Worth the Risk (4 page)

Holy hell.

He barely managed to recover in time to see Meredith fall forward. Her legs slid to the ground with a thump, while her upper body stayed in the car. Sam continued to watch for a minute as she wiggled futilely.

At last she turned and glared at him. “Little assistance?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You want me to pull you back
in
or push you
out
?”

“Are you giving me a choice?”

“Not really.”

“Then why bother to offer?”

“I didn’t.” He couldn’t cover a grin. “You asked for help, remember, sweetheart?”

“Can we call a truce?” she replied with an eye roll. “And can you stop calling me ‘sweetheart’?”

“Hmm. Let me see. No to the second part. And maybe to the first part.”

“Sam!”

He liked the way his name sounded on her lips. Even when she said it in such an exasperated way.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Are you going to help me?”

“I will. If you agree to stop stomping on my feet and running away.”

“You’re chasing me!”

“I’m just trying get some information on Tamara’s whereabouts.”

“Why?”

“I don’t suppose if I tell you it’s confidential you’ll accept that as an answer?”

“My day looks like this so far. A mild wine hangover. A weird—bordering on scary—call from my sister, who hasn’t talked to me in
months.
You, on my doorstep. And now a crazy man chasing me down with a car.”

“You spoke to Tamara? Today?”

“Yes. Briefly. But that’s not my point,” Meredith replied.

She’s alive.

The confirmation filled Sam with relief. He itched to know more about the conversation, but he doubted Meredith would tell him a damn thing. Not until they established some trust. Which wasn’t going to be easy. He still had to try.

“Look,” he said. “Would you be willing to give me the benefit of the doubt? At least until I get you unstuck?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Fine. Just...pull me back in. Please?”

For a second, he considered leaving her there, just to prove a point. Then he reminded himself that he needed her help, if he wanted to solve his case. If Meredith had a good side, he should be making more of an effort to get on it. Or at least try to get off the bad one.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he said. “Put your hands out.”

With an exaggerated eye roll, Meredith stretched her arms in the vehicle. Sam took a deep breath and prepared himself for the electricity he knew would be coming, then clamped his fingers down on her forearms. Want hit him hard. He couldn’t shove it aside, so he tried to harness the energy instead, to channel it to help pull her into the vehicle. In typical fashion, he overdid it. He yanked too hard and Meredith came flying into the Bronco, knocking him to his back and landing on top of him.

He expected her to leap off. Instead, she wriggled a little, then stayed where she was, her green-eyed gaze fixed on his face. Her lithe form remained pressed against him, her breasts rubbing against his chest, her hands positioned above his shoulders, holding her face above his. He could feel every one of her inhales and exhales. Her lips were so close that if he moved, even a little, they’d land on his mouth. And if he’d had any doubt about his attraction to her, it slipped away right that second. Meredith’s body was a perfect fit for his.

“You all right?” he asked, desire making his voice husky.

“I’m okay.” She paused. “Sam?”

Yeah, he definitely liked it when she said his name. It sent all the blood in his body straight to his groin.

“Sam?” she said again.

He swallowed. “Yes, Meredith?”

“I think my jeans are stuck to your belt.”

“Oh.”

At the one-word reply, she lifted a perfect eyebrow. “Do you think you could, um,
un
stick it? Or does that fall outside the realm of your expertise?”

“Let me see what I can do.”

He slid a hand between them, stifling a groan as the backs of his fingers brushed the skin of her stomach. She wiggled a little more, like she was trying to give him some space to work.

“Not helping,” he said.

“Sorry.”

She moved again anyway.

“Seriously. Could you hold still?” Sam asked.

“I’m trying.”

His teeth gritted together again, though this time for a different reason entirely. He dug his hand down, desperate to find his belt buckle before he went crazy. Finally, his fingers closed on the warm metal. Sure enough, the button from Meredith’s jeans was lodged under the frame. With a firm tug, Sam set it free, then dragged his hand out regretfully.

“You’re all set,” he told Meredith.

