Princess of the Plains

by Katherine Rhodes

  Tate grunted. “I know. I’d rather that too. But we promised we’d be there, and since I showed up here actually dressed and this happened, we should probably get going.”

  It was Fatima’s turn to grunt. He was right—they needed to go. It was actually a very important party for the Foundation that Geo’s father ran. And the whole family was very altruistic, to a fault. She knew that she and Lucy were giving a large donation to them as well.

  “Fine. But you have to help me get dressed.”

  “As I recall, there wasn’t much there to get dressed in.”

  Fatima climbed out of the bed and walked to where she’d managed to keep the dress off the floor when Tate had started to pull her out of it. “Texas is weird. It’s January and it’s still warm. I’m used to it being really, really damn cold.” She glanced at her phone. “I mean, it’s currently twenty-nine degrees in Princeton. That’s not that far away from my house.”

  “Well, we’re special down here.”

  Tracing their path back through her room and down the hall a bit, Fatima found her panties and slipped them on, and then worked forward to find her bra. It wasn’t far from the dress. She slipped it on and then shook out the dress. “I was thrilled to find this and to find that it wasn’t a formal dress party. I love the cocktail dresses, but sometimes I want to wear something with less material involved.”

  “I like the ones with less material involved.”

  She turned around and put a hand on her hip. “Mister Verhoven. Get out of the bed and get dressed. We have a party to go to and you’re still naked.”

  “I prefer this.”

  Fatima laughed. “Come on, Tate. We can come back and just use the weekend to be naked. You had a long week in court with those assholes, and I want you to have a good time tonight.”

  He grunted again and sat up. “You’re right. I need a drink. Those Gibbonses are going to try and do something really bad at some point. I was glad to hear that the younger two have a probation for the next six months, and the fine. It was a relief that someone slapped some jail time on those two.”

  “It seems like it was about time.” She held out his underwear for him. “Damn, Tate, you left your socks on again.”

  “I didn’t hear you complaining ten minutes ago.”

  “That’s so old man of you.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “You didn’t think that ten minutes ago either.”

  Trying not to laugh, Fatima found the shirt she had half ripped off him and the pants that she had fully ripped off him—though thankfully not actually ripping them. They were slightly wrinkled, but she handed them to Tate.

  “If anyone asks why they’re wrinkled, just them you dropped them on the floor before we had sex.”

  “Brutal honesty.”

  “Also stops them from asking stupid questions.”

  Tate laughed this time, and the two of them finished dressing and headed out of Fatima’s apartment. Tate stopped at the stairs and swore. “Fatima, I forgot I have to head home later. I have an early morning appointment at the doctor and I don’t want to wake you up. I’ll be over when I’m done…”

  “Do you want to take two cars?”

  He perked up. “That would be perfect. You can even stay later.”

  Fatima smiled. “Okay, good. That’ll work just fine. Don’t wake me up tomorrow morning. You have the key.”

  “I plan on waking you up.”

  Biting her lip to keep from saying anything, she just smiled. “Lead the way. I don’t know where I’m going around here yet, except your place and the Millers’, and sometimes I accidentally find my way to Highlands.”

  Giving her a hard kiss, Tate walked off with his cane tapping along, and climbed into his car, about half a block down. Fatima climbed into her own car and eased out of the parking spot, following Tate.

  She knew the hall wasn’t that far away, but she still wasn’t comfortable with the lay of the land. Tate drove so she could easily keep up with him, and he wound them through Austin toward the art gallery where the party was being thrown.

  A flash of headlights in the rearview disoriented her for a moment, but she blinked it off. A moment later they flashed again, and this time were slapped on to high beam and stayed there. Flipping the mirror to the “night” position, Fatima looked and saw the grill of a Ram van—the infamous panel vans that people joked about being kidnap vans. This one was closing on her bumper fast. She didn’t like it, but it was a two-way street and they were going to have to wait for an intersection or a passing lane of some sort.

