Daniel shook his head, but Ramon fastened the watch on Daniel’s wrist.
“It’s got my name engraved on the back, but that’s no big deal. My mom will get me another one, and you like Harley-Davidson, so it’s yours. Didn’t you say your father had a motorcycle?”
Daniel nodded as he studied the familiar orange and black logo on the watch face.
4:24 p.m. Another hour and it would be time for supper, hamburgers and fries and hot fudge sundaes for dessert. He liked summer camp food. The bus slowed down to stop at a red light and he glanced up as Ramon raised himself on his knees to look out the back window.
Huebner Oaks Shopping Mall
San Antonio
4:24 p.m.
“Somebody help me! Call 911! Tyler, can you hear Mommy? Tyler?” Clare Carson leaned over her six-year-old son’s prone body as a stunned crowd gathered around them outside the movie theater.
Tyler wasn’t breathing.
“Ma’am, I’ve got 911 on the line. They want to know—”
“Tell them to send an ambulance! His heart has stopped!”
Sweat poured down Clare’s back. The hot pavement burned her knees. She choked back panic and tilted Tyler’s head to administer two breaths. His chest rose and fell, but he still wasn’t breathing.
Cardiac arrest. The doctors had warned her of the possibility but she’d hoped this day would never come.
“Fight, Tyler! Fight this with me.” Clare began chest compressions. This time when she covered Tyler’s mouth with hers, his lips were blue.
“They’re on their way, lady!”
Clare focused on Tyler and prayed for the sound of a siren. She dared to believe color returned to his lips as she pumped his chest. “Hang on, baby. Hang on for Mommy.”
4:25 p.m.
“Jerks. Nothing. No reaction at all,” Ramon said in disgust. He sank down beside Daniel as the bus lurched into motion toward the intersection. “What’s wrong with those guys? You got zombies for bodyguards?”
Daniel shrugged. He wasn’t surprised. He’d never known those two men to crack a smile, but he didn’t have a chance to tell that to Ramon when his friend suddenly jumped up.
“Uh oh, Daniel, they’re honking the horn and waving at you. Maybe you pissed them off after all.”
Daniel stood up and followed Ramon’s gaze out the window. The bodyguard behind the wheel banged on the horn and sped up the SUV to pass another car.
The camp counselor who drove the bus sounded the horn, too, and stepped on the gas. Daniel and Ramon were thrown backward against the seat. Several boys started to scream and scrambled into the aisle.
The bus swerved sharply. Daniel’s heart stopped as Ramon screamed in terror. A massive 18-wheeler barreled straight toward them, jackknifing through the intersection.
Tires squealed. Metal crashed against metal. Ramon cried out for his mother.
Pain like fire engulfed Daniel and he screamed, too. “Mama!”
4:59 p.m.
Universal Hospital
Clare ran alongside Tyler’s stretcher into the ER. Doctors and nurses surrounded them at once and she felt herself shoved aside as Tyler was whisked away from her.
“A kid from the bus accident?” she heard someone say.
“No. Air-Life’s just arriving from the scene,” a grim-faced doctor responded. “Two fatalities, half dozen kids injured, two critical. Happy Fourth of July weekend—and it’s only Friday.”
Clare stared at the mounting commotion around her. The air-conditioning was a shock to her system after the oppressive heat outside, and she swept damp blond hair from her face.
The paramedics had gotten Tyler’s heart started again but he’d coded as they arrived at Universal Hospital. She watched as the team of medical personnel worked over her son while other staff raced toward the elevators.
“Ma’am, excuse me, you need to step aside. We’ve got more patients coming in.”
Clare nodded at the young man who rushed past her and tried to move out of the way as a nurse took her arm.
“Ms. Carson? Come with me, please. We need to get some information—”
“No.” Clare jerked her arm away. “I’m not leaving my son.” She dodged more medical staff rushing toward the elevators and went to stand a few feet away from what looked like chaos surrounding Tyler.
“Okay, we’ve got a pulse.”
