Unleashed (10 page)

Crap.

A small smiled curved his delicious looking lips. Jeez, it's like the guy could read her mind.

Wait.

He actually could.

Double crap.

His lips curved into a lopsided grin as if he knew exactly what was on her dirty little mind. “Give him that card. My cousin Dante owns a security firm. If he's worried about losing his job, you can assure him that he'll have one with Dante as of this afternoon. I'm sure the pay will be better.” He glared down at Roger, and his voice dropped to almost a whisper. “I can promise that the employer will be much better.”

Sam took the card from him and headed out the door. The bell jingled as she left the diner. She glanced back through the glass door. Malcolm's massive body blocked most of Roger from view. All she could see were his skinny legs and penny loafer-clad feet hanging limply in complete submission. The bells hadn't jingled before Malcolm came in. How the hell did he get in there without a sound?

***

Malcolm wanted nothing more than to shift into his eagle form and scare the shit out of this smug bastard. He'd heard Samantha's thoughts loud and clear the moment that she'd laid eyes on Roger. He'd been combing the beach for hours in search of her necklace, but so far he'd come up empty. Amid his frustration, her voice slid into his mind and clawed at his heart. Her fear flooded him and sent his heart hammering in his chest. The second she'd made the mental link with him he was able to hone in on her location.

He'd materialized in the diner with very little effort and knew that it was because her strength was bolstering his. It had been an incredibly risky thing to do. One of the beach patrons may have seen him vanish, and that would've broken the cardinal rule of the Amoveo—never to reveal themselves to humans. Ever. Hell, for all he knew the diner could've been bustling with customers. All that mattered in that moment was getting to Sam and making sure she was safe. Seeing Roger handling his mate in such an aggressive, intimate, and uninvited way sent a sizzling rage through his body. It had taken significant restraint to not crush him like the little bug that he was.

Malcolm pinned Roger with a withering stare. His eyes were round with fear, and his lips quivered. Malcolm searched Roger's mind and found it clouded with fear and anger that was largely fueled by his own impotence. Malcolm dropped his hand but continued to tower over him. Roger squirmed onto the seat and smoothed the lapels of his sport coat with quaking hands. He made a small whimpering noise as he struggled to maintain some kind of dignity.

Roger's gaze flicked past Malcolm to Samantha.

“Don't.” Malcolm's eyes narrowed, and he poked one strong finger into Roger's chest. “Don't even think about it.”

Roger's eyes flicked back up to Malcolm's fierce gaze. “I j-j-just,” he stammered breathlessly. “I only wanted—”

“I know exactly what you wanted,” he seethed through clenched teeth. Malcolm stood up and crossed his arms over his broad chest but continued to hold Roger prisoner with his glare.

Roger sat up on the stool a little taller in an attempt to regain self-respect. Too late.

“Roger, isn't it?” Malcolm asked tightly. Roger nodded weakly. “Yes, well, Roger, it seems quite obvious that Samantha wants absolutely nothing to do with you. Whatever relationship you had, or perceived that you had with her, is over.” He leaned in almost imperceptibly and dropped his voice low. “Let's make something crystal clear. You are never to see, or speak, to Samantha again unless she contacts you first, which I highly doubt she will.” He straightened to his full height but kept his sharp gaze fixed on Roger. “Is that understood?”

Roger opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it and snapped it shut instead. “That's better,” Malcolm said quietly. “Now, I don't know how you were raised, but where I come from men don't bully women into being with them. Samantha has made it quite clear to you on several occasions that she has absolutely no interest in continuing whatever relationship you had.”

“What are you? Her big brother?' Roger leaned forward in a moment of bravery and narrowed his eyes at Malcolm. “Here to save her virtue or something?”

Malcolm smirked and stood his ground. “I'm most definitely not her brother.”

Roger stilled, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. He laughed. “Well, she's pretty much a dead fish in the sack. I hope you enjoy sloppy seconds.”

With lightning fast speed, Malcolm grabbed Roger by the throat and held him against the counter. Roger's eyes bugged out in shock, and his face grew crimson as Malcolm's massive hand threatened to crush his neck like a twig. His mouth opened and closed rapidly, like a fish out of water. Roger clawed at his throat and struggled in vain to free himself from Malcolm's grip. But the more Roger struggled, the tighter his grip became.