  However, the van driver didn’t share her attitude and hung right on her bumper. She kept her speed even and just cruised as best she could with the lights in her face. She didn’t have to deal with it long, though. As soon as the other side of the road was clear, the driver hit the gas and swerved into the other lane. After passing just her, it swerved back on her side, just in front of her car.

  “Oh, come on, you asshole. Really?” Fatima shook her head, easing the car back a bit. They sped up, hanging on the back of Tate’s car. She knew she wasn’t supposed to use the phone while driving—dangerous as hell—but it was mounted on the windshield and she quickly swiped the screen to open the camera. Something about this was bothering herm and she took two pictures of the back of the van, shaking her head as she watched it pull out into the other lane again.

  This time, they didn’t pass Tate.

  The front of the van slammed into the back quarter of Tate’s car at speed, and started pushing. Tate had no chance of keeping it under control, the small compact spinning in front of the van.

  Fatima heard the driver gun the engine and ram into driver’s side of the car and keep their foot on the pedal, pushing the whole mess down the street. The compact was sent forward hard when the van slammed on the brakes, and she watched the car slam into the curb, bring the wheel off the ground on the driver’s side, and tip over onto the roof, only to be just barely caught by a retaining wall and stop dead.

  By the time Tate’s car stopped moving, the van was gone, Fatima had yanked her car to the side of the road, and couldn’t figure out who was screaming—until she realized the sound was following her and her throat hurt. She didn’t stop screaming though, jerking the door open and sprinting for the car that had been viciously overturned.

  “Tate!” She jumped up onto the retaining wall and tried to push the car back over, but it was wedged there—nothing but a heavy hauler was going to get that car to flip back.

  She dove off the wall and ran for the front window, which had shattered and peeled back like banana skin.

  “Tate!”

  He moaned.

  Fatima felt herself go limp with the relief he was alive. “Tate, can you hear me? Can you move?”

  “Leg’s pinned,” he managed to mumble.

  “Just hang on, Tate! Hang on!”

  “Miss, get out from under there!” She felt someone grabbing her ankle, and shimmed back out from under the car. The man was standing there on the phone.

  “Tell them they need heavy rescue! He’s pinned in there upside down!”

  The man on the phone relayed the message just as she heard the first sirens. Sitting down at the edge of the front bumper, she stared into the car. Tate was crushed inside, but the advanced crash tech most cars had was keeping him alive and not letting it crush any further. “Tate. I’m right here. I’m just at the hood. I’ll be with you the whole time.”

  “Love you…”

  Chapter Seven

  “Fatima!”

  Lucy came running up the street to where they were loading Tate into the ambulance.

  Fatima had been pushed back away from him, as they had to put the pressure cast on Tate’s leg so he didn’t bleed out. He was conscious, but barely, and his blood pressure was low. He drifted, but never quite went all the way down into unconsciousness. She was grateful for that, and she was glad that she could hold his hand in moments of quiet around him.

  Plowi
ng through everyone standing around, Lucy managed to cut through and get to Fatima standing at the side of the door. She looked at it and then at the tech. “Saint David’s North Austin, right?”

  The EMT nodded and pulled the door out of her hand. “Leaving now.”

  “Can’t I—” Lucy started.

  Lucy cut her off. “I’ll take you. We’ll be right behind.”

  The techs jumped in the front and they pulled the ambulance forward, the crowd lurching out of the way. Lucy shoved a phone into her hand and pulled her toward her own car, helping her into the passenger seat.

  “Hello? Hello!” Reg’s voice was in her ear.

  “Reg.” Fatima look a moment to realize what was going on. “Tate’s been in an accident. He flipped over and they’re taking him to the hospital now.”

  “Which one?”

  Lucy leaned over and spoke into the phone. “Saint David’s. We’re right behind them.”

  “We’ll meet you there.”

  Lucy hit the end button and tossed the phone in her purse, as well as the one that Fatima had mounted on the dash. “O que aconteceu, Tee?” What happened?

