Shadow of Sin (The Martin Family) (2 page)

“You make sure you do or I’ll shoot every one of you.”

He gave her a nod and walked to the table, taking up position behind Samantha’s chair. He bit back a curse when he glanced down and noticed that not only was her top cut low in the front, it was completely nonexistent in the back except for a tiny strap that ran just under her shoulder blades. From the way she sat, he could see the creamy smooth color of her skin, the sleek line of her spine. Against his better judgment, his gaze followed that line, all the way to the top of her jeans.

She turned, drawing all eyes with her movement.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m wondering that myself,” he muttered.

She turned back around and waved her hand. “Horseman, everybody. Everybody, horseman.”

He smiled with a playfulness he didn’t feel. “Hey guys. I hope you won’t mind if I borrow the little lady. We have business to discuss.” He wrapped his hand around her arm and jerked her to her feet.

“Jesus, horseman, all you had to do was ask,” Samantha bit out, but thankfully, didn’t fight him.

Caleb ignored the men yelling protests as he dragged Samantha toward the door.

“Don’t even think about it, boys,” he heard Rosanna say. “Keep your seats or get the hell out and don’t come back. Ever.”

The noise immediately died down. None of the regulars wanted to tempt fate when it held a shotgun.

Caleb all but shoved Samantha out the front door and turned her into the side of the building. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

Hurt flashed in her eyes at his words. “Why do you even care? Christ, Caleb. You’ve hated me since day one. Why are you even here?” Samantha pushed at his chest. “Let me go, damn it!”

“I’m not letting you go anywhere. Look at yourself, Samantha. You’re dressed like a hooker. Where is your self-respect?”

“My self … oh, you bastard. It’s about to be shoved up your ass.”

Caleb’s palm shot out, effectively blocking the knee she’d meant for his balls.

“Tsk, tsk. Is that any way to treat your ride?”

Her expression melted into horror. “Oh, hell no. I’m gonna kick Alec’s ass for this. I’ll call a cab before I go anywhere with you.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Caleb literally vibrated with anger. He’d never struck a woman in his life, but right now he wanted nothing more than to turn her over his knee and tan her ass. He shoved his cell phone in her hand. “Call your cab. You’ll sit in my truck while you wait and I’ll follow until I’m sure you’re home safe.”

“Go home, Caleb. I’ll find my own way. I don’t need you. There’s plenty of men here who can get me home. In fact, Mark has made me a very interesting offer.”

“Mark?”

She raised a delicate shoulder in a shrug, but Caleb knew better. The woman was hell on wheels.

“He’s the guy who brought me here. It’s only fair to let him take me home.”

He cocked a brow. “Is that so? Then why did you call Alec?” Caleb released her, walking her back into the wall. “Here’s what I think. I think you know damn good and well how childish you’re acting. So, why don’t you stop fighting and let me take your stubborn ass home. The sooner you cooperate, the sooner we can be away from each other. Got it?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Caleb laced his fingers with hers and started toward his truck. “And before you get any ideas, I wouldn’t push me any further if I were you. I won’t think twice about tossing you over my shoulder.” She stayed silent, wisely taking his threat to heart. “Good girl. Do you have a bag or a purse or something? If you do, I’ll go back —”

He stopped abruptly, the skin at the back of his neck tingling. He glanced back at the door of the bar, but no one had exited behind them. His gut tightened as he scanned the lot, the feeling of unease growing with every step.

Placing his hand against the small of Samantha’s back, Caleb maneuvered her against his side, shielding her between his body and the line of vehicles as they walked around.

“I didn’t bring a purse.” She wiggled against him. “Stop doing that.”

He glanced down at her. “Doing what?”

“Touching my back like that.”

He curled his hand around her waist. He wasn’t letting her go until they got to the safety of his truck, so she’d just have to deal. “Better?”

“No.”

“Too bad.” His gut was screaming by the time they reached his truck. He glanced around the lot one more time as he clicked the remote to unlock the doors.

A loud noise shot out, resonating through the air. Fire singed across Caleb’s arm a split second before the passenger side window exploded. Caleb jerked, pulled Samantha against him, and spun them to the ground. He covered her body with his, protecting her head with his hands. He pressed her cheek against the dirt as two more rounds were fired, slamming into the side of his truck.

