Broken (40 page)

Sam snorted. “Damn, you think fast . . . for a snake. But the problem with that? Sarah’s not dead.”

His eyes gleamed. “But nobody could prove that unless she came home. You think you have me over a barrel here . . .
Samantha
. But you don’t. I know people. People who could make your life an utter hell.”

“What . . . like you’ve done?” Curling her lip at him, she held still, watching him as he came out from behind the desk, gliding toward her. Like a shark. His lifeless eyes held her pinned in place, although she could see the promise of violence there. The hate. The need to inflict pain.

Sam lifted her chin as he stopped just a foot away.

“I really did think you were smarter than this,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I don’t tolerate threats, Samantha. Those who try to threaten me are eliminated.”

“You already tried that . . . it didn’t work.”

James smiled coldly. “I’ll handle it myself this time.”

“Should I be frightened . . . Jimmy?”

“You should.” He dipped his head, putting it so close his mouth almost brushed her ear. “I’m going to bury you, you little bitch.”

“Oh, that wouldn’t be smart on your part.” She grinned at him, hoped it would hide the fear in her gut. Her heart knocked against her ribs. But she didn’t back away. Didn’t let him see that she was terrified—he would make good on that threat, if he could. If he believed he could get away with it, he would do whatever he felt was necessary. “You see . . . too many people know I’d be here today. The detective agency. Hell, fifty employees saw me coming up here.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do it . . . today.” He smiled at her. “But it will come. I’m a patient man, Samantha, especially when it comes to things I want. And I want you to wish you were never born.”

She gave him Bambi-eyes. “Are you seriously still threatening me? Don’t you realize that I’m
this
close to making sure everybody knows you’re a fucking wife beater?”

“You don’t want to do that, Samantha. You really don’t.”

“You
are
threatening me. I wonder what the prosecutors would think about this,” she said. Her voice trembled, just a bit, before she could steady it. She saw the flicker in his eyes, realized he had seen her fear. Swallowing the knot in her throat, she said in a stronger voice, “You got any idea what they’d say?”

He smirked. “Why? Are you going to threaten me with legal action now? I haven’t harmed you.”

The door opened, but neither of them looked away from the other.

“No. But it doesn’t change the fact that you made the threat and if something happens to me, that won’t look very good, will it? Besides . . .”

“If something happens to you, it won’t matter how his threats look.” A menacing voice promised from the doorway. “He’s going to end up an ugly smear on the pavement outside.”

Quinn
—her knees went a little weak. Her heart skipped and danced in her chest, doing a fast-time version of the jitterbug. Licking her dry lips, she turned and looked at him.

At the same time, James jerked away and did the same. He stared at the man standing in the doorway with fury written all over his face.

With his legs spread wide, thumbs hooked in his pockets, Quinn returned James’s intense scrutiny. His lip curled as he raked his gaze over James.

He didn’t look her way.

Not once.

“Who are you?” James demanded.

Without responding, Quinn stalked in. There were two men in suits trailing along behind him.

James looked at the suits. “Richard, would you care to explain to me who this is and why he was brought up here?”

“Mr. Morgan, I apologize.” One of the suits pushed past Quinn, his face unreadable. There was the faintest flush on his cheeks as he gestured to Quinn. “We tried to call, but you . . . I mean, there was interference. This man insisted he had very important information about your wife. And . . . ah . . . other matters.”

James’s narrowed his eyes. “Really.” He glanced at Sam.

Sam could see the calculation in his eyes, see the wheels starting to spin.

Richard inclined his head. “Yes. As she is already here, I wasn’t sure if his information was relevant, but he was rather insistent.”

He still hadn’t looked at her. Her gut knotted up, forming into a tight, cold ball. Spit pooled in her mouth and she swallowed.

“What sort of information?”

Quinn jerked a shoulder up.

Once more, a muscle started to twitch in James’s temple. “What information do you have about my wife?”

“Have your boys leave us alone and we can talk about my information,” Quinn said, his voice flat and cold. So cold it sent shivers down Sam’s spine.

But in his eyes, she saw heat. The heat of anger. The heat of hunger. Other emotions she couldn’t begin to think about. What was he doing here?

“Richard, you and Matthew may go. I’ll send word if your services are required,” James said, his tone sharp enough to cut.

The room was quiet as the other two men left, and once the doors swung shut behind them, Quinn slid his eyes her way. Finally, he looked at her. For the briefest moment, it was like the past few days hadn’t happened. He studied her, from head to toe and then right back on up until once more their gazes connected.

That long, lingering look was an unseen caress, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Followed by a rush of confusion.

What in the hell was going on?

Why was he here?

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.” She angled her chin up and added, “I can take care of myself.”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “I know you can, tough girl.” He slanted his gaze toward James and said, “Still, if he so much as laid a hand on you, I’m going to feed it to him.”

James’s lip curled. “I’m not sure who you are, but if you don’t have any relevant information for me, you may go. I have a great deal of catching up to do with my . . . wife.”

“She’s not your wife,” Quinn said, shrugging.

So casually said. But the words hit her like a slap, catching her off guard. Her lips parted on a startled gasp before she could stop it. He
knew
. Her voice rusty, she asked, “How did you find out, Quinn?”

James’s cold, empty eyes narrowed down. “Quinn?” he echoed. Understanding flashed through those empty eyes. “Quinn . . . as in Quinn Rafferty.”

Quinn ignored him. “Doesn’t matter right now, does it?” He looked away from her, focusing on James. “So . . . what did I miss?”

“Excuse me?”

Propping a shoulder against a wall, Quinn watched James. “You heard me. What did I miss? Samantha’s here on unfinished business and I guess that business is you.”

“It’s hardly any concern of yours.” James frowned.