  Fatima launched into Portuguese. “The van flipped him. It came around me and flipped him. They took off and I—My phone!” She dug through Lucy’s purse and pulled it back out. “They were being pushy and I wanted to take a picture of them in case—here! I have a license plate!”

  “Geo knows what’s going on already. Forward that to him and he’ll get it to the police. What happened to the car? Why did they have an air cast on Tate’s leg?”

  “He was pinned. They had to use the hydraulic clamps to get him out. Jaws of Life, whatever they’re called. The car spun, hit the curb, and flipped, and it pinned him inside. They had the heavy equipment there as fast as they could, and they flipped him back over. The medic saw what a disaster it was and they had to get the cast on him. They had to. He would have bled out instantly. I could only get near him once in a while. He was so pale and bloody…”

  “They got him out. They’re on the way.” Lucy grabbed her sister’s hand. “The van went around you?”

  “It did.”

  Lucy let the silence drag on a moment before finally letting out a sigh. “They were after him. They targeted him.”

  Fatima nodded. “They were after him. He’s a nerd, though! He wouldn’t hurt a fly! He spends his free time coding and working on silly projects for ridiculous things. He’s IT. The whole time we were on the ATVs in January, he was working on a project for his boss. It’s…oh, God.”

  Lucy eyes went wide. “You don’t think they would?”

  “Why wouldn’t they? Martin and Chuck got probation! God, Lucia, they targeted Tate because he stood up to them and made them accountable.” Grabbing her sister’s hand, she held it tight. “This isn’t going unpunished. Geo will find out who was driving that van and they’ll pay.”

  “I just want Tate to be all right.”

  * * *

  Reg and Deirdre were already in the waiting room as Fatima and Lucy ran in. They ran straight to them and Reg wrapped Fatima in a big hug. “It’s okay, Tee. It’s okay. He’s stable and they can save the leg.”

  “They attacked him, Reg!” Her voice wavered with tears. “They did this on purpose! I—”

  “They have them, Tee. They caught the van. Once you sent that picture to Geo, he got the right people on it.” He looked at Lucy standing there. “Devlin was driving. Martin was in the passenger seat. The other two have solid alibis. I don’t think Martin is going to see the light of day for a long time.”

  “They’ll come after you! After Geo—”

  “Do you know the depth of stupidity it would take to come after a law enforcement officer?” Deirdre raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re not thinking straight, Tee. Take a deep breath, sit, get a drink. They have him in the operating room and we’re going to be here a while. Lucy?”

  “Of course.” Lucy took her sister and sat her down on a chair, handing her cup of water.

  Fatima hated hospitals. She hated them more and more every time she had to visit one. And this time, she really despised it. It was hours before anyone aside from a nurse could come and talk to them about what was going on. When the doctor finally emerged, nearly seven hours later, he look beat up and completely exhausted.

  Reg and Fatima were the first on their feet, and he motioned them back down. He nodded at Deirdre. “Doctor Verhoven. You’re looking good. Glad you’re here with them.”

  “Thank you, Doctor Garrison. My stepson?”

  “We’ve saved the leg. How much use of it he’s going to have remains to be seen. But it’s a good shot that he will again. He’ll be immobilized for two weeks, and then we’ll get a proper cast on him. Once he has the cast, we can talk about physical therapy.” He sighed. “I’m confident that the leg will heal. I’m also confident that this will not be easy and he’ll have a lot of pain involved with his recovery.”

  “We’ll deal with that as it comes,” Reg said. “Is he going to recovery now?”

  “He’ll be there in a few minutes. They were just cleaning and closing him up. He’ll be very groggy for a few hours. But as soon as they have him in a room, we’ll take you back.”

  “Thank you, doctor.” Reg offer his hand and the doctor shook it.

  It was another forty-five minutes before they were allowed back. The sight that greeted them was its own horror. Tate’s leg was lifted and pinned above him at a specific angle, wrapped up in gauze from toes to thigh right under the hospital gown. There were more bandages under the gauze the further up his leg it went. He was bruised, though not bloody. There was a neat row of stitches above his eye, and a cast on his left arm, just at the wrist.

