Lightning Strikes. Mary Baxter Lynn
be livid, no question about that. Her brother, Noah, bless his soul, would be worried out of his mind. And her mother, Melissa, would be both livid and worried. At this juncture, Randi refused to dwell on their feelings. Anyway, to do so would be wasting good energy, energy that she had to conserve since she had no idea what the future held.
Another shiver ran through her.
“You still cold, miss?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Yeah, right,” he muttered before focusing his attention back onto the treacherous road.
It was bad enough that she’d decided at the last minute she couldn’t go through with the wedding, but…
“You feel like talkin’?”
His rough voice ripped into her thoughts. Her throat constricted again. “Not really.”
“What did your old man do, knock you around?”
“Excuse me?” Randi asked, his question jolting her.
“Did he punch you or what?”
“No…no.”
“So why’d you cut out on him?”
She gave him her full attention. “Look, I appreciate you helping me, and when I can, I’ll compensate you for it, but—”
“You don’t want me askin’ no questions?”
“That’s right,” she said in a small voice.
“No problem.”
If only things were that simple for her. If only she hadn’t overheard that conversation. But she had. She caught her breath and held it, not wanting to think about what had happened next.
Who were those men she’d heard talking? After realizing she’d heard them, they had chased her. She paused, pulling air into her dry lungs. And both had had guns!
Dear Lord, what had she stumbled into?
If the blackout hadn’t occurred when it did, would they have found her and killed her?
Yes.
From the menacing looks on their faces, she was sure she would’ve been dead. But for now, she decided, glancing again at the driver, she was safe.
Thanks to this tobacco-chewing Texas gentleman, she was putting distance between herself and the man she didn’t want to marry and the evil men who for some reason wanted to end her life.
Chapter Three
Amanda Jennings stepped back from the gurney while smiling down into the patient’s face, a young man who had been brought into the ER after having received a nasty clunk on the head. He had been working overtime at a local factory. He’d more than likely been so tired he’d been careless.
She could identify with the former, but not the latter. In her job, she couldn’t afford to be careless. People’s lives were in her hands, a responsibility she had never taken lightly or shirked.
“Feeling any better, Mr. Epps?” Amanda asked.
He gave her a lame smile. “Much better, Doc. Thanks.”
“You’re more than welcome. Try and get some rest, okay? Your CT scan showed a slight concussion, so we’re going to keep a close eye on you.” Amanda switched her gaze to her friend Karen Sloane, a resident in internal medicine who was pulling an extra shift in the ER. “Doctor, let me know if there’s any change in Mr. Epps. I’ll be in my office.”
Karen nodded, then turned to the patient, her gray eyes twinkling. “You’re stuck with me now.”
“Do you hear me complaining? Hell, I’m surrounded by two good-looking women.”
“Uh-oh,” Amanda said, “he’s for sure on the mend.”
Light laughter followed her departure out of trauma room one and into the hall of Vanderbilt Memorial, where she was working overtime, pulling a double shift.
Considering the stormy weather, the ER, where she was permanently employed, was unusually quiet. Give it time, she told herself with a downward curve of her full lips. This kind of weather was a perfect breeding ground for wrecks and various other accidents, and it was Friday night, which, regardless of the circumstances, was always busy.
Amanda made it to her office on the first floor, where admitting and the emergency room were both located. Once in her tiny cubbyhole, barely large enough for a desk, filing cabinet and cot, she released a sigh and pushed a thick lock of blond hair behind her ear.
God, she was tired, yet she didn’t want to go home. Besides, she was needed. Due to the horrendous weather that had begun earlier in the day, only a skeleton crew was on hand. Flooding and mud slides had made many of the roads impassable. The police and other city officials had advised people to stay indoors.
So far, so good, Amanda reminded herself again, though she wasn’t about to become smug. “Calm before the storm” jumped to the forefront of her mind just as a clap of thunder suddenly rocked the building. Amanda flinched, then frowned. As predicted, her complacency hadn’t lasted long. In all the years she’d lived in Grand Springs, which was the majority of her life, this was the worst weather this town of sixty thousand had ever experienced.
If the rain didn’t quit soon, she envisioned the small tourist town washing down the mountainside and disappearing. Of course, that wasn’t going to happen, or at least she prayed it wouldn’t. Tourism was a major source of income, since the small city lay within easy reach of the best ski slopes, lakes and hiking trails Colorado had to offer.
However, she would be glad when the storm had passed and things settled back to normal. Everyone’s nerves seemed to be on edge, hers included.
But her agitation didn’t stem from the weather alone. She wished… No. She wouldn’t do that to herself. She refused to let her thoughts wander down the forbidden path that she had declared off-limits. She wasn’t going to indulge herself now, not when she was happier with herself and her work than she’d been in months. She loved being a doctor, and she loved Grand Springs.
“Anyone home?”
The unexpected interruption into her thoughts brought her head around. The director of the emergency room, Carl Stanley, had opened the door and was standing on the threshold, smiling.
“Inside or out?” she asked, returning his smile.
He got her message because he laughed. “Don’t feel bad. My brain’s been on hiatus, too.”
She couldn’t ask for a smarter or nicer boss, although he certainly didn’t resemble a doctor. He was big and burly with bushy hair and beard. In fact, he often looked downright sloppy, as though he needed a good scrubbing. She suspected that was because of his grungy fingertips and teeth yellowed from years of smoking. Yet nothing could overshadow his sharp mind and talented hands.
“Come on in,” Amanda said, “although I was about to head for the lounge and grab a quick cup of coffee.”
Dr. Stanley opened the door wider, than stepped aside with the sweep of his arm. “Let’s go. I could use a cup myself.”
Once they were in the large room, replete with a refrigerator and microwave plus a metal table and chairs, and an uncomfortable-looking cot, they didn’t speak until they each had a cup of strong coffee in hand and were seated at the table.
“By the way, thanks for doubling.”
“No problem,” Amanda answered.
“I wish all my staff were as eager and accommodating as you.”
“For the most part, they are.”
Carl was quiet for a moment, rubbing his beard. “How would you like to be my assistant?”
Amanda