Malcolm fought to keep the beast within him at bay. Intellectually he knew that she hadn't been celibate. He wasn't naïve. She was a thirty-year-old woman, and he was sure she'd had lovers—not that the idea thrilled him—but the very notion that Roger would insinuate lewd things about his mate sent his blood boiling. His body strained against the shift, and the muscles in his back bulged in protest. The image of this human touching his mate—in any way—filled him with a deep primal rage. His eyes shifted into his eagle form and glowed brightly down at Roger, who then let out an odd gurgling sound and pissed in his pants.

Malcolm's mouth curved into a small smile. Mission accomplished. His eyes shifted back to their human state, and he shoved Roger back, releasing him from his grip.

Roger whimpered and glanced down at the mess he'd made. Gasping and clutching his throat, he slipped on the puddle of urine he'd left on the floor, scrambled frantically, and cut a wide path around Malcolm and out the door. He scurried past a stunned Samantha and dove into the back of his limo. Malcolm watched the long black car peel out of the parking lot and down the street as Samantha pushed open the door and joined him inside the now quiet diner.

Sam closed the door behind her but all the while kept her questioning gaze on Malcolm. She placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head at him curiously. “I suppose I should thank you.” She looked down at the puddle on the floor behind Malcolm and grimaced. “Is that what I think it is?”

Malcolm straightened his back and nodded. “No one should ever touch you without your permission,” he said with more bite than he'd intended. His sharp gaze held hers. “No one will ever treat you in such a way again,” he whispered. “Ever.”

Sam nodded slowly and closed the distance between them. She eyed him skeptically. “Well, I have to admit your timing was impeccable.”

Malcolm glanced down at her wrists, and anger flared through him. Faint red marks marred her beautiful flesh from where that son of a bitch had grabbed her. His entire body went rigid at the memory of it. He reached out and took her wrists gently in his hands. He brushed his thumbs lightly over the fading red streaks on her fair skin. She quivered beneath his fingers, and her heartbeat increased the moment his flesh touched hers. The rapid thrumming of her pulse fell instantly in time with his. He pulled her closer and placed a soft kiss on each wrist. Her skin, warm and silky, felt like heaven beneath his lips. A small sound of pleasure escaped her lips as her soft breasts pressed up against their now intertwined hands.

He opened his eyes slowly and found her large indigo eyes looking up at him expectantly. Long strands of her blonde hair framed her spectacular face. He allowed himself this moment to take in every curve. He kissed her temple and whispered softly into her ear. “You should be cherished.”

“Malcolm,” she breathed his name softly.

The desire in her voice combined with the touch of her body sent him into overdrive. He wanted to memorize every bit of her, but those full lips, parted slightly, were far too tempting to leave alone. He crushed her mouth with his and felt like a man who'd just gotten water after a drought.

Relief.

Desire.

Passion.

Home.

All these thoughts swamped his heart and his body. He swept his tongue along hers and white, hot lust ravaged him. He couldn't get close enough. He needed her, needed to protect her, to love her.

Her yearning matched his as she pulled her hands from his grasp and wrapped her arms around his back. He growled low in his throat as their bodies pressed tightly against one another. Malcolm grabbed her curvy bottom and pressed her up against the evidence of his desire. Her fingers dug deliciously into the muscles of his back, making him moan softly into her mouth. Her lips melded perfectly with his. He reveled in the sweet touch of her tongue and her taste. Salty and sweet. Small but strong. He'd heard the way she stood up to Roger, and it made him proud. His mate was not a woman to be trifled with. Darkness crept into his mind at the memory of it, and he scolded himself silently. After the encounter she'd just had, he was ravaging her in the middle of the diner like some kind of horny teenager. Nice. Very sensitive.

He held her close and softened their kiss. Suckling her bottom lip, he pulled away gently. He held her there, wrapped tightly in his arms. She opened those big blue eyes and looked up at him through heavy lids. Her lips were swollen and red from his kisses. He'd never seen anyone more beautiful in his life.

“So,” she said between heavy breaths, “I should probably tell you that I don't usually make out with people as a thank you.”

Malcolm laughed softly and kissed the tip of her nose. “I should hope not.”

Pots clanked loudly in the kitchen. Sam slipped quickly out of his arms, like a child about to be caught by her parents, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Cold quickly replaced the warmth.

“Sammy, you okay out there?” A short robust woman burst through the swinging kitchen door with a large frying pan in her hand. Her eyebrows shot up, she placed her meaty hands on her ample hips, and looked Malcolm up and down. “Well, I guess you are.” She let out a low cat call whistle and wiggled her eyebrows at Sam.

Malcolm raised one eyebrow and gave Samantha a sly smile.

Sam let out a slightly embarrassed giggle and tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Millie,” she said with a warning tone. “This is Malcolm Drew, and he was just leaving.” She moved in next to Malcolm and elbowed him gently in the ribs.