Caleb put his mouth to Samantha’s ear. “Listen to me. When I move, I want you to get your ass under the truck and stay there. Do you hear me, Samantha? Stay under the truck.”

“W-what are you going to do?”

“I’m gonna find the fucker who’s shooting at us, that’s what I’m going to do.” His hand went to his belt and he cursed. His weapon was in the truck.

“No, Caleb. Please. Let’s just go.”

The fear in Samantha’s voice made his chest tighten. She was fearless. The kind of woman who could tame a bar full of muscle-bound bikers in the blink of an eye, or take out their balls even faster. She’d never been afraid of anything.

“Crawl under the truck, Samantha. Now.” Caleb shifted, pushing at her as she dug her hands into the dirt and pulled herself out of sight, her red cowgirl boots the last thing he saw before she disappeared.

Dawn would break in a few hours, but that didn’t help him now. He couldn’t see shit beyond the road, but at least he knew the direction the shots had come from. If he could get around to the other side, he’d pull Samantha up and get her in the truck and they could get the hell out of here. Once she was safe, he’d hunt the shooter down and make whomever it was sorry they’d been born.

Making his way to the driver’s side of his truck, Caleb kept his head low and his eyes peeled. “Samantha? I want you to take my hand. I’m going to pull you up and I want you to get into the truck as fast as you can. I want you to stay low, on the floorboard. Keep your head down. You got it?”

Her voice was quiet. “Yes.”

Her hand closed around his. “Ready? Now!”

Caleb pulled her out from under the truck and threw open the door.

“Go, go, go,” he chanted, pushing her into the truck and climbing in behind her. Samantha crawled across the seat and moved to curl up on the floor, her head against the seat. Caleb didn’t waste any time. He threw the truck into gear and slammed on the accelerator, turning the wheel hard to the left to avoid hitting the other cars in the lot.

The back window exploded in a shower of tiny chips of glass. “Goddammit!” Caleb ducked and spun them onto the road leading to the highway.

Adrenaline surged through his system, pumping in his ears as he fought to gain control. He kept the lights off, randomly making turns and driving like a bat out of hell. He knew this area like the back of his hand, so he didn’t worry about the lights or getting lost.

Once he was sure they weren’t being followed, Caleb turned his attention to his passenger. The woman had been uncharacteristically quiet and he wondered if he should be worried. He never knew what to expect from her, and it kept him off balance. On edge.

“It’s okay for you to sit up in the seat now, Samantha.” His voice shook with the anger that still raged through him. He pushed a button on the steering wheel. “Alec,” he barked.

His call connected and Alec answered on the first ring.

“You get Sam home okay?” Alec said in way of greeting.

Caleb glanced at Samantha as she eased up into the seat. She moved slowly, carefully, as she reached over her shoulder for the seatbelt. No doubt she’d bear bruises tomorrow from the way he’d tossed her to the ground. He frowned, the thought of her smooth skin being marred affecting him more than he’d like to admit.

“I want to know where Vincent Matteo is, and I want to know right fucking now, Alec.”

“Did something happen? I told you, Caleb, he’s laying low. Off the radar.”

“He may be laying low, but the assholes who work for him aren’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Someone just took shots at us!” he roared.

“What? Are you okay? Jesus, Caleb. What the hell happened?”

“Where are we going?” Samantha’s voice broke into the conversation.

Ignoring her question, Caleb continued. “We were leaving the bar. First shot grazed my arm before taking out the passenger’s side window. Two more rounds into the side of the truck. Shooter went quiet for a minute, affording me the time to get Samantha in the truck. Last shot took out the back window as we were pulling out.”

“We’ll need those rounds.”

“You can have whatever the fuck you want. I want Vincent Matteo. Find him.”

Caleb disconnected the call, the need to kick some serious ass overwhelming in its intensity.

“Caleb? Where are we going?”

“Well, we sure as hell can’t go back to your place,” he snapped. If she’d kept her ass at home tonight, this would have never happened. No, it could have been worse. She could have been alone at home or … hell, he was a bastard, wasn’t he? He was sure she’d been scared and was probably now on her way to being in shock. He needed to get his head out of his ass.

