Kitabı oxu: «A Tender Touch»

“Whoa, there! Samson, heel.”

The German shepherd came to a skidding halt right in front of Frederica. Then he glanced back at the man in the tuxedo giving the command, a soft whine escaping from his mouth. “Well, hello there,” Freddie said, her gaze moving from the hassling dog to the out-of-breath man hurrying toward them. “May I pet him?” she asked, reaching a hand toward the waiting animal.

“Samson, what’s got into you, boy?” the man said, his frown aimed at the dog while he ignored Freddie’s question. Then the man gave Freddie an appreciative sweep. “Okay, in this case, I guess I understand. He never could resist a pretty woman.”

“Neither could you, if memory serves me correctly,” Stone said from behind the man. Then he turned to Freddie. “Frederica Hayes, meet my younger brother, Clay Dempsey.”

Clay. The one Dempsey brother she hadn’t met yet. And he was well worth the wait.

LENORA WORTH

grew up in a small Georgia town and decided in the fourth grade that she wanted to be a writer. But first, she married her high school sweetheart, then moved to Atlanta, Georgia. Taking care of their baby daughter at home while her husband worked at night, Lenora discovered the world of romance novels and knew that’s what she wanted to write. And so she began.

A few years later, the family settled in Shreveport, Louisiana, where Lenora continued to write while working as a marketing assistant. After the birth of her second child, a boy, she decided to pursue her dream full-time. In 1993, Lenora’s hard work and determination finally paid off with that first sale.

“I never gave up, and I believe my faith in God helped get me through the rough times when I doubted myself,” Lenora says. “Each time I start a new book, I say a prayer, asking God to give me the strength and direction to put the words to paper. That’s why I’m so thrilled to be a part of Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired line, where I can combine my faith in God with my love of romance. It’s the best combination.”

A Tender Touch
Lenora Worth

But now, O Lord, you are our Father; We are the clay, and You our potter: And all we are the work of Your hand.

—Isaiah 64:8

To my nephews Jeremy Smith and Larry Itson, with love

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Chapter One

“Sit.”

Clay Dempsey patted the big German shepherd on the head, then grinned down at him. “Good boy, Samson.” Leaning close, he whispered, “We have to behave ourselves today. My brother is getting married. I’ll take you out on the beach for some tug-of-war later, I promise.”

Samson’s ears perked up with interest, but the dog remained in a sitting position.

Clay glanced around. It was a crisp early September afternoon and they were standing in what looked like a marsh. Why Stone of all people had chosen to get married in this mosquito-infested Georgia swamp was beyond Clay’s comprehension. Stone was more the country-club-wedding and extravagant-reception type. But then, his brother had changed. A lot apparently, from everything Clay had heard and seen since coming back to Sunset Island a couple of days ago. But then, everything in his own life seemed to be changing, too, Clay reasoned as he patted Samson’s head and waited nervously for the wedding to begin.

Now he was about to be part of Stone’s wedding to Tara Parnell. Clay was the best man and their older brother, Rock, who happened to be a minister and married to Tara’s sister, Ana, was going to perform the ceremony.

“What a strange and wonderful world we live in, Samson,” Clay said to the big dog sitting faithfully but alert at his feet. “I mean, here I am in a tuxedo, standing in a marsh, waiting for my brother to get married. This is the second wedding in our family this summer.” First Rock and now Stone. Clay felt downright betrayed and bewildered.

He never would have believed either of his ornery brothers would get married and settle down. Especially Stone.

He stared down at Samson, wondering if the animal knew what Clay was trying to say. Things change, life goes on. But lately, things had been changing too much for Clay. Lately, he’d become restless and edgy. He needed this vacation, or at least according to his captain back at the police department in Atlanta, Clay needed some time away from the force. And both he and Samson needed some time to heal.

“I won’t let you down, buddy,” Clay said to the dog. Samson did seem to understand that particular promise. He stared up at Clay with big, dark, doleful eyes, as if to say “I know you won’t, partner.”

Clay and Samson had been together for two years. They worked the K-9 Unit in one of Atlanta’s worst areas. Searching out drugs and criminals mostly. Sometimes just search and find. Clay had seen too much death and destruction lately. And the last round had almost caused both Clay and Samson to become statistics. Nothing like a near-death experience to make a person stop and think about living. Really living.

“Hey, brother, you about ready?”