Millie put down the frying pan, reached over the counter, and gave him a hearty handshake. “Nice to meet you, young man.” She looked around the diner and cast a glance outside. “Where's that other fella?” she asked with a grimace. “The city boy?”

Malcolm glanced at Sam. “Oh, he had to run.”

“Good,” she huffed. “I didn't like the look of him.”

“Neither did I.” Malcolm glimpsed at the clock on the wall. “Speaking of which, I have to be going myself. It was very nice meeting you Millie.”

Millie winked. “You too, handsome. I hope we'll be seeing more of you around here. I don't think Sammy girl has looked this happy since she got that red bicycle for Christmas.”

“Millie,” Sam growled and shot her a look of warning, but Millie just laughed loudly and made herself comfortable behind the counter.

Smiling, Malcolm took Samantha's soft hand in his, and without taking his eyes off hers, he kissed it gently. “Good day.” Her deep blue eyes widened as their flesh met, and her energy waves pumped wildly over him. “It's always a pleasure to see you, Ms. Logan.”

Her eyes widened slightly and flicked over to Millie when he emphasized the word
pleasure
, but he couldn't help himself. Sam licked her lips and took a deep breath as her hand slipped slowly from his. “Good day.”

He gave a quick nod to Millie and headed out the door as the bells jingled happily behind him. He cast one last glance at Samantha and reached out to her with his mind
.

I have a necklace to find.

Her eyes widened, and her hand fluttered to her throat.

As the door clicked shut he heard Millie bark, “What the hell is that mess on the floor?”

Chuckling quietly, he went back to Paddy's to keep his promise.

Sam got into her car and grabbed her cell phone from the charger. It blinked up at her rapidly. She had three voice mails and several missed calls from Gunther. She popped on her headset and listened to the messages as she drove home. All three were from Gunther, and each one got slightly more hysterical. All he ever said was, “Kitten. Call me back.
Now!
”

Sam shook her head and hit the call button. What on earth was the little sprite up to?

He picked it up on the first ring.

“Holy shit! Where in the hell have you been?” he shrieked. “I've been calling you all damn day, woman!”

“I've been working, Gunther.” She laughed. “What on earth is so important that it had you blowing up my phone all morning?”

“I sold the rest of your paintings,” he squealed.

Sam winced at the high-pitched shriek and shook her head. He sold her paintings? No way. She must've heard that wrong.

“Hello? Did you hear me? I-
sold
-
your
-
paintings
.” He punctuated each word as if she were deaf.

Sam pulled her car over into the gas station at Dunn's Corners. The house was only a mile away, but if she did finally sell her work it would be best not to get killed in a car accident upon finding out. That would be a buzz kill. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest from the rush of adrenaline. She tore out the headset and picked up the phone. She wanted to be sure she heard this correctly.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Did you say that you sold my paintings?”

“You bet your sweet ass I did,” he said rapidly. When he got excited it was speed-talking all the way.

“What? When?” She smiled with disbelief and leaned back against the worn headrest. “And Gunther, slow down. Tell me exactly what happened.”

“Yesterday.” He giggled and then took a deep breath. “Okay. I'll slow down, but I've been like
dying
to tell you this ever since they picked up all the pieces this morning.” He took another cleansing breath. “Okay. So yesterday, I'm sitting here having my morning latte, and this guy waltzes in here, like right after we open. Which, quite frankly, was a tad annoying. But, you can tell, lots of money. Great suit. Armani. Anyway, turns out he's a buyer, y'know, not your average bear. Well, he came in here yesterday and—get this—asked specifically for any pieces that were done by Samantha Logan.”

“Wait.” Dread crept up her belly and squashed any excitement she felt.

Roger.

She swallowed hard. What if this buyer was one of Roger's cronies? She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temple with her free hand. “This guy asked for my work specifically?”

“Hey,” he whined. “Are you going to let me tell you the story or what?”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes and prayed for patience. Gunther's stories could go on for days. “I'm sorry. Go on.”

“Thank you,” he sang. “
So
, he asked for any work done by you. Naturally, I was only too happy to accommodate him. Well, he didn't even
look
at them. When I brought him over to the stack against the back wall, he didn't even ask me to open them up. He just handed me his credit card and told me he'd be back first thing in the morning to pick them all up. He didn't haggle or even ask the prices.” He shrieked. “Can you believe it?”

“No,” she said quietly. “It sounds too good to be true.”

