Big Shot. Joanna Wayne

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Big Shot - Joanna Wayne Mills & Boon Intrigue

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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,” Sybil said. “A few days on the ranch and away from all these sick people would do you good.”

      “Amen to that,” Bill agreed. “Where do I sign up?”

      “As you can tell, she’s feeling better,” Dr. Preston said. “The good news is she didn’t have a heart attack.”

      “That’s a relief,” Durk agreed.

      “I never thought it was a heart attack,” Sybil said. “But when I told Bessie I was having chest pains, she insisted on calling for an ambulance.”

      “Always better to err on the side of caution,” Dr. Preston said. “Chest pains are nothing to fool around with.”

      Sybil nodded. “I lost my husband to a heart attack almost eleven years ago.”

      “I’m sorry.” Dr. Preston handed the chart to Bill. “But that means you know how important cardiac care is.”

      Bill took the chart and left the room.

      Durk stepped to the side of the bed, leaned over and gave his aunt a peck on the cheek. She looked a bit frail and her thick black wig had twisted on her head so that it looked as if it were trying to crawl away.

      “When did the pains start?” Durk asked.

      “About an hour ago.”

      “And you were feeling okay before that?”

      “I haven’t been feeling great the last few days, but I haven’t really been sick, either—just tired and out of breath easily. Then, like I just explained to Dr. Preston, Bessie and I were walking to my car in the parking lot outside Neiman Marcus when all of a sudden I had stabbing pains in my chest. I told Bessie what was going on, and she called 911.”

      Durk turned to the doctor. “But you’re sure that wasn’t her heart?”

      “No. I’m only sure she wasn’t having a heart attack. The symptoms could have been caused by any number of things. We won’t know for certain until we run some tests. Bill’s arranging for those now.”

      “Pshaw. It was just indigestion,” Sybil said. “I don’t need any tests.”

      Durk took her hand in his. “I think we should leave that decision to Dr. Preston.”

      “A good plan,” the doctor agreed.

      “What kind of tests are we talking about?” Durk asked.

      “I’ve ordered a chest X-ray and some blood work for starters. Then we’ll work from there until we can pinpoint the problem.”

      “I’m already feeling much better,” Sybil insisted. She tried to sit up, but winced in pain and let her head fall back to the thin pillow.

      “I won’t have to stay the night, will I?” Sybil asked, though her tone was less argumentative than before.

      “Why don’t we decide that after I see the initial test results?”

      Sybil nodded in agreement but she looked worried and her breathing seemed shallow even to Durk. Someone should probably stay with her, but he doubted it would be him. Any other time, he’d easily be up to the task, but seeing Meghan in that condition had him so shaken it was difficult to focus on anyone else.

      “I’m going to step outside and call Mom,” he said. “She made me promise to let her know how you were the second I saw you.”

      “Tell Carolina there’s no use in her rushing up here. I’m fine,” Sybil said. “And there’s no reason for you to stay, either. I’m sure I can drive home.”

      “I’ll give Mom that message.” Which she’d immediately ignore. And then she’d question him about why his plans had changed and he wouldn’t be coming to the ranch—at least not tonight.

      Once he’d made the call to his mother and she’d declared she was on her way to the hospital, he walked back to the area where they’d taken Meghan. One of the nurses approached him.

      “Are you here with the patient who was assaulted?”

      “Meghan Sinclair?”

      “Yes.”

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