Worth the Risk (10 page)

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He’d forgotten how little he had to go on.

“What next?” Meredith asked.

“I try to get a hold of a list of her clients.”

“How? I don’t think she even writes them down. She told me once that she stores it all in her head, just to be safe.”

Sam could relate. Paper trails were a private investigator’s bread and butter. But to anyone who wanted to maintain a low profile, they were a hazard. Luckily, most people didn’t have enough foresight to think about
not
writing things down. Not most honest people, anyway.

A thought occurred to Sam. “Is your sister a career criminal?”

“No, of course not.”

“She pays her taxes?”

“As far as I know. Why?”

“Because she gets paid for her counseling work, and somewhere, she tracks those payments.”

Hope lit up Meredith’s face. “You’re right. If we can get a hold of Tamara’s bank records, we can see who she’s working for. How can we do that? Her accountant isn’t going to tell us. Wait! I know where she banks. If I go in and pretend to be Tamara—just to get an account record, not to take any money out or anything—”

Sam shook his head, stopping her midsentence. “No.”

“It’s a good idea,” Meredith insisted.

“It
would
be a good idea. If there weren’t God-knows-how-many corrupt cops and their closest friends looking for us.”

“But the man on the phone gave us forty-eight hours to get him the file.”

“Do you think that means they’re going to stop chasing us? Trust me on this one, sweetheart, they won’t. They’ll only wait for you to find the file if they absolutely have to. Whatever’s contained inside...they’d kill for it. If they can get to it faster by taking you and forcing you to give it to them sooner rather than later, that’s what they’ll do.”

At the end of his speech, the hope slipped away from Meredith’s eyes. “What do we do, then?”

“I don’t know yet.” Sam wished he had something more reassuring to tell her. “Get access online somehow, probably. I usually count on Worm to help with that end of things, but who knows where he is or how long he’ll take to contact us. Normally, I’d say we wait it out, but...”

He didn’t finish the thought, frustrated once again. He needed to think. To come up with some creative solutions. Fast. With a sigh, he set the laptop on the coffee table, leaned back and tried to figure out his next move. He had to do this. He had to succeed. For Tamara’s sake, and for Meredith’s, but also for his own. He needed to prove that letting himself care wasn’t the source of his single, previous failure. That allowing himself some feelings—whatever they turned out to be—for the beautiful woman beside him wouldn’t lead down the same path that had led to losing Kelsey.

Because Sam was damn sure he couldn’t go through something like that again.

Chapter 10

T
hey sat still, knee-to-knee, Sam lost in his worry, mixed up in his battling emotions and his search for a clear path. Meredith stayed silent, too, but after a few moments, her hand crept to his and she squeezed. Sam squeezed back, glad to take comfort in her touch.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

He wasn’t sure what exactly he was apologizing for. That he should’ve been the one doling out the reassuring gesture? The way his past interfered with his present? The fact that he didn’t have a ready-made solution to their current problem? All of it, probably.

“Whatever it is, Sam, you can tell me.”

“I want to, sweetheart. I really do. But it would take longer than we have right now.” It sounded like a cop-out.

Because it is.

“If we’re just sitting around waiting for Worm, we have nothing
but
time,” Meredith reminded him.

“It’s not time I want to waste talking about myself.”

She pulled her hand away, pained disappointment clouding her eyes. He opened his mouth to try and smooth over his verbal blunder, but Meredith beat him to it.

“It’s fine. Just do what you have to do to find my sister.” Her expression and tone were both laced with false indifference.

Damn.

Sam sure as hell didn’t want to be the source of any more hurt in her life. He grabbed her hand again, brought it to his lips and kissed her palm.

“It’s a long story,” he said. “One without a happy ending. It’s painful to tell, but if you really want to hear it, I’ll share it with you. Now, if that’s what you need. But my past isn’t relevant. It’s not going to help us find Tamara, so if you can hold off for a little while, be patient with me...” He trailed off, puzzled by the sudden change in her expression. “What’s wrong?”

“What if your past
is
relevant?”

“How could it be?”

“The guy on the phone. He told me that being with
you
wasn’t in my best interests.”

Meredith’s statement gave Sam pause. A missing girl. Corruption on the Bowerville PD. His old stomping grounds. Coincidence? Likely.

Still...

“Did he use my name?”

“No. He just said ‘ex-cop.’”

Sam relaxed. “No corrupt cop wants another, clean cop breathing down his neck. Not even if that clean cop happens to be retired.”

She studied his face. “How do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“Deal with this kind of man. Not get scared. Follow leads that go nowhere and maintain emotional detachment.”

He met her gaze. “Methodically. If I’m scared, I face it so I can move forward. When following leads, I make note of every single detail in hopes that one of them
will
go somewhere. Because all I need is one. And the emotional detachment... I fight every natural urge.”

“Does it work?”

