The Girl Who Wouldn't Stay Dead

“The second way,” Connor said as he dropped the lawyerly persona, “is for me to kick your muscle-bound Norwegian ass.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Wellborn stepped between them. “Gentlemen, let’s take this conversation inside.”

“I’m not leaving Emily,” Connor said as he reached for the latch on the rear door. “This facility isn’t secure, and there’s reason to believe she’s in danger.”

When he yanked open the door, he saw long-limbed Patricia Riggs scrunched into the ambulance. He hated that she was near Emily, close enough to disconnect an IV line or turn off one of the machines. Thank God the paramedic was there, keeping watch.

Patricia pushed a wing of dark brown hair off her face to reveal tears welling in her eyes and streaking down her chiseled cheekbones. “Oh, my God, Connor, I can’t believe this terrible accident happened to our dear, sweet Emily.”

He wasn’t buying the tears. Patricia was a hard-edged businesswoman, a lady shark who knew as much about the investment game as her cousin, Jamison. The only type of tragedy that would cause her to weep was when the Dow dropped four hundred points. Still, he played along, needing to get her out of the ambulance and away from Emily. He reached into the vehicle, grabbed her manicured hand and pulled her toward the open door. “You’re upset, Patricia. Let’s get you a nice latte.”

“Are you patronizing me?”

“Let’s just say that I’m as sincere as your tears.”

“You don’t get it.” She dug in her heels. “I need to be with Emily when we take her home for the last time.”

The last time? Though Emily’s condition was listed as critical, none of the doctors who had seen her thought she was terminal...except for Thorson, Patricia’s boyfriend.

“No more games,” he growled. “Get out of the ambulance.”

“But I—”

“Emily is going to recover.”

“But Eric said—”

“Dr. Thorson isn’t the best person to listen to. I warned him, and I’ll play the same tune for you. When you interfere with Emily’s care, you’re breaking the law.”

“Don’t be a jackass.” Her upper lip curled in a sneer as she came toward him. Her tears had dried, and her dark eyes were as cold as black ice. “We want the best for Emily, even if she did divorce my cousin and tear off a big chunk of the family fortune.”

Connor knew precisely how much Emily had received in settlement. Considering that she’d been entitled to more in the prenup, the amount she’d actually collected shouldn’t have been enough to ruffle Patricia’s feathers. “You’re talking about the house Jamison left her.”

“It’s an estate,” she snapped. “Why the hell would he leave it to her? In the past few years, they hardly ever came to Aspen. After the separation, not at all. My brother, Phillip, had to move in and take care of the property. If anyone should inherit it, it’s Phillip.”

“I remember when Jamison and Emily first got married,” Connor said. “They stayed at the Aspen house whenever they had a spare moment. They even had a name for the place.”

“Jamie’s Getaway,” she muttered. “Appropriate for a bank robber.”

Or for a man who appreciated a place where he felt safe. Connor understood why he’d left the house to her. Jamison had been acknowledging the happier times in their marriage. His sentimental gesture wasn’t enough to make up for his cheating, but it reminded Connor of why he had liked Jamison Riggs. “Here’s the deal, Patricia. I make the medical decisions for Emily. If you or anyone in your family interferes, you will regret it. Jamison was once my friend, but that won’t stop me from going after his family.”

“You’ll sue?”

“Damn straight.”

Patricia stepped out of the ambulance and stalked over to her boyfriend. With her smooth dark hair and his blond curls, they made a handsome pair. Though Connor wanted to hear Wellborn question them, he turned his back and entered the rear of the ambulance. He had to see Emily, to make sure she was all right.

The paramedic was one of the men who had participated in the rescue last night. Connor was relieved to see him. “It’s Adam, right? How come you’re still on duty?”

“I caught a couple of z’s, then came back to pick up an extra shift for a friend.” He lifted a thermal coffee mug to his lips and took a sip. “Your girlfriend is looking good, considering how we found her.”

He’d hooked Emily to IVs and portable machines similar to those in her hospital room, including a cannula that delivered oxygen to her nostrils. Throughout the long night, Connor had observed the digital readouts and knew what the numbers were supposed to show. He had no cause for alarm. “Are her vitals within normal range?”

