Worth the Risk (11 page)

He clicked a few more times, and a new layer of windows popped up, but Meredith wasn’t looking. She just met Sam’s eyes, then pulled her own cell from her pocket. She held it out and cleared her throat.

Worm looked up and blinked. “What?”

“Can you do that to mine? Disable its GPS?”

“Sure.”

He gave the phone a cursory look, but didn’t take it. Instead, he turned back to the computer and tapped away.

“Done,” he said after a minute.

“It was that easy?” Meredith asked.

He shrugged. “For me.”

“Can it be just as easily undone?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Sam chuckled. “Sorry, man. She’s got to know everything.”

Worm sighed. “My software—basically a remote-installed app—is a little more sophisticated than that. Instead of blocking the GPS signal, it reroutes it. Gives whoever’s tracking it a false signal and sends them to Timbuktu. Good enough?”

Meredith nodded, relieved. “Good enough.”

“Let’s move on.” He angled the computer in her direction.

She sat on the edge of the couch, trying to get a better view. “Those are Tamara’s bank records.”

“Some of them. The personal ones, mostly. Her business accounts are more secure, but you can still see the basics. She and her husband keep separate accounts. Like, all over the place. Visa and savings and...well, everything. Pretty unusual for a married couple.” Worm stopped talking and turned a speculative eye in Meredith’s direction.

“You think he has something to do with this?” she asked. “As in, he might be directly responsible for Tamara’s kidnapping?”

“You don’t?” the ponytailed man responded.

“I just—no. It’s not him,” she said. “It can’t be.”

“What makes you so sure?” The question came from Sam, who’d positioned himself behind the couch.

“It’s always the husband,” Worm added.

Meredith clenched her jaw. “This time, it’s not. Nicholas—my brother-in-law—isn’t my favorite person, but I know him. And he wouldn’t hurt my sister.”

“His last purchase was for a ridiculously overpriced luggage set.”

“He took a vacation. He told his secretary—” Meredith stopped abruptly as she realized what she’d just revealed.

Sam’s jaw tightened. “You contacted him?”

“I tried to. I spoke to his office assistant. She told me Nick went on vacation.”

Worm jumped in. “That doesn’t raise a giant red flag? Why the hell didn’t you mention it earlier?”

“Because I knew you’d jump to conclusions. And trust me. Nicholas is as straight as they come,” Meredith said. “Like, pleats-ironed-into-his-pants kind of straight. He won’t even jaywalk. He only defends clients who are irrefutably innocent in his books. Since I’ve known him, he’s only made one big mistake. Wherever he is and whatever he bought, I’m sure this has nothing to do with him.”

Worm shot her a disbelieving look, but Sam stepped in front of the table and shook his head. “She clearly doesn’t like the man, Worm. She’s not defending him to be nice.”

“You’re just taking her word for it?” The big man flicked back his ponytail. “Since when are you so trusting, Potter?”

“Since now.”

Worm’s expression darkened, but Meredith didn’t care. Because Sam’s eyes had found her, and they contained something that warmed her heart more than her face. Some
things.
Genuine affection and trust. A hint of promise. Desire. And all of those mattered far more than anything his computer-crazy friend thought.

Chapter 11

F
aster than seemed possible for a man of the hacker’s size, Worm jumped to his feet.

“Can I see you in the other room?”

Sam tore his gaze away from Meredith and pushed aside the mounting heat between them. “You can. But nothing you say is going to change the fact that I trust Meredith’s instincts.”

Worm rolled his eyes. “I just want one minute.”

“Fine.” Sam bent down and dragged a finger along Meredith’s jaw, then said emphatically, “You okay here for
one
minute?”

She leaned into his touch, then picked up the laptop. “Sure. I might even last for two. Maybe I’ll just see if I can find anything weird in Tamara’s time line.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Sam kissed her forehead more chastely than he wanted to and followed Worm from the living room to the bedroom, closed the doors, then faced his long-time friend. “I meant what I said out there.”

“I know.”

“Then why the hell are you pulling me in here?”

“To ask you if you’re insane.”

“Insane?”

His friend met his eyes. “You’re dismissing a prime suspect because that girl said so.”

Sam sighed. He had to admit his curiosity about Nicholas Billing was piqued. But if he admitted
that
, then he’d have to admit it wasn’t about the case. It was about the way Meredith claimed to know him well. Something in her tone. Sam didn’t like it, but it had nothing to do with the case.

“Potter!” Worm urged. “The husband’s purchases stop three days before the wife’s. The man’s a defense lawyer. And I don’t care what he told his damned secretary, he hasn’t booked a vacation anywhere that I can see. You can’t ignore the facts.”

“I’m not ignoring the facts.
That girl
is my best and only lead. This is her sister we’re talking about. Do you think she’d just pretend her brother-in-law wasn’t a suspect if she thought it meant we could save Tamara? I’m not going to let it go if the investigation turns to him, but I haven’t been able to locate the man to question him, and aside from his abrupt departure from his office, he hasn’t done anything truly suspicious.”

“Yet,” Worm muttered.