The question hung between them, weighted and dangerous. Sam knew that if he answered with a reference to his past, he’d be giving something away. If he answered in the moment, well... He might give away even more.

“Not always,” he said, carefully neutral.

Meredith didn’t let him get away with it. “And what would happen if it didn’t work?”

“It would make the job harder. Riskier. Because hearts are at stake as well as lives.”

“Has it happened to you?”

Those green eyes of hers held him, and he knew he couldn’t lie, even if he wanted to. “Once before.” He reached up to smooth back a strand of her blond hair. “And now once again.”

A blush crept up her throat. “Is it worth it? Risking your heart?”

“You tell me.”

Sam lifted his thumb and traced her bottom lip. A soft sigh left her throat, and the sound warmed his blood. He leaned forward, enjoying the way her eyes closed immediately, liking the way she tipped her mouth toward his in anticipation. He took his time with the kiss. He tasted the corners of her lips and the edges of her teeth. Then deepened the contact. As he did, Meredith met his passion with equal fervor. Sam reveled in the feel of her hands running over him. First his hair, then his neck, then down his shoulder blades. Wanting more, Sam slipped his fingers to her waist and drew her into his lap.

She gazed down at him, her pupils large and her cheeks flushed. Then she seemed to find whatever it was she was looking for, and her lids sank shut and her face dipped toward his. Sam tipped up his face to meet her eager mouth. He ran his hands up and up again, pausing just below her bra line, waiting for her to protest, to remind him they’d known each other for less than a day.

He stopped moving.

Less than a day?

How was that possible? It felt like a lifetime. Like he’d been waiting for this explosion between them forever.

“Sam.” His name came off her lips in a throaty whisper.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Don’t stop. Please.”

The invitation brought Sam back to the moment. Back to Meredith and the sweet curve of her lips. He dragged his palm to the bottom of her shirt, then under it. The feel of her skin against his hand was enough to make him release a rumble from somewhere deep in his chest. Her responding gasp heightened his arousal, too. He eased her back against the couch, kissing every exposed bit of her his mouth could find.

Lips.

Throat.

Mouth.

Collarbone.

Throat again.

Each bit of her tasted as good as the last. Sweet and tempting.

“So beautiful,” he murmured against her goose-bump-laden skin.

He dug his fingers into her silken hair and tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth. She let out a little cry; one of her knees lifted to his hip, and Sam pushed forward, resentful of the two layers of denim that lay between them. He wanted to get rid of them. Now.

“Stupid clothes,” Meredith breathed, echoing his thoughts.

“Mmph,” Sam agreed.

He fumbled to reach his jeans zipper—or maybe hers, he wasn’t sure—and failed. In an attempt to make it easier, he rolled them over. He overshot, and they tumbled to the ground, sending the coffee table jerking across the carpet and knocking the laptop to the ground. Meredith was on top of him now, her eyes wide, her shirt askew and her blond hair in complete disarray.

Damn, was she beautiful.

Sam smiled up at her. “I knew my timing sucked, but I didn’t think my technique was off, too.”

Her mouth tipped up at the corners. “Trust me. It’s not all that off.”

“Oh, really?”

She grabbed his hands and placed them on her waist. “Mmm-hmm. Why don’t you keep trying? Maybe you can perfect it.”

Slowly, his eyes on her face, Sam slid his fingers under her shirt again. He moved them up, inch by inch, until they hit the lace edge of her bra.

He paused. “How am I doing now?”

“Good,” she breathed. “Well, I mean.”

“Grammar is important,” he teased as he lifted a thumb and ran it over one of her still-covered nipples. “Especially at moments like this.”

“Shut up.”

“What? My goal is to do well at being bad.”

He shifted his hands to her back, but only got as far as touching the clasp of her bra before the bang of the hotel door made him freeze.

“Room service!” called a rough voice.

“Ignore it.”

Under other circumstances, he would’ve obeyed the sexy command without question. Not now.

Sam’s eyes darted to the corner of the room. Yes, there it was. A wheeled cart, silver platters still covered, cutlery still wrapped.

“I don’t know who that is, but it sure as hell isn’t room service.”

He eased to a sitting position, then lifted her to the couch. He stood still for a breath as he worked out a plan in his head. Priority one was Meredith’s safety. Sam grabbed her hand and pulled her through the French doors into the bedroom, then to the bathroom.

“I want you to lock the door and stay in here,” he ordered.

Meredith shook her head. “I’m not going to hide!”

“It’s not hiding, sweetheart. It’s keeping safe. For my sake.”

“What are
you
going to do?”

“I’m going to get my gun and find out who the hell’s pretending to serve us a late-night snack,” he said grimly.

She opened her mouth like she was going to protest again, but Sam didn’t give her a chance. He leaned forward and kissed her lips, then gave her the tiniest shove backward and closed the door.

* * *

Meredith stared at the white-paneled door, fear mixing with irritation.

