The Girl Who Wouldn't Stay Dead. Cassie Miles
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Emily when the paramedics had brought her in; he knew where the ambulances parked and loaded. If the Riggs family got her moved and settled in their home, it would be harder to pry her from their clutches. He had to act now.
He turned to Wellborn. “I’ve got to stop them.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“Come with me and see.”
“You bet I’m coming. I wouldn’t miss this circus for the world.”
Racing against an invisible clock, Connor flew down the corridor. Ignoring the slow-moving elevators, he dived into the stairwell, rushed down four floors and exited on the first. Wellborn followed close behind. Having him along would be useful. An ambulance driver might ignore Connor but wouldn’t refuse a direct order from a fed.
At six thirty in the morning, the hallways were relatively calm. Though this was a small hospital, the floor plan was a tangled maze of clinics, waiting areas, pharmacies, shops and offices. During the four hours Emily was in surgery, Connor had explored, pacing from one end of the hospital to the other. He now knew where he was going as he dodged through an obstacle course of doctors and nurses and carts and gurneys. In the emergency area, he burst through the double doors. Outside, he spotted two ambulances.
Dr. Thorson stood at the rear of one ambulance. As soon as he saw Connor, he slammed the door and signaled the driver.
No way would Connor allow that vehicle to pull away. He vaulted across the parking lot, crashed into the driver’s-side door and yanked it open.
The guy behind the steering wheel gaped. “What’s going on?”
“Turn off the engine and get out.”
“Those aren’t my orders.”
Connor had a lot of respect for paramedics and the mountain-rescue team that had climbed down the steep cliff and carried Emily to safety. Their procedures had been impressive, efficient and heroic. Not to mention that these guys were in great physical condition.
“Sorry,” Connor said, “but you’ve got to turn off the engine.”
“Listen here, buddy, I advise you to step back.”
Respect be damned, Connor needed cooperation. He turned to Wellborn. “I need your gun.”
“Not a chance.” The fed displayed his badge and credentials. “Agent Wellborn, FBI. Please step out of the vehicle.”
Further conversation became moot when Deputy Sandoval drove into the lot, his siren blaring and flashers whirling. He parked his SUV with the Pitkin County Sheriff logo in front of the ambulance. Nobody was going anywhere.
Connor stormed toward the rear of the ambulance with only one thought in mind. Rescue Emily. He didn’t know how he’d move her from the ambulance or where he’d take her, but he sure as hell wouldn’t allow her to be carried away by the Riggs family.
Dr. Thorson stepped in front of him. “Slow down, Connor.”
Some people just don’t know when they’re beat. “Get out of my way.”
“Everything has been taken care of. I’ve got this.”
“Beg to differ.”
“I assure you that—”
“Stop!” Since the doctor didn’t seem to understand direct language, Connor decided to use his well-practiced techniques as an attorney whose job required him to deal with contentious personalities. He straightened his shoulders and leveled his voice to a calm monotone. “We can handle this situation in one of two ways. First, there’s the legal way, where I point to the documents that state—very clearly—that I’m in charge of all decisions regarding Emily’s medical care. If you don’t honor the signed and notarized advance directive, rest assured that I will sue the hospital and you personally.”
Thorson’s tanned forehead twisted in a scowl.
“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