Worth the Risk (9 page)

Chapter 9

M
eredith’s body burned. And not with the flickering, banked kind of fire, but with flames to the ceiling. Searing and soaring. Hot enough to light up a lake. Scorching enough to wipe away the world.
That
was the kind of burn she felt as Sam kissed her against the back of the elevator.

Meredith didn’t want the kiss to stop. And Sam started to pull away far too soon. She lifted her arms to his neck, digging her fingers into the hair on the back of his head, trying to prolong it. But he murmured something against her lips and it puzzled her enough that she let him go.

“Hmm?” she mumbled.

“S’getting a free show.”

“What?”

“Bellhop.”

Sam inclined his head to one side and Meredith gasped. Sure enough, a gangly youth, dressed in the stereotypical uniform—complete with floppy epaulets—had managed to make it into the elevator without her noticing. He now stood to one side, his face turned politely away. But the purple in his cheeks and the bob of his Adam’s apple gave away his discomfort. Meredith wasn’t sure if she should laugh, apologize, or simply die of embarrassment herself.

And apparently, Sam had his own idea of what she ought to do. “Thank him.”

“What? Why?”

“Because, dearest wife, while he doesn’t appear to have noticed we don’t have any luggage, he
is
the only thing standing between a publicly ravished you and a publicly unravished you.”

Sam’s statement sent Meredith’s heart racing all over again. Was he kidding? Or was he truly tempted to be as roguish as he sounded? But before she could examine his face thoroughly enough to determine which it was, the elevator came to a smooth stop. And when the door slid open and the bellhop all but stumbled out, Meredith heard Sam chuckle under his breath.

“You’re terrible.” She pushed past him to smile at the bellhop. “Which room is ours?”

The kid cleared his throat, gave her a grateful nod. “You’re in 1003. If you come this way, I’ll show you to your door.”

“Stop, right there,” Sam ordered.

He blinked. “Pardon me, sir?”

“Did you say 1003?”

“Yes.”

“We’re supposed to be in 1006.”

Meredith shot him a dirty look. “I don’t see why it matters.”

Sam lifted a hand. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We can tell him.”

“Tell him?”

Sam turned back to the kid. “My wife’s first husband died on October third. We specifically asked for any room but 1003. The concierge gave us 1006.”

The bellhop’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry— I didn’t— She didn’t— I’m sorry.”

“Do you have a key for 1006?” Sam asked.

“I have a master key, but I’ve got you listed as—”

“How about you just get our stuff from 1003, and we don’t mention this mistake to the concierge, and everybody stays happy?”

As the kid nodded, then moved down the hall, Meredith clued in to what Sam was doing. Creating a cover. Buying them time in case someone
did
find them.

“Still think I’m terrible?” he asked.

“Yes. Deviously terrible.”

“And deviously brilliant?”

“You wish.”

The bellhop clanged back into the hall, dragging one cart behind him and pushing another in front of him. “1006?”

Sam grinned and said, “Exactly. Lead away. And don’t forget to give us the full sell.”

“The— Okay.” The kid guided them down the hall, doling out a practiced spiel as they walked. “There are only six rooms on the tenth floor. Each one is a luxurious suite with a separate bedroom, open-plan office space and spa tub.”

Showing a little more confidence with each sentence, he slid the key card into the slot, then held the door open and let them enter first. “As you can see, the bedroom boasts French doors, a king-size bed and also has its own bathroom.”

Whatever else he said faded into background noise as Meredith’s mind paused on just one dangerous phrase.

A king-size bed.

Her eyes sought the offending object. Wooden headboard. Gorgeous linens. Plush pillows.

Meredith swallowed. In minutes, they’d be alone. With that bed. With the wine that already sat chilling in an ice bucket on one of the carts. Her eyes flicked around the room, and her whole body buzzed with an anticipation so thick she almost didn’t notice when her purse started to buzz, too. But the second she pulled out the vibrating phone and glanced down, all her lascivious thoughts flew from her brain and her throat constricted. Because it was her sister’s name flashing across the screen. She let out a gasp that stopped the bellhop’s speech, midsentence, and drew Sam’s attention.