“Caleb?”

He looked her way. Pure, unadulterated fury poured from her gaze.

“I don’t give a crap where we go.” Samantha held her hands out in front of her. Blood covered her palms. “But, wherever it is, we should probably get there quick.”

Chapter 2

There were two things guaranteed to sober a girl up right quick. Being shot at and an angry Caleb Martin.

Caleb slammed on the brakes, the truck fishtailing as he forced it to the side of the road. Samantha threw out her hands, one against the dash and one against the door, to keep herself from colliding with either.

She turned with every intention of yelling at him, but a glimpse of blood on his arm brought her up short. “Are you hurt?” For all she knew, it could be her blood smeared across his arm.

His jaw clenched. “Just a scratch. I’ll live.”

He struggled out of his seatbelt, pushed the center console up, and then he was on her. His hands running over her head, chest, arms, stomach.

Under different circumstances, Sam figured she’d enjoy this. She’d dreamed of his hands on her. Caressing her, teasing her, pleasuring her. Now, however, the pain in her side outweighed any desire she’d had to let Caleb feel her up. Not to mention he’d never treated her with anything but distain. He didn’t want her. Sexually, or otherwise.

“Are you hit? Jesus Christ, Samantha. Why didn’t you say something?”

“I’m bleeding all over your seat. How’s that for something?” She squirmed around, putting her back against the door to give her better leverage to hold him off. “I’m not hit, Caleb.” When had he grown nine hands? She slapped at his arms as he tried to lift the front of her shirt. “Stop, just stop. I fell on a bottle or something when you tackled me. I’ll be fine if you get me somewhere I can clean up. Take me to a gas station and drop me off for all I care. I can use the bathroom there and call a cab.”

He reared back, clearly insulted. His eyes narrowed as he snarled at her. “I’m not dropping you off at a fucking gas station. What kind of man do you think I am?”

Samantha looked down, studying the blood drying on her palms. She knew what kind of man he was. He put on a good front with all the scowling and grouchiness, but Samantha saw right through him. Always had. Maybe that was why he hated her.

He was the kind of man who would give his life for those he loved. A man tormented by his past, something Samantha understood all too well. And he was stubborn as a mule.

They were two peas in a pod.

“Fine. Whatever.” she said quietly, tired of fighting with him. She turned forward again, careful of the glass from the shattered window. She hissed as a piece pressed into her palm, adding to her injuries. So far, her jeans had protected her backside from the broken pebbles, but that didn’t mean it was comfortable. “If you won’t take me home, then take me to a hotel.”

“I need to know how badly you’re hurt. Do you need a hospital?”

“No hospital. Hotel.”

“You aren’t going to let me look?”

“No.” She’d had enough of his hands on her for one night. “I’m fine, Caleb,” she murmured. “Nothing a pair of tweezers, some peroxide, and a bandage can’t take care of.” Her voice drifted off.

“Let me see.”

“No.”

Caleb closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Please.”

A laugh burst from her lips. “Wow, that had to hurt.” Even in her amusement, Samantha’s heartbeat kicked up a notch as her mind struggled with his sudden concern for her.

The woman in her recognized him as a delicious male specimen—golden good looks, amazing body, and bad boy attitude. Caleb oozed the kind of confidence that came from knowing he could get the job done. What woman wouldn’t dream of having a man like that riding between her thighs?

The bedroom was the one place Sam wouldn’t mind giving up control. Relish it, actually, if she could find a man who could handle her. Deep down in her frilly parts, she knew Caleb could be that man. If only she was more to him than just an adjunct responsibility to his sister.

Not that she was bitter or anything.

Shit. Her life was a mess and now she was going all girly when she needed to man up. Exhaustion and alcohol had turned her into a sentimental fool.

Could this day get any worse?

“Samantha?”

“Yeah. I heard you. But, as usual, you aren’t hearing me. I don’t know why I’m surprised. You never hear anything unless it’s coming out of your own mouth.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind. I don’t need you to rescue me. I’m a big girl. Your need to protect me out of some twisted sense of duty to your sister is annoying, and frankly, I’ve had enough of it.”

