This was going to be the man to replace him as Chief of Medicine?
Of course he was. He was a Deane, and they were the kings of Finley Creek County. If one wanted the hospital under their control, they got it. Hell, Holden-Deane had probably been planning this his entire career.
Logan did what he had to do to smooth everything over. He knew he’d screwed up as COM, but for hell’s sake, he’d been shot point blank in the stomach. That should buy a man some consideration, shouldn’t it?
His hands shook and he knew what it meant.
In his experience, Deanes just ruined everything.
And the hospital was all Logan really had left.
He’d come damned close to dying not even three months ago and the doctor who’d been his primary--his closest friend--had given him the best pain pills FCGH had ever seen.
They were experimental, but damn, did they work.
He took one, and then waited, watching Dr. Rafael Holden-Deane walk around the ER department inspecting everything. Like a king with a kingdom. Women—doctors and nurses alike—stopped to stare at him as he walked by.
Damn those Deanes.
This one was going to run the hospital. Marcus Deane even ran the damned state. Logan watched the man walk by and pushed the rage away.
Forced himself to just get through the day.
6
Dr. Virat Patel shook the new Chief-of-Medicine’s hand and said the expected greetings. He vaguely remembered the man. “I believe we had some Genetics classes together at FCU.”
“Of course. Under Dr. Stephens.”
“Yes. Welcome back to FCGH. It’s a great place to work.” Virat had always respected the man. Holden-Deane had been one of the top in the class, and he had always worked hard. Virat had enjoyed being partnered with him occasionally. Virat had always taken his own career seriously. He was planning on the Chief-of-Surgery position himself, someday. He was now third in line, behind Allen Jacobson and Logan Lanning, two men who had been a year or so ahead of him at FCU School of Medicine.
Virat looked at the woman standing next to Holden-Deane. Finley Coulter was looking as peppy as she always did, but he saw the concern around her pretty blue eyes. She was the grown-up version of the blonde blue-eyed cheerleader type and she used that to her advantage.
She was a great general practitioner as well. He’d wondered before why she only practiced part-time, and spent the rest of her days working administration at the hospital.
A friend had told him once that Dr. Coulter was a direct descendant of the original Finleys of the county and took the hospital very seriously.
She was good at what she did.
There was a lot of that going around FCGH. At least in Virat’s experience. “Dr. Coulter, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m due in Surgery with McGareth in ten. I’d hate for her to start without me—she gets to pick the music and I can’t stand girl bands.”
Virat nodded at Holden-Deane and walked away. He had to admit, he strongly suspected Holden-Deane would be a much better COM than Lanning certainly had.
Hell, some change around this place was long past due.
7
Travis signed the rental agreement with a flourish. All it needed now was McGareth’s signature. Then it was done. The ranch made up sixty-two percent of his income, with the remaining balance going to his own rental properties and mineral rights.
He’d like to diversify that a bit more, but he was working on it. He’d been fortunate enough to inherit the ranch from his paternal grandfather. An uncle had also left him five properties. He’d multiplied those five by five himself over the last ten years. He wanted to hit thirty properties within the next year. And it was definitely doable.
But his heart project lay with the small herd of specialty cattle. He mostly ran a horse ranch—his first love would always be horses—but organic beef was his number two project on his diversification list.
Travis was big on making lists to guide his plans. Something he and his older brothers all had in common. They were all type-A personalities. Good at planning, good at getting what they wanted.
He smiled, thinking of his brothers. They weren’t just his brothers, they were his best friends.
And he’d just received some seriously good news.
Rafe was coming home. Finally. His older brother had spent several years overseas, first with the military as a volunteer surgeon right after his residency and internships were over, then with a medical aid charity. He’d been in the hells of Djibouti, Africa for the last two years.
Rafe was coming home. Where he belonged.
He’d be taking over the Finley Creek General Hospital as Chief of Medicine.
It had been too long since he, Rafe, and Marcus were together.
It hadn’t been easy having two such successful older brothers. But Travis thought he’d done a damned fine job of keeping up.
Of course, Marcus was always going to be the guy no one could live up to.
Marc was the damned governor of Texas, after all.
Travis was whistling when he stepped outside into the warm early May air.
Warm? Hell, it was sweltering. Typical Texas spring.
He pulled into the McGareth drive just as she opened the trunk of her SUV. When she heard his engine, she looked up. Toward where he carefully maneuvered around the evil truck-killing potholes. He parked and killed the engine. Travis headed over to her, admiring the way God had put the girl together. She was made to perfection, that woman.
“Worthington.”
“McGareth. You know it’s Worthington-Deane, right? Like the governor?”
“I know. But a name like Worthington-Deane?”
“I know. It’s a weird family tradition. You know how it goes.”
“Nope. No family. Sorry.”
Ouch. “Sorry. I have two brothers. Wouldn’t trade them for the world.”
“I have…my friends. Ari and Jilly. They are my family.” She shifted bags around in the back of her trunk, then looked back up at him. “I take it you have the contract?”
