Big Shot

by Joanna Wayne

  But you could never be sure. Men with the kind of assets and power that Durk possessed had a tendency to believe they were above the law.

  Maybe Durk had been trying to get back into the saddle with Meghan and discovered that Ben had replaced him. He could have fought with her and then killed Ben. The story about Durk’s handling the murder weapon for his own protection could be just a clever cover-up.

  But that was a long shot at best. Meghan Sinclair had countless enemies, dangerous criminals who’d thought they were home free until she showed up. The list of suspects with motives to get back at her was practically endless.

  He figured they were looking at just one suspect for both crimes, but he’d keep an open mind about that. Anyway you called it, his best bet at catching their killer would be for Meghan to identify her attacker.

  But would she?

  Or would she choose to bypass the police and go after the bastard herself? Sam planned to make damn sure she didn’t. He would not be outsmarted by her. Not again.

  * * *

  DURK 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 fr
om 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.

  Her eyes were closed. One side of her face was swollen. The hematoma Dr. Levy had mentioned was the size of a walnut. Her head was bandaged where she’d had the sutures.

  She looked incredibly frail and much younger than her thirty-one years. He covered her left hand with his. It was cool to the touch and unresponsive.

  A flare of dark fury rushed through his veins. If he could just get his hands on the man who did this to her....

  He muttered a curse and dropped to a chair next to the bed.

  Meghan jerked and groaned without opening her eyes. Durk leaned in close. “You’re safe, Meghan,” he whispered softly. “You’re going to be all right.”

  If she heard him, she gave no sign. His mind drifted back to the night they’d first met. At the last minute he’d let his mother, who had been ill with a stomach virus, talk him into attending a fundraiser in her place. It was one of her pet charities, an organization dedicated to helping pay medical expenses for physically handicapped children needing surgery.

  He’d been in stressful meetings all day and had gone to the gala with plans to deliver her speech thanking all the donors for their contributions and then immediately cut out.

  But then he’d spotted Meghan Sinclair across the room and become totally intrigued. She was stunning in an emerald-green ball gown and a crown of the most gorgeous red silky hair he’d ever seen.

  But the real fascination came from the impact of watching her flip her wrist and empty a crystal flute of champagne in the face of his least favorite Texas politician. Durk had no doubt that the jerk deserved it.

  Durk had made a point of meeting her after that incident and ended up driving her home and staying for breakfast—two days in a row. He’d never fallen so hard, so fast—not since Ellie Jenkins had kissed him in the sixth grade.

  His thoughts shifted from the past to the here and now. Meghan was in the hospital, confused and battered. Ben Conroe was lying in a morgue. And somewhere a killer was going on with his life.

  Eventually Durk must have dozed off because the next time he looked at his watch, it was an hour later. He stood, stretched and went to the bathroom. He relieved himself, washed his face in cold water and went in search of coffee.

  After he finished the cup of strong brew, he slipped quietly back into Meghan’s room. Only this time, Meghan’s eyes were open wide and she was staring at the ceiling. She moaned as he approached the bed.

  “Are you in pain?” he asked. “Should I get the nurse?”

  She turned and looked at him, then closed her eyes again.

  “Can I get you anything?” he repeated.

  Still no response, but he was almost certain she was awake.

  He sat and stayed quiet until she squirmed and began to rub her left hand. Then he stood and moved close to the bed.

  “Is there anything you want to tell me?” he asked, sure that if she were fully conscious, she’d have questions about the attack.

  She shuddered and finally met his gaze, staring at him as if he’d interrupted something important.

  “Who are you and why are you in my bedroom?”

  Chapter Five

  Meghan stared into the deep, dark eyes of the cowboy who was standing over her. Him, the bed she was in, the noises and smells around her, all merged into a surreal sensation, as if she were drowning in a murky pond.

  Images were vague—undefined and unfamiliar. Voices were indistinct. Her body didn’t seem connected to her brain. Worse, a sense of panic overrode every other emotion.

  “Who are you?” she asked again.

  He looked almost as perplexed as she felt. “Am I that easy to forget, Meghan?”

  What had he called her? Meghan? But her name was… She drew a foggy blank. How could she not know her own name?

  She looked around and her thoughts coalesced enough that she realized she was in a hospital—or a nightmare. She stared at the rails on the side of the bed before finally looking back to the stranger.

  “Should I know you?”

