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The woman behind the desk gave her a friendly smile and typed on her keyboard. “He’s still in the operating room.”
Scarlett sagged. “How long ago was he brought in?”
“Two hours.”
“Where is the operating room?”
The woman gave her instructions to find OR 2, and Scarlett hurried to the bank of elevators. She cursed the slow elevator as it ferried her to the right floor, then she burst out before the doors were completely open. She found the waiting room for OR Two without difficulty and was surprised to see Darren sitting there. His arm was bandaged, as was his forehead. “Darren,” she cried, going to him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just a couple of superficial wounds. I got shot in my arm, and a bullet grazed my head.”
“That’s good,” Scarlett whispered. Clutching her hands together, she asked, “Carter?”
Sighing, Darren took one of her hands in his. “It’s pretty bad.”
“Is he going to die?” Please no. She couldn’t lose him like this. Even if he never wanted her again, it would be bearable to lose him if he lived.
“They don’t know,” Darren said sadly. “Scarlett, the bullet hit him somewhere above the neck. He’s still in surgery.”
“No.” Scarlett shook her head. “This isn’t happening. My father did this,” Scarlett said. “He admitted it. Not in so many words, but he told me Carter would no longer be a problem for him soon.”
“And you came back to warn Carter?” Scarlett nodded, and he squeezed her hand. “I knew he was wrong.”
“What?”
“Your father told Carter that you were working with him to get Carter to return the house and leave Terini alone. Carter believed him more than he should have, and that’s why he’d been such an asshole lately.”
“He should have known I wouldn’t do that.” Scarlett frowned, feeling slightly outraged.
“Terini told him you’d be leaving real soon, and today you left, confirming his worst suspicions,” Darren pointed out.
“He asked me to leave,” Scarlett said defensively. “I was going to go visit my sisters, but only because I wanted to get some reaction from him.”
“Carter is cold at times, and he’s a hard man,” said Darren. “You know that. Look how long he pursued your father. He’s tenacious, but he’s also reasonable. If you talk to him, I’m sure you can make him understand.”
“If I can talk to him,” Scarlett said, feeling cold inside.
Two coffees and over an hour later, a burly doctor in surgical scrubs came into the waiting room. “He survived the surgery,” was his first announcement.
Scarlett sagged against Darren’s shoulder. “Can I see him?”
“Only family is allowed in recovery,” the doctor answered.
“I’m his fiancée.”
The doctor nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Right now, I wouldn’t let anyone in to see him.”
“Why?” Scarlett asked softly.
“Mr. Braxton pulled through the surgery, which is good, obviously. He’s still not awake, and his brain waves aren’t registering very high.”
“What does that mean?” Scarlett asked shrilly.
“He’s in a coma. I don’t know when, or if, he’ll awaken. When he does, he might be mentally impaired, or he might be just fine.”
“Mentally impaired?” Scarlett asked with dread. “Will he know us?”
“I can’t evaluate the extent of brain damage until he awakens. Keep in mind there might be no brain damage. I’ve seen much worse wounds where patients were up and around in a few days with no permanent injuries.”