Clay turned to find Rock headed his way with a grin on his face. “Is it time?”

“It’s time. And don’t look so panicked. You’re not the one getting hitched.”

“Thank goodness.” Clay relaxed, then gave Samson the signal to do the same. The dog plopped down, his big eyes looking disappointed, his big tongue hanging out. There was so much action out in that marsh, after all.

And a lot of human action around the quaint little chapel sitting by the still waters that came from the nearby Savannah River. Clay looked toward the chapel. “Is the bride ready?”

“Very ready,” Rock said, slapping Clay on the back. “She’s hiding out in the tent Ana set up near Josiah’s house. Between the bugs, the humidity and her nerves, however, I think the bride’s going to be as wilted as a thirsty water lily.”

“I bet Stone won’t notice,” Clay replied, thinking Tara Parnell was sure a pretty woman. And his brother seemed to really love her. “Explain it to me one more time, Rock. How exactly did Stone become a human being?”

Rock laughed, his Bible in one hand as they walked toward the chapel where both family and friends were crowded into the pews, waiting. The sound of the classic and romantic “Pachelbel Canon” filled the air as several white birds, startled from their nests in the cypress trees, lifted out over the water. Clay saw the bride coming out of her tent, her eyes wide and misty, her steps almost in perfect symmetry with the flight of the beautiful, graceful birds as she lifted her full-skirted creamy satin gown off the ground. They were about to have a wedding.

The rest of the Sunset Island inhabitants were patiently waiting back at Stone’s turn-of-the-century hotel, Hidden Hill, for a big reception.

Rock held a hand toward the chapel. “We can thank the good Lord and the love of a good woman for that transformation, brother. Sir Walter Scott put it best— ‘For love is heaven, and heaven is love.’ A man can’t miss with that combination.”

Clay nodded, silently thinking that he’d never been able to find that particular combination in his own love life. Maybe because he wasn’t a romantic or a philosopher like his older brother, Rock, nor a shrewd, aggressive businessman like his other brother, Stone. Clay was shy and quiet-natured, but direct when need be; focused and determined, but completely dedicated to his work. And therein lay the problem with his nonexistent love life. Too many nights out with Samson, searching for the lost, searching for the hidden, searching for something or someone to bring the life back to his own soul.

“I did need a vacation,” he mumbled, causing Rock to raise an eyebrow, and causing Samson to send him a low bark of agreement.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Rock said as they reached the aged wooden steps to the chapel. “Let’s go get Stone married, so our mother can drink punch and brag.”

Clay stopped on the bottom step, his eyes going wide. “Uh-oh. I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

Rock frowned. “For what?”

“Not for what,” Clay replied. “With Mother. I mean, I don’t stand a chance now. Both you and Stone married! That leaves me.”

Rock nodded slowly, a bemused expression on his face. “Yes, I can see why you have that look of utter fear in your eyes. Here for a whole month, with Mother hearing so many wedding bells. Prepare for a big battle, brother. She’ll try to fix you up with every available island girl, that’s for sure.”

“Great,” Clay said, rolling his eyes. “Just what I needed.”

“This is great,” Fredrica Hayes said to Ana as she took another nibble of the wonderful bite-size crabcake centered on her plate of appetizers. “Ana, thanks for inviting me. I needed a break.”

“Of course, Fredrica,” Ana Dempsey said, her smile bright and cheery. “We couldn’t have the whole island here for a reception without including the latest newcomer, now could we?”

“Well, I do appreciate it—and call me Freddie. That’s my nickname. My dad gave it to me, and it’s kind of stuck since childhood.”

Ana laughed. “Sounds as if you had a parent like Eloise. You know she nicknamed all her boys after substances she uses in her art.”

“So I hear,” Freddie replied, glancing around. “I got my name because Daddy said Fredrica sounded so Gothic and old-fashioned. And besides, I always was a tomboy.”

She didn’t add that she’d always been very close to her father, and she missed him so terribly, she’d moved all the way back to Georgia just to be close to him. It would be good for both of them, since her mother had died five years ago.

“So Freddie it is,” Ana said, bringing Freddie back to the present and her next crabcake. “I like it.” Ana moved around the reception table, making sure there were enough appetizers left. A team of waiters under the watchful eyes of Ana’s staffers, Jackie, Tina and Charlotte, kept moving back and forth from the garden to the big kitchen inside. “Even though you don’t look like a tomboy at all with that long, dark hair.”

