Chapter Ten

 

Steve couldn’t get out the door fast enough. He jumped into his Jeep and dialed Sam’s number. She answered on the third ring.

“Sam? It’s Steve. Is everything all right there?”

“Yes, Steve, everything is fine.”

“Good. That’s good.” He closed his eyes in relief.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “Did you meet up with the guys?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. And yes, I did. I’m just leaving.”

“Are you okay to drive?”

He smiled at the concern in her voice. When was the last time someone other than his teammates had given a shit? “Yeah, I’m good. Listen, I know it’s kind of late, but I’d like to stop by when I get back if that’s okay. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”

“You sure you don’t mind?”

“I’m sure. I’m making muffins.”

His grin grew. He could just picture Sam in the kitchen, wearing a little apron, puffs of flour on her nose and fingers. He pushed those thoughts away when he started getting hard.

“Then I’ll definitely be there. See you in about twenty?”

“Okay.”

He disconnected the call and started up the Jeep. Hearing Sam’s voice eased some of his worries, but that sense that something was wrong was still there, tugging persistently.

Ten minutes later, it had become so bad his heart was pounding and his knuckles glared white against the black steering wheel.

Some of the symptoms were similar, but this wasn’t one of his flashbacks. Rather than debilitating him, they were urging him to action.

He pressed the Bluetooth button on the console and spoke the verbal command to dial Sam’s number. After a moment, the ring could be heard over the vehicle’s speakers.

It rang once, then twice.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Pick up.”

Three rings, then four, before a digital female voice said, “Please leave a message,” and was followed by a beep.

“Sam, it’s Steve again. I’m on my way. Don’t open the door for anyone but me, okay? And call me back as soon as you get this.”

He disconnected then applied pressure to the accelerator, no longer simply surpassing the posted speed limit, but shattering it.

Flashing blue lights appeared in his rear-view mirror, eliciting a string of muttered profanities.

Stopping now wasn’t an option. The sense of impending danger was nearly overwhelming. He was only five minutes out from the apartments, less if he kept up this pace.

He downshifted and stepped on the brakes to make the turnoff into town. Less than a second later, the resistance beneath his foot disappeared entirely and the pedal slammed down to the floor boards.

“Fuck!” What the hell had happened to his brakes?

Steve was an accomplished driver, but at the speed he was going, no amount of skill was going to get his Jeep around the turn without rolling it.

He shot past the turn-off, his years of training taking over. He calmed his mind and concentrated on staying on the road and avoiding other cars while considering his options.

The answer came in the form of a dairy farm half a mile later. With the cops still on his tail, Steve downshifted again, then yanked the wheel, veering the Jeep off the road.

Gears grinding in protest, the big tires hit the soft soil and lurched to the side, causing Steve to bang his head … hard. That slowed his forward momentum, but it didn’t stop it entirely.

Blood poured into his left eye. He blinked it away, focusing hard on the moonlit landscape.

A big red barn loomed ahead and was getting bigger by the second. Jerking hard to the left, he maneuvered the bouncing vehicle away from the barn, realizing his mistake too late when he saw what appeared in his headlights.

Steve pulled hard on the emergency brake and braced for impact.

* * *

Sam pulled up the classic rock station on her music streaming app and turned up the volume, moving her hips to the beat. Measure, mix, measure, crack, mix. The motions were familiar, comforting.

A flutter seemed to have taken up residence beneath her rib cage. She couldn’t help it; she was looking forward to seeing Steve. Now that she had accepted the fact that she felt more than friendship for him, as well as the knowledge they would keep things in the friend zone for the foreseeable future, some of the weight had lifted off her shoulders.

Self-denial and worrying about what someone else did or didn’t feel was exhausting. The heart wanted what it wanted, and she could no sooner change what she felt than he could. What she could do was just be herself, make the most of each moment, and see where things went. Whatever happened, happened.

A knock at the door got her attention. He was here!

“Just a minute,” she called out. She put the spooned batter into the last cup and slid the tin into the preheated oven.

She was just setting the timer when the knock came again, louder and more insistent.

“I’m coming!” she called out again, a smile curving her lips. What was it about men and baked goods? Maybe that old saying really was right: the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. If that was the case, she thought with a chuckle, she might actually have a chance with the sexy, chivalrous SEAL.

Sam opened the door, surprised to find not Steve, but her neighbor, Mrs. Himmelwright.

“I’m sorry, dear,” Mrs. Himmelwright said in her croaky voice, wringing her hands as the scents of moth balls and arthritis cream hit Sam head-on. “I seem to have locked myself out of my apartment again, and I heard your music. Do you mind if I borrow your phone to call the building manager? He’s not in his office.”

Sam held the door, her neck prickling with unease. Geez! How paranoid was she if the sight of her elderly neighbor had her guard up?

“Uh, sure, of course. Let me grab it for you. I have it right over here on the counter.”

“Ooo … Something smells wonderful,” her neighbor said, stepping inside the apartment and looking around in interest. “Are you baking?”

“Yes. It helps me unwind.” Sam’s unease intensified. She hadn’t invited Mrs. Himmelwright in and was annoyed the elderly woman had come in, anyway. Maybe it was rude, but Sam didn’t like people in her living space. Well, except for Steve. She hadn’t minded when he had been here.

She reached for her phone, anxious to call the building manager and send Mrs. Himmelwright on her way. Hopefully, he would be quick, and she wouldn’t have to entertain her neighbor until the manager made his way up to the seventh floor. Or worse, Mrs. Himmelwright would still be here when Steve arrived and wouldn’t want to leave.

Sam no sooner had the phone in her hand when a cloth was pressed over her nose and mouth. She tried to scream and twist away, but the arm wrapped around her waist was surprisingly strong.

A sickeningly sweet scent filled her mouth, and her vision grew cloudy.

“Don’t fight it, Samantha,” a decidedly masculine voice said. “Everything is going to be all right now.”