01 Do You Believe in Magic - The Children of Merlin (6 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

“
Got him,” Jason reported
through his cell from the parking lot of a truck stop. “Piece of
cake.” And a relief. The old woman would have no reason to make
good on her threat now.

“
How?” The old woman’s voice
was an eager rasp.

“
Semi loaded with hay. He
never saw it coming. Haven’t had that much fun in a while.”

“
No witnesses?”

“
None,” he lied. He shouldn’t
have left the girl alive. He should have confirmed that Tremaine
was dead. But if he’d gone back, he’d have had to kill her, and
then Tremaine’s death might end up looking suspicious. Strictly
against the old woman’s orders. All that girl in the beat-up truck
could have done was find the body. It was bad luck he’d met
Tremaine right when he was passing her old pickup and horse
trailer.

He shifted uneasily. That
might not be his only bad luck. Why had the engine on his semi cut
out right at the last minute? Crazy. It made him lose his
concentration. The cloaking failed, so the cycle could swerve.
Doesn’t matter,
he told himself. No one on a bike could survive
being clipped by a semi. “If I don’t see a news report in a couple
of days, I’ll go out and confirm the kill.” The girl might not have
had the guts to even get out of her truck in the middle of nowhere
at night. The body might still be lying there.

“
Good work, Jason. Now find
another one.”

Damn. He’d done his turn on
Tremaine duty. “Hardwick....”

“
Hardwick is looking for the
Talismans. That’s even more important than your work.”

“
Yeah.” These Talisman deals
were probably just myth. Lord, she wanted them though. He clicked
the phone shut. The old woman was happy with him, at least for the
moment. That was good. And Tremaine
was
dead. If he wasn’t
dead, and the old woman found out....

Jason’s mind skittered over
the image of the face that still haunted his dreams. The face
looked just as it had when he was fifteen, though by now it had
long ago rotted into dust. A ripple of terror made his stomach
clench.
Damn you, you bastard. I got you.
He shoved the
vision away.
“You’re dead,”
he whispered, wiping his
forehead where it had suddenly beaded with sweat. Once Jason had
thought that was enough. But it wasn’t. The old woman had proved it
wasn’t.

Jason might be the second-baddest ass he
knew, but he had still best keep the old woman happy. Because she
was even badder than he was. And he just had made her happy. So it
was okay. How long could it be until she kicked the bucket? Then
he’d show the others in the Clan; Prentice, Hardwick, just who was
boss.

*****

Maggie woke up with a start in
the glare of the Washoe Medical Center waiting room. The wall clock
said five a.m. She’d been asleep for an hour.

“Miss?” A young woman dressed in
those aqua-ish scrubs peered at her.

“Yeah?” Maggie rubbed her eyes.
She felt like she’d been kicked by a horse. Or several.

“Mr. Tremaine is just waking up
after surgery. He’s going to be fine.”

Maggie sat up. “Oh, good. He’ll
walk again and all?”

The young woman sighed. “Full
recovery if he’s patient and does the work. Physical therapy is a
slow miracle.” She shrugged. “He asked for you.”

“He did?” That sent something
very dangerous snaking around in her brain.

“He probably wants to thank you
before you leave.”

Leave. Yeah. Two ships passing
in the night. “Oh, right.”

“He might not be very coherent.
He’s still pretty groggy.” The perky blond spun on her heel and
motioned Maggie to follow.

Maggie got up slowly. This day
seemed to have gone on forever. Was it just last night she’d driven
straight through from Cheyenne? And whatever happened in the cab of
her truck getting Tris into Reno had really taken it out of her.
She’d been barely coherent herself when she gave her account of the
hit and run to the county sheriff and named the mile marker nearest
to the wreck. The officer had asked her to repeat the whole thing
twice. It did sound strange that Tris didn’t brake and the truck
didn’t stop to help. She left out the fact that the truck had
disappeared for a while and both the big rig’s engine and the
bike’s engine seemed to cut out simultaneously at the last minute.
That just sounded crazy. She’d never dare even mention that she
thought she’d seen it reappear out of thin air. Had she’d imagined
all of it?

