Texas Forever (The Tylers of Texas 6)

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Three hours later, each minute an eternity of waiting and worry, the doctor, who looked young enough to be in high school, walked out between the swinging doors. He was smiling—smiling, thank God.

“Mr. Maddox?”

Luke rose to his feet, his legs unsteady beneath him. “Yes, how is Erin?”

“Very, very lucky. The bullet went in at a shallow angle, barely penetrating the skull. She lost some blood, but we were able to remove the bullet and repair the wound, hopefully without any damage to her brain. We won’t know for sure until she wakes up.

“Her other injuries were from the crash—broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, some bruises and lacerations from the glass. Nothing that won’t heal in time. You can thank her seat belt for that.”

Luke began to breathe again. “There were two shots fired. I saw the car window on TV.”

“Evidently the other shot missed. We couldn’t find anyplace else where she’d been hit. Again, she’s a very lucky woman.”

“When can I see her?”

“When we’re sure her vitals are stable, we’ll move her to a room in the ICU. You can be with her then. But she’ll be unconscious.”

“For how long?” Fear gnawed at him. What if she didn’t wake up at all?

“Hours, at least,” the doctor said. “Maybe even days, if her brain takes that long. That’s up to nature now. Go get some lunch and some rest. Come back in an hour. You should be able to see her then.”

Luke walked out into the parking lot. Food and rest. He wouldn’t be interested in either until he knew Erin was going to be all right. Taking out his phone, he called the house and gave Carmen an update on Erin’s condition. Then, for the next hour, he wandered aimlessly around the hospital complex, burning off nervous energy and worrying.

At best, Erin’s recovery would take weeks, even months. The time lost could cost her the ranch. Maybe Sky could take on the task of finding a loan? At least he was a relative. Luke or one of the more experienced hands could take over as temporary foreman.. . . Never mind, he was getting ahead of himself. But Erin would be devastated if she lost her beloved Rimrock. He could love her and take care of her, but part of her soul would be gone.

Luke hadn’t worn a watch, but when he couldn’t stand the wait any longer, he went to the hospital’s main information desk. They gave him directions to the ICU and the number of Erin’s room. He took the elevator and found her at last, white and still, with a bandage on her head, an IV drip in her arm, and monitors attached to a machine that beeped signals above her bed.

A middle-aged nurse was typing notes into a computer on a stand. She gave Luke a smile. “Don’t worry. She’s been through a lot, but she’s a strong girl. Her vitals are good. She just needs a good, long sleep while her brain recovers.”

“Can I stay with her?” Luke asked. “I’d like to be here when she wakes up.”

“Sure, if you want to. There’s coffee at the nurses’ station. The restroom’s down the hall to your right, around the first corner. Push the call button if she needs anything.”

As the nurse took the computer and walked out of the room, Luke found the one comfortable-looking chair and moved it next to the bed. Sitting down, he took her hand in his. Her fingers were cold, but he could feel the pulse at the base of her wrist, beating steadily. She was a strong girl, the nurse had said. He was just finding out how strong. But she was going to need him in the time ahead.

He raised her chilled hand to his lips. “I love you, Erin,” he whispered. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here for you, always.”

As the hours passed, Luke fell into a doze. He awakened to darkness through the window blinds. Someone had dimmed the lights in the room and in the hallway, but he could see that Erin was still sleeping. He could hear the low, regular beep of the monitor and the soft sound of her breathing. A glance at the wall clock told him it was after midnight.

His legs were cramped from sitting in the same position, and he needed a restroom. Some coffee wouldn’t hurt either, if there was any available. Standing, he stretched his limbs and walked quietly out of the room.

There was a light at the nurses’ station at the far end of the hallway. The only other sign of life was a pers

on in a baggy custodial staff uniform, wearing a cap and sunglasses and towing a cart with a mop bucket and a trash receptacle. He—or she—appeared to be cleaning the floor, dipping the mop in the bucket and slopping it indifferently back and forth.

Still half asleep, Luke made his way down to the restroom. Minutes later, he was washing his hands, about to leave, when the realization hit him like a lightning bolt.

A cap and sunglasses? In the middle of the night?

He was out the door like a shot, rounding the corner and racing back toward Erin’s room. There was no sign of the worker or the cart, but Erin’s door had been closed.

There was no lock, thank heaven. He burst into the room to find the so-called custodial worker—tall, rail thin, and wearing boots with long, pointed toes under baggy coveralls—standing over Erin with a pillow, about to press it over her face.

Everything came together in a flash. Luke charged, grabbing the lanky figure from behind. The pillow fell to the floor as they struggled. The intruder, a woman—he could tell from the sound of her gasps and grunts—was surprisingly strong, twisting and kicking and jabbing in an effort to reach the knife that was thrust into her back pocket. Luke grabbed one arm and caught the other, twisting both behind her back, hard enough to dislocate her shoulders if she resisted. A long braid whipped Luke’s face as the cap and glasses fell away. He stared, recognition stirring in his brain. The narrow, angry face, the slashing scar . . . He knew her.

The years peeled away. He was a boy again, walking into his brother’s kitchen, seeing the flash of a knife as it ripped open his wife’s face from temple to mouth. Marie. It was a common name. Until now it had never occurred to him that his former sister-in-law and Sky’s murdering cousin were one and the same.