Emergency Reunion

SAVED BY THE SHERIFF’S DEPUTY

Paramedic Sherri Steele refuses to believe someone’s out to get her—until she’s held at knifepoint in her own ambulance. It’ll take her high school crush to convince her she needs protection—and deputy sheriff Cole Donovan is as persuasive as he is handsome. But when his brother rises to the top of the suspects list, Cole’s torn between family duty and the woman he’s never forgotten. With every emergency call to the paramedics turning into an attack on Sherri’s life, Cole’s convinced Sherri has a stalker. Cole needs to know whether his brother is the culprit before things spiral out of control. Survival—and a future with Sherri—depends on discovering who wants to cause trauma to this EMT.

Eddie’s hold around Sherri’s neck eased mercifully.

But she still struggled to pull in a full breath as her gaze clung to Cole. His soft gray eyes that had once sparkled with mischievous teasing now brimmed with a tangle of regret and despair.

“I wasn’t going to hurt nobody,” Eddie muttered.

“I know.” That telltale muscle twitch in Cole’s cheek gave Sherri an odd pang of reassurance. “But I can’t help you if you don’t drop the knife.”

“You don’t wanna help me!” Eddie shoved Sherri into Cole’s line of fire and ran toward the rear door.

Thrown off balance, she tumbled right into Cole’s arms. They closed protectively around her. And for a few blissful seconds she felt fifteen again.

“Thank you for getting me out in one piece.”

He cradled her jaw in his palm. “You were amazing back there.”

She stiffened, not wanting to acknowledge how something inside her came alive at his touch, at the admiration in his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and she had the uncomfortable feeling he was apologizing for a lot more than his out-of-control brother.

SANDRA ORCHARD hails from beautiful Niagara, Canada, where inspiration abounds for her award-winning novels. She’s passionate about writing stories that both keep the reader guessing and reveal God’s love and faithfulness through the lives of her characters. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website, sandraorchard.com.

Emergency Reunion

Sandra Orchard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you,

for My power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

—2 Corinthians 12:9

To Charlotte Cripps and Stacey Weeks. Thank you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

At the sight of her ambulance’s side door yawning open, Sherri Steele tripped to a stop. This afternoon was headed the same way as the unsettled June weather. Stormy. Again.

“What’s the holdup?” her partner groused from the other end of the stretcher straddling their patient’s threshold.

She motioned with her chin for him to pull the stretcher holding the elderly gentleman back into the small bungalow. “I think we have company.”

She’d closed the ambulance’s door, but in this quiet retiree neighborhood, locking it hadn’t seemed necessary. Before her partner could ask more questions, she whispered a quick prayer for protection, slipped out and padded toward the rig. Protocol demanded that a paramedic call the police if she feared for her safety, a practice she’d been a stickler about ever since her former partner had gotten himself killed, but the last thing she needed on her record was a nuisance cry-wolf call if it turned out to be nothing more than a curious kid inside. Maybe one of the neighbors’ grandkids. Or worse. No one at all.

Her finger tensed over the radio’s call button. She’d take a quick peek and if she saw anyone over four-six, she’d call it in.

“Get back in here with the patient and let me look,” her partner hissed from the bungalow.

She put her finger to her lips and waved him off as she melted against the side of the ambulance to shield herself from the view of whoever was inside. The guys would never let her live it down if she turned tail and it turned out to be nothing. Please, God, let it be nothing.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Someone was definitely in there. She drew in a deep breath and glanced through the opening.

A lanky teen with unnaturally black hair stood at the wall-mounted cabinet, jabbing at the lock with a screwdriver. He slammed his fist into the steel and cursed.

Sherri jerked back out of sight and fumbled with the button on her radio. That was no curious grandkid.

The next instant she was yanked off her feet and hauled inside the truck. The kid spun her around and pinned her to the wall, the butt of his hand crushing her larynx. Drug-crazed eyes locked with hers. “Open it!”

“Okay,” she mouthed, unable to get a breath past the pressure on her throat.

He slowly eased his hold, looking as if he wasn’t sure he trusted her. His heavy-lidded, gauzy blue eyes seemed vaguely familiar, which shouldn’t have surprised her in a town the size of Stalwart, Washington. But it rattled her more than ever. Maybe someone really was behind the bad things that only seemed to happen on her shift.