Maggie’s boots felt like lead,
tromping on linoleum gleaming with wax that wound into the bowels
of the hospital. They’d checked out her sternum. It was just
bruised. She hadn’t wanted to let them even do that, knowing what
ERs cost, but they insisted and she was in no shape to resist. Tris
turned out to have insurance, according to his wallet. Lucky him.
He’d need it. And Tris was short for Tristram. Nice name.

The nurse or doctor, or whatever
she was, pushed open a door marked “Recovery.” At five a.m. only
one bed was filled.

He was disheveled. The dark of
his stubble and his blackening scabs contrasted starkly with his
pale skin. He had on a thin hospital gown with tiny print on it.
The sleeves didn’t cover the powerful biceps of the arm without the
sling. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he had a tattoo over
his upper arm, just visible at the edge the gown. No skulls or
knives dripping blood. Not even a naked woman. It was an intricate
blue and green design like knots or something. His leg was raised
in a contraption that looked like a torture device, all pulleys and
wire. Bandages bound his calf under the Velcro straps of the
plastic brace.

He rolled his head on the pillow
toward her at their approach. A ghost of a smile touched his lips.
His eyes were soft as they recognized her. That was a new look for
him. And he was so Goddamned handsome, even with scabs all over his
face, her heart skipped a beat.
Down, girl. Just because you
were thrown together by extraordinary circumstances doesn’t mean
the laws of the universe don’t still apply. He’ll get off the drugs
any minute and wake up to reality.

“So, what’re the damages?” she
asked, keeping her voice casual.

“Bike is probably totaled,” he
mumbled. His lips were swollen and cut.

“I meant you.”

“Doc here says she fixed me up.”
His voice was a little slurred.

So the girl was the surgeon.
She’d gotten to ride in the men’s division. Good for her. “Are you
going to cough up what’s wrong with you or not?” Maggie folded her
arms across her chest.

“I’ll tell you,” the young
doctor said, picking up the chart hanging at the foot of the
bed.

“Uh, patient privacy?” Tris
glowered at the doctor. Even Maggie knew that the doc telling her
Tris’s personal medical information was strictly against
regulations these days.

“You named her as the person who
could make medical decisions for you in case you were
incapacitated.” She looked up at Tris. “You lost all right to
privacy where she’s concerned the minute you signed your John Henry
on the admission forms.”

He’d named her as responsible
for his medical decisions? Maggie blinked at him. He didn’t even
know her last name, did he?

Tris set his mouth in
disgust.

“Okay, let’s start at the top,”
the doctor continued. “Concussion—bad one. Dislocated shoulder. We
popped it back in, screwed down some torn ligaments. Broken
collarbone. Ribs had been recently broken. A couple of the
callouses joining the breaks popped, but they’ll adhere again
pretty quickly.” She looked up at Tris. “You were lucky there.
Displaced ribs hurt like hell. But you know that.”

He had healing ribs? From
what?

“And then of course we’ve got
the compound fracture of the tibia. You’re going to light up
airport metal detectors like a Christmas tree we put so many pins
and screws and rods in your leg. But I frankly don’t see how you
came out of a run-in with a semi so lightly. Lucky doesn’t begin to
cover it. You can make a full recovery,
if
you take care of
yourself.”

“How long will I be here?” he
asked.

“Four days. Five maybe. As soon
as we get over the danger of blood clots and remove the morphine
drip tube in your shoulder, get you well started on antibiotics.
Have you got a place to go, Mr. Tremaine? You’ll need someone to be
responsible for you when you first get out. Your driver’s license
has a home address in LA. But no flying for you for a while. All
that sitting and change of altitude would give you blood clots for
sure. And since that’s your right leg, you aren’t going to
drive—uh-uh!” The doc wagged a finger at him. “Don’t tell me you
weren’t thinking about driving.”

Tris squinted, thinking. It
looked like a tough job. “My family will come get me.”

He’s lying
, Maggie
thought. He wouldn’t ask his family for anything. Maggie could just
imagine herself asking Elroy to come to LA and pick her up. Not
happening.

