Joanna Wayne - Big Shot

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D URK TAPPED ON the door to Sybil’s hospital room, and his mother whispered for him to come in. Sybil was sound asleep, snoring, her jaw slack. She was almost unrecognizable without the infernal black wig plastered to her head.

“How is she?” he whispered.

“They’ve diagnosed her with pleurisy.” His mother stood and tiptoed toward him. “Let’s talk in the hall. She needs her rest.”

They stepped outside the room, softly closing the door behind them.

“I feel like I’m getting a crash course in medicine tonight. Isn’t pleurisy some kind of respiratory ailment?”

“Yes, basically. The E.R. doctor described it as an inflammation of the lining of the lungs and chest.”

“Is it serious?”

“It can be. But in Sybil’s case, the doctor expects it to respond to antibiotics. They gave her an injection so that it could start working at once. If she’s feeling better, she’ll go home in the morning and can follow up with her regular doctor.”

“You’re not going to try and stay with her all night, are you?” he asked.

“I’m thinking about it.”

“That doesn’t get my vote. Not only will you be sore from sitting in that chair all night, but you won’t get any sleep. You’ll need your rest tonight if you’re going to take care of Sybil tomorrow.”

“I’ll have plenty of help from Emma and Alexis once I get her home. Your two sisters-in-law will both pitch in.”

“Spend the night at my place,” he urged. “All the comforts of home.”

“I suppose I could stay in your guest room and then drive back to the hospital in the morning.”

“Great idea. Don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself,” he teased. “You’ll have the place to yourself and won’t have Grandma Pearl turning the volume on the TV up to deafening decibels. Do you have your key with you?”

“I do. If you’re not going to be at home, does that mean you’re driving out to the ranch tonight?”

“No, and probably not tomorrow, either.” No reason not to level with her except that he dreaded having to explain a relationship with Meghan that he didn’t fully understand himself.

Carolina pushed a lock of graying hair behind her ear. “I’m assuming this has to do with the emergency you mentioned earlier.”

He nodded.

She frowned and pulled her gold-colored cardigan tight around her chest. “You’re letting that oil company take over your life, Durk. You haven’t had a real vacation in months. You have a nephew, a foster niece and two new sisters-in-law you’ve barely met. Whatever it is, can’t you just delegate it to someone else this time?”

He smiled in spite of his worries. He might be thirty years old and a CEO, but that didn’t keep his mother from tearing into him if she thought he needed it. No matter how high up the corporate level he climbed or how old he got, he was still her kid.

“This has nothing to do with business, Mom. I have a friend who’s in the hospital and I’m staying in town to make sure she’s okay.”

“She?”

More reason he hated going there with his mother, the matchmaker. “Just a friend, Mom.”

“Do I know her?”

“Meghan Sinclair.”

Her brows arched. “Isn’t that the private detective who worked with Tague and Alexis when that horrible man was trying to kill Alexis?”

“That’s the one.”

“I’m so sorry. I know Alexis really liked her. Did she have surgery?”

“Not yet, and hopefully she won’t have to. She was the victim of a brutal attack tonight when she was returning to her condo.”

“Oh, no. Will she be all right?”

“I hope so.” And now he might as well tell her the rest since she’d hear it all on the morning news and so would his brothers.

Shock registered in every line of her face as he went over the details of his finding Ben Conroe’s body. By the time he finished, her eyes were wet with unshed tears.

“Poor Meghan. She’ll have so much to face and no family here to see her through this. Of course you should stay with her. Just…” Anxiety shook her voice. “Just don’t get involved in the murder case, son. Leave that to the cops. Please.”

He put his arms around her shoulder. “I have no intention of becoming a vigilante, Mom.” That was the most he could promise.

“Why don’t you go to my place now, Mother? There’s no reason to just sit around and watch Aunt Sybil sleep. I’ll stick around awhile in case she wakes up, but she looks as if she’s out for the night. And if she wakes up and needs something, I’ll only be an elevator ride away.”

“Very well. I’ll give your phone number to the nursing staff.”

“And take that god-awful wig with you so that it doesn’t frighten the nurses away during the night.”

“I’m not about to take the wig. Heaven forbid Sybil wakes up in the morning and has to face her doctor without it.”

His mother gathered her things and kissed his sleeping aunt on the cheek. He walked her to his car and then grabbed a cup of coffee from the hospital café before going back to his aunt’s room.

Time dragged by and he’d almost dozed off when his cell phone vibrated. He yanked it from his pocket and rushed into the hall to take the call.

“This is Jane, in E.R. Can you come back to our nursing station, Mr. Lambert? Dr. Levy has the reports back from Ms. Sinclair’s scan and he’d like to discuss the results with you.”

His uneasiness swelled to a sickening dread as he rushed back to the elevator to face whatever news was waiting for him.

Chapter Four

Durk followed Jane to a small conference room that held a metal table and a few hard folding chairs. Dr. Levy sat in one of the chairs, a mug of coffee at his elbow while he made notes on a patient chart.

He motioned for Durk to take a seat.

Durk remained standing. He thought best on his feet. “Did the scan show any skull fractures?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear the answer.

“No, the scan was negative for any type of brain injury.”

Durk took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he slid into the chair. “Can I see her?”

“You can.”

Durk’s hands grew clammy as anticipation and anxiety waged a choking battle inside him. Two long years of fighting the memories and trying to convince himself that he and Meghan had made the only decision that made sense and now he was about to insinuate himself right back in her life. Had he totally lost his mind?

He forced himself to focus on the doctor’s words. Meghan had been moved to a private room in a telemetry unit so that her vital signs could be closely monitored. She was still in a state of confusion. She couldn’t name the president of the United States or even state her own address or her phone number.

The doctor assured him the altered mental status was temporary and not unusual following a concussion. What she needed most from Durk was a calm, assuring, familiar voice.

Problem was that by the time he left the doctor and took the elevator to the telemetry unit, the memories were playing so much havoc with his emotions that he was anything but calm. Losing Meghan had been a hundred times more difficult than he’d imagined. She’d stalked his mind at times when he’d have least expected, haunted his dreams, made every woman he’d dated since seem sensually lame by comparison.

A nurse stopped at his elbow, interrupting his reverie. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to visit Meghan Sinclair.”

“You must be Durk Lambert. One of the nurses from the trauma unit just called. She said you were a close friend of the patient and that you were on your way up.”

She opened the door to Meghan’s room. Ready or not, he thought as he stepped inside. A chilling lump settled in his chest as he stopped next to the hospital bed and stared down at Meghan.