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The front door clicked. Jake went on instant alert, pulling the revolver out of his shoulder holster. Either the prisoner had Houdini’s escape skills, or Samantha’s assailant was still in the house.
“Hey, where are you guys?” Tad shouted from below.
Jake slipped the revolver back in its holster and rushed back to Samantha’s side, shouting, “We’re up in the loft. Get up here. We need your help.”
“Who tore up the downstairs?” Tad asked, entering the loft. His eyes widened as he looked at the wreckage in the bedroom. “Holy cow. Somebody did a number on this place.”
Kathy climbed the ladder. Her brow wrinkled as she surveyed the damage. “Is Samantha okay?”
“No.” Jake watched Tad’s jaw drop. “Someone bashed her on the head. Kathy, call for medical assistance. Tad, hand me that stack of clean tee shirts. We need to stop the bleeding.”
Tad hurried to the corner and picked up the stack off the floor. He returned to Jake and handed them over, saying, “You said we’d be safe.” He paled as Jake pressed a shirt against her bloody forehead.
“I was wrong. I’m sorry.” Jake slanted an assessing glance Tad’s way while he gently pressed the compress to Samantha’s forehead. “You’d better sit down before you fall, kid.”
Tad sagged onto the bed. “Is she going to be okay?”
“God, I hope so,” Jake replied grimly.
Samantha shifted away from Jake’s touch, moaning.
“Shh,” Jake crooned softly, reaching out to brush a tendril of hair away from her ashen forehead. “You’ll be okay, Sunshine. I won’t let anything else happen to you.”
Jake paced the exam cubicle in the Emergency Room, waiting for the doctor to return. He stopped to gaze at Samantha, lying so still on the gurney. Her eyes sleepily swept open.
“What happened?” she murmured.
“Someone assaulted you.”
“Who?”
“That’s what I was hoping you’d tell me.”
She shook her head and then winced. “It happened so fast. I saw a shadowy figure, a blur, and then wham. Sorry.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry for leaving you in jeopardy.”
The cubicle curtain slid open, and Dr. Adams entered the area.
Jake glanced up at the older, bespectacled doctor. His calm demeanor was reassuring. “How’s she doing, Doc?”
“The CAT scan was normal. No skull fracture or brain bleeds. So, I’d say it’s just a concussion.”
Jake felt a heavy weight of despair lift off his shoulders. “Thank God.”
“It is good news, considering the severity of the blow she received. I’m going to stitch her wound, and I’ll want to keep her here overnight for observation.”
Jake wanted to hug the gruff old gent. Instead, he settled for a handshake. “Thanks, Doc.”
Dr. Adams stepped toward the gurney and injected Samantha’s wound with a numbing agent. “Little Sammy Logan, I treated you for a broken arm and eating too many green apples as a child, but I never expected to see you as the victim of a crime. What happened?”
“Jake and I are on a case, and I messed up.”
“A case?”
“Jake works for my dad at Logan Industries as head of security. I was helping him with a stakeout. We were getting to the exciting part, and someone got the drop on me.”
Jake’s shoulders tensed gazing at her confident smile. She’d run blithely back into jeopardy if he didn’t nip her interest in his case in the bud.