“My one feminine indulgence,” Freddie admitted. “But even with long hair, I somehow managed to scare all the boys away in high school.”

Ana gave her an appraising look, taking in the floral sleeveless sheath Freddie had chosen for the afternoon reception. “Well, I think that’s about to change. We have some eligible bachelors here on the island, and I don’t think they know any fear.”

“Oh, no, I’m not looking for love right now,” Freddie replied, thinking she had lots of work and a six-year-old son to keep her busy. Too busy to date. “Ryan and I have to get settled here first. He started a new daycare a week ago and…we’re both still adjusting. And soon, he’ll be in school—first grade.”

“I understand,” Ana said, her expression softening. “Being a young widow isn’t easy. Tara had a hard time of it until she met Stone.” Then she smiled. “But it’s too bad you aren’t ready to leap back into the singles world. I had someone in mind already.”

In spite of her unabashed attempt at matchmaking, Freddie liked Ana Dempsey. Ana had been one of the first people to welcome Freddie and her son, Ryan, to the island. They’d stopped in the tearoom for a quick lunch one day, but Ana had been so gracious and welcoming, Freddie had immediately felt an instant bond with the woman. And Tara was just as nice. She’d even offered her oldest daughter, Laurel, to help baby-sit Ryan. Then last week, Ana had invited Freddie to Tara and Stone’s afternoon wedding reception in the gardens of Hidden Hill.

“Well, just keep that name handy,” she told Ana now. “I might be interested once I get my life in order.” Right now, she’d settle for having friends to turn to on the island. It had been so long since she’d had any close girlfriends. Ana seemed like a good choice, since she was a successful businesswoman and she was married to the preacher. Freddie had already attended church at the Sunset Island Chapel. That only confirmed she’d made the right decision by leaving Texas. This was a good, safe place for Ryan to grow up, with lots of families and a peaceful, small-town atmosphere.

Thinking she’d like to get to know Eloise and the whole family better, Freddie said, “Okay, I’ve met Rock, and the groom, Stone, of course. But I don’t think I’ve been introduced to—”

Before Freddie could finish her sentence, Ana was called away by Eloise, and at about the same time, a big, intimidating German shepherd came barreling around the corner of the large mansion, headed right for Freddie. In spite of the dog’s eagerness, Freddie could tell he ran with a slight limp. His form wasn’t the best, but the big dog gave it all he had, at least.

“Whoa, there! Samson, heel.”

The man in the tuxedo seemed amused even though his command was firm and no-nonsense.

Samson came to a skidding halt right in front of Freddie. Then he glanced back at his master, a soft whine escaping from his drooling mouth. Staring down at the lovely animal, Freddie could almost read the thoughts in the dog’s eyes. You look like you like dogs, lady.

And she did. Very much.

“Well, hello there,” Freddie said, her gaze moving from the panting dog to the out-of-breath man hurrying toward them. “May I pet him?” she asked, reaching out a hand toward the waiting animal.

“Samson, what’s got into you, boy?” the man said, his frown aimed at the dog while he ignored Freddie’s question. Then the man gave Freddie what she could only believe to be an appreciative sweeping gaze. “Okay, in this case, I guess I understand. He never could resist a pretty woman.”

“Neither could you, if memory serves me correctly,” Stone said from behind the man. Then he turned to Freddie. “Fredrica Hayes, meet my younger brother, Clay Dempsey.”

Clay Dempsey. The one Dempsey brother she hadn’t met yet. And well worth the wait, she decided.

Clay extended a hand, his grin sheepish. So this was the younger brother. Oh, he had such a sweet, little-boy face. And thick gold-dipped, dark-blond hair, clipped to precision. And eyes to make a woman swoon. Blue-green, and ever changing like the ocean.

“Hello,” Freddie said, offering him a hand, her heart doing a little spin.

Clay took her hand and nodded, the eyes she’d been admiring opening wide. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Freddie watched his face, then turned to Stone.

“What he’s trying to say, is yes, you can pet the dog, I think,” Stone replied, a grin splitting his handsome face.

“Yes,” Clay said again, a blush coloring his tanned face to bronze. “Yes, you can pet the big brute. He’s a K-9 and he’s supposed to behave himself at wedding receptions.”

Smiling, Freddie nodded, her dark hair falling around her face as she leaned forward to scratch Samson’s thick neck. “I can see he’s a canine,” she said, thinking Clay must not have inherited as many brain cells as his brothers. “That does mean dog, right?”