His curse rang out. “I’m taking you home with me. Once we’re there, you
will
show me your injury and you
will
let me tend to it. I’ll see it done if I have to strap you to a chair to do it. You hear me?” He threw the truck back into gear and pulled out, spinning gravel behind them.

“I think the entire county heard you.” She turned her face away, breathing in the mild pre-dawn air as it washed over her face.

Goddamned, controlling, motherfucking, men.

That was the reason she was in this mess to begin with. It had been months since the break-in and she’d gotten lazy. She’d actually believed that Vincent had given up his quest to find his wife. And, as far as anyone knew, only Samantha knew where to look.

Carlotta Matteo was a small woman. Small enough to fit in Vincent’s friggin’ shoe and he’d beat her, with his bare hands, until she was barely breathing. And for what? Because she’d been an hour late for dinner due to a dead car battery.

So, no, Samantha didn’t have any regrets in helping the poor woman after her husband walked free.

Paid his way free was more like it.

The system only fails the innocent.

She admired the courage Carlotta had shown during the stressful relocation procedure—Sam’s version of the witness protection program. The least Sam could do was show the same grit. Matteo could kiss her ass.

Shooting at her only served to piss her off. Vincent didn’t want her dead. Sam dead meant he’d never find his wife. She’d left no paper trail. The information that existed on his wife’s whereabouts resided in Sam’s head.

Tonight was a warning. One she’d heard, loud and clear. It left only one question.

What now?

As much as she regretted Caleb getting caught in the crossfire, she was glad he was here. No matter his feelings for her, he’d helped her and she’d never forget that.

Truth be known, he’d been around a lot over the last year. Seemed he’d taken it upon himself to watch out for her because, as he’d put it, she was important to Amanda. And Caleb would do anything for his sister.

Even if that meant pulling Samantha out of a bar at four in the morning.

He’d done it before, but the last time had turned out very differently. She’d been pissed as hell then, too. But instead of being shot at, she’d stopped at an adult store and bought a new vibrator.

The last time had been much more fun.

She smiled to herself, remembering the look of horror on Caleb’s face as she waved the brown paper bag at him before ducking into her car. She knew he’d followed her, which was the primary reason she’d stopped in the first place. All part of the dance she did with this man.

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

Caleb maneuvered the truck through the underground parking garage and pulled to a stop.

“Are you okay?” he asked without looking at her.

She turned to face him. “As okay as I can be after being jerked away from my card game, reprimanded like a teenager caught out after curfew,
shot at
, and thrown to the ground like a calf in a ropin’ event. Pretty eventful evening, I’d say. So yeah, I’m fucking peachy, Caleb.” She smiled wide. “How are you?”

The muscles in his jaw twitched as he pushed his door open. “Let’s go.”

Samantha got out of the truck and followed him around to an elevator. He punched a keypad, inserted a key, and the doors opened. Once inside, he punched more buttons, and she settled against the corner, grateful to have something to lean against as they traveled up.

All too soon, the elevator opened and she stepped into a wide hallway that appeared to go nowhere.

“How many people live on this floor?”

“One.”

“Ah.” Samantha stood back while Caleb worked yet another keypad. “This is some setup you got here. A person would think you’re paranoid or something.”

Caleb glanced at her over his shoulder as the door clicked open. He stepped back, allowing her to go in first.

“Aren’t you going to go first and make sure it’s safe?” She was only half kidding. While she didn’t expect him to protect her, it seemed he’d made it his mission over the last few months.

“It’s safe.”

The utter confidence in his tone sent a shiver down her spine. She crossed the threshold and stopped short. Still a little tipsy, she wondered if her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.

The place was massive. And clean. Very clean. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but the large, wide-open space before her wasn’t it. Factor in the sleek, black leather furniture and,
holy cow
, a kitchen that would make a four-star chef salivate … Samantha was downright shocked.

Caleb’s parents had left him some money. Samantha had known that. What she hadn’t realized was how much. Considering the cost of prime real estate in Austin and the remodeling Caleb must’ve done, she had the idea it was quite a lot.

Caleb walked around her with a scowl. “Problem?”

