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the job they’d been doing.
    Glad the ward was in low light, Sam fought back tears. Why had he done that stupid job? If it weren’t for the fact that he was broke and needed some quick cash, he’d never have agreed to it. Scott had never used a chainsaw before but he’d reassured him that it would be a doddle – a few hours’ work for a good crust.
    Except when it had come down to it, it had been dangerous, and it had brought him to people’s attention. God knows who would come sniffing around once they heard what they’d been up to. The land was private. They shouldn’t have been on there, despite what he’d told his mum earlier. They were clearing it for better access to the building suppliers that Scott was planning on robbing. Their aim to look like they were local council contractors had even fooled one of the neighbours when he had come across to have a chat. Nosy git.
    The nurses had moved away now, and the man across from him was finally quiet too. Sam wished he could allay his fears by getting a bit of sleep but he knew that wasn’t possible. He’d never had an operation before, and just the thought of it was enough to set his heart racing. He’d read all sorts of tales in the news of people being awake on the operating table but unable to let anyone know and feeling every single thing. Sam shuddered. Why couldn’t they come for him now and get it over and done with?
    He glanced down at his hand again, the warmth radiating through the dressing. What the fuck was he going to be left with after this operation? Shit, if he lost his finger he wouldn’t be able to look at his hand ever again. And it was his right hand – he wouldn’t even be able to sign his name.
    More importantly, as he lay in the still of the ward, he couldn’t help thinking about how vulnerable he was without two hands to put up a fight. He could count on the fingers of his good hand just how many people might want to get their revenge, especially after he’d started to work with Scott Johnstone. He’d found himself in more than one sticky situation over the past few months. Luckily, he’d got away with everything so far, but why the hell had he thought he could run with the big names?
    One thing was certain. No matter what state he left the hospital in, Sam would need to watch his back for the foreseeable future.
     
     

 
    Chapter Six
     
    Visiting hours were around the clock on the emergency ward, so after spending most of the evening at the hospital with Sam, Donna had been thankful to finally get home for the night. The recent bout of hot weather had meant tempers had risen along with the heat, and a spate of late-night barbecues had resulted in many drunken arguments, but the cul-de-sac was fairly quiet as she locked up her car.
    Once in the house, she made toast and coffee and then sunk down on the settee. What a day. During the last couple of hours, Sam had really tried her patience with his moaning and groaning, but she’d kept her thoughts to herself. He was clearly in a lot of pain and the last thing he would want to hear was his mum saying it was all his own fault.
    She’d just finished the toast when her phone rang. Reaching for it quickly, the caller display showed ‘unknown number.’ She worried that it could be the hospital, or something wrong with her mum, Mary.
    ‘Hello?’
    ‘Hey, it’s me, Owen.’
    ‘Oh, hi.’ The relief Donna felt was immense. ‘I didn’t recognise your number.’
    ‘I’m on my landline. I just wanted to see how you were – and how things were with your son. It’s Sam, isn’t it?’
    ‘Yes.’ Donna was pleased that he’d remembered Sam’s name. ‘He’s in a bad way but he’s going to be fine. It will take a miracle for them to sort his hand out to look anywhere near decent but the surgeons seem fairly confident that he won’t lose his finger.’
    ‘That’s good.’ A pause. ‘I also wanted to say thank you for thinking of me when you were in such turmoil with your