SA 04 - Remeber Summer _ Summer Games - Elizabeth Lowell by Elizabeth Lowell

Author:Elizabeth Lowell
Language: bg
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-05-07T19:51:44+00:00

Chapter 11

“You’re certain it was an accident?” Chandler-Smith demanded.

Cord looked down the hospital corridor into the waiting room. No one was close enough to the public telephone to overhear. “Ninety-seven percent.”

Chandler-Smith grunted and ran his fingers through his thick salt-and-pepper hair. With Robert Johnstone, ninety-seven percent was as good as it got. “A goddamned bee. Who would have thought it?”

“If I had, there wouldn’t have been a bee left alive within a five-mile radius of her.”

“Tell me again that she’s all right,” Chandler-Smith said wearily.

Lights on every phone on his desk blinked, demanding his attention. He ignored them. Several computer screens beeped, cheeped, rasped, and in general made annoying noises so that he would respond. He ignored them, too.

“She’s your daughter,” Cord said dryly. “She’ll be fine. Her skull is every bit as thick as yours.”

“Ah, you’ve discovered that she’s stubborn.”

“Stubborn? Hell, she makes a Missouri mule look wishy-washy. She got on that damned stud and took him over the rest of the jumps as soon as she could stand up. Sooner, if you want the truth. Only after the jumps did she do the sensible thing.”

“And that was . . . ?”

“She fainted,” he said succinctly. “Or maybe she just didn’t want to hear what I thought of her getting back on Dev for a round of jumping before she got her thick skull X-rayed.”

Chandler-Smith cleared his throat, but a snicker still escaped. He rubbed the back of his neck, rotated his head, and rubbed some more. It had been a long night. It would be a longer day. “I wish I’d been there.”

Cord closed his eyes and thought of the endless terrible moments when Raine had been facedown in the dirt and he hadn’t known if she was alive or dead. But he didn’t want to talk to Blue about that. The man was far too shrewd. He would suspect that Cord’s concern was more than professional; it was intensely personal.

He breathed in, trying to control the tension gripping him. The aroma of the hospital clogged his nose, ammonia and desperation in equal parts.

“It’s probably better that you weren’t here,” he said neutrally. “You would have ripped bloody strips off everything in reach. And she would have torn a few off you.”

“Baby Raine?” Chandler-Smith laughed outright even as he curtly waved off his personal assistant, who had stuck his head into the lion’s den to find out why all the lights were still blinking. “She’s a pussycat. Never a hard word for anybody.”

“Tell me that after you get between her and something she wants to do.”

“Not me. I plan to live long enough to collect Social Security.”

Cord smiled. “If you want updates on her condition, have someone contact the motor home. I won’t call you unless things go from sugar to shit.”

“Does the doctor expect that?” Chandler-Smith asked sharply.

“No,” Cord said, but his tone said that he was used to planning for worst-case scenarios. “I’m not taking her back to her motel room. I’m keeping her in the spare room at the command center so that I can check on her every half hour.

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