Page 26 of Tough Justice

“Then why did you?”

“I already told you that DEA agent, Deck—Special Agent Decker—wanted me to notify him anytime an opioid OD, particularly a gray death OD, came into the ER so that he could speak with them about where they bought the drugs.”

“And you agreed to this?”

“I did. The hospital administration approved my request. He’ll be here any minute.”

Wil pursed his lips. “Why didn’t you just ask me first? This isn’t like you, at all, and I’m shocked that you’d do this behind my back.”

“No more shocked than I was,” she admitted. Partnering with Deck dug up all kinds of guilt.

The distraught look on her mother’s face the day DEA agents had taken her dad away in handcuffs flashed front and center, and that was only the beginning. Six months in a federal prison had left a lasting mark on her father’s soul. Her mother’s, too. After the fine had been paid and the lawyers siphoned off their share, her dad was forced to shut down his business. By court order. Financial hardship had nearly destroyed her family.

But helping the DEA wasn’t why she’d partnered with Deck. She’d done it to help save people.

“I’m worried about you,” Wil said. “I know you’re still upset about that boy who died. Just promise me you’ll be careful working with the DEA.”

He probably wouldn’t want to hear that she’d gone with Deck on a search warrant. She hadn’t told anyone at the hospital about that. Not even Suzie. “I regret not asking you before speaking with your patient. I promise I won’t do it again.” Not if it meant destroying her friendship with Wil. Nothing would be worth that.

Wil seemed to relax. “At least, let me be there with you when this agent speaks with my patient. Maybe I can help.”

“Thank you,” she said, knowing how good Wil was with patients. “That would be great.”

Wil tapped his watch, an old leather wristwatch his father had given him. “We’d better go.”

As they left the lounge and headed back to the ER, relief swept over her. She never should have doubted Wil’s support in the first place.

“Dr. Barnett?” Suzie pointed to ER 4, meaning a new case had come in and Wil was next up on rotation.

Wil groaned. “I’ll be right there,” he said to Suzie. “Fill me in later?” he said over his shoulder then headed into the examining room.

“I will,” she called after him, then went to meet Deck.

At the admin desk, three nurses stood with their heads together, whispering like teenage girls as they stared at something down the hall.

“What’s going on?” Tori asked, joining them.

“Him,” one of them said, pointing. “He’s what’s going on.”

Just inside the ER doors, a boy about nine years old and wearing a Rockies baseball cap sat on a stretcher. In one hand, he clutched a mitt to his chest. His other arm was in a sling. The kid was adorable, but that wasn’t what had caught the nurses’ undivided attention. On one side of the stretcher stood a woman Tori presumed was the boy’s mother and on the other side were Deck and Thor.

Dressed in what she now knew was typical for him—black tactical pants and matching polo shirt with the DEA badge and K-9 Unit insignia—Deck was a formidable sight. The ever-present handgun strapped to his right side completed the fearsome image. The man really was handsome with a capital H. No wonder the nurses were staring. Now that Tori had seen him, even she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

Deck leaned in to talk to the boy, whose eyes were red, and his shoulders shook as he strived valiantly not to cry.

“Tori.” Deck waved her over.

The moment Thor caught sight of her, his tail began whipping back and forth.

“Hello, Thor.” The dog wore a vest around his body with a DEA badge on both sides. She leaned down to scratch his ears and let him lick her chin. “It’s always nice to see your happy, furry face, although I’m not sure you should be in the emergency room.” The reprimand was, of course, meant for Deck.

“Morning,” he said, ignoring the hint, and when he smiled, her belly fluttered. Worse, he smelled good. All citrusy and fresh. Please, not me, too. Did all federal agents smell this good? “This is Dylan and his mom, Andrea,” he said. “This is Dr. Sampson.”

“Hello, Dr. Sampson,” the boy’s mother said, smiling grimly.

“H-hi.” A tear rolled down Dylan’s cheek, and it was all Tori could do not to wipe it away herself and give him a big hug.

“Dylan’s a big baseball fan, aren’t you?” The boy nodded. “He fell from his bike on the way to practice, and it sounds like he may have broken his arm. Now he’s worried that he won’t be able to play ball for a while.”