Big Shot (2 page)

He turned at the light and headed toward I-45. He was almost to the freeway when his cell phone rang. He punched on his hands-free receiver.

“Durk Lambert.”

“Glad I caught you, Durk. Are you still in Dallas?”

He tensed at the apprehension in his mother’s voice. “I just left the office. What’s up?”

“Sybil’s friend Bessie George called. She said Sybil started having chest pains while they were out shopping. She called an ambulance and they took Sybil to Grantland Hospital.”

“How long ago was that?”

“I just got the call. Bessie was on her way to the hospital to be with Sybil, but she’s stuck behind a fender bender and traffic’s at a standstill.”

“That’s Dallas for you. Traffic’s moving here. I’ll stop by the hospital now and check on Sybil.”

“Thanks, son. Call me on my cell phone as soon as you see her. I’m driving in as well, but it will take me over an hour to get there from the ranch this time of day.”

“Just hang tight until I call you back, Mom. No use for you to make the trip unless they’re going to admit her. The last two times that Aunt Sybil rushed to the emergency room, it turned out to be acute indigestion.”

“Yes, but you never know, Durk.”

“I’ll know after I talk to the doctor. Pour yourself a cup of coffee and try to relax. I’ll get back to you as soon as I find out something.”

“I guess that does make more sense than rushing into the city before I know if it’s serious.”

“Perfect sense,” he agreed.

Durk’s hands tightened on the wheel, the tension returning to his muscles. In spite of his reassurances, he was concerned about his aunt. She was his father’s older sister—not that she was old. Her sixty-fourth birthday was coming up in a matter of weeks. She had lived with them for years, ever since her husband had died from a massive heart attack at the young age of fifty-eight.

The rambling old ranch house that had been in the Lambert family for generations served them all well. Aunt Sybil and his grandmother each had a private suite on the first floor. His mother was still in the master suite that she’d shared with his father before his untimely death, though she’d offered it to Damien and Emma when they’d married. They’d decided the west wing was the better choice for them, probably because it offered more play space for their foster daughter, Belle. Tague and his new wife, Alexis, and stepson, Tommy, had the suite on the second floor above Damien’s, though they were already planning to build their own cottage on the ranch.

Durk’s quarters were just off the huge billiards and game room on the second floor in the east wing of the house. He didn’t need much space since when he wasn’t traveling he spent most of his time in his penthouse condo in downtown Dallas.

In less than twenty minutes, he was standing at the admittance desk in the E.R. The young blonde nurse on duty looked a bit harried, but she managed a smile when she looked up at him. “How can I help you?”

“My aunt, Sybil Ratcliff, should have arrived by ambulance in the last few minutes. I’d like to check on her.”

“Yes. I think the doctor is with her now.” The nurse rifled through a half-dozen admittance slips. “She’s in Room Four. I’ll have someone escort you back there. You say she’s your aunt?”

“Yes, I’m Durk Lambert.”

“Durk Lambert.” She repeated the name as she placed her hands on the counter, showing off her perfectly manicured nails and her ringless wedding band finger. This time her smile lit up her face. “Actually, I’ll walk you to your aunt’s room. If there’s anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to let me know. My name’s Pam.”

She looked around and motioned to a middle-aged nurse who was adding information to a chart. “Can you man the desk for a minute, Ethel? I need to see that
Durk Lambert
finds his aunt.”

Ethel eyeballed Durk, nodded and smiled conspiratorially. “Sure. Take your time.”

He felt like a participant in
The Bachelorette
. No doubt the nurse had read the stupid article in a local publication that had named him the wealthiest and most eligible bachelor in Texas.

It amazed him what people posted in the name of entertainment.

They passed several partitions and had almost reached the fourth one when Durk had to step aside to permit a gurney guided by two paramedics to pass. The patient was muttering and fighting the restraints that kept her from propelling herself to the floor. Blood stained the white sheet.

Another nurse rushed over to meet them.

“We called ahead as soon as we got her on board,” one of the paramedics explained. “Patient was attacked in her condo. She was unconscious when we got there and blood pressure is roller-coastering. A Taser was found on the premises. Not sure if it was used on her or not, but somebody’s fists definitely were.”

“Trauma unit is expecting her. Did she call for the ambulance before she blacked out?”

“No. A neighbor dialed 911. Apparently he heard her yell for help and went to her rescue. Huge guy with bulging muscles. Just the kind you want around when you need help. He took a couple of blows himself, but he refused to come in.”

The gurney’s occupant groaned and tried to sit up.

“You can relax. You’re safe now,” the nurse said. She walked beside the patient as they hurried off.

“Who’s driving my car?” the woman asked.

“You’re not in a car. You’re in a hospital.”

“Someone has to drive.”

The voice was slurred, the tone bordering on delirious, yet the familiarity of it cut through Durk like a knife. He caught up with the gurney and caught a glimpse of the battered, confused patient. The right side of her face was red and swollen and her hair was matted with blood.

His insides rolled violently. “Meghan.”

She showed no response. He reached for her hand. “It’s Durk, Meghan.”

“The car is going to wreck.”

She was so out of it that she wasn’t aware he was standing there, nor even where she was.

Pam caught up with him. “Do you know this woman?”

“I do.”

“Are you related?” the other nurse asked.

“No, just friends.”

“Then please stick around in case we need some information about her that she’s not coherent enough to give.”

He followed the gurney around the corner.

“You’ll have to wait out here,” the nurse said as they rolled Meghan through a set of double doors.

“I’d like to make sure she’s okay.”

“Someone will talk to you after she’s been examined. There’s nothing you can do now. She doesn’t even know you’re here.”

He took a few steps back and then leaned against the wall while he struggled for a grip on reality.

Meghan Sinclair, the one woman he’d never been able to forget. Brutally attacked. So confused she didn’t know where she was. Likely suffering from a concussion. Possibly much worse.

Durk 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.”

“I didn’t come in with her, but she’s a friend and I’m greatly concerned about her.”

“Good. Hopefully you can help us. It’s urgent that we get in touch with a family member.”

Panic swept through him. “How serious is this?”

“Her condition is still being assessed, but she’s unable to give us any medical history. We need to talk to someone who’ll know if she has any allergies or other medical conditions we should be aware of. And we need a next of kin to make medical decisions until she is able to do that for herself. Do you know how to reach Ms. Sinclair’s parents?”

“Her parents are dead.”

“What about siblings?”

“She has a sister who lived in Connecticut,” he said. “I assume she still lives there.”

“Can you give us the sister’s name and phone number?”

“Meghan called her Lucy. She’s married, and I don’t know her last name or her phone number. I’m sure Meghan’s assistant, Ben Conroe, can give you everything you need.”

“Do you have his phone number?”

“Not off hand, but I can get it. In fact, he needs to be notified. I know he’d want to be here.”

“Would he also have her medical insurance information?”

“He’ll at least know who holds the policy.”

“Then have him contact us at this number ASAP.” She handed him a business card for the trauma unit. “Tell him to ask for Jane. I’ll be here until midnight.”

“I’ll get in touch with Ben,” Durk said, “as soon as you give me the honest truth about Meghan’s medical condition.”

“I’m sorry, but since you’re not a family member, the only information I can give you is that she’s being treated.”