Changing Teams (21 page)

“She is not.” Fillion looked at Salter; when he nodded, his walrus mustache flapping, she continued, “We found her body last week, behind a motel in the Bronx. Until we reviewed this footage, she was listed as a Jane Doe.”

I shivered. “What happened to the other girls?”

“Most were found in a similar manner,” she replied. “Found dead of apparent overdoses, their bodies dumped like so much garbage. In fact, out of all the girls you’ve seen here today only you and those young sisters survived. If it hadn’t been for Mr. MacKellar walking in on the Williams brothers when he did, who knows what would have happened to you.”

And those were the words that killed me. “Can I go now?” I asked. “I…I don’t think I can do this any longer.”

Fillion nodded while Salter frowned, making him look even more walrus-like than before. “We do still need an official statement from both of you.”

“Can we provide one at another time?” Sam asked, rising to his feet. “I’d really like to get Britt home for some rest, if that’s all right.”

Salter eyed us, as if we were the ones in the wrong. “You two live together?”

“No, but I stay at Sam’s often,” I said. “Please, can I go now?”

Salter stared at us for a moment, then he shrugged and shuffled a few papers. “We’ll be in touch.”

Wow, those were the same words I’d heard from the ER doctor. Thus dismissed, Sam and I left the police station. I stood on the sidewalk with my arms wrapped around my stomach while Sam hailed a cab, then I let him bundle me into the back seat. I remained silent during the ride, while Sam paid the cabbie, when his doorman greeted us, and as we rode the elevator up to his floor.

“Are you hungry?” Sam asked as he shut the apartment door behind us. Instead of answering, I flung myself into Sam’s arms and bawled. I let loose the tears I’d held back at the hospital, and at the police station, crying for myself and the sisters and Jillene, and the rest of the poor girls that hadn’t made it out of Nash’s studio alive. Throughout my breakdown, Sam held me, speaking softly against my ear while he stroked my hair.

“Let it out, baby,” he said. “I’ve got you. I’m never letting go of you.”

Chapter

Twenty-Six

Sam

“Is she going to be okay?” Melody asked. She had been kind enough to bring over some clothes and a few other essentials for Britt, and pick up the sedatives prescribed by the ER doctor. After assuring her cousin she was all right, Britt downed one of the sedatives, took a shower, and went to bed. As such, Melody and I were standing in the bedroom doorway, watching Britt toss and turn among the blankets.

“She will,” I said with a confidence I didn’t feel. I watched Britt sleep, my angel nestled among the pillows. “You need anything? Groceries?” I asked, remembering that Melody had walked out on her new husband with nothing more than a few suitcases.

“I’m good,” Melody replied. “For a model, Britt has a rather large amount of food in her apartment.”

“Britt’s a great cook,” I said, remembering the breakfasts she’d made for me, not to mention that killer coffee. Realizing I was grinning like a lovesick fool, I coughed and steered Melody toward the door.

“Here,” I said, emptying out my wallet and shoving the bills at Melody.

“What’s this for?” Melody asked.

“Cab fare,” I replied. “You know when Britt’s rent is due?” Melody shook her head, so I added, “Find out, and let me know. I’ll make sure it’s paid.”

“Why are you doing all this?” Melody asked.

“Seems like Britt’s not going to be working for a while,” I said. “Until she’s on her feet, I’ll take care of her bills.”

Melody nodded. “I wonder if Britt realizes how lucky she is to have you,” she commented. “If Darryl was in your situation, he’d let us both get evicted.”

“Well, that’s one of the reasons why you left Darryl, now, isn’t it?”

Melody smiled; turned out that Britt’s cousin wasn’t half bad. “True. Aunt Cynthia’s been asking about Britt. What should I tell her?”

I sighed, and rubbed the back of my neck. No mother should ever have to hear about what had happened to Britt. No mother should have to hear about what had happened to me, either. “Tell her the truth,” I said at last. “Tell her Britt’s been staying here and give her my number. It won’t be easy to talk about, but the truth will be better than a lie.”

Melody’s smile became a grimace. “Britt knew what she was doing when she hooked up with you.”

With a grimace of my own, I replied, “No, Mel, she didn’t.”

Melody left, and I flopped down onto the couch. Except for a few minutes at the hospital, I hadn’t slept a wink since I’d come to over an unresponsive Britt at the studio, and the last forty-eight hours of wakefulness finally took their toll. I was asleep before I realized my eyes were closed.