“My number-one priority is locating Tamara Billing. So for now, I’m giving Meredith the benefit of the doubt. I trust her instincts.”

“You trust her— Hell. You
are
insane. This case is the most complicated one you’ve ever asked for my help with. Probably the most dangerous, too. Cops and guns and...every reason you left the Bowerville PD to start out with. Are you sure this is what you want to be involved in? And if you’re sure about yourself, then are you sure about the Achilles’ heel you’re dragging along behind you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Anyone who’s in a room with you and that girl for more than thirty seconds is going to see this isn’t about her instincts or the benefit of the doubt. You’re halfway in love with her.”

Sam choked on the breath he’d just drawn in. “In love? I met Meredith Jamison this morning.”

“So?”

“People don’t fall in love in hours.”

Worm shook his head. “People fall in love at first sight.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“Kelsey did.”

“And look where that got her.”

Worm sighed. “Not my point. You’ve always been an all-or-nothing guy, Potter. It’s what made you a great cop. It’s what made you a great brother and what made you the right guy to step in and be her guardian when your parents died. It’s what’s making you work like a dog to solve this case for that girl out there. Throwing yourself into the middle of things that are the exact opposite of where you’ve wanted to be for half a decade.”

Sam’s eyes strayed to the door, then came back to his friend. “You think this is too dangerous and I should cut her loose.”

“No. I don’t. Just the opposite.”

Sam didn’t bother to cover his surprise. “So why are we here, having this little chat, then?”

“Because insanity aside, I think you should tell her everything.”

“Tell her? That’s it?”

Worm nodded. “Tell her and let her decide. No one understands more than you how precarious life is. But I haven’t seen you act on that in five years. If you’re going to do it now, don’t do it blind. And don’t let
her
do it blind, either. So, yes. That’s it. And that’s my condition for helping you out with this, too.”

“Your condition?”

“What? You think I’ve been working for you all this time for the sad bit of money you toss my way now and then? I’m capable of hacking into government computer systems. What you pay me can’t keep me in instant noodles, let alone cover my services.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “I always assumed it had something to do with our friendship.”

“It does. Which is exactly why I’m making this condition.” Worm gestured toward the living room. “And assuming you’re agreeing to it, we should probably get back out there and get back to work.”

“Assuming you were right about what I was feeling, I would tell her anyway.”

Sam closed his fingers around the handle, pulled the door open, then froze as Meredith’s almost-still form caught and held his attention. She’d discarded the laptop on the edge of the couch and curled her legs up underneath her body. Her eyes were closed and her chest rose and fell gently. Sound asleep.

And Worm was right.

Sam’s heart swelled with the reality of it; he
did
care about her. A lot. Especially considering how little he knew her. Love? Maybe not. Not yet, anyway. He couldn’t just chalk it up to lust, either. Yes, he felt a strong physical attraction, but he was already sure there was more to it than that. And his gut told him every passing day would only send him deeper.

“She’s kinda in my way, Potter.” Worm’s statement jerked Sam out of his not-so-gloomy musings.

He bent down and smoothed away a lock of her hair, then started to speak her name, but thought better of it. She needed a rest. So instead of waking her, Sam slid his arms under her knees and around her back and lifted her from the couch. She shifted and murmured something as she settled against his chest. Sam held still for a moment, just enjoying the feel of her. Then he carried her to the bedroom, where he eased back the covers awkwardly, and tucked them around her.

When he made his way back into the living room, he found Worm already working on the laptop again. Sam tried to speak, but his friend put up a hand, stopping him. He typed away furiously for another couple of minutes, then pushed the laptop onto the table and stood.

“All right,” he said. “Here’s what I’ve set up. Automatic tracking on the sister’s phone, just in case. Virtual tracking of her credit cards, also just in case. I doubt either of those things will help you, but covering all our bases, right? I’ll take all the info we have and use a better equipped location—not my house, and thanks for that, by the way—to get you access to her business accounts. See if I can find anything weird. You guys can fill in the gaps by deciphering the coded locations, then you can get your PI on.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Get my PI on? You mean put on my fedora, sit on a park bench with a newspaper in front of my face and hope not to look suspicious? That kind of PI stuff?”

“Exactly. Unless you want to back out? Put the case aside?”

“Not even close.”

“All right. Your funeral. But I gotta get going. A twenty-minute nap and a crappy apartment are calling my name.” Worm stood up, stretched and yawned widely. “Can’t say I’m not envious of Mr. Hall and his five-star accommodations.”

“You created the man,” Sam pointed out. “You could’ve been him if you’d wanted.”

“Nah. I could never pass for some rich jerk. My own alternate identity is a reclusive computer nerd.”

“You
are
a reclusive computer nerd.”

“I know. It’s beautiful, right?” His friend moved toward the door, opened it, then paused and shot a meaningful nod in the direction of the bedroom. “Don’t forget our deal.”

Sam grunted noncommittally as he shut the door. He
would
tell Meredith his story, but not because Worm told him to. Because he wanted to. And when the time was right.

