He stood under the too-bright fluorescent lights, staring at the water turning pink as it washed Molly's blood down the drain.
Toby had shot her.
And they'd crashed.
Which one had come first?
Had Molly forced the accident to try to escape?
What had she been thinking? His imagination ran wild, trying to figure out how it had happened, why she might've thought causing an accident was her only escape route.
She wouldn't have trusted the cops to find her. They'd failed her before.
She couldn't have known that Cord was out looking for her. Or how far behind he was.
She'd done the best she could in terrifying circumstances.
He'd fought to stay emotionless on the drive here. The weather was so horrible that he'd needed every ounce of attention to get himself to Dallas in one piece. To be here for her.
Now that he had nothing left to do but wait, the emotions he had held at bay overwhelmed him.
He bent his head to rest on his forearms as the tears came hard and fast.
Molly might be dying on the operating table right now.
What would he do if he lost her?
In the short weeks he’d known her, she'd become the light in his life. She'd guided him from the painful past that haunted him into a present where he could find joy. She’d helped him finally see a future. A future that he wanted.
He pulled himself together by sheer force of will, returning to the waiting room. He wanted to go to Molly the moment he was allowed. He'd be ready for whatever she needed.
If she survived.
She had to survive.
He was still waiting over an hour later when two familiar figures stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall toward him. Iris and Jilly.
He didn't even have the strength in his legs to stand and greet them. "What are you doing here?"
Jilly sat beside him, putting her arm around his shoulders without asking for permission. Iris sat in the chair at his other side, balancing a paper cup carrier with three to-go cups of coffee.
"Sally is the emergency dispatcher for the county," Jilly said. "We've been friends for years."
"She called us right after your 911 call," said Iris.
And they must've left almost immediately and battled the weather all this way. To be with him?
He didn't deserve it, and tears swam in his eyes again. He pressed his thumb and forefinger into both of his eyes. Cleared his throat.
"Isn't that against the law or something?"
"Probably." Iris shrugged. "But it's Sutter's Hollow."
And for the first time, he was glad to be a part of the tiny community.
He was halfway through the coffee when a doctor in scrubs and a surgical cap pushed his way through a set of double swinging doors.
Cord jumped out of his chair.
"You the fiancé?" the doctor asked.
Cord didn't glance at his friends. "Yes."
"She got lucky the bullet struck where it did. It hit in the fleshy part of her side. No damage to her internal organs that we can tell."
Relief flooded Cord, but it was short-lived.
"I'm more worried about her head injury," the doctor continued. He glanced at his phone, and Cord wanted to shake him. "There's a lot of pressure inside her skull. If it doesn't resolve itself, we may have to do surgery."
Cords stomach dropped to his toes. Brain surgery? He didn't know the risks, but he knew it had to be dangerous.
The doctor added, "She's got at least one broken rib and the fracture on her wrist. Assuming the best, she's got a long road of recovery ahead of her."
"When can I see her?" Cord’s voice was hoarse.
"Soon." And the doctor was gone.
Cord sank back into the seat between his two friends. He ran his hands up and then down his face, trying to shake off the weariness that had descended over him.
Molly was out of surgery, but not out of danger. And even if she got past the danger of her head injury, what were the emotional ramifications?
She'd been frightened of Toby. Now the man was dead, but after what she'd suffered, she had a right to jump at every shadow, every sound.
Molly awoke surrounded by machines and a dim light.
A hospital room?
Her head pounded fiercely, and she couldn't remember what happened.
Across the room, the window blinds were open. It was pitch black outside.
Several machines hummed and beeped nearby, but she didn't know what that meant. She tried to move. Everything hurt. She strained her memory, pushing past the pulsing headache. She had to remember what happened.
And then, it came back to her.
Toby.
The ice storm.
The accident.
And blinding pain in her head and her side.
Had he shot her? She couldn't be sure. The wreck was a blur of images and noise.
An IV was taped to her wrist, which lay on top of the blankets. Someone was holding her hand.
Cord.
He was here.
She couldn't hold back tears. One slipped down her cheek.
"Hey there," he whispered. He used the knuckle of the hand that wasn't holding hers to wipe away her tear. "Are you in pain? I can page the nurse."
She hurt all over, but it was the fact that he was here that had brought her tears. How long had it been since the accident? She didn’t know. And then she didn’t care. Before the crash, she’d thought she might never see him again.
She tried to answer, but her throat was sore and scratchy. She blinked, or maybe she closed her eyes. Minutes later, a nurse bustled in and forced her fully awake, shining a flashlight in her eyes, pressing a thermometer against her forehead, taking her blood pressure, apologizing when getting the blood pressure cuff on made Molly shift. Her ribs pulled, and pain ripped through her.
"Can she have some water?" Cord asked.
"That should be fine," the nurse replied.
Another minute of clicking on her computer near Molly's bedside, and then the woman disappeared.
Cord pulled a chair close, clasping her hand again on the edge of the bed. He couldn't seem to look at anything other than her, which made Molly feel self-conscious.