“Right here.” Travis watched as she pulled a heavy box from the trunk and struggled with it. An air conditioner? “Hey, give me that.”
“I’ve got it.”
“And I’ve got bigger arm muscles. You get the rest of the bags. Let me look all manly, ok?” He didn’t give her a chance to protest. The damned box was far too heavy for her. It was just a matter of fact.
He carried it up the steps, careful to skirt the trick board. Which she still hadn’t fixed. All it would take would be fifteen minutes. Why hadn’t she…?
Because she probably didn’t know how, did she? Had probably spent all her time with her nose stuck in a medical text like Rafe had, endlessly studying.
So she could diagnose kids with cancer and come home to cry alone. When would she have had the time to learn how to fix a porch?
Travis smiled at her as she opened the door quickly. The same jade green scrubs he’d seen before set off the eyes perfectly. Not to mention the nice female flesh contained inside. And the heart-shaped bottom he’d admired a time or two. Or ten.
He had to take another look at it as she hurried through the door.
He was a healthy male after all.
“You probably should look where you’re going with that, rather than at my butt.”
“But…but your butt…is…well, absolutely perfect, as far as they go. A man has to look.”
“A pig looks.”
“No, honey. A man is going to look. Some are just far subtler about it than others.” He smiled ruefully. “Apparently I’m not very subtle. So where is this thing going?”
“First bedroom on the left. I need something in there during the day. Or I’m going to have hyperthermia by noon.”
“Gotta love this part of Texas. How’s night shift going?”
“Could be better. Had a couple of rough cases lately. But I’m managing.”
“Of course you are. Heard you’re
getting a new boss soon.”
“Already got one. He’s...going to be difficult.” Green eyes narrowed. “How did you hear?”
“The whole weird family name thing? Well, I got Worthington. Rafe got Holden.”
She stopped walking and stared at him. “He’s your brother. The doctor you mentioned.”
“Older by almost three years. Of course, I’m the pretty one of the family. Now, Marcus, he was the charming one, apparently.”
“Marcus Deane. The governor? I... know him. And the kids. Acquaintances, really.”
“Katie and Isaac are the most awesome set of kids in the world. Even if they did fill my favorite boots with ants from Katie’s ant farm.”
She smiled a full out smile. “That sounds like them. So... that makes...Elliot and Chance Marshall...”
“My cousins, of course. I like Elliot. Chance and I... well...he was such a difficult child. He’s not quite a year older than Rafe. Eleven months or so. The two of them fought like wolves for years. Rafe broke Chance’s nose twice, I think.” As he talked he made quick work of opening the air conditioner. When her hands went for the unit he tapped the back of one lightly. “I’ll help. I’m being neighborly, remember? In return, you can make me some cookies or something. Or sew me up next time I do something stupid like cut my hand open on barbed wire. Deal?”
“You’re not going to go away until I let you, are you?”
“Nope. Besides. I think balancing this may be a two-person event.”
It took less than fifteen minutes to have the new unit shooting cold air around her bedroom. Travis finally took a good look around where he was, though he made no comment. He knew she felt vulnerable, having a strange man in her bedroom. Her sanctuary. And it was definitely that. The bedroom was in the best repair of the entire place.
He let her lead him out of the room and down to the kitchen. It needed some serious updating. Still, he could see where she was doing some work on the room. It still had a long way to go. “See you pulled down the old gold wallpaper.”
“That stuff had been here for at least thirty something years. It was time to go.” A fleeting touch of sadness went through her green eyes.
“I heard your family used to own this place.”
“My mother. My sisters and I, until they all died. It’s no secret. A motor vehicle accident while I was at school. I went into foster care and the house was sold after that. But it’s mine now.”
“Good for you. I know how a place can make you feel. Mine used to be our grandfather’s. He left it to me because he knew how much I loved it. Rafe got cash to pay for medical school, because Grandpa wanted him to have his dream and our parents weren’t too receptive. The cousins, including Chance and Elliot—all got shares in his companies. Marc...Marc got a nice house here in Finley Creek and one in Austin. He was already a state senator then. He’s always been annoyingly precocious. How do you know him?”
She hesitated. “You know what happened at the end of last year? With the Marshall Murders?”
Yes. Anne and Elliot Marshall, his aunt and uncle, had been murdered in their home along with two of Travis’ younger cousins. Their killers had just been apprehended in the last five months. “Of course.”
“Jillian is Chance’s wife’s younger sister. My friend, the redhead that was here that day?”
“I see. That was...a rough time back around the holidays.” He’d wanted to help the instant he’d heard Chance was in trouble. But he’d been in Japan at a beef growers’ conference. He’d been waylaid by a nasty car accident that ended up with him flat on his back in traction for a month. Rafe had found him there and had his transfer to the United States taken care of.
Rafe was a good older brother.
Travis planned to keep him.
Her head went back. There was a world of pain in those dark green eyes. “It was. And... the men responsible attacked me one night in the hospital parking garage. And... well...it’s over now. And I’m not going to talk about it.”
