by Becky McGraw
Ryan jerked the steering wheel when he realized he’d drifted to the shoulder. He shook his head and righted the truck on the road. He was so damned tired, he was going to have to stop soon at a rest stop or hotel if he could find one out here in the boonies. Then in the morning he’d decide if he was heading back the way he came, or going on to Cheyenne.
Maybe he’d try to call Heather again too. Or maybe he’d just bite the bullet and call Zack and fess up. Tell him that he and Twyla…nah, not yet, that would be suicide. But if it came down to it, that’s exactly what he would do, because he’d welcome death if it meant Twyla was safe and back on the right track with her life.
The phone in his pocket rang, and Ryan fished it out at the expense of another shot of pain between his ribs. His breath was short as he pushed the button, and cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear. “Yeah?”
“This is Zack. I’m not going to Cheyenne, I’m heading to Dallas. Twyla’s in the hospital. Mom and Dad are on their way there too.”
Ryan’s heart skidded to a stop, then headlights hit him in the eyes, as he swerved just in time to avoid a head on collision with an SUV. His brain was so stunned, he hadn’t even realized he’d drifted over the center line. “What happened?” he asked breathlessly.
“Hospital didn’t say. They just said they needed someone there as soon as possible. They called me, because she told them I was her next of kin,” Zack explained, his voice sounding as sick as Ryan was feeling. Zack told him which hospital Twyla was in, and Ryan spun the truck in road and fishtailed on loose gravel, before regaining control and slamming his foot down on the accelerator.
“I’m on my way,” Ryan finally managed to say past the lump in his throat. “I’m about four hours out though.” Four fucking hours. He should have headed straight to Dallas when he left the arena and he’d be there by now. And Twyla wouldn’t be in the hospital, probably hurt bad or dead. His heart plummeted to his feet, and emotion built like a powderkeg inside his head.
Please, Lord, don’t let her be dead.
“I’m six out. I’ll meet you there,” Zack said, then Ryan heard him blow his horn impatiently. “If you get there first, call me and let me know what’s going on. I’ll call the folks. They may get there first, since they’re closer.”
Blood pounding in his ears in time with his heart, Ryan disconnected the call, tossed his phone up onto the dash, and shoved the accelerator to the floor. He had to get to Dallas and find out what was going on. Please, Lord, don’t let her be dead. I’ll deal with the rest.
Forty-five minutes later, Ryan’s phone rattled on the dash, and as it rang it danced toward the passenger side of the truck. He almost ran off the road trying to grab it, but finally managed to close his hand over it. By then it had stopped ringing, and his fricking ribs hurt like a bitch, but not worse than his heart. He flipped on the overhead light, saw it was Heather and hit redial. Maybe she knew what was going on, or he hoped she did. On the third ring, she answered.
“Ryan you’ve got to come to Dallas and help me find Twyla.”
“I’m on my way to Dallas. Her brother called and she’s in the hospital.” Ryan mentioned which one, but told her he had no idea what happened.
“I know what happened. Jared Wilkins happened. She left with him from the bar where I had my gig, and I couldn’t stop her.”
Ryan sat up in the seat as worry shot through him, followed very closely by anger. “Who the fuck is Jared Wilkins?”
“Leon’s old business partner, and a customer at the Cowgirl.”
Hearing the disgusted tone in Heather’s voice, Ryan’s stomach rolled. “What kind of business, and who the hell is he?”
“He and Leon owned a strip club together several years ago. Leon cut ties with him because rumor has it he liked to audition the girls personally, before they were hired in his trailer, behind the bar.”
“At the Cowgirl?!?” Ryan shouted, his heart doing weird lunges in his chest now.
“No, no. It was another club. Leon puts up with him coming around the Cowgirl, because he tips well, and drinks a lot. I guess his money is as green as the next guy. Leon told us to be friendly with him, not to piss him off. He said to let Teddy know if he got out of line.” She sighed deeply, and there was a long pause before she continued. “Jared hadn’t been around in a while, so I didn’t think to warn Twyla about him when she started working there. He showed up at my gig tonight, and she left with him, before I could stop her. There’s no telling what the man told her to get her to go with him. He’s a liar and a sleazeball. Ryan, I’m really worried.”