Meredith saw the way his brow furrowed, saw the way his eyes darkened, saw the way his gaze landed on the phone. And she knew what he was about to do.

Acting on instinct, Meredith bolted through the French doors into the bedroom. She slipped past the bed and ran straight for the bathroom. She heard Sam’s feet hit the floor behind her. And she slammed the door without checking to see just how close he’d come, then locked it firmly.

As fast as her shaking fingers would allow, she hit the answer button. “Hello?”

A masculine voice on the other end greeted her. “Meredith Jamison?”

Sam pounded on the door and his muffled order carried through the wood. “Dammit, give me that phone!”

Meredith backed away from the holler. She swung open the glass shower door and climbed inside. Then she pushed the phone to one ear and put her hand over the other to block out Sam’s continued banging.

“Yes, this is Meredith.”

“Good. I need you to do something for me.”

“Where’s Tamara?”

“She’s here.”

“I want to talk to her.”

“I’m sorry Ms. Jamison, but your wants don’t supersede mine in this little scenario.”

Meredith took a steadying breath. “They do. At least until you prove that my sister is alive.”

There was a grunt. “Hang on.”

The thumping on the other side of the bathroom door intensified, the wood shaking so badly Meredith thought it might burst. She pictured Sam throwing his shoulder against it and winced at the mental image. He was going to hurt himself and it would be her fault.

Bigger picture
.

Then the thumping stopped, and it was almost worse. Silence all around as Meredith waited for confirmation of her sister’s life and wondered what Sam was doing outside the door. Was he looking for another way in? Getting the bellhop to get a manager to break in? She needed him to stay out until she’d spoken to Tamara.

And just a moment later, she got her wish. Tamara’s voice came through the line. She sounded small and faraway, but blissfully, thankfully...she was alive.

“Merri?”

“Tami! Thank God. Are you hurt? What the hell is going on?”

“I’m okay. Still in one piece, anyway. I wanted to—”

A shuffle and clatter cut her off, and the masculine voice was back. “Good enough.”

Meredith disagreed. Good enough would be her sister sitting across from her, sipping tea and complaining about the weather. But she didn’t dare argue.

“What do you need?” she asked.

“The Hamish file.” He said it like Meredith should know what he meant, and his next statement confirmed it. “Mrs. Billing told me you were involved in hiding it, so don’t tell me you don’t know where to find it.”

But she had no idea what he was talking about. Was it something to do with one of her sister’s clients? But Tamara didn’t share their names. She didn’t do anything that came close to breaking their confidentiality, and she certainly hadn’t ever mentioned a file to Meredith, Hamish or otherwise. So that begged the question...why would her sister feed this man a lie that could jeopardize her own life?

“Ms. Jamison?”

She closed her eyes. “I need time.”

“That’s a luxury you don’t have.”

“The Hamish file isn’t somewhere accessible,” she lied.

There was a long pause on the other end. “Forty-eight hours.”

Forty-eight hours?

The deadline seemed both too close and too far away. This man, whoever he was, wanted to hold her sister for another two days. Meredith wanted to see Tamara right that second. To count every hair on her little sister’s head. Forty-eight hours would be tortuous. But on the other hand, the man also wanted her to track down some file she’d never even heard of—and for that, two days hardly seemed long enough at all.

But she made herself speak calmly. “Once I have the file, what do you want me to do with it?”

“I’ll call you with the instructions. Keep this line open. And one other thing, Ms. Jamison... The present company you’re keeping? The ex-cop? Not the best choice under the circumstances.”

What did he mean? Once again, Meredith had no idea. And even if she’d wanted to ask, she couldn’t. The line clicked, leaving her with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

Sam paced the length of the bedroom.

He’d all but chased out the bellhop, and now that the kid was gone, he kind of wished he hadn’t left. It would’ve given him someone to yell at.

Because Meredith sure as hell wasn’t listening.

She was on her damn phone. Her very traceable phone.

“Bloody hell.”

He paused and stared at the bathroom door. He knew exactly who’d called, too. He didn’t even have to ask. He resumed striding back and forth across the room.

“I should be the one asking questions and taking the ransom demand,” he muttered.

It was what he did. What he’d lived for as a cop. And besides that...he wanted to be the buffer between Meredith and whoever had her sister. Had to be.