She righted herself. “Thank you.”

“So that’s what it takes to earn your gratitude? Third time’s the charm?”

“Third time?”

“First, I saved you from becoming a pancake. Then, I saved you from our friend in the sedan. And now, I saved you from yourself.”

“Ha. I think you only get a half a point for the second one since I had to navigate you into the correct alley.”

“No, I definitely think you owe me three.”

Meredith answered him, but Sam barely heard a word. Because a necklace slipped out from under her T-shirt and caught his eye, and suddenly, he was pretty damn sure that the redheaded thug was tracking her.

Chapter 4

B
efore Meredith could comment, Sam reached over, closed his hand around the pendant charm hanging from her neck and pulled it close to his face. And since she was attached to the necklace, Meredith had little choice but to follow. Which drew her near enough to Sam that she could smell his clean scent once again.

After a second, Meredith cleared her throat. “You a big fan of gaudy jewelry?”

“Not particularly. Where’d you get this piece?”

“Why?”

He sighed. “Can you answer
any
question without a long, drawn-out explanation?”

Meredith resisted an urge to stick out her tongue. “Depends on who’s asking. Can I have my necklace back?”

“Nope. I just hope you didn’t have that anywhere near your shower.”

For the second time that day, a blush crept up Meredith’s cheeks. “What?”

“Bedroom?”

The color in her cheeks deepened. “It was still in the box it came in. Until yesterday, anyway. Why does it matter?”

Sam’s brows went up. “Still in the box? Did you buy it for yourself?”

“No. It was a gift.”

“From?”

Meredith bit back another of her own questions. “Tamara. But you’re not telling me—”

“She gave you a gift?” he interrupted. “Recently?”

“Two days ago. Like I said, we hadn’t spoken in months and then this box turned up...” She trailed off with a shrug.

“You haven’t spoken in months, but she sent you a necklace out of the blue and you didn’t think to question it?”

“She’s my sister and it was my birthday, okay? And...”

“And what?”

She shook her head. She had to admit, she’d been a little surprised to receive the necklace. It wasn’t her style. And more importantly, it wasn’t
Tamara’s
style. Meredith had considered calling her sister when the necklace arrived but never got around to it. Now she really wished she had.

“Meredith?” Sam persisted.

“Nothing. Has anyone ever told you, you sound like a cop?”

“A few people,” he replied drily.

She frowned. “Speaking of cops...”

“No.”

“
No
what?”

“We can’t wait for them or assume they’ll get to us before the guy in the sedan does.”

“Does that mean you’re going to tell me why you’re following me around and asking me questions about Tamara?”

He smiled grimly, and with a quick yank that burned Meredith’s skin a little, Sam tore the pendant clean off.

“Hey! You can’t do that!”

But any further protest died in Meredith’s throat as the blue-eyed man set the necklace on his knee and pulled a Swiss Army knife from his boot, then used it to dig in behind the large, black stone that formed the charm’s focal point. One sharp push and the stone flew off. And underneath it sat a microcamera.

“What the hell!” Meredith exclaimed.

“What the hell, indeed,” he murmured, then met her eyes. “I think we can agree that Tamara didn’t send you this.”

Meredith swallowed. “Yes.”

“Does your sister have any enemies?”

“Enemies? Lots of people don’t like her program, but enemies?” She shook her head. “What’s going on, Sam?”

In reply, he held the necklace up for a second, examined the camera once more, then placed it on the dashboard and smashed it with the handle of his knife.

“What’s going on is that I need to get you out of here.” He shoved the damaged piece of equipment into his pocket. “Quickly.”

“You think I’m leaving with you without more of an explanation of who you are and how you knew someone was
spying
on me?” Meredith knew her fear was making her defensive, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

“Do you see a better option?”

“No, but—”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not giving you a choice, and I don’t have time to give you an explanation.”

“What’re you going to do? Drag me by my hair?”

