mortuary and I’ll call them,” Sky said. “They can put the funeral on hold till they hear from you.”

“Thanks.” Lauren surrendered with a sigh. “It’s called Worthington Hills. They’re in the phone book. While you’re at it, you can call Tori. Tell her what happened and where I am.”

Two young men in scrubs had come to wheel her bed out of the room. Sky reached down and squeezed her hand. “I’ll be back tonight. Rest.”

All she could do was return his hand squeeze before they whisked her away.

By the time Sky was back on the road, the sun was coming up. Braced by two cups of scalding black coffee, he shifted mental gears, preparing himself for a day’s work with the horses.

Last night had been the most gut-wrenching experience of his life—sitting by Lauren’s bed, his gaze fixed on her battered face and closed eyes—those beautiful, copper-flecked eyes that might never open again. He had told her he loved her—told her more times and ways than he could count. Whispering close to her ear, he’d told her all the things he’d held back—how much she meant to him, how he wanted to build a home for her and their children, how he wanted to begin every morning of his life with the sight of her beautiful face on the pillow beside him.

Now that she was awake, she wouldn’t remember a word of what he’d said. But never mind that. And never mind that he’d been up all night, felt like crap, and had a day’s work ahead of him. All that really mattered was that Lauren was going to be all right.

His sunglasses were clipped to the truck’s visor. He slipped them on to shield his eyes from the sun’s glare. He was bone tired, and the day promised to be another scorcher. A dust devil danced over the flat, dying out as it crossed the highway. Up ahead he could see the diner where the truck driver would have waited for the white Cadillac to pass, then pulled out to follow it, waiting for his chance. If he ever caught up with the bastard, Sky vowed, he would rip him apart with his bare hands.

But the driver would almost certainly have been working for somebody else—somebody with reason to want Garn Prescott dead. So it was Lauren who’d paid for her father’s mistake. That had to be the truth of it.

A few minutes later Sky slowed down, scanning the roadside until he spotted the wrecked Cadillac. It was lying where it had rolled last night, probably waiting to be loaded and hauled off. Would Abner Sweeney have the sense to inspect it for evidence, or would it go straight to the junkyard?

No one was here this morning. Sky pulled his pickup onto the shoulder and swung to the ground. He needed to get home, but this would likely be his only chance to look at the crash scene. Last night the troopers and paramedics had been focused on saving Lauren. Looking for evidence in the dark would have been the last of their concerns.