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Ian was there to help now and together they got Damien to his feet. Behind him, he could hear Sam asking the passers-by who had gathered outside the open doorway to stay back. Moving them away from the little scene of life and death that had just been played out. She was too late. Damien caught sight of them and shouted a couple of curses in their direction.
‘Damien. Enough!’ Ian’s firm voice cut through the rumble of outrage.
‘Should just let him die...’ A low voice came from somewhere and Euan ignored it. Damien started to struggle, and Ian propelled him inside, while Euan picked up his medical bag.
He heard Sam’s voice behind him, cold with anger. ‘Next time you’re hurt, be thankful that there are
people who don’t care who you are and what you’ve done and who’ll help you anyway.’
Euan couldn’t help a grin. She was fire, and commitment, and compassion. Sam had his back, and he couldn’t deny that it was a good feeling.
She followed them inside, closing the door quietly behind them. Damien was on his feet, restless and aggressive, and Ian was shepherding him through to one of the counselling rooms. At last Euan had a moment for Sam.
‘Is he going to be all right now?’
‘We’ll need to keep a close eye on him. The nalaxone I gave him has counteracted the effects of the opiate drugs he’s taken, and put him straight into withdrawal. He’s hurting pretty bad...’
‘And you?’ She brushed his jaw with her fingers.
He’d almost forgotten about that. ‘I’m fine. One of the hazards of the job.’
She nodded. ‘What will you do now?’
‘We’ll keep him here as long as we can. The nalaxone has a half life of an hour or so, and he may start getting symptoms of an overdose again when it wears off. And we need to stop him from taking anything more...’
The sound of Damien’s voice, raised in outrage, came from upstairs. ‘I’d better see if Ian needs some help.’
‘Sure. Go. Will you need anything else from your bag, or shall I lock it up again?’
Euan grinned at her. ‘No. I think a dose of sense is what Damien needs most at the moment.’
She laughed, maybe a little too loudly and a little too long. The stress was beginning to show, and Euan wanted to get her out of here, take her somewhere where she could wind down. He couldn’t. They were already stretched, and Damien was going to need watching for a while.
‘Okay. I’ll let you get on.’
‘Make some tea. Go for a walk...’ The suggestions were painfully inadequate but he was going to have to leave Sam to deal with this herself. ‘Where’s Liz?’
‘She went home at lunchtime.’ She shot him one of her no-nonsense looks, waving him away. ‘I’m going out to find the sandwiches. I dropped them in the street when I saw what was happening. And I might pop in to see Juno this afternoon.’
‘Juno?’ If he had to pick someone to keep Sam company this afternoon, Juno’s sometimes abrasive approach to the world wouldn’t have been his first choice. ‘Are you sure—?’
She silenced him with a flip of her fingers. Euan had got it wrong again. She didn’t want sympathy, or to cry on someone’s shoulder. She wanted... Sometimes he didn’t know what she wanted.
‘Juno’s making a piece for me, remember? She wants to get a feel for what I want, and I could do with waving my arms about a bit at the moment. I’ll be back here by four.’
Fair enough. Euan capitulated to the inevitable and dropped a kiss on her lips. That, at least, he could do.
* * *
Thinking about this didn’t get him anywhere. But not thinking about it, while he engaged in the difficult task of calming Damien down and making arrangements for him to be supervised overnight, had made everything much clearer. Euan was silent as he strolled next to Sam back to his house, because he knew what he had to do.
She put her laptop down on the kitchen table, and picked up the kettle to fill it. ‘Something to drink?’
‘No. Sam, come here, will you?’ He sat down, pulling a chair out for her. Not too close. He couldn’t do this if she got too close.
She sat down. ‘What’s up?’
Maybe she knew. Maybe it would be a relief to her. ‘I want you to go back to London. Tonight.’
