Chapter Five

 

“Way to go, dumbass,” Steve muttered to himself. For a few moments there, he had thought she might be receptive to extending their time together. Her quick refusal had been both polite and very clear, proving that, once again, he was incapable of reading the signals.

He could have sworn she was glad to see him when he had shown up outside the ATM, and that she had appreciated the company. Add in the subtle teasing banter from earlier and her invitation to join him in the elevator, he had thought maybe …

Ah, well. It was probably best not to complicate things. He could, and would, continue to look out for her, at least while he was around.

The moment Steve stepped over the threshold, his senses rocketed to high alert. He drew the concealed weapon he always carried and listened intently, his eyes making a careful sweep. In the silence, he could just barely hear Sam moving around her place, performing what he now recognized as a regular ritual on her part.

Nothing looked out of place, but something felt wrong. He moved quickly and quietly throughout the apartment. Without much in the way of furniture and minimal draperies, there weren’t many places an intruder could hide. Someone had been in here, though. He would bet his Budweiser—his SEAL trident pin—on it.

He paused at the closed bathroom door. A shushing sound, very faint, came from within. Inhaling slowly and gun in hand, he eased the door open and reached for the switch.

As the small bathroom flooded with light, the coiled pit viper in the tub lunged up in a strike.

“Fucking hell!” Steve muttered, shutting the door quickly.

Having grown up along a river in the northeastern US, he had recognized it immediately for what it was—a copperhead. The species was venomous, but not usually lethal. That didn’t mean their bites weren’t damn painful and something to be avoided.

He went into his bedroom and grabbed a pillow, peeling off the case. If at all possible, he would capture the thing and dispose of it elsewhere. Then he heard Sam scream.

Leaving the snake to deal with later, Steve rushed out of his place and banged on Sam’s locked door, hoping to hell she hadn’t found a similar surprise in her bathroom.

“Sam! Open up! It’s Steve.”

He didn’t have to knock again. Seconds later, Sam opened the door, her face pale and her eyes fearful. He held her gently by the upper arms, scanning her for bite marks or injuries.

“Are you all right? What happened?”

She shook her head. “I’m not hurt,” she said, her voice shaky. “But someone’s been in my apartment.”

“What makes you say that?” he asked carefully.

“Because whoever it was, they left me flowers in my bedroom.”

Well, that was creepy as hell, but it was definitely better than a copperhead in the bathroom.

“Have you noticed anything else? Any more surprises? Anything missing?”

“No, I don’t think so. I usually check the place pretty thoroughly when I come home. The bedroom is the last place I check.”

“Mind if I have a look around?”

She shook her head again, stepping back and wrapping her arms around herself.

Steve did a quick yet thorough inspection, paying particular attention to the bathroom, but he didn’t find anything out of the ordinary.

When he returned to the living room, Sam was still standing by the door, right where he had left her. Big eyes, the color of a perfect stormy sky, looked up at him. Deep inside his chest, something clenched. The muscles in his arms bunched and flexed with the desire to pull her close and erase the fear he saw there.

He might have been tempted to do it, too, if he hadn’t recalled just how easily she had shut him down just a short while earlier. The word KISS popped into his mind: Keep It Simple, Stupid. Yet the acronym conjured up something else entirely when Sam was looking up at him like that. He had to rein it in before he screwed up again.

“Everything looks okay, but we should call the police.”

She nodded. “I will, but I don’t know what good it will do.”

The way she said it made him think this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. If so, hopefully Cage would be able to find something. Steve had asked him to do some research while they were working up at the resort earlier, and though he had gotten a raised eyebrow, Cage had agreed without asking a lot of questions.

Hopefully, Sam would open up and provide some firsthand info, but he wanted to calm her down first. That fearful look in her eyes made him want to kill the bastard who had put it there.

“Come on; you can call from my place.”

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but closed it again. “All right. Let me just grab my purse. It has my phone and wallet.”

She followed him back to his apartment, which looked stark and utilitarian compared to the soft hues and homey feel of hers.