  Though he was sound asleep, his face was twisted in pain. Fatima couldn’t stand the look. “Did he get anything for pain? He looks like he’s in real pain.”

  Deirdre already had the chart in her hand and was reading through it. “He’s due a morphine drip in a few minutes. I’ll make sure that happens.”

  “Is there anything else you can give him?” Caldwell was standing in the door.

  It took Fatima all she had to keep from running into his arms. Lucy was the only one who saw the motions.

  “Why would you want to avoid the morphine? At this stage it’s about the best and most effective thing he can have,” Lucy said.

  “Our mother died from heroin overdose. We have always tried to avoid taking it. It’s not an addiction thing, it’s an avoidance thing.”

  “At this point,” Deirdre said, all doctor, “it’s the best thing we can do. He’s in a lot of pain, according to the injuries recorded in the chart. It’s not pretty. But we’ll work with the doctor to make sure that as soon as we can, we move him off the morphine. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Caldwell said, looking at his father. “Dad?”

  “Right, let me give you a rundown of the night.” Reg nodded at the women in the room and moved into the hallway.

  Deirdre stared down at Tate in the bed. “When I first met these two boys, I was in the middle of a terrible battle with endometriosis. I thought these two—Tate and Caldwell—were the only sons I would ever have. They jumped into my heart in a way I didn’t know could happen. I knew I wouldn’t ever be their real mother, but I think I did the best I could with them. They had a rough start and I wanted to do nothing more than help them on their way to being good men.

  “They are,” Fatima said, smiling at her.

  “Well, I’ll take that compliment since he found himself such a good woman.”

  Fatima sat in the chair, hard. She was suddenly overwhelmed by everything that had happened in the past day. “God, they could have killed him.”

  “They didn’t.” Lucy sat down next to her. “They didn’t. He’s still here.”

  There was another knock on the door, and Geo was standing there with a man in a suit. Fatima stood back up and the two men walked into the room.

  “Fatima, Luc
y, Doctor Verhoven, this is Detective Hart from the Austin PD. He’s going to be handling Tate’s accident. Detective, Fatima da Silva is the one who snapped the picture of the van’s plate before the crash.”

  “Good thinking, Miss da Silva. Even though you’re not supposed to use the phone while driving.”

  “I know, but something felt wrong.”

  The detective flipped open a notebook and a pen. “How did you know that this van was suspicious?”

  “It felt wrong. He was right up on my bumper and was trying to pass me with too much enthusiasm. I didn’t like it.”

  Scribbling on the pad, he nodded. “And you were in separate cars why?”

  “He had an appointment tomorrow—today—and it was going to be easier for him to get there. Wait, why are you asking me this?”

  “Routine. The suspects are insinuating that you committed the crime, but they seem to have forgotten things like evidence and time and witnesses. Just had to clear that out of the notes. Now, if you don’t mind coming with me, I’d like to walk through the timeline and get this all sorted. The suspects are being arraigned later today and I want to have something to come back at them with to keep them locked up, or at least on bail.”

  * * *

  There was nothing but pain on the entire left side of his body.

  It rippled, and tripped and cramped and shot and wandered and pulled and pushed through every single muscle over there. He retreated in his head, away from the pain. It was a coping technique that he had taught himself for the worst of the arthritis, but if he continued to hide away from this pain, he might not ever come up for air.

  Time passed—he wasn’t sure how much. But it did, and he slowly walked his mid back over to the pain and tried to push through it. It was sheer agony, and he forced his eyes open against it. He screamed—or tried to. It came out a moan and a grunt, nothing like what he was trying to convey.

  There were two faces in his field of view, immediately—Deirdre and Fatima, both peering at him cautiously. He managed to get his lips moving, and immediately Fatima had a glass of water with a straw in it. Bringing it to his lips, he managed a few sips and let it trickle down his throat. He couldn’t imagine swallowing against all that pain.