If the Dark Wins (Finley Creek Book 4) Read online

  The pretty Dr. Lacy McGareth was one of his problems. He might not need her ranch house, but he needed her land. And he was willing to pay a fair price for it. She’d been remarkably stubborn over the last month. She’d won.

  But…that didn’t mean he was going to tell her that right away. For the third time in a month, he knocked on the door that hung slightly lopsided in its frame. The house had some mild foundation issues, didn’t it?

  The entire place had issues. Why hadn’t she started fixing them? She’d had the place for more than six months now, according to property records he’d found in town.

  The door swung open, and there the little termagant was. Dr. Lacy McGareth, in the flesh.

  She wore jade green scrubs with FCGH Emergency Trauma Dept. Surgical Resident embroidered over the right breast. His brother Rafe had started college early and did med school in three years. Travis wasn’t unfamiliar with how it all worked, or how grueling it was. “Aren’t you a bit young to be a doctor?”

  “Gee, think I haven’t heard that before? Even a few times today.” There was sass in her words, but…

  Travis looked closer. There were tears in her eyes. Big green eyes that were swimming.

  Travis had always been a real sucker for crying women. Even crying termagants like this one. He lifted a hand and cupped her elbow. She was a good eight inches shorter than he was, and her arm felt more delicate than it should. She was too sassy to be delicate. He’d learned that over the last four weeks. “Hey, doc, what’s wrong? Allergies?”

  “Something like that. What do you want, Worthington?”

  “Well, I’m here for my weekly rejection. Was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me?” He’d had no intention of ever asking this little creature out; pretty, though she most certainly was. All that attitude could be off-putting. But…it had been the tears that changed his mind.

  “Ranch isn’t for sale. So if you think you can change my mind…I…just can’t deal with you tonight.” She wiped at one eye and pulled away from him. “Get lost, Worthington.”

  “Honey, what’s wrong? Do I need to go kick someone’s ass? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have big feet.” And he’d do it, too. He didn’t like to see her cry.

  “Can you kick bone cancer’s ass before it kicks an eight-year-old’s?”

  Something speared straight through him as what she said sank in. Poor doc. No wonder she was crying alone. “Bad night at the hospital? My brother’s a doctor; did you know that? I know how rough it can be for him sometimes. Come on. I try to hug him, but he’s the size of Texas, and it doesn’t work so easily. I bet you’re real huggable, though.”

  Before she could protest Travis wrapped a hand around hers. She had small, soft hands. Boney little fingers. Girly little hands.

  “What? I think this is kidnapping.”

  But she went with him. Travis deliberately didn’t give her much choice.

  Travis pulled her off of her porch, almost tripping on her trick board—she really needed to fix that—and down into the field behind her house. “Look. Right there.”

  “The sunset?” She looked up at him like he was an idiot for a moment. “Why?”

  Because sometimes you just had to look past what was right there in front of you to see everything else you were missing. “Look at how far it stretches. From one side of the sky to the other. And it’ll do it again tomorrow. And the next night. And the next. This cancer one a kid can beat?”

  She nodded. “It’s rarely fatal if caught in time. I think we did. But...he’s facing amputation.”

  “Then we hope and pray this kid has bigger feet than I do. I strongly suspect he had a great doctor today.”

  LACY WANTED the man to go away. She also wanted him to stay. The connection to another human being was desperately needed at the moment. Even a Worthington-Deane.

  She should have gone to the Becks’ for dinner. Her friend Jillian’s family had always welcomed her. She had an open invitation for any time. But Lacy had found herself halfway home before she even realized she’d left the parking lot.

  The man next to her tugged at her hand. What was he doing there again? She couldn’t remember. And why was she letting him guide her around her own yard? “Why are you here again?”

  “Came to offer you my final final offer. One million dollars.” He grinned a ridiculously handsome grin. For not the first time, she took a really good look at him. He was too cowboy perfect for a girl’s peace of mind.