“You bet. Transferring her into the ambulance went real smooth.”

Still, Connor worried. “The woman who was in here, Patricia, did she get in the way?”

“You bet she did. Man, I was tripping over Riggses. There was Patricia and her bro and an older lady—maybe her mom.”

“Aunt Glenda,” Connor said.

“And a couple of other guys.”

“Minions.” The Riggs brood was a high-maintenance family, requiring many people to manage their affairs. “Did any of them touch Emily?”

“Not on my watch,” Adam said. “What’s got you so jumpy?”

“Just a feeling.”

He was scared—an undeniable tension prickled along his nerve endings and tied a hard knot in his gut. He didn’t like having emotions interfere with his actions. Not only had he grown up tough but Connor was a lawyer who had learned how to manage his behavior. That veneer of self-control was wearing thin. In addition to feeling fear, he was angry. If he’d followed his natural instincts, he would have grabbed Wellborn’s gun and blasted each and every one of the Riggses who got in his way.

No doubt, one of them was responsible for running Emily off the road. If that wasn’t enough, they’d snatched her from her hospital room as soon as his back was turned. He needed to get her away from here.

He tucked a blanket up to her chin and studied her face. Her cheeks glowed with a soft pink, more color than when she’d been indoors. Her full lips parted, and she almost looked like she was smiling. He couldn’t wait to see her smile for real and to hear her laughter. “It’s chilly out here. How can you tell if she gets cold?”

“I can take her temperature or I can do it the old-fashioned way, like your mama did. Feel her forehead. Touch her fingers and toes.”

Connor’s heart had been beating fast and his adrenaline pumping hard. His own temperature was probably elevated, but he did as suggested. Her forehead was smooth and cool. The white bandages protecting her head wound and the EEG sensors contrasted her dark blond hair and her complexion. Oddly, he was reminded of her snowy-white bridal veil. On her wedding day, eight years ago, she’d been so fresh and pretty and young, only twenty-two. He and Jamison had been twenty-five, just getting started with their high-power careers. Jamison had joined his investment brokerage firm as a junior vice president and had already been able to afford to buy a small apartment in Battery Park. Connor had been in Brooklyn, jumping from one law firm to another as he built his client list and his reputation.

While Jamison was furnishing his place, he’d gone to an art gallery. That had been where he met Emily. By sheer luck, he’d found her first.

On their wedding day, Connor had forced himself to celebrate. He was the best man, after all. He had to make a toast and tell the newlyweds that they were going to be happy and their love would last forever—not necessarily a lie but not what he really wanted. He’d felt like a jerk for his interest in his best friend’s bride, but he couldn’t help it. He should have been the man with Emily. When it came time for him to kiss the new bride, he’d chickened out and gave her a peck on the forehead. He’d been terrified that if he kissed her on the lips, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

Sitting beside her in the back of the ambulance, he took her hand, pretending to check if she was cold but hoping he’d feel her squeeze his fingers. He desperately wanted her eyes to open. There had been a few moments in her room where her lashes fluttered. REM sleep was what Darlene had called it. Emily wasn’t moving now. Her face was still and serene, which he told himself was for the best. She wasn’t supposed to wake up. Her brain needed time to heal.

He cleared his throat. “Is it dangerous to move her?”

“Not if I’m in charge.”

Agent Wellborn poked his head into the rear of the ambulance, flashed his credentials to Adam and spoke to Connor. “I’m going to get started talking to these people before they call in their lawyers. Have you made any decisions about Emily’s care?”

“I want to get her away from here. A couple of specialists in Denver have agreed to take her case. The problem is transportation.” He looked toward Adam. “Can you arrange a Flight For Life helicopter?”

“I’ll set it up with my dispatcher,” he said. “Shouldn’t be a problem, but it might take some time, an hour or more.”

Connor gave a quick nod. After this incident with Thorson, he had cause to worry about the personnel assigned to take care of Emily. “I trust you, Adam. Can you come with us on the chopper?”