Clare clutched the green curtain at the doctor’s words. Relief swept her, but she knew the worst was not over. Tyler’s heart had failed him. The virus that had weakened his heart muscle had won. She knew he’d die without a transplant.
“Ms. Carson?”
She glanced up at the doctor, and recognized the man as one of several cardiologists who’d treated Tyler over the past few months. “Yes.”
“We’ve done what we can here. As soon as the elevators are clear, we’re moving Tyler upstairs to the Pediatric ICU.”
She didn’t have a chance to reply as the doctor brushed past her and broke into a run toward the elevators. First one set of doors opened and then another. The air crackled with tension and shouted vital signs as a pair of gurneys was rushed into the ER.
Nausea swept over Clare as the first gurney sped past her. Blood was everywhere. She couldn’t tell if the victim was male or female, the youngster’s face lacerated to the bone. She didn’t wait to see the second child. She turned back to look at Tyler but he was gone.
“No.” Her heart in her throat, Clare glanced toward the elevator doors to see them closing behind the gurney bearing her son. She rushed to the elevator and jammed her hand through the doors just in time to open them again so she could slip inside. One of the doctors stepped back so she could edge past him to stand next to the gurney, where she took Tyler’s small hand.
“Mommy’s here’s, baby. I’m not leaving you.”
CHAPTER ONE
“The operation is going well, Ms. Carson. It shouldn’t be much longer.”
“Tyler’s okay?” Clare’s immense relief quadrupled at the surgical nurse’s reassuring smile.
“He’s a real trooper, your little guy. The transplant surgeon asked me to tell you that the donor heart started pumping right away, good and strong. He’s very pleased. The whole transplant team’s pleased. I’ll keep you posted.”
Clare could only nod as the woman left the small waiting room, the place empty but for herself. She sank back into the sofa and covered her face with her hands.
Oh, God, thank you.
The fervent words echoed in her mind. Her thoughts were clear and focused even though she felt as if she’d been wrung out to dry. Her surroundings had fallen away when the nurse had entered the waiting room, Clare’s heart banging in her chest, but the look on the woman’s face had told her at once that the surgery had been successful.
Clare dropped her hands into her lap. The long hours of waiting and sheer fatigue were catching up with her. She glanced at the wall clock.
8:30 a.m. The transplant surgery had begun at two a.m., the anxious hours beforehand condensed into a dizzying blur. Only one moment stood out with incredible clarity to her when, within twenty minutes of Tyler being placed on Status One for a heart transplant, she’d been told a donor had been found.
Clare held no illusions. She’d lost them months ago when Tyler had first gotten sick. She’d told herself to be positive, but her instincts had screamed that Tyler wouldn’t survive the night without a transplant. Her CPR and the paramedics’ quick action had spared him from any brain damage, yet she needed a miracle.
She’d held no illusions about that, either. When the transplant surgeon came to the Pediatric ICU last night with the news of a viable match for Tyler, Clare knew the miracle had occurred.
The surgeon had revealed the donor was a traffic accident victim, and that the transplant team was being assembled. Clare guessed it might be one of the kids she’d seen in the ER, but she tried not to dwell on it. She’d had a moment alone with Tyler and then he was whisked away to the
operating room, the surgeon assuring her that they would keep her apprised of their progress.
Clare stared at the dog-eared magazines she’d thumbed through blindly over the past hours. The empty cup atop a copy of Family Circle told her she could use some more coffee. She rose from the sofa, not surprised that her legs were wobbly.
She’d not been through such a roller coaster of emotion since her parents had died in a house fire days after Tyler’s birth. All that concerned her now was that Tyler would return once more to being her healthy little boy.
Clare went to the coffeemaker and helped herself to a refill. The coffee was stale and bitter but piping hot, and she hoped it would do the trick. She took a few sips and bracing warmth seeped through her.
She could hardly wait until the surgery was finished and she could see Tyler—
“Mind offering me a cup?”
Clare started and whirled around, hot coffee splattering the front of her T-shirt.