  His gaze intensified and his expression grew strained. “Durk. I’m Durk Lambert, Meghan. We’re friends.”

  There was a hazy familiarity about him, something that made her breath catch in her throat. “What happened? How did I get here?”

  “Don’t you remember?”

  “No,” she said, the admittance adding a new swell of anxiety.

  “You were attacked.”

  “When was that?”

  “Earlier tonight. In your condo. Your neighbor, Bill Mackey, heard your scream and came to your rescue. He chased your assailant away and called for an ambulance.”

  An attack. That explained why she felt as if heavy weights were attached to every muscle. She tried to bring her memories into focus. She couldn’t picture her condo and had no idea who Bill Mackey was.

  “Who attacked me? And why?”

  “I was hoping you could answer those questions.”

  She closed her eyes and tried to pull facts from the dense fog that had settled in her brain. The harder she tried, the more confused she became.

  Frustrated, she opened her eyes again. Had her brain been damaged in the attack? Was that why she couldn’t even remember her own name?

  Her mouth grew dry. She couldn’t swallow. A shudder ripped through her. “I want to see the doctor. I want to see him now.”

  The man who called himself Durk pushed her call button, a task she could have done herself had she not switched to panic mode.

  “Try to stay calm, Meghan. Everything’s under control. You’re in excellent hands.”

  “Everything is not fine. Don’t lie to me.”

  “You’re right. It’s not fine yet, but it will be. You have a concussion, but you’re getting the best care possible. You just need a little time to regain your memory and the ability to think clearly.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I made it my business to find out.”

  This cowboy with the penetrating gaze had taken control, as if she were his responsibility. As if she were his sister—or his wife. No, surely she’d recognize her husband even in her befuddled state.

  Or would she? She didn’t even recognize her name. “Tell me,” she said, hating this feeling of helplessness. “Exactly how do I know you?”

  He put a hand over her bruised one. “We’re friends, Meghan. Just friends. But I’m here to help in any way I can.”

  A nurse padded into the room in her thick, cushioned white shoes.

  “She’s awake,” Durk said, speaking for her as if she wasn’t there.

  “That’s great.” The nurse smiled and put a cool hand on Meghan’s arm. “I’m Angela Drake. I’ve been taking care of you—along with Durk. You’re lucky to have a friend like him.”

  She’d decide if she was lucky, once she remembered him. “I want to talk to my doctor.”

  “I’ll call him, but it may take him a while to get up here. He’s involved with another emergency now. In the meantime, I’m here. Are you in pain?”

  “My thoughts are muddled. I can’t seem to remember anythi
ng.”

  Angela patted her shoulder. “Confusion is understandable after what you’ve been through.”

  “It’s more than confusion. I’m… I don’t remember being attacked or how I got here.”

  “Give yourself time. Just try to relax, Meghan. Let us do the worrying.”

  Meghan pushed her hair from her face. When she tried to tuck it behind her ear, she felt a tender knot. She examined the rest of her head with her fingertips and discovered a bandage at the back, a few inches up from the base of her skull.

  “Why is my head bandaged?”

  “The doctor will explain everything to you and answer all your questions.”

  “Then please get him,” Meghan pleaded.

  “He’ll be here soon,” the nurse assured her. She lifted Meghan’s right hand. “While we’re waiting, can you squeeze my hand?”

  Meghan squeezed, but her irritation was growing.

  “Very good. Now squeeze a little harder.”

  Meghan squeezed even though it intensified what had been a dull ache at both temples.

  Angela dropped her hand, pulled a flashlight from her pocket and shone a beam into Meghan’s left eye and then her right.

  “Do you know where you are, Meghan?”

  “In a hospital.”

  Angela grinned as if Meghan had given the winning answer in a quiz show. “Do you remember how you got here?”

  That question was tougher. Had Durk driven her here? No. He’d just told her. She waded through the haze.

  She’d been attacked. There had been a rescue. A neighbor…

  “I came by ambulance,” she said, though she didn’t remember being in one. All she knew was what Durk had just told her.

  “Good for you, Meghan. You’re coming around. I’ll let Dr. Levy know you want to see him.”

  When Angela walked away, Meghan looked back at Durk, searching his face and especially his eyes, futilely hoping for some grain of recognition. There was nothing.

  Durk leaned over her bed. “If my being here is upsetting you, I can leave. Is that what you want me to do?”

  Yes. If she were by herself, she wouldn’t have to think.