Sam wanted her to be safe. Well. That was
her
decision.
Her
life. But then he’d thrown in that little bit about doing it for
his
sake, and that made her urge to ignore his order harder.

“Dammit, Sam.”

She leaned against the pedestal sink and met her own gaze in the mirror. Worry darkened her eyes. But under that, she saw determination. Sam
had
to know she wasn’t just going to stay in the bathroom. Not when there was a good possibility that whoever stood on the other side of the door posed a threat to his life.

Ninety seconds.

That’s exactly how long she’d give him to deal with it. Maybe it wasn’t long enough to indulge his protectiveness. But it was as long as she could stand it. And long enough for him to sort out whatever was going on. To gain an advantage. Or to lose one. Though obviously she preferred the idea of the former. The man she’d knocked out in the staircase was already one too many.

“But I’ll do it again if I have to,” she muttered.

Sixty seconds more.

Of course, it was going to be hard to smack someone in the head with her gun if she didn’t know where her gun had gone to.
Her gun
. Just the fact that she’d mentally taken ownership of a weapon of any sort should’ve been troubling. Instead, all she could think about was the fact that she wished she had it in her hand right at that moment. When had it fallen out? How had she not noticed?

“Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you’ve never had to keep tabs on a gun before,” she told her reflection.

Thirty more seconds.

She released the sink and moved toward the door, then pressed her ear to cool wood. Why couldn’t she hear anything on the other side? Meredith was sure there should be the sounds of struggle. Banging. Yelling. Fighting. Something. Concern made her stomach flutter. She couldn’t wait anymore.

“Screw the last ten seconds.”

She eased the door open, thankful for the well-oiled hinges that made it silent, then inched into the room. Still nothing. She tiptoed toward the French doors, put her hand on the handle, then paused as a metallic flash from under the bed caught her eye.

The gun. Thank God.

Relieved, Meredith let go of the door to retrieve the weapon. But as she kneeled down to grab it, she finally
did
hear something. Sam’s voice, dropped in a low laugh.

A laugh?

She had to have misheard.

Slowly, she pulled herself up and stepped back toward the door. The sound came again. And she knew she hadn’t misheard. Meredith swung the door open and relief flooded her body.

“Worm!”

At her gasp, the big man spun around and his eyes traveled from her face to her hand, then back again, then moved to settle on Sam, who stood at his side. “Did you give her a gun?”

Sam shrugged. “Seemed prudent at the time.”

“Doesn’t seem prudent now. Is she going to shoot me?” Worm asked.

Meredith exhaled and set the gun down on a decorative table in the corner. “I’m not going to shoot you. I don’t even know how to fire it.”

“Good. Because it took quite a bit of effort to get away from those deranged, so-called cops at my house. And even more effort to find you. I came to help you out, but if I’m just going to get shot...”

“I think you’re safe,” Sam assured him.

Worm sank down into the couch and grabbed the laptop from the floor, muttering about the mistreatment of technology. Meredith barely heard him. Because as the big man’s hands closed on the computer, she immediately remembered how it wound up on the floor in the first place, and heat crept up her face. In the excitement of the last few minutes, their shared intimacy had gone out of her head. But seeing the evidence of it laid out in front her—the slightly askew table and the bunched-up carpet and the laptop that Worm was now typing away on—brought it back full force.

Sam’s lips. Sam’s hands. How they felt all over her. If his friend hadn’t shown up when he did, how far would she have let things go?

Let things go?
asked a little voice.
You weren’t letting things go. You were propelling them along.

Meredith tried to argue against it, but a warm, already familiar hand landed on the small of her back, rubbing in a reassuring circle. And she knew it was true. She liked Sam. A lot. And whether the urgency of the situation fueled the urgency of her feelings, or maybe the feelings were just that intense all on their own, Meredith couldn’t say for sure. But she did know that she had zero interest in slowing things down. She leaned into his touch.

“You okay?” His voice, right in her ear, sent a wave of heat down her spine, where it met with his hand and traveled inward.

“Fine as I can be,” Meredith responded after a pause.

“You sure?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because Worm’s asked you to look at the screen three times and you’re just kinda staring at the wall.”

Whoops.

Meredith turned her attention to the computer, and her embarrassment quickly went by the wayside. A map of Bowerville, peppered with her sister’s name and a series of numbers and arrows, dominated the screen. “What is this?”

“Flowchart,” Worm stated. “Those are the numeric codes that represent the businesses where she used her credit card over the last two weeks. The arrows just show you the order in which the transactions happened.”

Meredith blinked. “This took you five minutes?”

Sam nudged her. “Creepy and impressive, right?”

“It’ll be more of both once everything is filled in,” Worm said. “It’s a shame someone on the other side of this also has some technical know-how. They’ve disabled the GPS in her phone. Or maybe somehow removed it completely because I can’t even gain access.”