“Yeah, well, I know what you mean.” He stopped himself and quickly added, “Don't get me wrong. I love your work, but let's be honest babe. Your stuff hasn't exactly been flying off the walls.”

“I know. It's okay Gunther.” Sam let out a loud sigh and laughed softly. “What was the name on the credit card?”

“Ummm. Hold on a sec. I have to get the slip.”

Sam held her breath as Gunther hummed tunelessly while he searched for the paper.

“Here it is. Ugh. I swear, when Milton comes in here and watches the counter for me everything gets all topsy-turvy.” He huffed and then added quickly, “It's a good thing he's so damn cute.” He giggled. “Barkley Jameson. Ring any bells?”

“No it doesn't.”

“Hey! I can't believe you're not excited about this. Come on girl! You just sold all ten of your paintings in one fell swoop and cleared a bundle of cash.” He hooted loudly but then quickly shifted into his business voice. “Minus my commission of course.”

Sam leaned her elbow on the open window of the car and looked out the window at the passing traffic. “Did he actually come and pick them all up?”

“Yup. First thing this morning. In fact I had to open up at eight just to accommodate this guy,” he snorted. “But hey, he paid a bundle, so I wasn't gonna complain sister. He showed up with two big hulking brutes and a large black van. They packed up all of your pieces and hauled them away.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I have to admit. I am pretty curious.”

“Me too, Gunther.” Sam could hear the door of the gallery being shoved open loudly and smiled. “Sounds like you've got a customer.”

He scoffed loudly. “Honey please. After that mamajamma sale, I closed for the day. It's just Milton. So listen, should I send the check to you at your place in Rhode Island?”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“Okay. And listen. Cheer up woman! You are officially a success. Bye baby.”

“Bye.”

The line clicked off quietly, and Sam tossed the cell phone into her bag on the passenger seat. She gripped the steering wheel tightly and leaned her forehead on her fingers before blowing out a strong breath and starting up the car. Gunther was right. She should be excited. In fact, she should be bloody ecstatic, but she couldn't stop the feeling of dread that nagged at her. What if Roger was the one who bought her paintings? She shook her head and made a small sound of defiance. So what if he did? It shouldn't matter. Right? After all, money is money.

However, no matter how many times she told herself it shouldn't matter—it did. It mattered a lot. The truth was that she hated the idea of her mother's image, or any of the deeply personal images she painted, hanging in Roger's home. Her skin crawled at the very thought of it. No amount of money was worth that. Maybe she'd call Gunther and see if he could get them back and give the guy a refund. She scoffed out loud and rolled her eyes. Right, after everything Gunther had done, she was going to deny him this sale? Not likely.

She threw the car into first gear and pulled out of the gas station. As she drove the last bit of the way back home she went through the laundry list of oddities that had become her life.

Moved back into childhood bedroom at the age of thirty. Check.

Crazy stalker ex-boyfriend. Check.

Miraculously sold all artwork in one fell swoop. Check.

Hot neighbor who can kiss like the devil and use telepathy. Check.

Sam smiled.

Butterflies in stomach when looking at hot neighbor. Double check.

When Sam finally dragged herself into the house, she didn't have the energy to go right out to her studio. She was mentally and physically drained. Working on the portrait would probably help take her mind off everything, but she couldn't bring herself to do it yet. Instead, she made herself a cup of coffee and took it out to the deck. Nonie was already out there, as she was most afternoons, reading the local paper and sipping her tea. They exchanged a familiar greeting with a kiss on the cheek. Sam settled into her chair and blew on her coffee.

Her thoughts immediately went to Malcolm. She replayed the unusual events that occurred over the past several hours. She had seen his eyes change into eagle eyes, and this morning her own eyes had turned into the eyes of a wolf. They were the same ones as the wolf in her dreams. How was this all possible? She felt like she was losing her mind.
Maybe he slipped something into my drink.
She half expected to hear Malcolm's scoffing voice in her head.

“Ridiculous,” she said.

“I'm sorry, dear. What's ridiculous?”

She sent Nonie a startled look and blushed for blurting that out. “Oh. Nothing. I was just…it's nothing really.” Sam looked back out at the ocean, hoping Nonie wouldn't see right through her. Somehow Nonie always had the uncanny ability to know exactly what was going on with Sam.

“I lost my necklace last night.” Sam was unable to look at Nonie, afraid she'd be scolded like a child. She wouldn't blame her. That necklace was an irreplaceable heirloom. When Nonie didn't immediately respond, Sam forced herself to look at her. She was met by a sweet, sympathetic look in her blue eyes.

