* * *
Cassidy opened her eyes. A bag of fluid hung next to the bed, dripping liquid through a needle into her arm. A heartmonitor beeped a steady rhythm. That, at least, ought to be good news. But her head was banging as if her brain was trying to escape her skull, and her eyelids weighed a thousand pounds. She reached up, touched the bandage on her forehead with a shaky hand.
She was in the hospital. She was injured but still breathing. The final moments of the crash came flooding back. The pickup slamming into the side of the car; the Lamborghini flying through the air, spinning, rolling, landing in a muddy field. She didn’t remember anything after that.
Her mind went to Beau and she tried to imagine what she would say to him. The door was pushed open even as the thought formed, and there he was, so handsome and dear her heart squeezed. His face was lined with worry, his black hair mussed, his gorgeous blue eyes intense.
“Cassidy . . .” He walked toward her, took hold of her hand, and brought it to his lips. “You’re going to be okay, honey. You’ve got a concussion, some bruised ribs, cuts and scratches, but they’ve moved you out of intensive care into a private room. The doctor says you’re going to be all right.”
Her eyes burned. Tears welled that she couldn’t stop. “I ruined your beautiful car. I wrecked the Lamborghini. I’m so sorry, Beau.”
His jaw went iron hard, stretching the narrow scar down the side of his face. “You think I care about the car? I don’t give a fuck about the goddamn car! I can buy ten more Lamborghinis if I want them. All I care about is you, baby. I was so worried.” He swallowed, glanced away. “I’m just so glad you’re going to be okay.” He bent and softly kissed her lips. “You just get well, okay? Don’t you worry for a second about the frigging car.”
She tried to smile, but her lips barely curved. “He was trying to kill me, Beau.”
He nodded, looked grim. “Yeah, I figured that out.”
The pounding in her head worsened. Her eyes felt gritty, the lids heavy. “The first time . . . the hit-and-run? I thought it was an accident. But it . . . wasn’t. We need to tell the . . . police.”
“I’ll talk to Briscoe, bring him up to speed. We’ll figure this out.”
She moistened her lips, which felt dry as cotton. Her mind was just as fuzzy. “I’m not . . . not sure telling them is going to change anything.”
He squeezed her hand. “We can talk about it later.” His worried gaze remained on hers. “The police found your phone. Do you want me to call your dad and your brothers?”
“No . . . please don’t. If I’m going to be okay . . . there’s no need for them to . . . worry.”
“You sure?”
She moved her head in a nod. The pounding increased and she bit back a groan.
He bent and kissed her cheek. “You need to get some sleep. I’ll be right here if you need me.”
She relaxed. Beau was there. She didn’t have to worry. She let her eyelids drift closed. Tomorrow she would feel better, be able to think more clearly. Find a way to keep from getting killed.
As she started to edge into sleep, a final thought occurred. If someone wanted her dead, maybe they wanted Beau dead, too. She had to warn him, tell him before it was too late. But even as the idea took root, it drifted away, her mind sliding into the sweet, pain-free darkness that she had been in before.
* * *
Beau looked up to see Linc and Carly standing in the doorway of Cassidy’s hospital room. He walked over to join them.
“You spending the night?” Linc asked, though it wasn’t really a question.
“I want to be here if she wakes up. The doctor says her memory might be fuzzy for a day or two.”
“She got lucky,” Linc said. “A concussion, a few bruised ribs, some lacerations. Could have been a whole lot worse.”
“I’m glad she was in the Lamborghini. It’s built around a carbon fiber monocoque. You know, like a Formula One race car. The driver’s in a cage so the weaker parts of the car break first. It allows the energy from the crash to disperse.”
“So the rest of the car fails before the cage breaks up.”
“Yeah,” Beau said, his gaze going to the pale form lying in the bed. “The doctor says they want to make sure the concussion isn’t worse than it appears. No swelling on the brain, nothing like that. She might need to stay another day or two, but if she seems okay in the morning, there’s a chance they’ll release her.”
Linc nodded. He clamped a big hand on Beau’s shoulder. “Listen, we need to talk. Carly’s going to stay here while we grab a cup of coffee.”
Beau flicked a last glance at Cassidy, then forced himself to move toward the door. They walked out into the hall and made their way down the corridor to the cafeteria, passing doctors in white coats and nurses in scrubs, hearing the rattle of carts going in and out of hospital rooms. The acrid smell of ammonia burned his nostrils.
As they walked into the cafeteria, weary visitors and family members, some trying to keep their kids under control, wandered among the staff, heading for the food lines or just there for coffee and a break from their worries.