Dammit.

He moved toward the door, fist raised again. Before he could knock once more, it swung open. Meredith stood on the other side, her beautiful face an ashen mess. She looked truly vulnerable for the first time since they’d met.

“Sam,” she said. “They have Tamara and I don’t think I can do what they need me to do in order to save her.”

Wordlessly, he opened his arms. She fell into them, and for several long moments, he held her pressed to his chest, smoothing her hair and offering what comfort he could. He knew
true
comfort wouldn’t come until her sister was safe and sound. Which could only happen if they stayed safe themselves.

“Sweetheart, you need to give me the phone,” he said.

“I can’t.”

“You have to. We don’t know what kind of tracking abilities they have. If they’ve got access to police resources—”

“I
can’t
. This phone is the one they’re going to use to call me back. If I give it to you...”

Sam’s jaw stiffened. Whoever had Tamara Billing had effectively handcuffed them, and at the same time given themselves a perfect way to track them. He leaned away from Meredith, prepared to tell her they had no choice. Instead, the utter heartbreak on her face stopped him short. He knew they’d have to find another way of staying off the radar.

“I feel so helpless,” she said. “So responsible.”

“This isn’t your fault, Meredith.”

“You’ve known me for five seconds, Sam. You have no idea what this feels like.”

“Try me.”

“It’s like you said. I’m proud of her and envious at the same time. More than envious. Crazy jealous. I’ve always resented everything she’s accomplished. So much that the more she succeeded, the more distance I put between us, and now...”

Sam pulled away, this time a bit farther. “Maybe I’ve known you for five seconds, but I know
exactly
what this feels like. You’re scared and guilty and frustrated and questioning every decision you’ve made for not just the last few hours, but for the last few years.”

Meredith’s face grew speculative, and Sam wished he hadn’t spoken. Or at least not said quite so much.

“You
do
know, don’t you?” Meredith’s voice was soft. “How?”

“Because...” Sam swallowed.
Because I went through it. Because I lost her.

He couldn’t make the words come. As much as he wanted to, he really couldn’t. Not yet.

“We need to focus on the present,” he said instead. “On Tamara and how to get her back.”

“Okay.” Now Meredith’s voice was uncertain enough to make Sam’s heart ache.

Tell her.
He didn’t quite shove aside the voice. More like nudged it gently with a promise that he would tell her later. Once they had Tamara, and revealing the details of his past wouldn’t shake Meredith’s faith in him.

“Why don’t you tell me what they want, and I’ll pull up my notes and see where we should get started, okay?”

Sam slid his hands down to hers and pulled her gently to the couch and gestured for her to sit down. He dug through his pockets for the USB stick, plugged it into the laptop and positioned himself next to her.

“I’m guessing they wanted something more complicated than money?” he asked as he waited for the menu to load.

“A file,” Meredith confirmed. “But not one I’ve heard of.”

“Where is it?”

“I don’t have a clue. And what I really don’t get is that Tamara told them I would. Why would she endanger her life like that?”

“She must think the file means something to you. They didn’t give you any hint what was in it?”

Meredith shook her head. “No. Just the name. The Hamish file.”

“It doesn’t ring any bells?”

“None.”

The password prompt popped up on the screen, and Sam glanced at her before typing. “If you ever need to get into this and I’m not around, the password is ‘Kelsey.’”

“Kelsey?”

He forced some lightness into his reply. “My sister’s name. No need to be jealous, dearest wife.”

“I’m not jealous. But that’s not a very secure password.”

“That’s because it’s not so much a secret as it is a reminder.” The words were out before Sam could stop them, and he caught Meredith’s curious expression.

“A reminder?”

“Of what’s important.”

He could feel her eyes on him as he opened up his notes, and he knew she wasn’t buying it. He pretended he didn’t notice and focused on scrolling through the info from the USB stick.

“This is a list of your sister’s closest acquaintances. You. Her husband. A few friends.” He pointed at his own annotations. “The friends didn’t pan out. They do coffee and wine and not much more. Her husband, I haven’t been able to locate. Generally a red flag, but I couldn’t find a connection between that and the case. And that’s how I wound up at your apartment.”