Clay shifted in his black patent shoes. “I mean,” he said, looking toward a highly amused Stone, “he’s, we’re, cops. K-9 Unit, downtown Atlanta.”

“Oh.” Freddie lifted her hand away from the dog, her smile freezing in place, his words making sense now as a trickle of disappointment settled in her stomach. Oh, well, she could still be polite, at least. “How interesting. I’m actually—”

“Hey, you two, we need more pictures,” Ana called, waving to Stone and Clay.

“Oh, boy,” Stone said, shrugging. “Greta Epperson is having a field day. Wants to put us in living color on the society page of the paper.” Then he turned to Freddie. “It’s on page three of the three pages they print, you understand.”

Freddie laughed again, her hand on Samson’s head. “I do understand. She interviewed me when I first came to town, what with me being the new—”

“Come on,” Ana called again, interrupting as she hurried toward them, then dragged Stone back with her toward the gathering group. “You, too,” she called over her shoulder to Clay.

Clay whirled around, then stopped to glance back at Freddie. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Same here,” Freddie said, her heart fluttering like a trapped sandpiper. “Could…could Samson sit here with me while you go pose for posterity?”

A sigh of obvious relief left his body as he walked backward a couple of steps. “That would be nice. He’s had a rough time lately. He’s recovering from an injury he received while on duty and well…”

“He needs some nurturing?”

He nodded, his blue-green eyes melting her with an intense look of appreciation. “Yeah, he could use some tender loving care. Just until I can get him to the local vet next week for a follow-up checkup and the rest of his therapy sessions.”

Freddie watched as Clay turned and trotted toward the group gathered for a picture, with Greta Epperson in her big-framed glasses and satin fifties-style pink dress issuing orders and posing people.

“But…I am the local vet,” Freddie said to Samson, her smile secretive and sure as she rubbed his thick, furry neck. “I’ll take care of you, Samson. I promise.”

Samson’s big black ears shot up, then he settled his nose against the fabric of her floral dress and smiled back.

“She’s—”

“Pretty,” Rock said before Clay could finish. “Is that the word you were looking for, brother?”

Clay shot a grin toward Rock. “Not exactly. I forget I’m not out on the streets of Atlanta. Have to watch my mouth and my manners.”

“Please do,” Ana said as they all smiled for yet another picture from the photographer Greta had dragged along to the wedding. Then Ana leaned close to Clay. “Freddie has had a rough time. Her husband was killed about a year ago—I’m not sure what happened. She has a six-year-old son named Ryan.”

“Really?” Clay wanted to know more, but the photographer was jostling them around so he was forced to face forward and step out of the way.

“Really,” Ana replied over her shoulder. “And she’s not interested, by the way.”

“Who’s asking.” Clay shrugged, then looked toward where Fredrica Hayes sat patting Samson’s head. The dog seemed content to keep right on sitting there while the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman scratched him between the ears.

Clay couldn’t blame poor Samson. When he’d come around the corner and found her standing there, his heart had skidded to a stop just about as screeching as Samson’s big feet. Even now, it was beating rather erratically. Fredrica Hayes was pretty, but there was something more. She looked very lithe and athletic, as if she worked out on a regular basis. She didn’t have many curves, but what she had fit the package perfectly.

“Are you sure?” he asked Ana under his breath.

Ana’s eyebrows lifted with purposeful intent. “About Freddie? Well, she said she wasn’t ready for any type of relationship. She’s only been on the island a couple of weeks and she’s still getting adjusted…but you never know, now do you?”

“No, you never know,” Clay replied. “At least she likes dogs.”

“It’s a start,” Ana said, her expression a little too pleased. Then with a little laugh, she gave him a shove. “What are you waiting for?”

Clay wondered that himself. What was he waiting for? He’d come home to find some peace and quiet and to do some soul-searching. This was supposed to be a time to heal, not a time to fall for the first woman Samson happened to buddy up to. But then, Samson was a very smart animal. Maybe Clay should just do what he’d always done regarding his K-9 partner.

Follow his lead.

Chapter Two

The Sunset Island Animal Hospital was located just off Lady Street, the main thoroughfare through the island. The hospital was on a quaint side street that boasted tiny private cottages mixed in with boutiques and restaurants. The clinic sat at the end of the street near the bay, on a large lot away from the other houses and buildings.