He waved his hand toward the recliner. “Sorry, this is all the seating space I have at the moment. Make your call. I’m going to grab a quick shower.”

Remembering his own little welcome home surprise, he disappeared into his bedroom first and picked up the pillowcase and a change of clothes.

His gut told him that whoever had left the flowers in Sam’s bedroom had also been the one to leave the copperhead for him. He had seen enough to believe someone was stalking her. It wasn’t a stretch to assume said stalker had been watching and had seen them together. The snake was probably meant as a warning, a special stay-away-from-Sam message.

If that were true, then the guy wasn’t nearly as smart as he thought he was. If anything, his latest actions only made Steve more determined to stay close and keep an eye on things.

After brief consideration, he decided against telling Sam that he had received a “gift,” too. It would only upset her more and could be counterproductive. She seemed like the kind of person who would distance herself if she felt like she was putting someone else in danger, even if that someone was a highly skilled, lethal SEAL, and that was unacceptable.

As far as telling the cops, he would play it by ear, see how they responded. Although, at this point, he preferred to handle things his own way. Police had rules to follow, laws to uphold. Him, not so much. For the last twelve years, his primary objectives had taken precedence over things like red tape and working through proper channels. Those things could take months, even years, and he had neither the patience nor the time for that. He wanted to know that, when he moved on, Sam would be safe.

With that in mind, Steve made quick work of the snake, dispatching it as humanely as possible and tying it up in the case. He could hear Sam’s muffled voice through the doorway, talking to the police. He took a two-minute shower to get off the worst of the day’s dirt and sweat, then changed and was back in the living room five minutes later.

“That was fast,” she said. Her eyes latched on to the water droplets that fell from his still-wet hair down onto his shoulder and unconsciously licked her lips.

Another signal to misinterpret? He put a lock on the poorly timed and wholly inappropriate lust flaring up from the base of his spine.

Her eyes flicked back up to his face, reminding him that he needed to focus on something other than how that little pink tongue would feel on his skin.

“I’m guessing you were in the military.”

He nodded but didn’t offer any additional information, and she didn’t ask.

“The police said they’ll send someone out when they can, but it might be a few hours. I’m not supposed to touch anything until then.”

“Standard procedure,” Steve commented. “You can hang out with me.” The words were spoken for her benefit. He had no intention of letting her out of his sight.

She chewed her lip, then raised her eyes to his. “I think I’d like that, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I’ll even let you ride in my Jeep when we go for food.” He wasn’t asking this time, and this wasn’t a date. It was simply a way to feed his need for food while satisfying this other need to stay with her until the police arrived.

Again, she looked like she wanted to say something but wisely refrained.

He pulled up the restaurant’s menu on his phone, then dialed, turning to Sam while he was put on hold. “You like steak?”

“Yes, but you don’t have to—”

“Two New York strip dinners, baked potatoes, garden salad,” he spoke into the phone, overriding her protest. “House is fine, on the side. Carry-out. Got it.”

“You didn’t need to do that,” she said as soon as he hung up.

He shrugged. “You have to eat, don’t you? Besides, good manners dictate that I can’t eat unless you’re eating, and I’m starving.”

Her lips quirked at that, easing some of the tension around that pretty mouth. “What if I’m not hungry?”

“Trust me; it won’t go to waste,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Let’s go. Looks like the place is on the other side of town, and we want to be here when the cops show. Uh, wait a sec.”

Steve went into the bathroom, grabbed the knotted-up pillowcase with the dead snake inside, then held open the door for her.

“What’s that?” she asked, looking suspiciously at his bundle.

“Garbage.”

“In a pillowcase?”

“I haven’t had time to get garbage bags yet, either.”

Her eyes widened slightly, then she laughed. It was a light, beautiful sound.

“You really need to get to the store, Steve.”

He grinned back. “Yeah, I guess I should, huh.”

* * *

Sam laughed then felt somewhat foolish. Once again, her living space had been violated by some unknown creeper, yet here she was, laughing at something her neighbor said. Her handsome, sexy, kind, chivalrous neighbor.

