Several machines hummed and beeped nearby, but she didn't know what that meant. She tried to move. Everything hurt. She strained her memory, pushing past the pulsing headache. She had to remember what happened.
And then, it came back to her.
Toby.
The ice storm.
The accident.
And blinding pain in her head and her side.
Had he shot her? She couldn't be sure. The wreck was a blur of images and noise.
An IV was taped to her wrist, which lay on top of the blankets. Someone was holding her hand.
Cord.
He was here.
She couldn't hold back tears. One slipped down her cheek.
"Hey there," he whispered. He used the knuckle of the hand that wasn't holding hers to wipe away her tear. "Are you in pain? I can page the nurse."
She hurt all over, but it was the fact that he was here that had brought her tears. How long had it been since the accident? She didn’t know. And then she didn’t care. Before the crash, she’d thought she might never see him again.
She tried to answer, but her throat was sore and scratchy. She blinked, or maybe she closed her eyes. Minutes later, a nurse bustled in and forced her fully awake, shining a flashlight in her eyes, pressing a thermometer against her forehead, taking her blood pressure, apologizing when getting the blood pressure cuff on made Molly shift. Her ribs pulled, and pain ripped through her.
"Can she have some water?" Cord asked.
"That should be fine," the nurse replied.
Another minute of clicking on her computer near Molly's bedside, and then the woman disappeared.
Cord pulled a chair close, clasping her hand again on the edge of the bed. He couldn't seem to look at anything other than her, which made Molly feel self-conscious.
He looked rough. Lines fanned around his eyes, stubble covered his chin and jaw, his eyes were haunted.
She remembered thinking, during the long, frightening hours in the truck that Cord was never going to forgive himself if something happened to her. And it had. Was he okay?
She opened her mouth to ask, but her throat was still so dry that a cough barked out. That slicing pain went through her ribs again and brought tears.
Cord grabbed the water cup from her bedside table, gently tilting the straw to her lips. He soothed her with a gentle touch to the apple of her cheek.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
"Hush." He set the cup down and took her hand again. As if he couldn't keep himself from touching her. "None of this is your fault."
If only that were true.
"If I hadn't tried to go to the hardware store…"
He frowned fiercely at her. "You should be able to go wherever you want, honey. And now you can."
What did that mean?
"Toby's dead," he said softly. "Killed in the crash.”
More tears filled her eyes, slipped loose. Cord snatched some tissue from nearby.
"I didn't mean"—she gasped—"I didn't mean for him to die."
"I know, honey. It's okay."
She hadn't. Had she?
All these weeks, she’d been afraid. But at the end, she’d been angry.
She'd wanted to escape.
But she hadn't wanted this.
His thumb brushed the back of her hand. "The sheriff found the gun in the cab of the truck."
How had Cord found her?
He seemed to sense her thoughts. "Somehow your phone connected with mine and left a voicemail. On the recording, Toby was threatening you.”
The toll of talking about it was too much. She closed her eyes.
"That's fine." He kept hold of her hand. "Just rest, honey."
There was so much more she wanted, needed to tell him. But she couldn't seem to keep her eyes open.
"I'm here.” His words were faint as she drifted to sleep. “And I'm not leaving."
19
What are you going to do?
Midmorning on Sunday—twenty-four hours after Molly's abduction—Cord couldn't stop staring at the text message from Iris.
Friday and the worries about the No Name's mortgage seemed like a lifetime ago. Just because Molly was hospitalized didn't mean his problems were going to go away.
Morning sunlight streamed through the blinds. Earlier, a nurse had removed about half the machines that had been attached to Molly. Cord hadn't seen a doctor since the middle of the night, but he figured that meant Molly was improving.
Her tears last night had unmanned him.
He knew the road ahead of her was going to be rocky. And he wanted to do everything within his power to ease it for her. Before all of the insanity with Toby had happened, Cord had asked her to go to Houston with him.
Now, he didn't see how that would be possible.
The No Name was the only place untouched by Toby. Molly had said she felt safe there. As if she could see for miles.
How could he ask her to leave the ranch when it might be the only place that could give her comfort?
He couldn't.
He didn't even know when she was going to be released. And with the extent of her injuries, she'd need lots of rest. He'd probably have to sit on her to keep her from trying to go back to work on those stupid tractors.
And that was all he wanted to think about. Molly and getting her healthy again. Well again. Happy again.
But he had a looming deadline. He also had no completed tractors, no funds in his bank account, and only one way he could think of to get the infusion of cash it was going to take to bring the mortgage current and escape foreclosure.
If he could swallow his pride.
He let his eyes rove over Molly's still form. Her lashes were a dark smudge against pale cheeks. Every rise and fall of her breath was a blessing.
She was worth it.
He quietly slipped into the hall, pulling his cell phone from his hip pocket.
He wasn't even sure he'd be able to get through to West. If he was out on a mission, he wouldn't have phone access.
Cord dialed the number anyway.
West answered on the second ring. "What's the matter?"
Cord pinched the bridge of his nose. He deserved that greeting.
They both knew the only reason he'd