“Understood.” He didn’t want to dwell on it, either. The men responsible had almost killed his brother, too. Not to mention his cousins. And they had killed his younger cousins and aunt and uncle—good people who hadn’t deserved what had happened. He had his own anger where those assholes were concerned. “So...do you bake cookies?”
“Don’t bake at all. But...I have a friend who does. She’s Elliot’s wife; have you ever met her?”
“Can’t say that I have. We’ve lost touch over the last ten years.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. You should get back in touch. They are some of the best men I know.”
Just what would it take to have her saying something like that about him?
Travis couldn’t help but wonder.
8
He hadn’t known his brother was in town already. After he left the pretty doc’s, Travis pulled his cell and called the one person who would know just exactly what the middle Deane brother was up to.
Marcus answered on the second ring. “What?”
“Feeling a bit overwhelmed, big brother?”
“They glued the nanny to the couch, Trav. Is this important? And do you know what dissolves gorilla glue?”
“Uh...” While he loved his niece and nephew fiercely, they made a man think twice about reproducing.
“Never mind. Katherine Marie Deane, you sit your butt in that chair until I tell you that you can get up. No, you cannot talk to Uncle Travis right now.”
“Just a quick question. Did you know Rafe was already in town? Already been to the hospital, and I have no idea where he’s staying.”
“He’s at the Barratt, I think. I’m not certain. I’ve tried calling him, but he hasn’t had much time to talk.”
“You in Finley Creek or the Capitol?”
“The Capitol, until next weekend. The morgue if these kids are the death of me.”
“There are only two of them, and together they only weigh like ninety pounds. I think you’ll survive.”
“Just wait until you have kids, Trav. Then I’ll remember this.”
“Anyway, I’m going to go track down a missing brother. Uh...call in reinforcements for those kids, if you have to.” Travis loved his niece and nephew, but they were devils. Everyone knew it. “I met someone you might know recently. A Dr. Lacy McGareth. What can you tell me about her?”
“Pretty blonde, big green eyes?”
“Yes, that’s her.”
“Seems like a nice woman. The kids like her. She used My Little Pony Band-Aids and won Katie over for life last time I saw her at Elliot’s. Katie had fallen.”
“She’s living in the old ranch near mine.”
“She’s very attractive. I know the mayor has asked her out before. She turned him down. At least twice.”
That surprised Travis. Not that the mayor, a single guy around his own age that he’d known for years, had asked McGareth out, but that she’d turned him down. Turner Barratt was wealthy, successful, reasonably good-looking, and knew how to behave himself in public. Why had she turned him down?
She’d turned Travis down, too. There had to be a reason. “You know why?’
“Heard her say she was focused on her career. Understandable. She has a good reputation already. Wunderkind, just like our idiot brother, I think.”
“No surprise.”
“You interested?
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just being neighborly. Listen, I’m going to get off here and go find the brother that’s trying to hide himself from me. Kiss my niece and nephew for me. I actually like them.”
HE FOUND Rafe in a suite of the Barratt Finley Creek. What his brother was doing there was a total mystery, but it was obvious he had been there for a little while.
Travis settled onto the couch and studied his older brother. Not quite three years separated them. Rafe had lost weight, becoming even more of a wall of muscle than he had been. Which was saying a lot.
Rafe had taken some assignments with his medical charity
in Djibouti that were far too tough for Travis to even think about. He’d worried about his brother, even though he knew Rafe could damned well take care of himself. Rafe was the toughest asshole Travis knew.
He was also one of the most compassionate. And the most sensitive, for all that he did rival King Kong in muscle and height.
Rafe was adopted, and that didn’t set well with his brother. It hadn’t with their father, either. Even their mother treated Rafe differently. Marc and Travis never had. Travis had been seven or eight before what being adopted meant had sank in for him.
Rafe was his big brother, who’d often protected him from bullies and from Marcus when he’d torment Travis as kids.
Rafe and Marc had been his heroes when he’d been a kid.
That hadn’t changed much over the years. Oh, they were older, but that was about it. “So... why aren’t you out at my place, enjoying my beer and some of the best steak in the state?”
“Autonomy. And you are too damned far from the hospital.” There was a new scar on his brother’s temple that hadn’t been there before Djibouti. Travis wanted to ask, but didn’t.
“And Marc’s place?”
“Too much family history.” Travis understood—their mother was a frequent visitor to Marcus’ place, and the kids. Rafe avoided her like the plague.
“So, you stay in a hotel owned by Chance’s brother-in-law?”
Surprise hit Rafe’s dark eyes. Rafe had almost black hair, and dark eyes and a complexion that hinted at Native American or Latino ancestry somewhere in the line. And he was built like a damned tank. Travis was only two inches shorter at six-four, but Rafe was a solid wall of muscle. “Is it? I haven’t spoken to anyone from the family since returning to Finley Creek.”
“Why?”
“I’m acclimating. Saw too much damned shit in Africa. I’m not ready for the questions.” His brother’s growl told Travis everything he needed to know at the moment.
If the Dark Wins (Finley Creek Book 4) Page 3