“I … wow. This place is amazing. And sparkly.” Samantha strolled toward the kitchen area, following on Caleb’s heels. He stopped at the island that separated the kitchen from the living room.

“Sparkly, huh? Don’t sound so surprised.” His tone held a hint of amusement. “I’m not some college kid bunking in his first apartment. The Marines took care of any notion I might’ve had about being a slob. If you want messy, you’ll need to stay at Alec’s place.”

“Is that an option?”

His expression clearly said it wasn’t.

“I didn’t think so. Anyway, I’ve been to Alec’s enough to be wary of anything not sealed in an airtight can.” Samantha approached the island and, unable to resist, ran her fingers over the cool granite top. “What I could do with a kitchen like this,” she said, the reverence obvious in her breathy tone.

On the kitchen side of the island, a sink and a grill top had been installed. Perfect for anyone who wanted to cook without having their back to the rest of the room. Barstools lined the other side, providing enough seating for the whole Martin clan and then some. Along the wall behind her, an oversized stainless steel refrigerator and dual ovens were paired with more granite countertops and ample cabinet space.

“Do you entertain a lot?” She was struck with how little she knew of his private life. She’d known him for years and yet, this was the first time she’d ever been to his place, ever gotten a glimpse of his life outside of irritating the shit out of her.

“Alec and Brandon come over. Of the three of us, I have the biggest TV, so it’s almost mandatory we watch football here. Amanda and Joe stay sometimes if they’re in town and don’t want to make the drive home.”

“The biggest … TV.” She laughed and waved her arms. “Right. And where is this monstrosity hidden? Behind the treadmill, perhaps?”

He pointed up, indicating a box mounted high above the couch. “Projection. The screen comes down over the windows.” He grabbed a towel and filled a bowl with water, placing both on the counter in front of her.

Samantha shook her head. “How did I not know this about you?”

“You know I watch football.” His irritated expression melted to one that said he wasn’t so sure she did know. “This is Texas. Of course I watch football.”

He pulled out a barstool for her. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

Moving with the silent grace she’d come to expect from him, Caleb left her there, no doubt confident she’d follow his command.

Instead, Samantha searched his cabinets until she found what she was looking for. Her nose scrunched as she got a whiff of the stout whiskey. Not the cinnamon flavor she preferred, but it would work. She raised the bottle to her lips, but thought better of it at the last second. A man that kept his condo this clean wouldn’t appreciate anyone drinking directly from his bottle. Plus, he’d just made what could pass as civilized conversation with her. She figured she owed him one.

She found a glass and took it, along with the bottle, and walked in the opposite direction as Caleb had gone.

He might have wanted her to sit, but there were only so many concessions a woman could make in one night.

* * *

“Open the door, Samantha.” Caleb sounded angry.

Samantha sat on the edge of the tub and contemplated how long it would take before he busted the door in. He’d given her time to take a quick shower, but sh
e was only delaying the inevitable. If Caleb wanted to inspect her wound, he’d do it. No if’s, and’s, or but’s about it. He didn’t make empty threats. Any resistance on her part would land her tied to a chair.

She didn’t want his hands on her—touching her, prodding her—even in a patch-’em-up capacity. Between the night she’d had and the whiskey, her emotions were all over the place. She didn’t need to become a blubbering mess, or worse, a horny maniac, once he put his hands on her. At this point, both were entirely possible.

“Samantha!”

She jumped at his pound on the door. Right. Time to get this over with.

She jerked the door open and pressed a hand to her mouth, suppressing the giggle that squeezed out. Oh, yeah. He was
really
angry.

“Something amusing?”

She threw him a little honesty. “When your nostrils flare like that, you remind me of those cartoon bulls. You know, the ones all red in the face with smoke coming out of their pierced noses?”

The muscles in his neck flexed as if he were forcing himself to remain calm. “What are you doing in here? Hiding?” He pushed past her, carrying the bowl of water from the kitchen, along with an arm full of first aid supplies and what looked to be a T-shirt. His gaze landed on the whiskey bottle. “You’re drinking?”

“Yep.” She raised her glass in silent toast and took a healthy swig. The liquid warmed a path to her belly as she swallowed it down. “Wanna join me?”