“You got a plan, then,” the doc
said, putting the chart back on its hook. “You’ll have to keep your
leg elevated, so make sure your family brings a nice roomy SUV or
something.” The doctor waved cheerily as she left the room.
“Toodles. I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about, being as she
saved your life and all.” The door slammed shut.

Maggie stared at the end of the
bed, feeling awkward. “I didn’t save your life.”

“I’d still be out there if you
hadn’t come back for me.” His voice faded and his eyes drooped
closed.

She should leave. But since this
was the last time she’d see him, she wanted to look her fill. Well,
more than look, but that was sick so she shoved her hands in her
pockets. She was about to go when he opened his eyes again, looking
a little more alert.

“I must have drifted off.”

“I should go.”

“You don’t have to do that.” His
green eyes were serious, if a little vague.

Did … did he like having her
here? Maybe because she calmed him. That’s all he wanted from her.
Did he even remember her laying her hand on his thigh? Because she
sure remembered how it made her feel. Like she’d come home.
What
exactly happened there? Dangerous to imagine anything happened. You
might have felt something, but he sure didn’t. If he even
remembered it.
“Uh, I gotta go pick up the mustangs and get
them back to Elroy’s.”

His brows drew together. “Who’s
Elroy?”

Million-dollar question. And one
she never liked to answer. “Father. Owns a spread east of Austin.”
Actually the bank owned most of it.

“Oh. Well, I shouldn’t keep you.
Just wanted to thank you and all.”

“It was nothing.” She didn’t
wait for him to sa it wasn’t nothing. She turned away and made for
the door.

“Hey, Maggie O’Brian.”

She jerked around as though she
were on strings. How did he know her name?

“You … you ever get to Reno?
Like in the next four days?”

Maggie swallowed. “I don’t
know....”

“Well … I mean if you happen to
be in the neighborhood.…”

“Sure. Sure.” She practically ran from
the room.

*****

How stupid could he be? His
thoughts were foggy, indistinct. Like Reno was in the neighborhood
of Austin. Stupid and pathetic. He’d practically begged her to
visit him.

He’d never see her again.

He didn’t remember the accident.
But he remembered waiting almost all night for her to come pick up
her horses before he gave up and headed back on Highway 50 toward
Austin. He remembered parts of the ride into Reno. It hadn’t been
as bad as he’d thought. It was like he knew the pain was there, but
it didn’t matter very much.
She
mattered. The feel of her
hand on his thigh. Her telling him why she rode bulls and singing
to him. It felt so … right. The ER could have been four hundred
miles away instead of a hundred, for all he cared. Now he knew her
father owned land east of Austin. That was good. He tried to hold
on to that thought.

But the fog was getting worse.
He couldn’t quite think….

Two orderlies came in and announced
cheerfully that they were here to take him down to his room. He
tried to say something. He meant it to be jaunty. But all he could
do was blink slowly, and then more slowly … and then all he could
see was the fog.

*****

Maggie pulled her rig into a
turnout as the sun rose, too tired to chance driving. It killed her
to have missed her commitment to pick up the horses last night. But
things got in the way. Like a semi that hadn’t even hit the brakes
after almost killing Tristram Tremaine. She’d just catch a nap
until she was fresh enough to load her horses and get back to
Elroy’s place.

Behind her closed eyelids, all
she could see were green eyes. And dark hair, and his leg.
Don’t
think about that.
Why had he come out to the Indian River
Ranch? It had to be because of her. He had no other connection to
horses. Why bother? Any woman in Nevada under the age of fifty
would be more his type.

A slight exaggeration. But only
slight.

The image of his dusty bike
parked in front of the diner drifted through her mind. That bike
had been around, as though he didn’t have a steady job. Still, he
had insurance. She puzzled on that. Leather jacket had once been
expensive. Any bike that big and badass couldn’t be cheap. Maybe it
was all he had in the world. Maybe he was a drifter with nothing
better to do than to stop by a mustang sale.
Maybe
he wanted
a woman who could handle bad-boy stallions.

She snorted.
In your dreams,
Maggie.

But she couldn’t stop thinking
about him. His family situation was probably as bad as hers. There
was no way he’d be calling his family to pick him up. And no one
would be visiting him in the hospital to see how he was doing
either. Hard, to be alone and sick.