***

When I woke on my couch, the sky outside the windows was dark, but that wasn’t the only difference from earlier. Britt had thrown a blanket over me, and was curled up against my side with her head resting on my chest. I laughed softly; either she had forgiven me for all of my untruths, or she was too shaken up to sleep alone. Either way, I wanted to stretch out this moment until the end of time.

But if we stayed on the couch we’d both end up with a crick in our necks. “Come on, darlin’,” I said, getting to my feet as I hoisted Britt in my arms and carried her back to the bedroom. “No reason we can’t both be comfortable.”

I laid a sleeping Britt down on my bed, then I took a moment to look at her. After her shower she’d put on one of my old long sleeved shirts, and her honey brown hair was mussed with sleep. The combination of Britt wearing my clothes and lying in my bed was placing heretofore unknown stress on my chivalrous aspects.

I shook my head, then I shucked off my own clothes and laid down beside Britt, drawing her back against my chest as I pulled the blankets up to our chins. Since she was asleep, I thought it was a great time to tell her how I felt.

“I love you so much, baby,” I murmured against her hair. “I’m so glad you’re safe. I’m sorry for what I did, all the lies I told, but I swear to you that I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Britt rolled over and mumbled something into my chest. “What was that, baby?” I asked.

“Eggs and salt.”

I frowned. “What exactly do eggs and salt have to do with the price of tea in China?”

“It’s how I make coffee.” Britt cracked an eyelid, and damn it all if she wasn’t smiling at me. “It’s what I add to the grounds.”

I kissed Britt’s hair, and tucked her head underneath my chin. “Thank you, angel,” I said. “Thank you so much for sharing that with me.”

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

Britt

Since it was dark outside, I figured it was Thursday night. Or maybe it was really early on Friday morning, who knew? What I did know was that I’d been hired by not one, but two psychopaths, and was lucky to have gotten away as unscathed as I did—and it was all because of Sam.

I vaguely remembered Melody coming by earlier in the day, dropping off some of my things and mentioning that Mom wanted me to call her. While I knew that my cousin and my mother were both concerned for me, I couldn’t focus my thoughts on anyone but Sam. I’d been so mad at him, said such horrible things, and still he’d been there for me. He was, without a doubt, the best man I’d ever met.

That wonderful man was holding me, his arms wrapped tight around me as if he’d never let anything hurt me ever again. After what Sam had been through as a child I couldn’t imagine how he’d felt when he found me, not to mention when he’d watched all those videos the police had insisted I see; really, watching all those girls was more like government sanctioned torture than providing information for the case against Nash and Ben.

But Sam had watched them with me, just like he had been there for me when he found me passed out in the studio. Despite the terrible things that had happened to him, Sam had pushed all of his demons aside and been my rock.

I pressed my bottom against Sam’s hips and felt his cock move against me. Was I really the only person he’d ever made love to? The idea was so unreal to me, that I could have reached beneath all the layers of hurt he’d accumulated over the years and touched the real Sam. Just as unreal was the fact that someone like Sam loved me.

Of course, there was still the fact that he’d lied. Although, after my talks with Melody and Michael, I understood forgiveness a bit more.

Sam’s hand snaked around my hips toward my thighs, and I flinched. After everything that had happened, both at the studio and otherwise, I didn’t know if I could make love to Sam again, now or ever.

“Sam,” I breathed, and he withdrew his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said, moving away from me. “I was afraid that you weren’t really here, and I was dreaming.”

I moved onto my back, looking up at Sam. “I thought you only had nightmares.”

“I did, then I met an angel.” Sam smoothed my hair back from my brow. “My angel, she chased the nightmares away.”

I reached up and petted his beard; now that it had grown in it was irresistibly soft. “I’m glad.”

Sam stroked my cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” I said; now that I’d had some real sleep my headache was gone, and I no longer felt hung over. “How do you feel?”

“Me?” Sam countered.

“Yeah, you. All of that couldn’t have been easy for you.” I scooted closer, so close the tips of my breasts brushed his chest. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“Of course I stayed,” he murmured. “Sorry I got a little handsy with you. I know that’s probably the last thing you want right now.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been known to get a little handsy with you too.” I traced little circles on his chest. “Sam, you really hurt me when you lied.”

“I know,” he said, pressing his forehead against mine. “I regret nothing in my life so much as lying to you. I’m so sorry, baby.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to be honest.” I moved back and looked up at Sam; he was frowning. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Are you leaving me?”