Clay had walked Samson here, hoping to give the eager dog some exercise. He wasn’t sure what to expect in the way of follow-up therapy. Lately, it seemed his dog was in therapy more than he’d been…after the accident.

“But we’re here to get you well, fellow,” Clay said to his partner. “We want to get back to work, right?”

Samson whimpered his answer, as if he understood completely what Clay was saying. Clay was about to answer him when a bicycle came whizzing by them.

A bicycle ridden by Fredrica Hayes.

Clay felt a rush of breath leaving his body as he halted Samson by tugging on his leash. “Hmm, how ’bout that, Samson. Looks as if our new friend is headed to the clinic, too.”

Maybe she had a sick animal there. Maybe she’d hang around and Clay could take her to lunch later. Maybe he’d been off the dating circuit for way too long now.

A lot of maybes.

“Hi,” Clay called as she turned to smile at them.

“Hello.” She parked the bike beside the building then headed up the narrow stone steps to the creamy yellow clinic. “What brings you two out so early today?”

Clay watched, amused, as Samson tugged at the leash. He let the dog go, laughing when Samson headed to Freddie for an ear rub. “We’re supposed to check in with the vet—get Samson started on follow-up therapy.”

“Oh, right,” she said, nodding as she petted the dog. “Hello there, Samson. Remember me?”

“How could he forget,” Clay said before he had time to think. Then he grinned and looked out past the porch to the blue waters of the bay. A party barge glided by, the occupants laughing and talking. When would he learn to let his brain catch up with his mouth before he spoke?

“Dogs do have good memories,” Freddie said, tossing her long brown braid over her shoulder as she unlocked the door. “I believe you two are my first patients of the day.”

“You work here?” Clay asked, thanking the heavens for this delightful coincidence. He’d get to see her a lot if she worked for the vet.

“You could say that,” Freddie replied, winking down at Samson.

Samson’s big tongue fell out of his mouth.

Clay felt sure his was doing the same. She smelled even better than the gardenia bush blooming next to the porch. And she looked so natural and girl-next-door that he wondered why more men weren’t lined up with their dogs. He was sure glad he was the only one so far, however.

“So…do you assist, or just work the front desk?”

“A little of both,” she said, still grinning.

Clay felt as if there was a joke he’d missed, the way she kept looking at Samson. He wished that dog could talk. Maybe Samson knew something he didn’t. She sure seemed to be more comfortable with his dog than with Clay.

As they entered the clean, open waiting area, Clay heard someone behind him. And then he found out the secret.

“Morning, Doc,” a young tawny-haired girl said as she breezed in through the door. “I see we already have a patient this morning.”

“Good morning, Kate,” Freddie said, her grin deepening to reveal dimples on each side of her tanned face.

“Did she just call you Doc?” Clay asked, his gaze shifting from Freddie to the girl.

“She’s the doctor,” Kate said with a shrug.

“The doctor?” Clay looked back at Freddie.

She nodded and patted Samson’s head again. “I see you didn’t let your human friend in on our secret. Good boy.”

“Oh, I get it. You told Samson this already, right?”

Freddie nodded. “We had a long talk the other day while you were busy taking pictures. But I did try to tell you, too.”

Clay rubbed a hand down his face, thinking now would be a good time for the earth to swallow him up. “It was a crazy day. I didn’t get to visit with many of the guests.”

“I understand,” Freddie replied, her smile softening. “Let’s start over then.” She extended her hand, all professional and very serious. “I’m animal doctor Fredrica Hayes. I took over this clinic about two weeks ago. And you can call me Freddie.”

Clay took her hand, noticing her clean, clear fingernail polish and her sensible nails. Everything about her was clean and fresh and sensible. And incredibly attractive. “You sure beat old Doc Bates. And you can call me Clay.”

“Oh, not Clayton? I’ve heard your mother call you by that name.”

Clay shook his head, winced. “Never that, please.” Then because he didn’t want to start stuttering, he asked, “So what happened to Dr. Bates?”

“He sold out to me and moved to Louisiana, to be near his grandchildren,” Freddie explained. “I hope to improve things around here, update this place a bit—it’s a lease with an option to buy, which I intend to do. But money’s tight right now, so I’ll have to wait awhile on that.”

“It’s looking better already,” Clay said, again wishing he could bite his tongue before he opened his mouth. “I mean, this place could use some improvements.”