He eyed her hair like he was seriously considering it, then shook his head. He barely managed to open his mouth, though, before a ping echoed through the air, followed by a sharp crack. Sam’s eyes flew to the windshield, and Meredith followed his gaze with wide-eyed horror. A flattened piece of metal had buried itself in the glass directly in line with Sam’s head.

It only took a second for Meredith to figure out what it was.

A bullet.

Sam confirmed it a moment later. “The glass is only bulletproof-ish, apparently. I should probably ask for a refund.”

He was making
jokes
? While someone
shot
at them? Was he completely insane? But when Meredith met his eyes, she saw that his face was deadly serious. And under that, he was worried. She could see it in the pinch in the corner of his eyes.

He was trying to reassure me,
she realized.

For a weird second, she appreciated the gesture. It even helped her—a little—to recover from the fear making her heart thump against her rib cage. Then a second ping rang out, and this time the side mirror located to Meredith’s right exploded, and any semblance of bravery went out the window. She dove into Sam’s side and clung to his arm.

“Listen to me,” he said into her hair, apparently unperturbed by how she held on to him. “We can’t stay in the truck. And I know you have no real reason to trust that I’m telling the truth, but I promise you, I’ll get you somewhere safe, then I’ll tell you what I can. Can we agree to do that?”

Her mouth was too dry to answer, so she just nodded into his chest.

“Good. You can go back to fighting with me as soon as we’re in the clear.”

Sam reached over her to pop open the glove box, and Meredith sucked in a breath as she caught sight of what was inside.

A gun.

No, wait.

Two guns.

Sam pulled both out, then leaned forward to tuck one into the holster under his jacket. The other, he held out, butt-end first, to Meredith. She didn’t reach for it.

“Take it,” Sam urged.

She shook her head. “I can’t shoot.”

Why did she feel bad about the admission? Firing a gun wasn’t something she’d never even considered doing before that second.

“It’s easy.” He pointed at the trigger. “Aim. Click.”

Meredith took it cautiously. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You won’t have to.”

Meredith wanted to ask why, if she wasn’t going to have to fire it, he was so insistent that she carry it. But he didn’t give her a chance. He reached down to her feet, snapped up the purse she’d dropped back at her building and handed it to her.

“We’re going out my side,” he told her. “And all I want you to do is stay as close to me as possible.”

Then he flung the door open, threaded his fingers through Meredith’s and dragged her into the street.

* * *

Sam was absolutely sure of two things. One, he was in over his head, and two, he needed to get Meredith out of whatever this was, alive and unscathed. Especially if his suspicions about the origin of that camera turned out to be true.

No.
Don’t focus on that. Concentrate on the moment.

He held his body in front of Meredith’s as they snaked along the side of the Bronco. His flesh might be an ineffective shield from a bullet, but at least he could make her feel secure. They reached the edge of the truck unharmed, and he scouted for the next point of safety.

“What do you do for work, Meredith?” he asked as he scanned the area.

She replied in a shaky voice, “What?”

“Work. What do you do?”

“I’m, uh, at a temp agency. So right now, I’m at a market research place. Internet survey stuff, mostly. Compiling data.”

He spotted a potential spot for cover, about fifteen feet away. It was an easy dash. One that would build confidence for the next, undoubtedly longer run.

“Can you see that building sign over there?” He inclined his head.

“The one that says Brookside Apartments?”

“That’s the one.”

“Yes, I see it. Why?”

“In a few seconds, we’re going to run toward its south side. Whoever is firing is coming from the north, and I don’t think they know exactly where we are or they would’ve shot again already. Okay?”

A pause, followed by an audible inhale. “Okay.”

Sam counted to ten silently, then tightened his grip on her hand. “Go!”

At full speed, they hit the pavement, propelling themselves away from the Bronco, and in seconds they reached the sign, unharmed.

“Do you think they’re gone?” Meredith whispered.

“No. They wouldn’t give up that easily.”

“Then why aren’t they firing?”

“Probably waiting for a clear shot,” Sam replied. “But we’re not going to give them one. How well do you know this area?”

“Not very.”

