Tavern.”
“Pete’s place?” Flashing images of her sprawled out on the cold, wet pavement, of her body battered and broken in the alley behind that godforsaken dump, had him forcibly swallowing back a lump of bile rising in his throat. “How badly is she hurt?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know the details. Dr. Seaver’s in the trauma room with her now.”
“I’m on my way,” he bit out. “You tell Tom not to move an inch. I want a full report the second I get there. Understood?”
“Yes sir. I’ll let him know, sir.”
He slammed the phone into its cradle and reached for his jeans. Jesus, Laine. Hard-headed, stubborn Laine. He’d warned her so many times against stopping off at that damn bar if she worked late. Pete’s was known for its rowdy crowd, especially closer to closing time. Lord only knew what kind of trouble she could’ve gotten herself into at this time of night.
With his heart still racing the pace of a marathon runner, he dressed, grabbed his gun belt, tossed his Stetson on top of his head and bolted for the door. He made the twenty-five-minute drive from his little ranch at the edge of town to the hospital in less than fifteen. After screeching to a halt in front of the ER doors, he scrambled from the driver’s seat of his custom Ford Super-Duty only to stop mid-stride once he cornered the front bumper.
Jesus, Tye, get a fucking grip. Nothing good would come from him running in there like some kind of lunatic. Tom had Elena call him not because of what Laine meant to him—hell, no one knew about that—but because of the position she held. When the Public Defender gets attacked, people sure as shit were going to sit up and take notice. He’d have to dig deep and tamp down any sort of outward emotion where his personal feelings for her came into play. Concern was one thing, but it wouldn’t do to let this aching panic inside his chest get the better of him. Not now.
One deep breath, and then another, and he regrouped enough to calmly walk through the automatic doors and wind his way past all the empty exam rooms to find the ER’s nurses’ station.
“Elena?”
The dark-haired nurse behind the desk paused mid-munch on a handful of microwave popcorn and lifted her chin to indicate behind him.
“Sheriff?”
He spun at the sound of his title, toward a pretty redhead wearing dark blue scrubs. She stood a few feet away with her foot hitched on the lower shelf of a computer cart. As she stepped around it, the serious strain on her face wrenched his gut even further.
“Where is she?” He held his voice steady instead of barking out the question, which surprised even himself.
“This way,” she answered.
“ How is she?”
“Let me show you to her room, Sheriff, then I’ll get Dr. Seaver for you. He’ll be able to answer any questions you may have.”
As she led him to Laine’s room, he passed by Deputy Tom Wyland standing sentry outside the exam room door. A sheriff couldn’t ask for a more dedicated deputy. Tom, along with his partner Chuck Sayers, fit that bill and then some, and Tye was damn glad they were on his side. Even so, there was no room for niceties tonight.
“Don’t go anywhere. I want the full story, down to the tiniest detail, when I come back out of there.”
“Sir,” Tom said with a nod.
Elena yanked back the floral curtain covering the doorway of the glass-walled room with a quick, practiced tug. His heart fell to his feet as he followed her into the cramped space.
“We have her stabilized for now,” she said, “Her vitals are good, but she’s been drifting in and out of consciousness. So far, she hasn’t been able to say anything more coherent than a few mumbled words.”
The tiny room was dark, so Elena flipped the light switch behind the bed. More of the sickening fluorescent glow spread across the walls and the bed as a strong medicinal stench assaulted his nostrils.
“I’ll just run and get Dr. Seaver for you.”
He nodded to her and
“Pete’s place?” Flashing images of her sprawled out on the cold, wet pavement, of her body battered and broken in the alley behind that godforsaken dump, had him forcibly swallowing back a lump of bile rising in his throat. “How badly is she hurt?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know the details. Dr. Seaver’s in the trauma room with her now.”
“I’m on my way,” he bit out. “You tell Tom not to move an inch. I want a full report the second I get there. Understood?”
“Yes sir. I’ll let him know, sir.”
He slammed the phone into its cradle and reached for his jeans. Jesus, Laine. Hard-headed, stubborn Laine. He’d warned her so many times against stopping off at that damn bar if she worked late. Pete’s was known for its rowdy crowd, especially closer to closing time. Lord only knew what kind of trouble she could’ve gotten herself into at this time of night.
With his heart still racing the pace of a marathon runner, he dressed, grabbed his gun belt, tossed his Stetson on top of his head and bolted for the door. He made the twenty-five-minute drive from his little ranch at the edge of town to the hospital in less than fifteen. After screeching to a halt in front of the ER doors, he scrambled from the driver’s seat of his custom Ford Super-Duty only to stop mid-stride once he cornered the front bumper.
Jesus, Tye, get a fucking grip. Nothing good would come from him running in there like some kind of lunatic. Tom had Elena call him not because of what Laine meant to him—hell, no one knew about that—but because of the position she held. When the Public Defender gets attacked, people sure as shit were going to sit up and take notice. He’d have to dig deep and tamp down any sort of outward emotion where his personal feelings for her came into play. Concern was one thing, but it wouldn’t do to let this aching panic inside his chest get the better of him. Not now.
One deep breath, and then another, and he regrouped enough to calmly walk through the automatic doors and wind his way past all the empty exam rooms to find the ER’s nurses’ station.
“Elena?”
The dark-haired nurse behind the desk paused mid-munch on a handful of microwave popcorn and lifted her chin to indicate behind him.
“Sheriff?”
He spun at the sound of his title, toward a pretty redhead wearing dark blue scrubs. She stood a few feet away with her foot hitched on the lower shelf of a computer cart. As she stepped around it, the serious strain on her face wrenched his gut even further.
“Where is she?” He held his voice steady instead of barking out the question, which surprised even himself.
“This way,” she answered.
“ How is she?”
“Let me show you to her room, Sheriff, then I’ll get Dr. Seaver for you. He’ll be able to answer any questions you may have.”
As she led him to Laine’s room, he passed by Deputy Tom Wyland standing sentry outside the exam room door. A sheriff couldn’t ask for a more dedicated deputy. Tom, along with his partner Chuck Sayers, fit that bill and then some, and Tye was damn glad they were on his side. Even so, there was no room for niceties tonight.
“Don’t go anywhere. I want the full story, down to the tiniest detail, when I come back out of there.”
“Sir,” Tom said with a nod.
Elena yanked back the floral curtain covering the doorway of the glass-walled room with a quick, practiced tug. His heart fell to his feet as he followed her into the cramped space.
“We have her stabilized for now,” she said, “Her vitals are good, but she’s been drifting in and out of consciousness. So far, she hasn’t been able to say anything more coherent than a few mumbled words.”
The tiny room was dark, so Elena flipped the light switch behind the bed. More of the sickening fluorescent glow spread across the walls and the bed as a strong medicinal stench assaulted his nostrils.
“I’ll just run and get Dr. Seaver for you.”
He nodded to her and
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