Texas Tough (22 page)

When Lauren woke the next morning, Sky was gone. She was disappointed but not surprised. Sky had pressing responsibilities on the Rimrock, and he'd missed part of yesterday taking her father to the hospital. She couldn't expect him to slack off his duties again today.

Reaching for her cell on the nightstand, she called the hospital information desk and asked for the nurses' station outside her father's room. Yes, the nurse informed her, the congressman was awake and doing as well as could be expected. He was still on IV fluids and pain medication, but she was welcome to come and see him anytime.

With a sigh of relief, Lauren swung her legs off the bed and headed down the hall to the bathroom. The twinge at the apex of her thighs brought a smile of memory to her face. Last night with Sky had been heaven. But she'd almost had to rope and tie the man to get him to her bed. Tori had been spot on about Sky's stubborn pride. How could she break down that wall and convince him that she
wanted
him—wanted to brew his morning coffee, do his laundry, and have his beautiful blue-eyed babies?

Twenty minutes later she was ready for the drive back to Lubbock. Downstairs she could hear Miguel cleaning up in the kitchen. A glance out the front window confirmed that the press hadn't shown up yet, but she did need to alert the cook to what might happen today.

“Good morning, Miguel.” She strode into the kitchen, glancing around for the car keys, which Sky had left on the counter. She'd already decided to take the big white Cadillac. It was safer and had better air conditioning than her Corvette, which was almost out of gas.

“Good morning,
señorita
.” Miguel was a quiet, easygoing man of sixty, whose cooking skills made up for a general lack of organization. The less he knew, the better, Lauren decided.

“We had an accident yesterday with a gun in the den,” she said. “My father's in the hospital. He's going to be all right, but we'll need you to keep an eye on things here. If a man comes to the back door and says he's been hired to clean up the room, please let him in. But don't go out front, and whatever you do, don't talk to any reporters.”

“Reporters?” He looked puzzled.

“If anybody knocks on the front door or rings the bell, don't open it. And if the phone rings, and it's somebody you don't know, hang up.
Entiendes?
”

He nodded. “You want coffee,
señorita?
”

“Not this morning, thanks. But the rest of that wine is for you to take home and share with your wife.”

Leaving him with a smile on his face, she went outside and climbed into her father's Cadillac, which still reeked of his mysterious girlfriend's perfume. Maybe she had something to do with the trouble he was in. No woman who smelled like that was fit to be trusted. But try telling that to a man.

For the first few miles of highway, she drove with the windows down to freshen the air. But the sun was up by now, the dry summer heat coming in like the blast from a furnace. It was only a matter of time before Lauren had to close the windows and turn on the air conditioner. At least the darkly tinted glass offered some relief from the blinding sun.

By the time she passed the roadside diner, she was getting hungry. It might not hurt to stop and have a good breakfast, she reasoned. If her father needed her at the hospital, she could be in for a long day. Swinging the car around, she pulled up to the diner and went inside. A trucker at a table was reading an open newspaper.

TEXAS CONGRESSMAN TAKES DRUG MONEY. The blaring headlines on the front page screamed the story of her father's disgrace. Forcing herself to look the other way, Lauren found an empty booth, where she ordered coffee and a cheese omelet. While she was waiting, her cell phone rang. It was Sky's friend calling about the cleanup job. By the time the waitress had brought her coffee, she'd given the man directions and agreed on a price. One less worry, at least.

She and her father had never had much of a relationship. But maybe this crisis could be a turning point—a new beginning. If she stood by him against the world, maybe he would warm to her. Maybe he would look on her as a real daughter, not just a tool to be used in his political schemes. And when she moved out, as she still meant to, maybe it would at least be on friendly terms. She'd told herself she didn't give a damn about Garn Prescott. It had taken this horrific event to make her realize how much she cared.

Sky had mentioned growing up fatherless. Lauren had pretty much done the same. But for everyone's sake, she needed to mend things. If nothing else, she owed her future children their grandfather.