Kate rolled her eyes, then moved past them. “I’ll get the office cranked up and make us some coffee. Oh, and I brought croissants.”

“You are an angel,” Freddie told the girl. “Kate’s going to school at night in Savannah. She hopes to be my partner one day.”

Kate nodded, tossed her wispy hair. “But until that day, I’m the office manager.”

“Nice,” Clay said, his gaze moving over the clean tile floors and uncluttered benches. There was a basket in the corner, filled with animal toys. Samson immediately headed over to sniff it out.

Freddie looked at her watch. “My other assistant should be here soon. His name is Lee Fletcher.”

“I remember Lee,” Clay said, relieved that something was the same. “We went to school together.”

“Lee is a character,” Freddie said as she opened doors and turned on lights, motioning for Clay and Samson to follow her into a small examining room down the hall. “He’s a perpetual beach bum, content to work here and spend his off time out on a sailboat or jet ski.”

Clay commanded Samson up onto the examining table. “Sometimes I wonder if the simple life might be the best life. Maybe Lee’s got the right idea.”

Freddie stood across the table at him, her big brown eyes making him think of hot chocolate and warm kisses on a moonlight beach. “That’s the reason I came here,” she said, her eyes darkening to a rich brown. “I wanted to raise Ryan away from the city, wanted him to have a more simple, structured life.”

Clay took in that information and the way her dark eyes turned so serious and intense, then said, “I grew up here, but I couldn’t wait to get away. I craved the excitement of the city.”

“But you’re back now.”

He saw the questions in her eyes, but Clay wasn’t ready to answer those questions. He didn’t have the answers yet.

“Just for a vacation,” he said instead. “Just to get Samson healed up and ready to go back on duty.”

If they went back on duty, he thought.

“Then let’s get started,” Freddie said, her whole demeanor changing from friendly to professional again. But Clay thought he saw something else in her big brown eyes, some evasive quality that seemed to effectively shut her down. She rubbed Samson’s furry back, then gave Clay a direct look. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

“Oh, here,” Clay said, shoving a large envelope toward her. “His records.”

“Okay,” she said, taking the envelope. “I’ll read over these later. But I want you to tell me what happened.”

“Why can’t you just read the file?”

“I can. But I need to understand what Samson went through, how he’s been since he’s healed. I need to understand your relationship with him.”

Clay wished Dr. Bates were here. That man would have just grunted and examined the dog. Then he would have probably handed them a list of exercises to complete. But Dr. Bates had gone west and Clay was here, staring at the lovely and determined Dr. Freddie Hayes. And he really didn’t want to go into detail with her about that night.

But she was waiting.

Finally, he sighed, folded his arms across his chest and took on his police-giving-a-report tone. “It was a Code Five—”

“Use plain English.”

“The narcotics agents had been on a stakeout in the area earlier that day. They tried to nab a suspect, but he’d fled into this building. They’d received a tip that he was gone, but he’d stashed some drugs there. We were instructed to watch for the suspect, and then search for illegal weapons and drugs if we didn’t find him. We—Samson and I—were supposed to proceed on a search for evidence once we heard the all clear. It was an old, abandoned warehouse. We thought it was empty.”

“And?”

He shrugged, dropped a hand onto Samson’s back. “And we got in there to begin our search, and it wasn’t empty. The suspect was there, trying either to hide or move his stash, I don’t know. Samson alerted immediately, but it was too late. The suspect started shooting.” He stopped, took a deep breath, tried to focus. “The DEA called for backup, but Samson and I had to hide out on some stairs. We were trapped inside with the suspect, in a shoot-out.”

Her eyes widened as her skin paled to a porcelain sheen. “Oh, my.” Clay watched as she protectively placed a hand on Samson’s head.

Clay sank down on a cushioned bench beside the table. “Yeah, oh, my. That’s what I was thinking, too, but in more graphic terms, when I had to return fire. I tried to wait for backup. I tried to retreat. But the bullets just kept coming. It was too dangerous to let Samson loose on the suspect, and I knew the boys would back me up. Anyway, I saw a chance and we took it. We headed up the stairs to what I thought was an exit door. The suspect came after us and we exchanged more gunfire. I wounded him and he dropped his weapon, but he kept coming. He fell against me and the weight of his body propelled us toward the exit door. I commanded Samson to attack then and he did. It gave me just enough time to get the suspect off me and down on the floor.”