Mountain Rescue. Hope White

takes more than a minute,” the blond nurse countered.

      “I’m telling you, it’s a mistake. Dr. Green wanted her to get a good night’s sleep. He wouldn’t have ordered a scan in the middle of the night.”

      “Well, somebody ordered it,” the blonde said.

      “Probably for tomorrow.” The older nurse typed something into the computer and frowned. “Huh.”

      “What?” Quinn asked.

      “I see the scan request for tonight, but I have no idea who ordered it. I’ve never seen this doctor’s name before.”

      “Where’s imaging?” Quinn said.

      “Basement.”

      Quinn took off.

      “Down the elevator to the left,” the blonde called after him.

      He didn’t have the patience for the elevator. He took the stairs two at a time and swung open the door to the basement level.

      Pitch blackness greeted him. Instincts on full alert, he pulled out his smartphone and clicked on its flashlight application. Fighting to calm the adrenaline pouring through his body, he aimed the light down the hallway, slowly making his way to imaging.

      The deafening silence spiked panic in his chest as he took slow, determined steps. Then he had a thought: if someone was down here planning to harm Billie, Quinn’s very presence could scare him off. “Billie?” he called out.

      Silence. A pit grew in his stomach. Had the attacker already found her? Hurt her?

      “Billie, answer me!” he demanded.

      “Quinn?” her soft voice drifted down the hall.

      “I’m here.” He headed in the direction of her voice and turned the corner. He spotted a man dart out of a room and race down the hall.

      Quinn wanted to go after him, but needed to get to Billie. As he approached the doorway he spotted something on the floor: a body. He kneeled beside an unconscious young man in scrubs and placed two fingers to his neck. Luckily his pulse was strong and steady.

      The slam of a door echoed down the hall.

      “Quinn? Are you there?” Billie’s shaky voice called from inside the room.

      “Right outside the door,” he said.

      “What happened?”

      “You’ll be okay, buddy,” he whispered to the orderly. He stood and aimed the beam of his phone into the room, but couldn’t see Billie. “Where are you?”

      She peeked her head around the CT machine. He’d never seen her eyes so big and round before, not even the day they’d rescued Billie and her husband from the mountain.

      No, tonight her expression read utter fear.

      He crossed the room, kneeled beside her and pulled her against his chest. She let out a gasp, like she’d been holding her breath.

      “It’s okay. I’m here.” He stroked her hair, holding her close. Relief finally uncoiled the knot in his chest.

      She placed her hand against his chest and leaned back to look into his eyes. “Dylan went to find the tech but didn’t return.”

      “Twentyish kid with short black hair?”

      “Yeah.”

      “He’s okay, but unconscious. Is there a phone in here?”

      “On the wall.” She pointed.

      He handed her his smartphone. “Aim the light toward the phone and I’ll call security.”

      She pointed the beam of light and Quinn found the phone hanging off the cradle. He grabbed it, pressed zero and waited.

      Billie was okay. Everything was going to be fine. The knot in his chest might have uncoiled, but tension still hummed through his body.

      Billie had been threatened, in danger, and where was Quinn? Absent. He’d abandoned her. More proof of his deep-seated failure.

      “Operator,” a woman answered.

      “My name is Quinn Donovan. The lights in the basement are out and someone was attacked. Notify security and turn on the emergency lights, please.”

      “Who is this?”

      “Quinn Donovan. My friend is a patient here, Billie Bronson. Send someone with a stretcher to the basement. One of your orderlies was knocked unconscious.” Quinn hung up and turned to Billie. “We’re going to be fine.”

      As Billie nodded with relief, a tear trickled down her cheek. His chest ached at the thought of her being terrorized.

      “Come on, let’s get you in the wheelchair.” He helped her stand. She wavered and he automatically picked her up.

      “What are you doing?” she said.

      “I don’t want you to fall down and hit your head again.”

      She pointed the smartphone to illuminate his way and he carried her across the room to the wheelchair. The emergency lights popped on with a click.

      Which only made matters worse since now he could really see how terrified she was. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes continually scanned her surroundings. Then her gaze landed on the doorway where the orderly lay unconscious.

      “Dylan,” she whispered.

      “He’s okay,” Quinn assured.

      “But—”

      “Billie, look at me.” With his thumb and forefinger he tipped her chin so she’d look into his eyes. “Dylan’s okay. You’re okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”

      * * *

      Quinn had meant it when he told Billie everything was going to be fine. Unfortunately the hospital security guard was on a power trip and Quinn was the victim of the guy’s overblown ego.

      “So you mysteriously happened to know your girlfriend was in trouble?”

      “She’s not my girlfriend. I guessed she was in trouble when I heard the nurses talking about the mysterious doctor who’d ordered the CT scan.”

      “Is she a former girlfriend?” the security guard pushed. His nametag read Steven and he looked to be in his forties.

      “She’s a friend,” Quinn clarified.

      Steven walked to the corner of the small office and crossed his arms over his chest. “How do you know each other?”

      “Do you have someone watching her room?” Quinn asked. “Because she might still be in danger.”

      “You didn’t answer my question.”

      “I was on the rescue team that recovered Billie and her husband a year ago.”

      “And you kept in touch? Isn’t there a name for that? Some kind of syndrome or something?”

      “She fell on tough times and I gave her a job and a place to live after the accident.”

      “With you?”

      “What’s with all the questions?”

      “Why are you afraid to answer?” Steven pushed.

      “I’d rather be watching over my friend.”

      “Don’t worry. She’s fine.”

      Quinn leaned back in his chair. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

      “What?”

      “Pretending to be a real cop.”

      Steven took a step forward and gripped the metal flashlight on his belt. Quinn’s older brother always said Quinn should learn to control his