Читать книгу The Mccaffertys: Matt - Lisa Jackson - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

Somewhere a phone was ringing, jangling, intrusive, but the woman, naked to the waist, her uniform tossed over the back of a chair in the unfamiliar room, didn’t seem to notice.

Brring!

She walked forward, tossed her long red hair over her shoulder and flashed him a naughty smile. With a wink, she said, “So come on, cowboy, show me what you’re made of.” Her dark eyes sparked with a wicked, teasing fire and her lips were full, wet and oh so kissable.

Aching, he reached forward to pull her close and lose himself in her.

Brring!

Matt’s eyes flew open. He’d been dreaming. About Kelly Dillinger, and he was sporting one helluva proof of arousal. He blinked, the image disappearing into the shadows of the night. Down the hallways of the old ranch house, the phone blasted again. Groggily, he glanced at the digital display of his clock. Nearly twelve. Meaning whoever was calling wasn’t waking up the McCaffertys with good news.

Randi. His heart nearly stopped. Slapping on the light, he didn’t wait for his eyes to adjust but yanked on the pair of jeans he’d tossed over the foot of the bed and threw a sweatshirt over his head. He was striding barefoot down the hall when the door to the master suite was flung open, and Thorne, wearing boxer shorts, his cast and a robe he hadn’t bothered to cinch, was hobbling toward the stairs.

“That was Nicole from the hospital. Someone tried to kill Randi,” he said tersely.

“What?”

“Someone put something into her damned IV.”

“Hell!” Matt broke out in a cold sweat. His mind began running in circles. “Is she okay?”

“Far as anyone can tell,” Thorne said, frowning darkly. By this time they were both working their way toward the center staircase.

“How could that happen?”

“No one’s sure yet. It’s pandemonium down there. Her heart stopped beating. They had to use paddles.”

“Son of a bitch!”

“My thoughts exactly.” Thorne stopped at the door to Slade’s room and pounded hard, then shoved it open to find their youngest brother half dressed, his hair sticking up at odd angles, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of a flannel shirt.

“I heard the phone ring. Figured it was bad news,” Slade muttered.

“You figured right.” Thorne filled him in quickly and the youngest McCafferty’s expression clouded over.

“For the love of Mike, we told them this would happen! The police are out to lunch, for God’s sake!” He swung a fist in the air. “Who’s doing this?”

“And why?” Thorne’s gray eyes narrowed with cold fury.

“Let’s go.” Slade stuffed his shirttails into his jeans.

“We all can’t go to the hospital,” Thorne pointed out as Slade swore a blue streak and reached for a pair of hiking boots. “Someone’s got to stay with J.R. and the girls.”

“That’s your job,” Matt decided. “You’re gonna be stepfather to the twins and you’re not a helluva lot of use, anyway, what with the bad leg.”

“But I can’t just stay here and—”

“Don’t argue. We’ve heard it all before,” Matt said. “You think you’re in charge of ‘the Randi situation,’ the one calling the shots. But you’re laid up, whether you like to admit it or not. So you have two choices. Wake up the baby and Nicole’s daughters and drag them out in the freezing cold to a hospital that’s sure to be chaos, or stay here and wait for one of us to call or relieve you.”

Thorne’s gray eyes darkened. Thick black eyebrows slammed together in frustration. “But I think—”

“For once just trust us, okay? We can handle things.” Matt was already halfway to his room, where he found his socks, boots and a pair of gloves. He yanked them on as Thorne filled the doorway, his shoulders nearly touching each side of the frame.

“I don’t like this.”

“Of course you don’t. You can’t stand not being in charge.” Matt tugged on his socks and started with his cowboy boots.

“I’d feel better if—”

“For God’s sake, just give it up, okay? I’ll feel better if you’d just shut the hell up and stay here with the kids. Coordinate. Take calls. Be Communications Central. Someone will relieve you soon and you can drive yourself to the hospital and take charge of things there again, okay? Until then, you’re on, ‘Uncle Thorne.’ Now, get out of my way.” Matt shouldered past his older brother, collected Slade and hurried down the stairs. He didn’t have time for any of Thorne’s bogus authority trips. Not now. He grabbed his jacket and hat.

His jaw tightened when he thought of Randi lying vulnerable in the hospital. God, you’d think she’d be safe there!

Outside, the snow had started again and it was cold as hell. Not bothering to button his jacket, he slid behind the wheel of his pickup and, with the flick of a wrist, twisted on the ignition. Slade climbed into the passenger side. “Let’s go.”

Matt threw his truck into gear before Slade had a chance to shut the door.

Who tried to kill his sister?

Why would someone go to such lengths to see that she was dead?

Did someone want to shut her up?

Was it revenge?

Did it have anything to do with her baby and J.R.’s mystery father?

“What the devil’s going on?” he growled, his breath fogging in the frigid air. Worry and fear took turns clawing at his gut, and his fingers clamped around the steering wheel until his knuckles showed white. He squinted through the foggy windshield as the wipers slapped haphazardly over the glass.

What if Randi didn’t make it? What if whoever was trying to kill her was successful?

“I don’t know,” Slade admitted, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket for a crumpled pack of cigarettes as Matt cranked the wheel at the highway, then gunned the engine. “But I’m sure as hell gonna find out.”

Amen. If nothing else, Matt intended to find out who’d done this to his sister and then he’d beat the living hell out of the bastard.

* * *

St. James Hospital was a madhouse. Word had leaked out to the press that someone had tried to murder a patient, and a television van, camera crew and reporters from two stations were already staked out in front of the front doors. Kelly managed to dodge a microphone thrust toward her by muttering a quick “No comment” as she walked outside. Another reporter was camped out in the lobby, and Kelly shoved her way through doors marked Staff Only to avoid him. She flew up the staircase to the third floor, her boots ringing on the steps, her heart pounding as if it were a drum. Outside the doors of the ICU unit, she nearly ran into Detective Espinoza, two deputies from the sheriff’s department and a policewoman with the Grand Hope force.