near Dr. Weiss’s feet. Samantha heard him mumble something about a stash and the little boy being too curious. That was enough to get started. She threw aside the curtain surrounding one end of the exam area and found herself staring at a trio of quaking coworkers.
“Narcan,” Samantha shouted. “And find me a doctor who’s conscious enough to give the order to administer.”
“I can do it,” Weiss said, rolling onto his hands and knees and pausing before pulling himself erect. He cast a wary glance at the assailant who was still babbling incoherently, then nodded at a middle-aged nurse who stood outside the immediate area. “You. Alice. You heard her. Meds. Stat. And somebody order a chopper. We’ll transport to Children’s in Little Rock as soon as we stabilize.”
“Respirations are slow, pulse rapid and weak,” Samantha told him.
“That figures.” Weiss blew a sigh. “I’ll start an IV while you give him half the dose IM. If the problem isn’t opiate-induced, Narcan won’t hurt him.”
“Right.” She administered the injection while other nurses and the doctor worked on the opposite side of the gurney.
The sound of approaching sirens caught her attention. Tensing, she eyed Bobby Joe. He apparently hadn’t noticed that the police were almost there.
“Vitals are improving. Somebody take my place for a second,” Samantha said before leaving the patient in other capable hands and going to crouch beside the distraught teen.
“We’ve given the boy an antidote and he’s starting to respond. It’s going to be okay.” Reaching for his weapon and closing her hand around it, she made sure it was pointing in a safe direction, then exerted steady pressure. “You can let go. Give me the gun, Bobby Joe. Everything’s under control.”
Relieved beyond words when he did as she asked, Samantha stood, holding out the small, silver pistol, butt first and muzzle direction safely diverted, just the way she’d taken it from its owner.
Several police officers were already approaching warily when she turned to face them. Their guns were drawn, their expressions deadly serious so she announced, “You can relax, fellas. Everything’s under control. I got his gun away from him for you.”
One deputy sidled past her to cuff the addict while another stepped up and took the pistol from her hand.
If Samantha hadn’t already been so keyed up that she could barely think straight, she might have shrieked when she saw that cop’s face. Her jaw did drop and she was pretty sure her gasp was audible. His light brown hair and eyes and his broad shoulders were all too familiar. It couldn’t be him, of course. It simply couldn’t be. She hadn’t had one of these déjà vu moments for months. Maybe years.
Her pulse leaped as reality replaced imagination. She couldn’t catch her breath. This was not another bad dream. John Waltham, the man who’d broken her heart so badly she’d wondered if she’d ever recover, was standing right in front of her, big as life.
Before she could decide how to greet him, he set the mood of their reunion. His “What did you think you were doing?” was delivered with such force it was practically a growl.
That attitude stiffened her spine and made it easy to answer, “My job.”
“You’re a nurse, not a cop.”
“Oh, so I’m supposed to just stand there while you and your buddies waltz in here and start shooting?”
“If necessary, yes.”
“Don’t be silly. I knew Bobby Joe wasn’t going to hurt me,” she insisted, wishing she fully believed her own assertion. When an addict was under the influence there was no way to predict what he or she might do.
Handling the pistol expertly, John unloaded it and passed it to one of his fellow officers to bag as evidence before turning back to Samantha.
She noticed that his expression had softened some but it was too little too late. She was already bristling. “What are you doing back in town?” She eyed him from head to toe. “And why are you dressed like a member of our police force?”
“Because that’s what I am. I’ve come home,” he said flatly.
Samantha couldn’t believe her ears. After all he’d put her through, all the tears she’d shed after he’d left her high and dry, he had the unmitigated gall to return and go back to work as if nothing had changed. How dare he!
* * *
Seeing Samantha again had been disquieting to begin with. Seeing her with the perp’s loaded gun in her hand had dealt him such a staggering blow he’d almost been rendered speechless.
Although Sam was prettier than ever, she now exhibited an element of authority and expertise that floored him. The last time they’d been together Sam had clung to him, crying and begging him to stay in Serenity. She’d acted as if she couldn’t bear to see him go and was positive she couldn’t live without him.
Now, however, she was behaving with such self-assurance he was stunned. His high school sweetheart had grown up in his absence. Boy, had she!
Waiting until the addict had been escorted to a patrol car and stuffed into the backseat, John approached her for the second time.
She looked up from her task of packaging the quilt and the child’s clothing. She didn’t speak, didn’t smile.
John cleared his throat. “I think we got off on the wrong foot just now. It’s good to see you again, Sam.”
All she did was nod.
“Nice job calming the suspect. Just don’t try anything like that again.”
He’d thought she might reply because her jaw dropped slightly but she snapped it shut and kept mum. “I told you I was sorry a hundred times,” he said quietly so others wouldn’t overhear. “What happened between us in the past was for the best, Sam. You and I both know that.”
With a noisy sigh and shake of her head she regarded him for long seconds before she finally spoke. “I’d adjusted fine to you being a detective in Dallas, John. What the… What are you doing back in Serenity?”
“You don’t sound happy to see me.”
“Happy? Happy is getting the gun away from Bobby Joe Boland and saving that little boy’s life. There was no joy in going through the struggles I faced after you left me. I won’t do it again. Not for anything.”
Floored, he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and tried to look unconcerned. He’d thought he’d made Samantha understand his desire to better himself, to advance his career. Surely she must have had some empathy because she’d insisted she wanted to do the same thing in regard to nursing. They had both succeeded. He’d just had to move away in order to accomplish his goals and she’d been able to do it right there in Serenity.
“I kind of hoped you’d be glad to see me, Sam. It’s nice that you’re doing so well.” He gestured toward the area where the doctor and nurse were smiling at the formerly unconscious boy. “Looks like a good save.”
“This time. I wish I could rescue them all.”