“Could you navigate our way out?”

“I think so. You want to go somewhere specific?”

Sam had an idea, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. “For now, let’s just get away from this neighborhood—and let’s stay away from yours, too. If you can do that, I can get us somewhere safe.”

“All right,” Meredith agreed.

“Which direction takes us out?”

“We can stick to the south side, if you think it’s safer?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Sam eyed the urban terrain again. “Do you like what you’re doing for work?”

“Not really.”

“Why are you doing it, then?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Try me.”

“Well, I’d planned to study law eventually, so I took the paralegal program to tide me over. But...” She trailed off and didn’t pick up the statement again.

And Sam hadn’t yet found a viable option for their next point. The lampposts were too narrow, the nearest car too far.

“But what?”

Meredith sighed. “I never found the time, I guess. Maybe it sounds funny, but having a semifamous sister limits your options. People expect things.”

“People expect things? Or you expect things from yourself?”

He felt her eyes on his back. “Why are you asking me about this now?”

Sam shrugged. “Getting to know you.”

“Getting to know me? Or trying to distract me from the fact that we’re running for our lives?”

“Maybe both.” Then he spotted it. “Central mailbox.”

“I see it.”

“You ready?”

“As I can be.”

“Good enough.”

He snapped up her hand once more, and they moved together. As they reached the mailbox, a shot finally rang out, pinging against the ground and tearing a hole in the concrete a few feet from where they crouched. Meredith let out a barely audible whimper. Sam pulled her closer.

“We’re okay,” he said. “But we can’t wait here long. Can you keep going?”

He expected Meredith to protest, or to ask for more time, but she squeezed his hand and said, “Ten feet behind us, there’s a pickup truck, and five feet from that, there’s a sandwich board. If we can make it there, we can get to an alley, and I think I can find a way out from that point.”

Sam nodded, impressed by her fortitude. “On three, then.”

She met his eyes. “One.”

“Two,” he replied.

She opened her mouth, but
three
never made it out because a not-too-far-off shout and the pounding of feet on pavement announced they’d run out of time. Sam moved to pull away from the mailbox, but this time, Meredith was quicker. She held fast to his fingers, dragging him along as she shot out into the street. Sam let her lead, marking their stops.

Pickup truck. Check.

Bizarrely large sandwich board. Check.

One alley. Two alleys. Then three. Triple check.

At the end of the fourth one, they burst out of the apartment-lined streets and into a lower-density area. Duplexes and one-story homes. Tidier lawns. Evidence of children in the form of bikes and colorful sprinklers. They paused for just a moment at the end of a pebbled driveway, breathing heavily, but Meredith wasn’t done pulling him along.

“C’mon,” she urged.

Sam complied, placing his trust in her ability to guide them out. The flash of her Converse sneakers—black-white, black-white, black-white—kept him moving, and her soft hand in his kept him motivated. She led him through the neighborhood at a barely manageable jog, not stopping until they’d put even more distance between themselves and their pursuers.

“Just a bit farther,” she gasped. “And you’ll owe
me
one.”

“Are we keeping tabs?”

“Definitely.”

“Then we’re three to one.”

“One to two and half.”

Sam managed a smile. “All right. I can compromise.”

They pushed onward, and in a matter of blocks, they reached an area devoid of broken-down cars and replete with uniformly emerald lawns.

“Here,” Meredith said at last. “In this area, one gunshot here will bring out every neighbor and six police cars.” Then she let out a laugh. “Who knows? Maybe they’ll see
us
and call the cops.”

Not if I can help it.
Sam felt his pocket to confirm the camera was still there.

Out loud, he agreed, his own voice ragged with exertion, “Perfect.”

“What now?”

“We call my friend and ask for some help. But first...”

“But first what?”

“This.”

Sam took a breath and took a chance because he might never get another opportunity. He broke his number-one rule—never get personally involved in with an investigation—and grabbed Meredith by the waist. Her green eyes widened, then shut as he dragged her body against his own and closed his mouth on her lush lips.