He looked rough. Lines fanned around his eyes, stubble covered his chin and jaw, his eyes were haunted.
She remembered thinking, during the long, frightening hours in the truck that Cord was never going to forgive himself if something happened to her. And it had. Was he okay?
She opened her mouth to ask, but her throat was still so dry that a cough barked out. That slicing pain went through her ribs again and brought tears.
Cord grabbed the water cup from her bedside table, gently tilting the straw to her lips. He soothed her with a gentle touch to the apple of her cheek.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
"Hush." He set the cup down and took her hand again. As if he couldn't keep himself from touching her. "None of this is your fault."
If only that were true.
"If I hadn't tried to go to the hardware store…"
He frowned fiercely at her. "You should be able to go wherever you want, honey. And now you can."
What did that mean?
"Toby's dead," he said softly. "Killed in the crash.”
More tears filled her eyes, slipped loose. Cord snatched some tissue from nearby.
"I didn't mean"—she gasped—"I didn't mean for him to die."
"I know, honey. It's okay."
She hadn't. Had she?
All these weeks, she’d been afraid. But at the end, she’d been angry.
She'd wanted to escape.
But she hadn't wanted this.
His thumb brushed the back of her hand. "The sheriff found the gun in the cab of the truck."
How had Cord found her?
He seemed to sense her thoughts. "Somehow your phone connected with mine and left a voicemail. On the recording, Toby was threate
ning you.”
The toll of talking about it was too much. She closed her eyes.
"That's fine." He kept hold of her hand. "Just rest, honey."
There was so much more she wanted, needed to tell him. But she couldn't seem to keep her eyes open.
"I'm here.” His words were faint as she drifted to sleep. “And I'm not leaving."
19
What are you going to do?
Midmorning on Sunday—twenty-four hours after Molly's abduction—Cord couldn't stop staring at the text message from Iris.
Friday and the worries about the No Name's mortgage seemed like a lifetime ago. Just because Molly was hospitalized didn't mean his problems were going to go away.
Morning sunlight streamed through the blinds. Earlier, a nurse had removed about half the machines that had been attached to Molly. Cord hadn't seen a doctor since the middle of the night, but he figured that meant Molly was improving.
Her tears last night had unmanned him.
He knew the road ahead of her was going to be rocky. And he wanted to do everything within his power to ease it for her. Before all of the insanity with Toby had happened, Cord had asked her to go to Houston with him.
Now, he didn't see how that would be possible.
The No Name was the only place untouched by Toby. Molly had said she felt safe there. As if she could see for miles.
How could he ask her to leave the ranch when it might be the only place that could give her comfort?
He couldn't.
He didn't even know when she was going to be released. And with the extent of her injuries, she'd need lots of rest. He'd probably have to sit on her to keep her from trying to go back to work on those stupid tractors.
And that was all he wanted to think about. Molly and getting her healthy again. Well again. Happy again.
But he had a looming deadline. He also had no completed tractors, no funds in his bank account, and only one way he could think of to get the infusion of cash it was going to take to bring the mortgage current and escape foreclosure.
If he could swallow his pride.
He let his eyes rove over Molly's still form. Her lashes were a dark smudge against pale cheeks. Every rise and fall of her breath was a blessing.
She was worth it.
He quietly slipped into the hall, pulling his cell phone from his hip pocket.
He wasn't even sure he'd be able to get through to West. If he was out on a mission, he wouldn't have phone access.
Cord dialed the number anyway.
West answered on the second ring. "What's the matter?"
Cord pinched the bridge of his nose. He deserved that greeting.
They both knew the only reason he'd call was if something was wrong.
"I'm in a bind." It almost killed him to say the words out loud. "I came to Sutter's Hollow to settle Mackie's estate. But things are..." He hesitated. West had always had a different relationship with Mackie than Cord. Cord had taken as much of her wrath as he could, protecting West. West still didn’t understand—probably never would—the kind of woman she’d truly been. And Cord didn't want to speak ill of the dead, even if she deserved it.
"Just say it," West said.
"There's a mortgage on the ranch that's four months overdue. My signature is on the dotted line. I don't remember signing it, but it's in my name, and..." He swallowed hard. "Molly had this wild idea she could refurbish those junk tractors."
"This the same Molly who answered the house phone a couple weeks back?"
"Yeah. She’s..." Cord let his head fall back against the wall. "She's everything."
There was a pause on the other end of the phone. Static crackled, and, for a moment, Cord wondered if he’d lost the connection with his brother.
"She got to you," West said.
"Yeah." Cord swallowed the emotions trying to work their way into his voice. "Her plan would've worked too, but it's... Well, it's a long story. I can still sell the tractors, but I need cash tomorrow. If there's any way you'd float me a loan, I'd be in your debt forever."
Again there was a silent moment over the crackling phone line. A longer one.
Cord gathered up every ounce of pride he had left and dumped it. "I'm good for it," he said.
"I know you are." West's voice was sharp. "But… It’s due Monday? I'm wondering why it's taken you so long to make this call."