In an eerie echo of Samantha’s comment, Quinn said, “Anything that concerns Samantha concerns me.”

“Sam,” she corrected. He didn’t look her way.

“Hmmm.” James once more had his temper under control. “Tell me, Mr. Rafferty, since Samantha has been reluctant to explain what’s going on, would you care to enlighten me?”

“Sure. You put out a job request and failed to make a couple of pertinent details clear—namely, your wife has an identical twin. Made it very easy to grab the wrong one. I’m kind of curious how you could leave such an important detail out.”

“He thought I was dead,” Sam said, giving James a sidelong look. “Not that you’ll get that information out of him.”

Quinn’s eyes narrowed. He said nothing.

“She’s always had a wickedly active imagination,” James said as he gave Quinn a chilly smile. His gaze was flat, so very cold. “Perhaps you should have done better research, Mr. Rafferty. Seeing as how you failed to collect my wife, I won’t be authorizing the reward.”

“Actually, you’re calling off the reward altogether.” He bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile.

Damn, if she thought James had a cold smile, it was nothing like the one on Quinn’s face just then. The look on his face was positively arctic.

James didn’t look too affected, though. In a bored tone, he said, “Now why would I do that, when I’m so desperate to see her again?”

“You’ll do it because if you don’t, you won’t be very happy.” He pulled his phone out.

Sam didn’t know what he had in mind, and while she suspected it might involve judicious use of those very capable hands, she wasn’t about to let a white knight rain on her parade.

“Quinn, while I appreciate the effort, this is my fight.” She bared her teeth at James. “After all, this is
family
business.”

“Indeed.” James inclined his head and gave Quinn a dismissive look. “That being the case, perhaps you could take your leave, Mr. Rafferty.”

“Perhaps you could shove it up your ass, Mr. Morgan.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall once more.

For all the world, he looked like a man settling down to watch a cool action flick.

James turned around and stalked to his desk. “You’re leaving, Mr. Rafferty.”

“No.” Quinn shook his head. “I’m not doing that. I’m going to stay right here until this is all over.”

“Oh, it’s going to be over . . . very soon.” She stared into his eyes, wishing she could figure out what was going on inside that head of his. But she couldn’t. It was like reading a brick wall. He gave nothing away.

With her heart racing in her chest, she glanced past him and saw Don, still in the lobby area outside James’s office. Waiting. Don looked scared to death, sitting in his chair with his fingers gripping the armrests as though that alone would keep him from running.

Don’s eyes met hers and he gave a short, jerky nod.

There was knowledge in his eyes.

A grin curled her lips and she cocked a brow at him. A silent, unspoken question . . .
really?

The smile he gave her back was shaky, and more than a little strained. Then he nodded and glanced at the clock. When he looked back at her, he mouthed the word
Soon
.

Soon . . . as in seconds, she suspected.

Abruptly, Sam started to laugh. She tried to muffle it, but the harder she tried not to laugh, the harder it was to contain.

“Shut the fuck up, you little bitch,” James rasped.

Quinn came off the wall in a smooth, lethal move. Stalking around the desk, he approached James and didn’t stop until no more than an inch separated them. “One more insult, James, you’ll need a paramedic to scrape you off the floor. And probably a body bag.”

Did it make her bloodthirsty that she found Quinn very sexy in that moment?

James smoothed a hand down his tie, a nervous gesture, Sam realized. She scowled. Hell, she hadn’t made him nervous. Not even when he saw those pictures. She’d pissed him off, but made him nervous? Not even a little, she suspected.

“I’m entitled to know where to find my wife, Mr. Rafferty.”

“Why? So you can teach her a lesson for running away?”

A muscle ticked in James’s cheek. “I imagine I know where you’ve gotten such foolish ideas. Samantha never did like me—I suspect she didn’t care for her sister marrying a much older man.” He shot a look at Sam. “But I just want my wife back. I miss her.”

Quinn smirked. “Yeah. I bet.”

Mentally, she huffed.
Fine.
Let Quinn make him all nervous. She shot Don another glance and this time, his gaze slid to the elevator. Man, he hadn’t been kidding.

“Jimmy, I think you’re about out of time,” Sam murmured.

He frowned at her, but any response James might have made was lost when the door opened yet again. Sam turned to look and even before her brain processed what she was seeing, there was a grin curving her lips upward.

James tore his eyes away from Quinn and stared at his newest visitor. A slender blonde stood in the doorway, her hand resting on the doorknob and holding the door open.

James blinked. “Alison, what a pleasant surprise.” His voice was sharp enough to cut glass. “But I’m afraid I’m in the middle of an important discussion.”

Alison Mather blinked cornflower blue eyes and frowned. “I’m so sorry . . . am I interrupting?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” The smile on his face looked brittle. “I wish you’d called.”

“Oh.” She looked back and forth between James, Quinn, and Sam. Then with a vague gesture toward the lobby area, she said, “Perhaps I could wait . . . ?”

“This could take some time. It might be best if I called—”

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

Alison turned. Her shiny, golden blonde hair fell over one shoulder as she studied the people gathered behind her. Three men, one woman. Two of the men were in uniform. The third man was dressed in a wrinkled, rumpled suit, his eyes tired, but sharp.

It was about to get very crowded in James’s elegant gray and chrome office.

The woman was dressed in a suit that probably cost more than Sam made in a month. She had the same sharp eyes as the cop, but Sam knew she wasn’t one. Natalie Dillard was a lawyer. They’d crossed paths a time or two.

James scowled, his eyes moving past the uniforms, past the woman, to meet the gaze of the man. “If you don’t mind, I’m in the middle of an important discussion.”

The woman answered. “I’m afraid that discussion is going to have to wait.” She glanced behind her and gestured at the cops.

“James Morgan.” Tired and Rumpled strode forward. “You’re under arrest.”