His smile faded along with hers, then he reached down and wrapped his big hand around hers. “It’s okay, Sam,” he said gently. “You’re okay. We’ll get this all sorted out, all right?”

She nodded. Somehow, she could almost believe him.

With a brief stop at the dumpster, he led her to his Jeep. It was a rugged looking thing, exactly the type of vehicle a man like him should drive. He teased her about her small stature when he put both of those big paws around her waist and lifted her up into the seat, but she barely noticed. She was too focused on the lingering heat where he had touched her.

The ride to and from the restaurant was uneventful but informative. For instance, she learned that Steve was adept at driving stick shift, kept his vehicle as clean as he did his apartment, and had a thing for hard rock music.

They ate together on his living room floor, picnic-style, sitting upon a blanket he had pulled out of the back of his Jeep and using the plastic utensils provided with the take-out. Sam really didn’t think she would be able to eat much, but the food was delicious and the company pleasant. Steve didn’t pry or ask a lot of personal questions, and for that alone she was grateful.

They kept the conversation light. Sam told him she had spent most of her life in the area and provided a bit of local history. Being with him was easy, once she managed to get over her initial anxiety. When the police arrived nearly three hours later, she was shocked to see just how much time had passed.

Far calmer than she had been earlier, Sam let the officers into her apartment and explained what had happened. Steve was a constant, calming presence, except when one of the officers muttered an insensitive remark about “most women being happy to get flowers.” Steve stiffened and told him that “most women were not happy about having their apartments broken into.” The chastised officer apologized immediately, and she shot Steve an appreciative glance. It wasn’t often that someone stood up for her, and that was twice in as many days that he had done so.

The officers looked around but, unsurprisingly, found nothing useful. Just like last time, the trespasser had left no clues, no hint of his identity or their connection.

Since nothing had been taken and there were no signs of forced entry, there wasn’t anything they could do, except suggest she get the locks changed.

Steve didn’t look any happier with their lack of action than she did, but having been through it before, it was nothing less than she had expected.

“I don’t think you should stay here, Sam, not till you can get the locks changed.”

She sighed. “I don’t think I can stay here at all, even if I do get the locks changed. The same thing happened in my previous apartment, and I couldn’t sleep a wink afterward.”

His brows pulled together. “This has happened before?”

“Yes. About six months ago. I ended up staying in a motel until this apartment opened up.”

“That settles it then. You can crash at my place till we get this figured out.”

“What? No! I couldn’t do that!”

“Why not?” He shrugged.

“I don’t even know you.”

He frowned. “No, I guess you don’t. And my word isn’t good enough.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know. But you’re absolutely right. You don’t know me. Go with your instincts, Sam. Always.”

That was part of the problem. Her instincts wanted to attach themselves to his strong, capable hide and be sheltered from this insanity, if only for a little while. Her wallet agreed. Even a cheap motel would cut into her savings, and she was trying to save up as much as she could for a down payment on the café. It was her head that was mucking up the works, but even that was waffling.

She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath, not quite believing what she was about to say. “You’re right; I should go by my instincts, and right now, they’re telling me the safest place for me is with you.”

* * *

Anthony tucked his hands into his pockets and watched with a handful of curious onlookers who had gathered at the fast food place across the street, wondering what had brought the cops out. Inside, he smiled at the thought of the present he had left for G.I. Joe. Oh, how he wished he could have seen the expression on his face! Even better, maybe the snake had bit him and he had made a 9-1-1 call.

Pussy.

His inner smile turned to a frown, however, when he saw one of the uniforms carrying a vase of flowers out of the building and putting it into the cruiser. The flowers that he had placed in Samantha’s bedroom.

Hadn’t she liked them? Didn’t she know how much they had cost? And what had happened with the snake? He had spent a good part of his day in the mountains trying to capture one.

He turned away, frustrated. Things were not going according to plan.

If wooing her wasn’t working, he was going to have to take things to the next level.