Cord rubbed his thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets. "Because I'm an idiot."
West chuckled.
"Growing up under Mackie's thumb," Cord started, "taught me to keep everyone at arms’ length. Including you. It's hard to let anyone in. But Molly showed me that that's not an excuse."
"She sounds amazing."
"She is." He had to swallow hard, because he'd almost lost her. "Maybe next time you're stateside, you can come out to the No Name and meet her in person."
"I'd like that." He could hear his brother’s smile through the phone. As a kid, all Cord had wanted was to protect his little brother, make sure he was safe and happy. And he was, happy and as safe as a Marine could be. Maybe, for all Cord’s failures, he'd done right by West. Maybe all the grief he’d taken at Mackie’s hands hadn’t ruined him, hadn’t ruined anything.
Maybe, he was stronger because of it.
And maybe he could use that strength to fight for Molly, to fight with her against the fears that would surely assail her now.
After giving his brother the bank’s wiring instructions, Cord rang off. He was about to re-enter Molly's room when he noticed a man in a calf-length wool coat and a working man's boots at the nurse's station.
The nurse pointed to Molly’s room, the only one at the end at this end of the hall.
Dressed like that, Cord knew the man wasn't a cop here to take Molly's statement.
As the man turned his direction, a wave of protectiveness swept over Cord. Toby was out of the picture. Who was this? A different kind of threat?
Cord propped his hand on the doorframe, blocking the entrance even as the man headed straight for him. He refused to move.
The man stopped only when it was apparent Cord wasn't getting out of the way.
"This is a private room," Cord ground out.
"Who are you?" the man asked.
"I'm Molly's fiancé. You her father?"
He caught the flash of surprise as it crossed the other man's face.
"Tom English." He extended his hand, but Cord ignored it.
"Molly's resting. She's pretty beat up. And I'm not sure she wants to see you."
He could still remember the hurt in her expression when she'd told him her father had refused to help her escape Toby. Cord didn't want her getting hurt again, not when she was injured and vulnerable. Not ever.
"That's my daughter in there." English dropped his hand, his words forceful. "You’re not keeping me out of there."
Cord had left the door open about six inches, and he only had a view of the twelve inches at the end of the bed. He saw Molly's legs move restlessly. If she was awake again, he wanted to be in there with her. She didn't need anything upsetting her, and he was pretty sure seeing her dad would do just that.
"Molly can make her own decisions. I'll go in and ask if she wants to see you, but if she says no, you're not going in."
If she says no, you're not going in.
The soreness in every single inch of Molly's body had grown exponentially since last night. Sometime during the long night, one of the nurses had mentioned reducing her painkillers. Maybe the most recent dose was wearing off.
She was reaching for the bed control when Cord stepped in.
"Here, let me do that." He helped her get into a reclining position and adjusted the pillow behind her head and shoulders.
He wore a serious expression, his mouth tight with worry. "You hear who's outside?"
She nodded, keeping the move as small as she could. Her father wasn't a quiet kind of man. She'd roused when Cord had left the room, then drifted in and out, but it
was Tom English's strident demands that had shaken her fully awake.
"Do you want to see him?"
She felt so fragile, like she could break at any second. She was a mess.
And when she’d really needed him, her dad hadn't been there for her. If Dad had just listened to her, maybe none of this would have happened.
But then, she wouldn't have met Cord.
Her thoughts circled and zigzagged, basically a jumbled mess. She didn't know what she wanted.
She shrugged helplessly, using her eyes to beg Cord to make the decision for her.
He brushed stray strands of hair out of her face, smoothed his thumb over her cheek. He'd done the same thing last night, and now she wondered why. Was it the only place on her face that was unmarked?
"You could let him come in and see for himself that you're all right," Cord said. "Ease his mind. Doesn't mean he has to stay long. I know he hurt you."
She nodded slightly. Then grabbed his hand before he could turn away. "Stay with me?"
He gave her a quick squeeze. "Of course."
He was only gone for a few seconds before her father followed him back in.
Dad's eyes crinkled with concern as he took in the IV and heart monitor still attached to her hand.
He stopped beside the bed. "I was so worried when I got the call from the hospital last night."
He was? He must still be the emergency contact on her insurance card. She hadn't given a thought to how she'd been admitted. Cord must've done the paperwork.
Cord stood beside her and laced their fingers together on top of the hospital bedspread.
"I'm okay." What she really wanted to ask was why he hadn't been worried when she'd told him about Toby in the first place.
"Have the doctors said when you'll be released?"
"They're still monitoring her head injury," Cord answered. "We'll know more in the next couple of days."
Dad shot him an inscrutable look.
Cord returned his stare with a level one of his own.
Dad refocused on her. "We want you to come home, and we’ll help you with whatever you need before you head back to school next semester."
Too little, too late.
Remembering the terror she'd experienced in Austin during the weeks when Toby had followed her, stalked her, sent a shiver. Her ribs ached, and her side pulled where they'd stitched her up after surgery.
His Small-Town Girl (Sutter's Hollow Book 1) Page 14