“Damn, woman, you’re jumpy. Get out of the way and I’ll pour some myself.”
Clare dumped her cup into the sink and hastily stepped away from the counter. Her action was greeted with a familiar derisive laugh that both infuriated and unnerved her as she stared in disbelief at her ex-husband.
“What are you doing here, Billy?”
Billy Eugene Carson didn’t readily answer. He poured himself the last cup of coffee and then settled his tall lean frame against the wall.
He looked like a rodeo cowboy with his tight Wrangler jeans, starched white western shirt and pointed-toe alligator boots. His black Stetson was tilted on his head at a cocky angle. He’d dressed like that to take her two-stepping at the old dance hall in Gruene—she’d always loved to dance—but those happier times felt like a thousand years ago.
She imagined he’d been up all night drinking at some honky-tonk and he’d dressed nice to impress the ladies. He was so handsome with his trimmed dark brown hair and deep brown eyes, they had probably swarmed all over him.
He’d bragged after she left him that he’d slept with lots of women during their marriage, which at the time had hurt her deeply. She was glad it didn’t hurt anymore. He’d never been the same man once the construction business his father had left him had started to fail, his heavy drinking fueling a temper that he’d used like a weapon against her and Tyler.
A temper he might still use against her. Clare moved further away from him. He reeked of cigarettes and alcohol, and the forced smile on his handsome face was gone.
“Great to see you, too, Clare. I’d have gotten here sooner if you’d called my cell phone, not the house. I didn’t hear the message until I got home an hour ago. How’s Tyler?”
“So far so good, but I didn’t call you to have you come down here. You’re his father and I thought you should know he was in the hospital—but you’re not supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to be anywhere near us. I’ve got a protective order—”
“Fuck the order.”
Billy slammed back the last of his coffee and crushed the empty cup in his fist, making Clare move closer to the waiting room door.
“He’s my son, too, woman. You can’t keep me from him and that goes for the friggin’ cops.”
Fear flickered in Clare as Billy came toward her, but he stopped abruptly and took a long, slow breath. Clare took one herself, which helped to calm her racing heart. It astounded her still that the man she’d once loved had grown so violent, so unpredictable. Alcoholism did terrible things to people and Billy was only growing worse.
“What’s the surgery?” he asked, reminding Clare that Billy knew nothing yet about the transplant. She squared her shoulders. It wasn’t hard to imagine what his reaction might be.
“I planned to let you know once they were finished. Everything happened so fast. They found a donor heart for Tyler—”
“He’s having a fucking transplant and you kept it to yourself?”
Clare swallowed at Billy’s darkening face. She wondered how much he’d had to drink before he arrived at the hospital. “You know I don’t have to make any phone calls to you, Billy—to have any contact with you at all. I nearly lost him this time and you’re his father so I thought it was the right thing—”
“You’re a goddamned bitch!”
Billy lunged at Clare and she bolted for the door, but she wasn’t fast enough. He caught her by the arm and swung her around to face him. She fought to remain calm as the stench of beer and way too much Tequila overwhelmed her.
“Just so you know, Clare, I’ve hired a lawyer, a real first rate some-bitch to haul your ass into court. Tyler’s as much mine as yours, and you’ve seen more than your share of him. I don’t give a damn if I never see your face again, but I’ll be seeing more of my son and you can count on it.”
Clare stared into her ex-husband’s hate-filled eyes and thanked the day, the hour, and the very minute she’d walked out on him two years ago and divorced him a few months later. Her rising anger took the edge off her fear. She wanted to scream at him but struggled instead to keep her voice low.
“Tyler is sick, Billy, very sick. Hire your slick lawyer, do whatever you want. You know the court will never give you anything more than supervised visitation until Tyler’s a whole lot better and you’ve turned your life around. I can see now that you’re even further from that than before. Get out of here before you find yourself in deeper trouble.”
Billy didn’t answer but stared back at her. His grasp on her arm grew tighter and Clare felt herself trembling. She jumped when he slid his left hand under her T-shirt, his fingers gliding along the bare skin of her back.