At the moment, though, he had other things to focus on. Like trying again to get ahold of the client who’d hired him. He had more questions than answers, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t check in. He pulled out his cell and dialed the number. It rang and rang and no one picked up on the other end. On the ninth ring, the air just went dead. Sam clicked the off button, then stared down at the phone. No option to leave a message this time.

Weird.

He’d never had someone who hired him become so difficult to reach. Most of them wanted updates. Immediately and often. On the odd occasion they didn’t, it usually turned out to be because the case had no merit after all.

So under any other circumstance, the lack of communication would be enough to make Sam put the investigation on hold. Except this circumstance was nowhere near usual. He’d already identified his target, and he knew her life was in danger. He’d taken a very large down payment. And even if
those
things weren’t true... Sam’s eyes drifted to the French doors.

Meredith.

Money aside, lack of communication aside, there was no way Sam would abandon her. Just thinking about her peaceful form on the other side of the curtain-covered glass warmed his blood. What would happen if he gave in to the nearly overwhelming urge to go to her? What would she do if he slid his body in beside hers and ran his palms up the length of her curves?

He didn’t think she’d turn him away. In fact, he thought she would welcome the comfort she’d find in his arms. But as much as he wanted to live in the moment, he knew what Meredith needed wasn’t a short-term distraction. What she
did
need was to find her sister.

So Sam forced his gaze away from the bedroom, turned his attention back to the computer and got to work on meeting that need.

* * *

Meredith woke slowly. Uncomfortably. Her whole body ached, and her mind protested against consciousness. She tried to open her eyes and failed. Even her face hurt.

Then it all came rushing back to her.

Tamara.

Sam.

The hotel.

She sat bolt upright. And regretted it instantly. The all-over ache became an all-over screech. She let out a groan.

The last thing she remembered clearly was staring down at the blurry laptop screen, trying to make sense of her sister’s credit-card habits. The numbers and purchases were a nonsensical mess that seemed totally unrelated to Tamara’s kidnapping. And yes, her brain had been tired. But she’d been tingling with worry, too. She had no idea how she’d even managed to fall asleep. Or how long she’d been out. Her eyes sought the alarm clock on the bedside table, but its red glow was nonexistent. And when she swung her feet out from under the blanket and blinked against the dark, she saw why. Someone—Sam, probably—had unplugged the clock. And turned out all the lights, and drawn the curtains, too.

Puzzled, Meredith pushed herself to her feet and moved across the room, calling his name. But her muscles protested heartily and she only made it two steps before she crashed into an unidentified piece of furniture. With a curse, she stumbled back, scraping her arm on another
something.
Then, without warning, the lights came to life, temporarily blinding her. Meredith pitched forward, swearing again. But as she braced for the inevitable impact, a steadying hand landed on her elbow.

“Whoa. Let’s try not to break too much stuff. My rich alter ego only has so much money to burn.”

The rumble of Sam’s voice—so close to her ear while they were so close to the bed—made her insides warm. And for a second, Meredith forgot her aches and pains and leaned against him gratefully. But when she let him guide her across the room to a cushy chair, her muscles balked again at the movement, and when she eased down her thighs protested the simple action of sitting.

“Apparently, the thing I’m most in danger of breaking is myself,” she stated. “I feel like hell.”

Sam shot her a teasing grin. “I beg to differ. You feel pretty damned fantastic to me.”

“Flattery isn’t your friend right now.”

“Maybe it could be. If it was accompanied by some mediocre news.”

Meredith frowned. “Seriously? Mediocre news? That’s what you’re offering?”

“Mediocre is better than bad.”

She lifted her eyes, and hope bubbled in her chest in spite of Sam’s neutral expression. “What’ve you got?”

“Sit tight for one second and I’ll show you.”

“Like I can do anything else.”

She stifled another self-pitying moan and resolved to take a renewed interest in exercising regularly. Maybe enroll in one of the Pilates classes her sister used to try to talk her into taking.
Her sister.
Meredith squeezed her eyes shut and let the guilt wash over her. Why hadn’t she just swallowed her pride and her envy and done the things Tamara wanted her to do? Like that trendy martini bar, just a few months back. She’d lied about having to work to avoid going. Now, she’d give her right arm to be there right that second with her sister. Drinking some awful mix of chocolate and gin. Listening to bad piano music. Just to know Tamara was safe and sound.

“Sweetheart?”

Meredith opened her eyes and found Sam standing in front of her, a room-service cart at his thigh and the laptop under one arm. He set the latter on top of the former, then opened his palm and held out two ibuprofen tablets. Meredith took them gratefully. As she popped them into her mouth, Sam handed her a cup of orange juice, too.

“Breakfast of champions,” he said. “My favorite choice after a long day of chasing bad guys followed by a crappy night’s sleep.”

Meredith just about choked on the liquid in her throat. “Wait. Breakfast? How long was I out?”

“About seven hours.”

“How could you let me sleep the whole night away?”

She tried to push herself back up, but Sam put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. She fought him for a second, but her weak muscles weren’t on her side. And even though Sam wasn’t exerting much pressure, she didn’t stand a chance of winning.