Now that he knew the story. Ryan was more than worried. That sat like a lead weight in the pit of his gut, and unimaginable fear sat on top of it. And then there was anger. His whole body burned with it. The road blurred before Ryan’s eyes he was so mad. Everything seemed to be covered in a red haze. His face felt like it was on fire, and his eyes burned.
“Find out where that bastard is by the time I get there, Heather. I’m three hours out, that should give you plenty of time. And gather up bail money, because I’ll probably need it.”
Ryan disconnected the phone and tried to breathe. Between his anger and his ribs that was nearly impossible. Flashes of that mystery man with his hands on Twyla like his stepfather had put his hands on Ryan’s mother pierced his brain, and that old helpless rage returned.
First he was going to that hospital to check on Twyla, then he was going to find the man who put her there and that sonofabitch was going to be the one in the hospital by morning.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Twyla felt like she had lead weights on her eyes, and it took every ounce of her strength to breathe. Just lifting her chest to inhale was a chore. And the voices, the strange voices she’d been hearing for what seemed like hours now, were getting louder now. Angry voices. Wailing voices. They sounded familiar, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around who those voices belonged to.
She wondered what the heck was happening to her. Her body felt like there was a rubberband stretched tight from her skull to her toes. If it snapped, her insides might shatter into a million pieces. And her damned head hurt. That damned beeping she had been hearing felt like nails being driven into her brain with each ping. She wished someone would cut whatever was causing it off.
“It was a roofie, a date rape drug. She was in and out when she was brought into the ER, so the police haven’t had a chance to talk to her yet. I know you want the person responsible arrested, but we can’t find out who that is until she wakes up. We’ve given her medication to counteract the effects of the drug, but it could take a while for her to come around. Her vitals are stable now with the added help breathing we’ve given her, sir. We’re doing everything we can for your daughter, so please just relax.”
“Was my daughter raped?!?” her daddy’s voice boomed. Twyla had finally placed his voice. Her daddy was there. She had missed him so much. Twyla was so glad he was there, because she really didn’t feel good right now. He would hold her, and take care of her. Help her feel better. If she could just open her eyes, she would ask him to do that.
“No, sir! I told you that,” the man replied, sounding frustrated. “She got away from her attacker and staggered into the bar before she passed out. Someone there brought her here, and it’s a good thing they did. Is there someone coming to be with you, Mr. Taylor? I think you need someone here with you.”
“My sons are on the way, and someone is driving my wife here. She was at a horse show, and too upset to drive herself.”
“Good. I’ve got some things to do right now, but I will be closely monitoring Twyla’s condition. If anything changes, I will let you know right away. The best thing you can do right now, Mr. Taylor, is relax. Take a deep breath, and keep it together so you can help your daughter when she does wake up.”
“Easier said than done, doc. She took off from her brothers, set out on her own, against our wishes, and now look what’s happened. We were already worried, and for g
ood reason.”
As it continued, Twyla could hear the conversation, but it was like it was coming to her from down a long, dark hallway, echoing in her head. Why the hell did she feel so weird? And sick? She felt like she wanted to throw up, but her throat was too numb to even gag.
Between the voices being muffled and that incessant beeping, Twyla gave up on trying to hear the conversation. She faded off into the darkness of the hallway, but as she drifted off she heard a new voice, Heather’s voice, join the two men’s. Heather didn’t know her daddy though, so that couldn’t be right. Peace settled through her, as Twyla heard her daddy’s voice again. He would take care of her. She let herself float off into nothingness when it became too hard to think anymore.
When Ryan finally got to the hospital dawn was breaking. He didn’t park when he reached the Emergency Room entrance parking lot, he pulled right up under the unloading canopy, and barely put his truck in park. He didn’t have time for formality. Twyla was unconscious according to her father, who had called Zack, who had called him to tell him she wasn’t doing well at all about an hour ago. Ryan was damned scared, as he flung open the truck door and sprinted through the double sliding doors.
