Page 99 of Her Wild Coast Promise

“He can ride with us if you want,” the medic says, frowning.

I groan. I don’t tell her that I just left the E.R.

The medic leans out of the back of the ambulance. “McCabe!”

In seconds, Hunter jumps aboard. He takes a seat on a narrow bench facing me and rests his elbows on his knees while the medic clambers to the front.

“You’re going to be okay,” Hunter reassures me as the ambulance engine rumbles to life and we start moving. “Seth was knocked out and he might have internal injuries, but he’s—”

There’s a trickle of relief, hearing this, but I can’t give into it yet. “He knew something was wrong,” I manage through my chattering teeth. “Something he saw or heard when he went upstairs warned him.”

Hunter’s kind eyes turn serious. “What was upstairs?”

“My room,” I say, then it hits me. I shiver again, my teeth rattling so hard my molars are tapping. “My office…I had some documents on my desk.”

The ambulance turns, and he grabs the edge of my stretcher to keep from falling forward. “I don’t think you should be talking. You’ve just been through a lot.” He searches the cupboards, opening and closing drawers and cabinets until he finds a blanket.

“It was about Peyton’s campaign,” I say as he drapes the blanket over me. The blanket’s weight just makes me shiver some more, though I know it’s supposed to be helping. I lock eyes with Hunter. “The money.”

The ambulance turns again and the rig rocks side to side. “Why would Peyton’s campaign finances be worth killing for?” he asks, his jaw tense. “Seth was going to win. Who cares if she was cheating or whatever.”

“It’s not Peyton’s money. It’s her father’s, and what he does to get it. That shipping company he owns? I don’t think they ship a whole lot.”

The look on his face shifts in a flash. “What’s the company’s name?”

“InXPress Global.”

Hunter releases a hard exhale as he looks away. “Damn.”

The ambulance coasts to a stop and the back doors are thrown open. Hunter steps out as I’m lowered by two nurses from the E.R.

Hunter takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I’ll be back soon.”

He releases my hand as the nurses turn my stretcher toward the giant glass doors of the hospital.

The next several hours I’m scanned and x-rayed and given exams by three separate doctors to evaluate the degree of my concussion and rule out a spinal injury. Through it all, I beg them for updates on Seth, but it’s impossible to get a straight answer. Finally, when I refuse to answer their “Who’s the President? What did you have for breakfast? Where are you?” questions one more time to check my sanity, the nurse scurries off with a promise to get me an update.

Instead, I’m discharged by a separate nurse who makes me agree to come back to the E.R. if my symptoms worsen. I’m just finishing dressing in my dusty, torn clothes when there’s a knock on the door. To my surprise, a young woman with long dark hair and kind eyes pushes a wheelchair into the room.

“No more tests, please,” I manage, slumping against the bed.

The woman smiles. “Nope. No more tests. I’m Sarah McCabe. I’ve been trying to get in to see you for an hour.”

“McCabe,” I say through my haze and the dull throbbing in my head. “Related to Hunter?”

Sarah smiles. “I’m married to his brother, Cooper.”

“The paramedic,” say, then wince because thinking hurts.

“I’m the social worker here at McKenzie Medical.”

I grip the edge of the bed. Dear God, is she here to tell me bad news? “Is he…”

Sarah must see me crumbling to pieces because she steps closer and fixes me with a steady, caring gaze. “He’s hurt, Cora. But he’s going to be okay. Let me take you to him.”

“I can walk.”

She pats the blue vinyl backing of the wheelchair. “Sure. But this is faster.”

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