If only Sky would understand that she had to try.

Leaving a couple of bills on the table, Lauren picked up her purse and walked out to the car. The inside of the Cadillac was like an oven. Sweating, she cranked up the AC and pulled out of the parking lot. The dark-tinted windows of the car softened the glare of the sun on the parched landscape. Heat shimmered in waves above the road.

She touched the brake pedal as a lizard dashed across the highway ahead of her wheels. How could any living creature survive this heat, let alone set an unprotected foot on the melting black asphalt? At least the hospital would be cool.

Twenty minutes later she parked the car and walked into the hospital's main lobby. “He's in Room 233,” the receptionist told her. “The elevator's just down that hallway. Push the button for the second floor. When you get out, just follow the signs.”

Alone in the elevator, Lauren mulled over what to say to her father. Nothing came to mind. She could only promise herself that whatever words she spoke would be gentle and forgiving.

She stepped out of the elevator and rounded a corner to a scene of controlled chaos. From far down the corridor a monitor shrieked its alarm. Nurses and doctors in scrubs were rushing to the sound. A garbled voice blasted over the intercom. Lauren caught the word
stat
. Some poor soul was in crisis. Here in the hospital, the only helpful thing she could do was stay out of the way and try not to look.

Walking down toward her father's room, she checked the number posted next to each door. Lauren might as well have been invisible. She had just reached Room 233 when the door opened partway and the doctor she'd met yesterday stepped out into the hall. For an instant he looked surprised to see her. Then his features shifted into the impassive mask she'd seen the day before.

“I'm sorry, Miss Prescott,” he said. “Your father just suffered a massive heart attack. We did everything we could, but we couldn't save him. He's gone.”

 

Sky lifted the saddle off the blue roan and patted her damp withers. A sharp little mare, she'd performed well on the morning's cutting maneuvers with the paddock cows. By next week she'd be ready to join Quicksilver and several other colts up on the caprock, working the herd with the cowboys. Sky tried not to get attached to the young horses he trained. But that wasn't easy. They were the closest thing he had to his own children, and he took a parent's pride in everything they accomplished.

To date, the training had gone well enough. But Sky couldn't help worrying. Will was counting on the sale of the colts to shore up Rimrock finances. But if the drought didn't end soon, what rancher would have enough spare cash to pay what they were worth? Sky knew better than to voice his concerns to Will. The boss of the Rimrock had enough trouble on his plate.

Eyes shaded by the brim of his Stetson, he gazed west. The first clouds of the afternoon were drifting over the escarpment—tantalizing white streaks that raised hopes but brought no rain. Yesterday he'd seen traces of virga, the phantom moisture that formed high and evaporated before it reached the ground. Ghost rain, his grandfather had called it. Sky still missed the old man.

So far he'd had no chance to talk with Jasper. The retired foreman had ridden into town with Bernice that morning and wouldn't be back till later in the day. Meanwhile, Sky had plenty of work to do.

He'd just turned the mare loose in the paddock and was splashing his face at the outside tap when his cell phone rang. Seeing Lauren's number, he picked up. Last night had been good between them. The thought of hearing her voice triggered a riffle of anticipation.

“How's it going?” he asked. “You were sleeping like an angel when I left. Did I wear you out?”

“Sky . . .” Her voice quivered and broke. “Oh, Sky!”

“What is it?”

He listened in shock while she told him about her father's fatal heart attack. “It must've happened just as I was going up to his room,” she said. “If I hadn't stopped for breakfast, I might have been there to say good-bye—or even to call for help in time to save him. . . .”

She trailed off. Sky wondered if she was crying. “I'll be right there,” he said. “Wait for me.”

“No, don't come.” She sounded stronger now. “There's nothing you can do here, and I can't leave yet. There's the paperwork, the insurance, the funeral home, and maybe even the police. Nobody was prepared for this to happen.”

“Lauren, I want to be there for you.”