A nurse looked up and smiled when he stopped at the counter in the ER, breathing hard. It took him a minute to force the words past the lump of fear in his throat. “Please tell me where Twyla Taylor is.”
The nurse typed on her keyboard, stared at the screen a second, then typed again. Her eyes finally shot back to his. “She’s been moved to ICU, sir, but…” She lifted her wrist to look at her watch. “But visiting hours aren’t for another couple of hours. Maybe you could have some coffee in the cafeteria.”
Coffee hell, visiting hours be damned. Ryan was seeing Twyla. Now. Not in a couple of hours. Right this minute. “Thank you,” Ryan said shortly, as he staggered down the corridor, following the signs until he stopped in front of a map of the hospital.
His finger traced the board, until he found the intensive care unit. Fifth floor, and the elevator just happened to be behind him on the other wall. He stabbed the button to call the elevator, then folded his arms over his chest. He was going up to that floor, and they would let him see her, or he would raise the roof on this place. There was no way he was leaving this hospital without seeing Twyla. Because after he did, there was no telling when he’d see her again. He’d probably be in jail, because he was finding the bastard who hurt her, and that man was going to learn to keep his hands off of women.
The elevator opened on the fifth floor and Ryan strode with purpose to the nurse’s station. He slapped his hand down on the counter. “Where’s Twyla Taylor?”
“Visiting isn’t until eight,” the nurse informed without looking up at him.
“I’m her goddamn fiancé’ and I want to see her now,” he ground out. Ryan had thought of that tactic in the elevator. He knew they’d let family in. Well, he was family. As much as her brother was, as her daddy was and her mama. He loved her just as much.
“Don’t curse at me, please,” she said primly, giving him the stink eye like his third grade teacher had done many times. She pointed her ink pen down the hall. “She’s in room five ten, but someone is in with her now. We only allow one—” she started, but Ryan walked down the hall, his eyes fixed on the small placard outside of room five ten.
Ryan pushed through the door, and his eyes immediately landed on Twyla’s pale face. The only color in her face was a purple bruise on her cheek in the shape of four fingers. One of her lifeless arms resting on top of the blanket was in a splint. Anger almost blew off the top of his head as he dragged his eyes to fix on her beautiful mouth, because her lower lip looked to be split. A damned tube separated her lips, and a machine whooshed beside the bed, evidently pumping oxygen into her lungs. Good God, she was on life support. His knees went weak, and a wail worked up from his toes to his throat to cut off his breath.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Carrick Taylor demanded, and Ryan’s eyes swung up to meet those of Twyla’s dad.
“Zack called me and told me Twyla was here. I had to come help.”
His jaw tightened, and Ryan noticed Mr. Taylor’s fists were clenched at his sides. “Well the kind of help you’ve been giving her, we don’t need, son.”
The hatred and anger in Mr. Taylor’s voice stunned him. Ryan staggered back, and steadied himself with a hand on the door. “I love Twyla, sir. I came to find who did this to her and take care of it. He won’t be hurting a woman again, and he definitely won’t be hurting Twyla. Why are you angry at me?”
Mr. Taylor’s lips curled, and he sauntered around the bed to stop in front of Ryan and put his finger in Ryan’s chest. “You love her huh? Is that why you didn’t tell Zack she was dancing at a titty bar, son? That she had gone hog ass wild and was going to clubs to meet strange men?”
He emphasized his words with a hard poke to Ryan’s shoulder, and Ryan’s heart lurched up to his throat. The cat was out of the bag. Evidently Heather had been here and gone. That was the only way he could’ve known. Ryan was going to kill her.
