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Titel: Tribute Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Nora Roberts
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Call—”
    “I am.” Crouching, Shanna punched nine-one-one on her cell phone. “Should we get a blanket? Should we—”
    “Tell them to hurry. Don’t move him.” Cilla leaped up and ran for the house.
    HE COULD USUALLY sleep through anything. But the shouting scraped along Ford’s consciousness, then the sirens drove straight in. Too bleary to put them together, he rolled out of bed, stumbled out onto the veranda. Yawning, he scanned across the road, wished he could conjure a cup of coffee with the power of his mind. The sight of the ambulance outside Cilla’s barn had him snapping awake. When he didn’t see her in his quick, panicked search, he rushed back inside to drag on clothes.
    He streaked across the road, up Cilla’s drive, keeping his mind blank. If one image, even one image, formed, a dozen horrible others would follow. He pushed through the crowd of workers, said her name once, like a personal prayer.
    When he saw her standing behind the portable gurney, his heart started beating again. Then it slammed into his belly when he realized Steve lay on the gurney.
    “I’m going with him. I’m going.” Her voice teetered on the thin edge between control and hysteria. “He’s not going alone.” She gripped the edge of the gurney, stuck like glue as they transported it to the ambulance.
    The fear in her eyes chilled Ford to the bone. “Cilla. I’m going to follow you in. I’m going to be there.”
    “He won’t wake up. They can’t wake him up.” Before anyone could deny her, Cilla climbed into the back of the ambulance.
    He took her purse because Shanna had retrieved it and pushed it into his hands. Shanna, Ford thought, who’d had tears streaking down her face.
    “He was in the barn,” Shanna choked out, and slid into Ford’s arms for comfort. “Lying on the floor, under the bike. The blood.”
    "Okay, Shan. Okay, honey. I’m going to go. I’m going to find out how he is.”
    “Call me, please. Call me.”
    “First thing.”
    After a wild drive to the hospital, Ford carried Cilla’s purse into the ER, too worried to feel even marginally foolish.
    He found her standing outside a pair of double doors, looking helpless.
    “I gave them his medical history, the stuff I could remember. Who remembers all of that kind of thing?” She pawed at the neck of her shirt, as if looking for something, anything, to hold on to. “But I gave them his blood type. I remembered his blood type. A-negative. I remembered.”
    “Okay. Let’s go sit down.”
    “They won’t let me in. They won’t let me stay with him. He won’t wake up.”
    Ford put an arm around her shoulders and firmly steered her away from the doors and to a chair. Instead of sitting, he crouched in front of her so her eyes were on his face. “They’re going to fix him now. That’s what they’re doing. Okay?”
    “He was bleeding. His head. His face. Lying there bleeding. I don’t know how long.”
    “Tell me what happened.”
    “I don’t know! ” She pressed both hands to her mouth, and began to rock. “I don’t know. He wasn’t in his room, and I figured, I thought, well, I figured, he shoots, he scores. That’s all. I almost left. God, God, I almost left without even looking, even checking. It would’ve been hours more.”
    “Breathe.” He spoke sharply, took her hands and squeezed. “Look at me and breathe.”
    “Okay.” She breathed, and she trembled, but Ford saw a hint of color come back into her face. “I thought he’d stayed at Shanna’s, so I was going to go buy materials, but he didn’t. I mean, she got there and said he didn’t. I worried that he might’ve gotten lost or something. I don’t even know. But I went to see if his bike was there. And we found him.”
    “In the barn.”
    “He was lying under his bike. I don’t know what could’ve happened. His head, his face.” Now she rubbed a hand between her breasts. Ford could almost hear the slam of her heart against the pressure. “I heard them say he’s probably got a couple of broken ribs, from the bike falling on him. But how did the bike fall on him? And . . . and the head injuries. His pupils. They said something about a blown pupil. I know that’s not good. I had a guest spot on ER once.”
    She hitched in three raw breaths, then let them out in a gush. And the tears came with it. “Who the hell has a motorcycle accident in a barn? It’s so goddamn stupid.”
    Taking the tears, and the hint of anger, as good signs, Ford

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