Samantha was sorry to see the others nod, get back into their patrol unit and start for her house. That meant she was alone with John. And with his temper.
When he turned back to face her, he looked more irate than she had ever seen him. That impression was so strong it caused her to cringe when he reached toward her.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Sam,” he said, dropping his hand to his side and shaking his head soberly. “I’m not like your father, okay?”
“I know.”
“Then stop looking at me as if you expect me to start yelling and swinging.”
“Sorry. Old habits die hard.”
“That, they do.” A smile lifted the corners of his mouth but the emotion didn’t quite reach his eyes.
He offered his hand to her, waited a few heartbeats then started to pull back.
Samantha moved quickly to grasp it before he could change his mind. The feeling of safety and concern in John’s tender touch was all-encompassing and so comforting it nearly brought tears to her eyes.
Holding his hand like this was dumb. Foolish. Ridiculous, given their stormy history. It was also something she was not ready to relinquish. Not yet. Not when the police were still at her house searching for her erstwhile attacker.
The phone in John’s pocket jingled and he flipped it open to answer. “Waltham.”
Samantha’s pulse was hammering in her ears so loudly she could hardly hear anything else. The expression on her companion’s face was enough to tell her the officers had not found a prowler.
“Okay,” John said into the phone. “We’ll be right up. Don’t go into the house until we get there. She’s got a watchdog the size of a pony inside.”
He ended the call and started toward his truck, still holding her hand and dragging her along so fast she had to practically jog to keep pace.
“What is it? What did they see? There has to be someone up there. I know there does.”
“Not now,” John said, sounding cynical. “They spotted tracks from an all-terrain vehicle. Looks like your prowler made his getaway on an ATV.”
“I didn’t hear anything like that, did you?”
“We probably wouldn’t have when we were both concentrating on your wild driving. Apparently, while you were going one way, your druggie friend was headed in the opposite direction. He could be miles away by now.”
“I certainly hope so,” Samantha said. She scooted into the truck on the driver’s side, then slid over to make room for John.
The grim look he shot in her direction was unsettling. Nervousness kept her talking. “What? You don’t want him to go away because you want to capture him? I get it, believe me. What I meant was I hope I never see him or his cronies again.”
“That’s not likely,” John warned. “As long as they think you took some kind of package from the Boland kid they’ll keep coming after it. And you.”
“What can I do? I told you, Bobby Joe didn’t give me a thing.”
“Is that the truth?”
She bristled. “Of course it is.”
John’s smile grew sardonic, as if he wanted to believe her but couldn’t quite manage it in spite of his earlier claim that she was a poor liar. She could sort of understand that point of view. Perhaps it was time for a more detailed explanation of her motives.
“I would have gotten around to telling you about what the purse snatcher said,” Samantha insisted. “Honest I would. I was just worried about Bobby getting in more trouble because of me. I know his whole family. He’s not a bad kid at heart.”
“He’s an addict who probably sells the stuff to innocent little kids to support his habit. Is that the way you want to take care of the children in Serenity?”
“Of course not. I was planning to talk to Bobby’s folks but I wanted to wait and see what the actual charges were before I said anything, that’s all. This whole drug-conspiracy idea might be nothing more than a big misunderstanding.”
“Even if it is, there’s still somebody out to get you, Sam. All the good intentions in the world won’t protect you from evil if you don’t use your head.”
“Humph. I thought you believed in God taking care of His own.”
“I do. But I also know He gave us brains and expects us to think with them. I may be a Christian but I still put bullets in my gun. It would be idiotic not to.”
“Okay, you’ve made your point.”
She settled back against the seat as John started the truck and headed up the hill toward the old farmhouse. He was right, of course. It made perfect sense to use the capabilities each of them had been given. That was what she was doing when she volunteered through CASA. And that was the same thing John had been doing when he’d put himself in place to protect her.