“I'm sure it will turn up. I wouldn't worry on it too much. These things have a way of working themselves out.” Nonie turned her attention back to the paper.

“Wow. You're much calmer about it than I expected. I was up half the night, tearing apart my room and searching the driveway in my nightgown with a flashlight. In fact, I am going to go out and look again before I head out to the studio.” Sam rose from her chair. “You're really not upset with me for losing it?”

“I'm not upset because I don't think it's lost,” Nonie said with a small smile. “It's just…misplaced. Believe me. You'll have your necklace back.”

“I hope you're right, Nonie, and somehow you always are.”

They were interrupted by the chirp of Sam's cell phone. She went inside and dug through her purse, which she fondly referred to as
the black hole
. It had the ability to swallow up her cell phone or anything else she was searching for. Finally, she found it, at the bottom of course. She smiled when she saw Kerry's name in the caller ID.

“Hey there, Hollywood.” Sam walked back out to the deck.

“Back at ya, Picasso. So listen, want to grab a bite to eat and catch up today?”

“Oh, Kerry, I would love to,” Sam said with genuine disappointment. “But I'm not in the city. I'm at Nonie's.”

With that acknowledgement, Nonie waved her greetings.

“Nonie says
hi
by the way.”

“Hi, back. Hey, are you out on the deck?” Kerry asked.

“Of course, with the afternoon coffee and paper as usual. Why?”

“Do me a favor. Look over at my parents' house, will ya?”

“Sure. What am I looking for?” Sam asked. She looked over at the Smithson's house and saw Kerry standing there on her cell phone and waving. Sam shrieked her delight, and jumping up and down, gave an excited wave back. “Oh my God! You have
no
idea how glad I am that you're here.” The beginnings of tears stung her eyes and threatened to spill over. “How did you know I was here?”

“Well, Nonie of course. She called me a few weeks ago right after you called her. It was a conspiratorial surprise, and avoiding your calls has been killing me. Get your sweet ass in a bathing suit, and get over here stat!”

Sam had a grin that went from ear to ear. She hung up and instantly came up behind Nonie's chair. She wrapped her up in a huge hug of gratitude. “Thank you, Nonie. Once again, you know exactly what to do.”

“It's true,” she said with a small sigh. “Having such insight is a blessing…most of the time.” She gently patted Sam's arms. “Now run along and have fun!”

Sam gave her a quick kiss and ran upstairs to change. She realized that they really hadn't spoken directly in a while. Kerry had been overseas on a shoot so there had been a lot of voice mail and text messages, but it didn't matter how much time passed between conversations. Whether it was a month, a day, or a year, they could always pick up right where they left off. It was always like no time had passed. They were still the giggling little girls from all those years ago.

Sam and Kerry were complete opposites in every way. Still they managed to be as close as sisters, which worked out nicely since they were both only children. Neither of them made friends very easily. Sam felt disconnected from most people. Kerry had a major phobia about touching people. When they were little, she called it
the spookies
, but now she admitted to having a germ phobia. Sam was the only person Kerry would hug or touch at all.

Sam changed quickly, donned her aviators, and grabbed a towel. It was much quicker to go down and cut across the beach to Kerry's place. The driveways were so long out to the road it was practically necessary to drive over. She couldn't cut across between the houses because it was just dunes and sea grass with all kinds of creepy critters who called it home. Not only would she break her neck, but she'd probably get eaten alive by a variety of insects.

Sam climbed the beach stairs to Kerry's place and found her friend waiting with a big smile and a huge glass that likely contained a margarita.

She marveled at how strikingly beautiful Kerry was. Her long jet black hair gleamed thick and shiny. Somehow, it never frizzed, no matter what the humidity was. Sam, on the other hand, ended up looking like a Chia Pet at the smallest hint of humidity. Kerry's large eyes were chocolate brown with flecks of gold in certain lights. She had high cheekbones and full lips that many women paid thousands to try and attain. Her creamy white skin was unmarred by the sun, and the woman didn't have a wrinkle in sight. Kerry's bright red swimsuit showed off her long curvy body. Bam baby. Once you met her in person, it was blindingly clear how she had become the hottest plus-size model since Emme. She and Sam couldn't have been more different physically if they tried.

“So…am I still huggable? Or do I give you the spookies like the rest of the world?”

“Shut up and hug me,” Kerry teased.

The two friends hugged each other and giggled like schoolgirls. Sam broke the embrace first, knowing a short hug was all Kerry could take. She stepped back to get a good look at her. “You know, it should be illegal to look as good as you do. You make us regular girls look bad,” Sam said teasingly with a shake of her head.