  He reminded her of someone. She couldn’t figure out who, but it would come to her. He was a perfect example of a wealthy Texas rancher; that was for certain. Tall, broad-shouldered, and strong. Rugged, with dark brown hair that blew in the slight wind. Green eyes a few shades lighter than her own. And dimples. Travis Worthington-Deane had some seriously adorable dimples.

  She’d always been an idiot over men with dimples.

  Until she’d learned to not be an idiot over men at all.

  Life was just easier that way. Lacy had men friends, but nothing romantically. Not now. Elliot and Chance Marshall, Kevin Beck—even Houghton Barratt, wealthiest guy in Texas—were counted among her male friends. But they were men she trusted. Felt safe with.

  She trusted their wives even more.

  But that was beside the point.

  Men didn’t come sniffing around unless they wanted something.

  Rule number one in Lacy’s experience. Every man wanted something. Period.

  So what did Worthington-Deane want? Besides her home.

  He trailed a hand down her arm and laced his fingers with hers. “What do you say? One million for the whole place? I’ll even let you live in the house as long as you want?”

  “Never. Not going to happen.” They both knew the place wasn’t worth anywhere near a million. Two hundred thousand, even with the land and water. That was far more what it was worth. His original offer. “What’s your deal?”

  He was playing her. Or there was something she just flat out didn’t know about the property. Something that he really wanted.

  Oil, maybe?

  He sighed dramatically, then tightened his fingers when she tried to pull away. Lacy pushed aside the little rush of apprehension that having any part of her body trapped by an animal that was bigger and stronger brought her.

  This guy hadn’t hurt her yet. Pestered her, yes. Hurt her, no. No sense panicking. Better to just play this out.

  “Ok. I get it. Not for sale. How about for rent?” He looked down at her out of shrewd green eyes. This was what he was really after, wasn’t it? Lacy fought the urge to tense. “Those back one hundred fifty acres or so? Going rate plus ten percent for having to deal with me? One year initial lease, then we go six months at a time, as long as it’s working for both of us? Rent increase every six months by one percent?”

  She hadn’t expected that. Or the businesslike way he rattled off numbers. “What’s in it for you?”

  “I want to grow some experimental grasses. More organic for the cattle side of my operation. Your acreage is far enough away from my other fields that I don’t have to be as concerned about cross-germination. I’m looking for better feed for my cattle, but also for my horses. I’m wanting to start organic beef production over the next three years. I’d like to have my feed nailed down by then. You game? Planning to do anything with the land anytime soon?”

  No. She actually wasn’t. She just wanted to have it because it had been McGareth. Of course, half of his lands had once been McGareth, too. “I…”

  “Fifteen percent over fair market value, then, and I’ll maintain it completely. Repair fences, fix wells and irrigation, all of it.”

  “Deal.” She wouldn’t lie. One hundred fifty acres rented would bring in a lot of cash. Cash that could go to med school debt—and go toward fixing up the house.

  Foundations could cost upward of fifteen thousand, after all. Having an extra infusion of cash each month would go a long way to making her house the way she wanted it qu
icker than she had planned.

  Of course, that meant getting into bed with this man. Figuratively speaking, anyway.

  He smiled again. “Great. I’ll have my attorney draw up a standard contract. I’ll bring it by once it’s finished. Sometime this week.”

  “I’m going to third shift for two weeks. I’ll be sleeping until about four. Show up before then and I’ll bury you down a deep well.”

  “Understood.” He hesitated for a moment. Then he smiled one of those grins that probably got him whatever he wanted in life. “You want to drive into town to celebrate? I’ll take you to the Barratt, ever been there?”

  Lacy snorted. She wasn’t a fool. He had gotten what he wanted, but he wasn’t above pushing for more. “You might say that. I’m friends with the owner. And no. I don’t want to. I’m not looking for a relationship right now. Or even something casual. I have too much going on.”

  He stared down at her for a long moment. Then he nodded. “Understood. How about a friend, then? A good neighbor? Someone to do heavy grunt work when you need it?”

  “Why?”