“Maybe I was hearing things,” he said through gritted teeth. “Did you just threaten me?”
She didn’t blink. Billy’s face was inches away from hers. She felt close to being sick as terrible memories of their last months together when Billy was spiraling out of control—his drinking, his yelling, his shaking of her and bruising her arms, his shoving Tyler—flashed through her mind.
“Let go of me, Billy. Let go of me or I swear I’ll scream so loud—”
“Is there a problem, Ms. Carson?”
Clare yanked her arm free and stared with relief at the same woman who’d brought her the good news about Tyler.
The surgical nurse glanced from Clare’s flushed face to Billy. “I’d be more than happy to call security,” she suggested calmly.
“No need to, ma’am. I was just leaving.” Billy brushed against Clare as he moved to the door, his voice low and menacing. “I’ll get my son back from you, woman, if I have to take him out of this goddamned hospital myself. Count on it.”
Clare wrapped her arms around herself to quiet her shaking as Billy tipped his hat to the surgical nurse and then strode down the hall.
“A friend of yours, honey?”
Clare met the woman’s concerned gaze and shook her head. “My ex-husband. I have a protective order, but—”
“Guessed as much. Mr. Carson, is it?”
“Yes, Billy Carson.”
“Well, I believe Mr. Billy Carson needs a proper escort out to the parking lot, don’t you?”
The surgical nurse had already reached for the phone hanging on the wall before Clare could answer, and she gave Clare a wry, yet reassuring smile when the call was done.
“That’s some bad apple to come in such a nice-looking package. Security will take care of him. What do you say about us heading to the ICU? Your son should be there in a few minutes.”
Clare nodded. She didn’t mind at all the woman’s arm around her back and the gentle pat on her shoulder as they left the waiting room.
The gesture reminded her of mother, but in a way she was glad her parents hadn’t lived to see the misery her life had become with Billy. It would have broken their hearts. She would never have thought he’d hate her so much for leaving him, but he did. She had no doubt he might want to hurt her, but did he despise her so much that he would threaten to hurt their son?
�
�Put him out of your mind, honey. Your little boy’s waiting for you.”
Clare wasn’t surprised the nurse had guessed her thoughts. She gave the woman a grateful smile. It faded, though, when they reached the ICU and she was guided into a side room where she scrubbed her hands and donned a mask and gloves.
“They’re taking him into the isolation room now.”
Clare followed the surgical nurse’s gaze to where a gurney flanked by masked and gowned members of the transplant team was wheeled into a glass-enclosed room at the opposite end of the ICU.
Tyler.
Her miracle.
* * *
“Damn you, Eduardo, damn you! You murdered our son! You murdered my Daniel!”
Eduardo Ruiz stood in the rear cabin of the chartered jet and said nothing in response to his hysterical wife. He nodded at the nurse waiting by the bed with a hypodermic needle. It took two of Eduardo’s men to hold down Maria, who thrashed like a madwoman among twisted sheets and pillows dampened with sweat and tears. Wild curses filled the air as the needle sank into Maria’s arm. Her ranting became distraught weeping as the sedative quickly took effect.
“Oh, God, Daniel. My son. My sweet little boy. Why did you let him go to that camp, Eduardo? Why?”
Eduardo sat down on the edge of the bed as Maria sank back onto the pillows, and he reached out to stroke her damp hair. She recoiled as if stung and began to fight against the two men who still held her. A sudden burst of air turbulence rocked the private jet and made one of them lose his balance and let go.
Maria swung her arm and struck the side of Eduardo’s head before he could duck, but he kept silent as she was quickly subdued. Her beautiful face swollen and blotchy from weeping, Maria stared at him with red-rimmed eyes. Her voice sank to a hoarse plea.
“Where were you, Eduardo? I was alone when the call came from Daniel’s bodyguards to say he’d been taken to a hospital. God in heaven, my poor Daniel! You were with your whore and I was alone!”
The Pagan's Prize (Captive Brides Collection) Page 31
