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Trembling and alone at the edge of the arena, she stood in the spot where he’d gone down. She could see the slight hollow where his body had lain, the prints where Train Wreck’s hooves had gouged the dirt, and the sneaker tracks of the bullfighters and medics.
First Jack, then Corey, and now Shane.
She wanted to scream, cry, and fling herself onto the ground. But that wouldn’t do any good. Right now what she needed was to get to Shane. But how? She was surrounded by strangers. She didn’t know the way to the hospital. Even if she did, the cabs would be busy, and she’d left the truck key in her duffel, in the hotel room.
“Come on.” A powerful hand seized her arm from behind. “I’ve got a car. I’ll get you to the hospital.”
For an instant, Lexie thought she’d imagined the deep voice. But as she turned and looked up, she realized that Brock Tolman was propelling her toward the exit.
Keeping a grip on her, he bulldozed his way through the crowd and out the rear doors to the VIP parking lot. The long, black Cadillac was waiting for them. Brock must’ve called ahead, she realized as an attendant opened the passenger door. She slid onto the leather seat, her legs collapsing beneath her.
“Buckle in.” The motor roared to life as Brock turned the key in the ignition. Lexie buckled her safety harness as the big car squealed away from the curb.
Brock’s mouth was a thin, hard line. She should at least thank him, Lexie thought. She’d never said anything to the man that wasn’t hostile. But that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was Shane.
“How much do you know?” she asked.
“Not much more than you do.” Brock floored the gas pedal, barreling through a traffic light as it changed from yellow to red. “He was unconscious when they carried him out to the ambulance. We’ll know more when we get to the hospital.”
“Thank you,” Lexie said.
He didn’t reply. Guided by the car’s GPS, they sped through a blur of city streets.
Parkview Medical Center was a vast complex of connected red-brick buildings. Signs along the road pointed the way to the emergency room.
Brock pulled up to the entrance, braking with a squeal of tires. “Go on in,” he said to Lexie. “Find out as much as you can. I’ll park and meet you inside.”
Lexie dashed out of the car. Her legs were rubbery, but she ran anyway, half stumbling through the automatic double doors. A sense of unreality hung over her, as if she still expected to wake from the nightmare her life, and Shane’s, had become. But she knew better. This wasn’t a dream or a movie. This was real.
A corridor opened into a dreary-looking waiting room with tan walls and fake neon leather seats, arranged in rows. Vending machines and magazine racks lined one wall. A set of heavy double doors closed off the treatment rooms. There were people sitting, some thumbing nervously through tattered magazines as they waited.
Lexie was headed for the reception counter when a familiar figure stepped into sight.
“Casey!” She flung herself into his arms. He was still in his bullfighting gear. As he held her, she could feel the rigid protective vest underneath his shirt. He must’ve ridden in the ambulance with Shane. Otherwise he might have spotted her in the arena.
She drew back and looked up at him. His expression was so grim that he looked like a different person from the affable man she knew. She fumbled with words for questions she was too scared to ask. Never mind, he knew what she wanted to know.
“Shane is awake, Lexie,” he said. “But he has a concussion, and he took a real pounding from that bull. His spine—”
“No—” Her thoughts flew back to another night, another hospital, another broken man and another frantic woman. Now it was Shane’s turn, and hers. Could she be stronger than Rianne?
But who was she to judge? Rianne had been strong enough to make a choice and walk away. Even now, Lexie knew that, whatever had happened, she could never walk away from Shane.
“Will they let me see him?” she asked.
Casey shook his head. “You could ask. But when I had to leave him, he was still in shock. They had him on an IV drip and were trying to get his vitals stabilized. Once they do that, they’ll know more.”
“I’ll wait, for as long as it takes.”
“How long will that be? Is he conscious? Is he even alive?” Brock strode into the waiting room, demanding answers. Lexie turned to face him. “Talk to Casey here. He knows more than I do.”
While the two men talked, she sank onto a chair, struggling to unscramble her thoughts. She’d left Whirlwind in his pen at the arena. She couldn’t just abandon him. Forcing herself to concentrate, she found her phone in her purse and called Aaron’s number. The phone rang once, twice. Please, please pick up . . .
“Hullo?”
At the sound of Aaron’s voice, Lexie breathed a sigh of relief. In a few words, she told him what had happened. “I need you to get back to the arena and check on Whirlwind,” she said. “You can stay in Shane’s hotel room tonight—I’ll call the hotel and make sure they’ll let you in. The key to the rig is in my duffel. Pack my things and take them when you go to load the bull in the morning. You’ll probably need to drive him home alone, so make sure you’re rested. I’ll call Tess and let her know what’s going on. All right?”
“Sure.” Aaron was nothing if not laid-back. “Don’t worry about your bull. I’ll take care of him. But how will you get home?”