“Sam, it’s the middle of the night and I’m not wearing pants,” I replied. “Where would I go?”

His frown lightened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Meant what I said in the car. I’ll do anything to fix this. Just tell me what you need.”

“I need your honesty,” I said. I laced my fingers with his, and pressed our hands over Sam’s heart. “I mean it. Promise me that there will be nothing but the truth between us from now on. Even if it’s an ugly, nasty truth, I want the truth.”

“I swear it, baby,” Sam declared. “Nothing but the truth, now and forever.” His brows lowered, then he moved away from me and propped himself up on his elbow. I did the same.

“What is it?” I asked.

Sam dropped his gaze, busying himself with rubbing an invisible spot on the sheet. “I…” He shook his head. “No. It’s stupid.”

“Hey.” I ducked my head under his, forcing him to look at me. “Tell me.”

“About forever.” His gaze met mine. “I want forever. If I give you honesty, you give me forever.”

“Okay.”

Sam blinked. “What?”

I grinned and sank my fingers into his thick dark hair. “Okay. Yes. I agree.”

He blinked again, then he laughed. “I…God, Britt, I just want you so much.”

I wiggled closer. “I’m right here. Have me.”

Sam placed his hand on the nape of my neck, bringing my face so close to his our lips were a hair’s breadth apart. “Are you sure?”

“Do you still want me? Like that?” I asked, suddenly terrified that Sam thought I was ruined.

“Are you kidding?” he countered, then he kissed me hard. I pulled Sam on top of me, my leg snaking around his waist. Sam’s hands slid under my shirt and grasped my thighs, lifting my hips as he fit us together. He rubbed his cock against me, nothing but his thin boxers separating us as he pushed my shirt up under my arms. As Sam kissed his way toward my breasts I freed his cock, the hot, heavy weight of it feeling like it belonged in my hand.

“Missed you so much,” Sam said between kisses. “Thought I’d die if I never got to kiss you again.” Then his face was directly above mine, his cock pressing against me. “You’re sure, baby?”

I hesitated; was I sure? I didn’t even want to be sure, I just wanted to be okay, and go back to before I knew Sam had lied, before I’d gone to the studio, and stretch out those halcyon days until the end of time. But I couldn’t go back. I could only go forward.

I wanted to go forward with Sam.

I pulled off my shirt and tossed it aside. “I’m sure.”

Sam nodded, frowning when I tensed beneath him. “Don’t stop,” I warned. God, if he stopped I’d probably just give up. Then Sam slid inside me and everything was right again. My body knew Sam, knew he wouldn’t hurt me. Deep in my bones, I knew I was safe with him.

Sam was careful as he made love to me, rocking me slow and gentle like the ocean’s tides, and I fell in love with him all over again. You see, I’ve never been one of those girls that had always wanted a bad boy with a room filled with toys. All I’d ever wanted was a man that loved me. Sam loved me, and he was proving it with every tender movement. I bit his shoulder when I came, stifling my cries against his flesh. Sam came a moment after me, the cords in his neck straining as he filled me.

Thus spent, Sam pressed his forehead against mine and kissed me. “Are you okay?” he asked against my lips. “Be honest, angel.”

“I’m okay,” I replied, and truer words were never spoken. “As long as I’m with you, I’ll be okay.”

***

A few hours later, I rolled over and found myself alone in bed. I rose and put my shirt back on, then I wove my hair into a loose braid and made my way to the kitchen. I found a pot of coffee waiting for me. If this was what moving forward looked like, sign me up.

“Try it,” Sam said, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “I made it according to your exacting preferences.”

I leaned back and kissed him. “Did you, now?”

“I surely did.”

I rested in Sam’s arms for a moment, reveling in the feel of him. He was shirtless, clad only in a pair of sweats, and I was wearing nothing but Sam’s shirt. All that warm skin against me relaxed me as much as a hot bath. As for me, I knew I should probably look into wearing something other than Sam’s old shirts, but I was putting that off for as long as possible.

I slid free from his arms and poured myself a cup of coffee. “Not bad,” I said after I took a sip, then I peeked inside the basket and frowned. There were some shell fragments and a sort of cooked egg floating amidst the grounds. “You put an
entire
egg in there?”

“And salt, just like you said.”

I put down my mug, then I stood on my toes and kissed Sam’s nose. “Next time, try using just the egg
shell
,” I suggested.