  Men always wanted something, after all.

  She strongly suspected she knew exactly what it was this one wanted.

  It was in the way he’d looked at her.

  Lacy wasn’t inexperienced, by any definition. She’d like to think she had a healthy sex life. She wasn’t stupid or irresponsible, and it had been a few years. But right now, after everything that had happened to her recently, she just wanted to find her equilibrium again. Get through her training and move on.

  Fix her house.

  Be with her friends. Help them get through the rough time they’d had over the last five months. Was that so wrong?

  No matter how nice of a smile the man in front of her had.

  “Why not? I don’t know if you missed it, but I’m your only neighbor on all four sides. If you need something, I’m right there. Just being neighborly.”

  “Uh-huh. At what cost? Dinner? Dancing? Something more?”

  “Oh, I wish. But if you’re not interested, then nothing more expensive than a smile. Come on…do it. Let me see if you are a vampire…any pointy teeth in there?”

  Lacy smiled. Just to get him to stop staring at her. He did. But just to turn and look at the sky again. “Almost as pretty as the Texas sky.”

  “And you, Worthington, are full of shit. I need…to get inside. I’m switching from days to nights, tomorrow. I need to change my sleep schedule. Bring the contract by and I’ll take a look at it, and have my attorney go over it.”

  “Great. And…Doc? You ever change your mind about hanging out with me at the Barratt, you just let me know. I promise I don’t slurp my soup and can use a napkin most of the time. I can even provide character references.”

  “I’ll…think about it. But don’t get your hopes up.” She didn’t know where this was coming from. She wasn’t flirting, she knew that.

  But she would be lying if the small bit of attraction she saw written on his face didn’t make her feel a little bit better than she had earlier.

  Maybe he wasn’t quite as annoying as she’d first thought. He’d been almost kind.

  Until he’d gotten what he’d wanted, anyway. Still, she’d rejected him. And he hadn’t turned angry or violent or rude. That told her a lot about this guy who did surround her on all sides.

  There were probably far worse men she could be surrounded by, right?

  “Good night, Mr. Worthington-Deane.”

  “Please, it’s Travis. Or Trav. And I’ll see you later, Doc. Happy…sleeping. You ever need anyone to tuck you in, remember I am right next door. Sort of.”

  3

  Lacy left Trauma A, her mind filled with conflicting questions. Solpalmitraln, a new drug being tested exclusively at FCGH was supposed to be a wonder drug, with limited side-effects and safer for patients than some of the long-running drugs already in use.

  They’d been testing it at FCGH for six months. Her current ER patient had been on it for three, and he was reporting symptoms that just didn’t resonate with what she and other physicians had been told.

  It was not supposed to do what Mr. Kensington was reporting that it had.

  Had he taken something else that he didn’t want his wife to know about? The man was an intelligent man, he wouldn’t mess with his health this way. She’d treated him before.

  Still, erectile dysfunction was often difficult for men his age to discuss—especially with young female medical personnel. But was it just that?

  She didn’t know.

  He’d also reported shaking that refused to abate. That was concerning, telling her it could be neurological.

  Of course, it could be something entirely unrelated to Solpalmitraln. There were plenty of issues that could arise in a sixty-four-year-old man with a poor diet. It bore considering, before she made any decisions to alter someone else’s treatment prescription.

  And she trusted the physicians involved in Mr. Kensington’s primary care plan. She couldn’t see them not addressing any problems with Solpalmitraln before prescribing it.

  Mr. Kensington was a prime candidate for the drug, she couldn’t deny that.

  Still, Lacy had only prescribed Solpalmitraln twice. She abhorred drug trials, though she knew they were necessary.

  She just didn’t like using her patients as guinea pigs for drugs that were really not all that different from more established, better-studied pharmaceuticals. She half thought companies like Claireson Pharm would be better suited discovering different drugs that cured currently incurable conditions, rather than finding more pharmaceuticals that did the same job.

  It seemed like a waste to her.