“That is why she’s in this fix. Because you didn’t think enough of us to tell us so we could stop it. If that’s your definition of love, of caring for a family member, you definitely don’t belong in this family.” With a disgusted push against Ryan’s chest, he spun and walked back to Twyla’s bedside.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Taylor,” Ryan croaked, holding back the bile that sautéed his heart in his throat. “I do l-l-ove her. Love y’all. The Crazy Cowgirl is not a strip club, sir, but I was still wrong not telling you.”
Mr. Taylor spun and there were tears in his blue eyes. “Damn straight you were. You made a big mistake, boy. I trusted you, helped you when you were in trouble, and this is how you repay our family?”
“I’m sorry, sir.” Ryan was so damned sorry. He’d not only hurt Twyla, allowed her to be hurt, he’d hurt the man he considered a father. God only knew what Zack would want to do to him when he saw him. Ryan would deserve every damned blow, would probably stand there and let his friend beat the shit out of him, if it would fix this situation. Ryan was damned scared nothing would though. These people he loved like his own hated him now. Nothing short of him ceasing to breathe was going to fix the situation.
And he might just do that when Zack got ahold of him.
Ryan should have told them what Twyla was doing. Mr. Taylor was right, this was all his fault. But he had to try to talk to Twyla, before he left. His eyes fixed on her pale, still face again, and he swallowed down the despair trying to overwhelm him.
“Sir, could I please have a minute with Twy to…to…” His voice cracked, and Ryan sucked in a sharp breath through his burning nose. “To say goodbye to her?”
“I’ll tell her you came by and said goodbye,” he replied gruffly. “If she ever wakes up.”
Ryan couldn’t help the whimper that came from his throat, any more than he could stop the tears that overflowed his lower lids to burn twin trails down his face. “Did they say she might not wake up?” Please God, let her wake up.
“That’s none of your damned business now. Just get your ass back on the circuit and forget we ever existed. Leave us in peace.”
Ryan’s phone rang in his pocket, and his eyes flew to the sign on the wall saying they weren’t allowed to be used inside the room. He fumbled behind him for the handle to the door and pushed it down. “I’ll be back to check on her once things settle down,” he said jerking the door open to stagger into the hallway.
His eyes fell on another no cell phone sign, and he all but ran for the elevator. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he saw it was Zack. He didn’t have the guts to talk to him. There wasn’t anything Zack could say to him that would make him feel worse than he did right now. And honestly, he wasn’t in any shape for the confrontation right now.
One thing he could do for his surrogate family though was get retribution from the man who hurt Twyla. Because he needed to. It wouldn’t even
begin to repair the damage he’d caused though, nothing would. Ryan had fucked up the best thing that ever happened to him for good, but at least that would give him an outlet for the rage burning inside him. And maybe it would give the family some kind of relief from their own rage at him.
Ryan walked out of the sliding doors at the front of the emergency room, and his truck was not there. Could things get any worse for him today? His damned truck had evidently been towed with his wallet inside. He only realized his cell phone was in his hand when it rang. It was probably Zack again, he thought, and went to push the ignore button. Instead, it was Heather, so he pushed talk. “You have totally fucked me,” he growled before she could speak, as he walked over to a bench beside the door to sit down.
“No, that’s Twyla’s job. Be thankful I didn’t tell them that though. They’re pissed, but maybe you can talk your way out of it. If I’d have added that other little tidbit about you sleeping with her, you’d probably be in the hospital with Twyla.”
“She’s in a coma!” Ryan shouted into the phone.
“She’s not in a coma. They have her sedated for the ventilator until the drugs Jared gave her wear off and she can breathe on her own again.”
“Drugs?” Ryan repeated, shooting to his feet.
“He slipped her a roofie.”
“I’m going to kill that bastard,” Ryan growled, taking deep breaths as his heart tried to beat out of his chest. “Where the fuck is he?”
“The police are trying to find him. I talked to them at the hospital and gave them as much information as I could. I haven’t been able to find Leon yet to see if he can tell me more. He’s not usually up until after noon.”
“You know where Leon lives? I’ll wake him up, and he will tell us where to find that slimy friend of his, or I’ll peel his fucking skin off.”