He responded with that lopsided grin of his. “I’m afraid I’m not the gourmet chef you are.”

“If you ever have the misfortune of visiting the house in New Rochelle, I’ll introduce you to Chef Aggie,” I promised. “She’ll teach you every cooking hack there is.” My gaze settled on Sam’s shoulder, which was mottled with purple and green bruises. “What happened here?” I asked, worried it was yet another injury from the studio.

To my surprise, Sam’s smile widened. “That angel I was telling you about earlier?” he replied. When I nodded, he added, “Sometimes, when we’re together, she bites.”

I flushed to the roots of my hair; I knew that I’d bitten Sam when I came, but I never intended to leave a mark. Before I could apologize for gnawing the crap out of him, Sam’s laptop chimed from the living room. “Hold that thought, darlin’,” Sam said as he followed the noise. “There’s a call I have to take.”

“Call?” I repeated, following him into the living room. Since Sam had brought me to his place, I’d done a pretty good job of pretending the outside world no longer existed. “Is it about work?”

“No, it’s my mother,” he said as he pulled on a shirt.

“Oh, I can wait in the bedroom—”

Sam silenced me with a kiss. “I’d rather you stayed,” he said against my lips. “Do me a favor, and stay out of the camera’s view at first? I need to tell her a few things, then I’ll introduce the two of you.”

I nodded, then I sat on the couch and pulled the blanket up to my waist while Sam sat at his desk. He typed away on his keyboard, then greeted, “Hey, Momma.”

“Sam,” said a woman’s voice, “what’s so important you have to talk to me right away? Are you all right?”

“I am, Momma,” Sam replied, glancing toward me. “I’m better than I have been in quite a while.”

“Then what is this all about?” she asked.

“Remember the last time we talked, and I told you about a lie I was responsible for?”

“I do.”

“It seems that it’s time for me to come clean.” Sam looked down and picked at the edge of his desk. “Dad around?”

“No, but he’ll be back soon,” his mother replied. “Would you like to wait for him?”

“No, no, if I don’t start now I’ll never do it.” Sam pursed his lips, then he blew out a breath. “I’d better start at the beginning. Momma, do you remember when you and Dad both went overseas when I was ten, and I had to stay with Aunt Sophia?”

Sam’s mother affirmed that she remembered that particular deployment, and Sam launched into the tale of what had really happened to him at his aunt’s hands. He stated nothing but the facts of what happened, his spine rigid and eyes downcast as he recounted his aunt’s misdeeds, and how she had threatened to hurt him if he ever told anyone what had gone on in her house for those terrifying six months.

“Oh my God, Sammy,” his mother said. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“At first, I didn’t think I could,” he replied. “Sophia convinced me that no one would believe me, and I’d be sent so far away I’d never see you or Dad again. Then you came home, and…well, you know that part.”

“Was it really six months?” I asked.

Sam looked at me for the first time since he began the story. “Yeah. They let my mother come home after I’d been with Aunt Sophia for six months, and that’s when I became Iowa’s most eligible gay youth.” He laughed mirthlessly. “I’d never been so happy in my life as when I saw Momma standing in the doorway, telling me she was there to take me home.”

“Sam, who is that?” his mother asked. I’d forgotten that she didn’t know I was there.

“I’ll introduce you to her, Momma.” Sam held out his hand and I went to him, my own emotions so ragged I didn’t concern myself with the fact that the first time Sam’s mother saw me I was wearing nothing but one of her son’s shirts. I settled myself on Sam’s lap, fitting myself against his chest. “Momma, this is Britannica Lynn Sullivan, the very same lady I showed you a picture of the other day.”

“You showed your mother a picture of me?” I asked, startled.

Sam kissed my temple. “I did.”

Sam’s mother cleared her throat, then said, “Yes, Sam, I do recall that. Britannica, is it?”

“Yes, Mrs. MacKellar,” I replied. “My friends call me Britt.”

“Captain,” Sam whispered.

“Captain?” I repeated.

“Captain MacKellar,” Sam clarified. “Momma is an officer.”

“Oh!” My hand flew to my mouth, and I turned toward the screen. “I’m sorry, Captain MacKellar. Sam told me that both of his parents are officers, but I didn’t make the connection.”

“That’s quite all right,” she replied. Now that I was looking at her, I saw that she had the same dark hair and icy blue eyes as her son. Not surprisingly after what Sam had just shared with her, her eyes were rimmed in red.