  In the meantime, she’d be looking into Solpalmitraln more deeply, the first opportunity she had.

  She stopped off at the intake desk and asked Annie, one of the ER nurses, to have blood tests done, just to be on the safe side.

  If Mr. Kensington took something he hadn’t told her, it would show up.

  Then they could go from there.

  4

  Rafael Holden-Deane, new Chief of Medicine at Finley Creek General Hospital took his first official look around the main entrance of the hospital. The ER was off to the left, the main admissions and information desk was off to the right. They shared the rather large lobby. He breathed in the familiar scent of medicine and fought to find his equilibrium.

  He was two days early, but he’d planned it that way. He wanted to see the hospital in action. It worked best that way in his experience.

  Of course, Finley Creek General Hospital was a long way from the little shit-holes he’d been practicing in for the last four years. Djibouti, Africa and Texas didn’t exactly have that much in common.

  Rafe stood in the middle of the ER and watched. He just watched everyone.

  A physician walked by, tall and blond. Rafe studied him for a moment—the man looked familiar, but he couldn’t place him. No surprise. They may have gone to med school together, here at this very hospital.

  Rafe had attended medical school at FCU’s School of Medicine. It was one of the best in the nation now. But the hospital itself was starting to get a reputation for problems.

  A former COM had been arrested for prostitution not all that long ago. His replacement had been shot in the hospital’s parking garage. Patient care was in jeopardy. On so many levels. It was his job to preserve the integrity of the hospital, however he could.

  Rafe had been hired to find out why. Two young women walked by. One was in a business suit—Rafe recognized the woman who’d hired him. Finley Coulter, young, blonde, around thirty. Pretty.

  Perky. Almost annoyingly so.

  Rafe didn’t do perky well.

  His gaze strayed to the second blonde. She was slightly taller and thin. She had some nice curves and he was a man. Hard not to appreciate. The face was damned fine, too. The jade scrubs set off the entire package.

  Rafe could appreciate—but he didn’t have time
for women at all. Not right now.

  It would probably be a long time before he would. He’d learned his lesson the hard way, half a world away.

  Dr. Coulter stopped walking and stared for a moment. She regained her composure quickly. “Dr. Holden-Deane. Welcome. We weren’t expecting you yet.”

  “I wanted to take a look around. I’ve been in town a few days and was tired of sitting around the Barratt.” He’d taken a suite at the Barratt hotel indefinitely. Until he decided if he wanted to stay in the city of his birth.

  He had family here. Brothers who mattered.

  They were all that did, anymore. His two brothers and his niece and nephew.

  “Dr. Holden-Deane is our new Chief-of-Medicine. Dr. Lacy McGareth, Dr. Holden-Deane. Dr. McGareth is one of our emergency trauma surgery residents. We’re hoping to keep her on permanently when the time comes.”

  The woman in scrubs shook his hand, eying him warily from eyes almost as dark green as her scrubs. “Welcome to FCGH.”

  “Nice to meet you. Dr. Coulter, if you could point me to my office? I’m ready to get started.”

  “Uh…of course. Lacy? We’ll get together to discuss that side-effect first thing in the morning.”

  “Great. I’m due in surgery in twenty. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  The taller blonde practically scurried away.

  5

  He recognized the man the moment Rafael Holden-Deane held his hand out to him. Dr. Logan Lanning nearly cursed in distaste when he realized his replacement was none other than a damned Deane.

  He hadn’t expected that. Everyone—including him—had thought Allen Jacobson would be taking the Chief of Medicine position. Logan had been counting on it. It would have made things so much simpler. It would have hurt less if it was his friend that took the Chief-of-Medicine position from Logan.

  Or at least he’d thought so.

  Not Marcus Deane’s younger brother.

  He’d been a freshman in college with Marcus Deane, this man’s brother, and a sophomore when Deane’s younger brother had enrolled at FCU. They’d run in nearly the same circles for several years, though the younger Deane had been three or four years younger than Logan, Allen, and Marcus. But there was no recognition in the big brute’s eyes.