“No.” Her tone was adamant. “You'd just have to wait around. As long as I'm busy, I'll be all right. But if you want, you can meet me at the house when I get home. Walking in the door, knowing he's gone, that'll be when it all comes crashing in. That's when I'll need you.”

“I'll be there. Just tell me when.”

“I'll have to let you know. I could be tied up for hours. Dad's lawyer is here in Lubbock. I called, and he wants to meet with me while I'm here. I need to coordinate the damage control with his campaign staff and do something about planning the funeral.” Sky could hear the strain in her voice. Lauren was walking the ragged edge, but she was holding on. “I'll call you when I'm on my way.” She spoke above voices in the background. “Got to go,” she said, and ended the call.

Dazed by the news, Sky slipped his cell phone back into his pocket. He should have known Lauren wouldn't fall apart. She was a strong woman. He'd seen that yesterday. But the urge to hold her in his arms, console and protect her, was still there. He would respect her wish that he stay away, but right now he wanted nothing more than to be at her side.

As for the ripple effect of Garn Prescott's death . . . It would be as if an earthquake had struck.

On the heels of the drug money scandal, the news would go national, of course. With luck, Prescott's attempted suicide could be kept out of the press. A heart attack was, at least, a respectable way to go.

The election, already in a tailspin, would become even more frenetic. Until the money scandal broke, Garn Prescott had been the front-runner. Now it was anybody's race; and there'd also be a scramble for the temporary appointment to his seat in Congress.

Other issues hit closer to home. As far as Sky knew, Lauren was Prescott's sole heir. The congressman was far from rich. The Prescott Ranch had been drowning in debt when he'd sold out to the syndicate. But he owned—or had owned—the house and his father's collection of vintage cars and had hopefully left behind some good government life insurance.

Lauren would do fine. So why should she settle for a man with a hundred acres and a little money in the bank?

This was no time for questions, Sky told himself. He loved Lauren, and whatever happened, he would be there for her. But loving wasn't the same as having. The sooner he got that reality through his head, the better.

Looking toward the house, he saw Will's red truck pull up to the porch. Will would want to hear about Prescott's death. And knowing Will, his first thought would be for the canyon parcel he'd tried so many times to get back from the Prescotts. Now that Garn was gone, maybe Will could get Lauren to sell it to him.

Preparing to deliver the news, Sky locked the paddock gate and strode across the yard toward the house.

 

Climbing into the Cadillac, Lauren took a moment to close her eyes and rest her forehead against the top of the steering wheel. She'd been running on adrenaline all afternoon. Now that she was alone and finally about to head home, she was exhausted.

Shouldn't she be feeling something? This wasn't her first loss. She'd experienced her mother's death and then Mike's with an outpouring of grief and tears that went on and on. But now all she felt was . . . drained.

Today her first priority had been making sure the gunshot wound wasn't leaked to the press. Her father's longtime attorney, whom she'd met at the Lubbock fund-raiser, had come to the hospital to ensure the staff's discretion and the privacy of the medical record. He'd also put her in touch with a funeral director, a personal friend of his, who knew how to handle such delicate matters. They'd spent more than an hour discussing arrangements for the burial. The congressman would be interred next week with the dignity befitting his station and his long service to his country.

Since the death involved a gunshot wound, it had to be reported to the police. Two detectives had come to the hospital, interviewed Lauren and the doctor, then tested Lauren's hands, as well as her father's, for gunpowder residue. Satisfied there was no foul play, they'd left without demanding an autopsy. Thank heaven for that, at least.

Lauren had gone to his campaign headquarters in person to give the news to his staff, mostly volunteers. Still reeling from the funding scandal, they'd taken the news hard. To show her appreciation for their work, she'd taken them to dinner at a nice steakhouse. She'd even managed to choke down a few bites of her prime rib and drink a few sips of wine.

Now the sun had gone down and Lauren had nothing left of herself to give. In the morning she'd write up a statement for release to the press. But right now all she wanted was to go home and lose herself in Sky's arms.