CHAPTER 8
They cleaned up the apartment a little. Then Sam spent a long night on the couch, staring at Angie’s living room ceiling, wondering what she was doing in her bed, wondering what she was wearing, how she looked… It was so damn juvenile.
Determined to think of something else, anything else, he flipped over…and fell off the couch. He spent some time swearing, before climbing back up and trying again. Tossing restlessly, he finally napped.
He rose at dawn. He crept down the hall and stared at Angie’s closed door, his hand on the handle before he got a grip on himself and turned away.
In the kitchen, he grabbed a pad and pencil, then stared at them, wondering what to say.
That he needed to get out before he saw her rumpled and sexy from sleep? That he didn’t know how long he could resist the temptation, no matter how good his intentions?
He finally settled on one brief line, telling her to call if she needed him, and that he’d be in touch. Then he left, without looking back.
* * *
Luke was waiting for Sam in his office, halfway through a chocolate doughnut and a large cup of black coffee. “Tried calling your place this morning,” he said.
“Didn’t hear the phone.” Sam dug into the box of doughnuts and grabbed the spare cup of coffee.
Luke waited until he’d gulped a substantial sip of the really terrible but powerfully caffeinated brew. “Hard to hear the phone when you’re wrapped around a woman.”
In the middle of a swallow, Sam choked.
Luke set down his doughnut to smack Sam on the back. “Didn’t mean to nearly kill you.”
“I wasn’t wrapped around a woman,” he managed when he could get air down his burned windpipe. “I was at Angie’s.”
Luke lifted a brow.
“She was scared.” Sam stared down at the jelly doughnut in his hand and scowled. “So I stayed, damn it.”
“Then why are you still so uptight?”
“I slept on the couch.”
“Ah.” Luke, damn him, grinned at that. “What was wrong with her bed?”
“It’s not like that between us.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s not.”
“Fool yourself if you want to, buddy, but you can’t fool me.”
Sam pointed to the door. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“Sure.” Luke tossed him a file. “The calls made to Angie’s cell? All from a payphone across the street from her work.”
Sam stared at him as that sank in. “Or across from the bookstore.”
“Or the bookstore,” Luke agreed with a nod. “Tied into our case then, you’re thinking?”
“Oh, yeah. God knows, she’s made herself visible enough. She’s told people she recognized a suspect, that she’s hoping to see him again. And with her place being trashed last night…”
“She wasn’t hurt?”
“No.” He swore softly and shoved his fingers through his hair. “Nothing was stolen, either. So were they searching for something or…?”
“Trying to scare her.”
They’d been finishing each other’s sentences for years. Hell, no one else could. Not their families, not their lovers—
But Angie could.
Not anxious to follow up that thought, Sam headed toward the door. “Let’s go visit our John again.”
“Right behind you.”
* * *
John was a tall, wiry, spectacled twenty-year-old with a sweet smile that faded fast when Sam and Luke flashed their badges.
“Dude… I paid my tickets.”
“This isn’t about your tickets,” Luke said. “A little birdie told us you knew something about getting new IDs.”
John’s expression went blank.
Sam rolled his eyes. “And I suppose you don’t recognize this guy.” He showed him the composite drawing of their suspect.
“Never seen him.”
“Okay, let’s try this,” Sam said. “Where were you last night at approximately ten o’clock?”
John paled. “Here. Right here.”
“Wrong,” Sam said. “We were here, and you weren’t.”
“Okay, I was on my way here.”
“Got a witness?”
Now he went a little green. “Do I need an attorney?”
“You tell us,” Luke said. But he smiled easily. “Tell you what, John. Just answer a few questions and we’ll go away. Fair enough?”
“Uh…” John divided an uneasy glance between the two men standing before him, one smiling nicely, one still as death. “Okay.”
“You’re a student at P.C.C., right?”
John nodded.
“That’s good, really good,” Luke said. “So…why do you live so far from campus?”
“Money,” John said. “My parents own this building. They let me stay here rent free as long as I’m going to school.”
“And last night you were…where?” Sam raised one brow while he waited, not exactly the same picture of patience as Luke.
“I…can’t say.”
“John, John, John…” Luke tsked. “That’s not good.”
“Want to go to jail, John?” Sam asked.
“No.” The kid put his forehead to the doorjamb and closed his eyes. “I was with…”
“Just spit it out.”
“Jeremy.”
“Jeremy,” Sam repeated carefully.
“My…boyfriend.” John squeezed his eyes tighter. “You’re not going to, like, make me tell anyone else, right? My parents don’t know yet.”
“We’ll need a place to reach Jeremy,” Sam said. “If you’re telling the truth, it won’t go further.”
John lifted his head. “I’m telling the truth. I wish my roommate had been with us to verify everything, but he’s out of town. So what’s this about anyway?”
“Roommate?” Sam asked, getting very interested. “What roommate?”
“John? He’s out of town, but due back tomorrow.”
“You’re both named John?” Sam asked, looking at Luke. “Well, isn’t that interesting.”
* * *
Remarkably, Angie woke with a tentative surge in her sunken spirits. Lying in bed, studying the dance of early-morning sunlight playing across her ceiling, she decided she wouldn’t let the break-in keep her down.
In fact, she’d do with it just as she’d done with the holdup. Use it to feed her strength and newfound determination.
And she would see this through. Obviously, she’d gotten to someone, and she didn’t care. She wouldn’t be frightened away from seeing justice served, not if she could help.
And then there was what had come after the break-in. The kiss. The amazing, brain-cell-destroying, bone-melting kiss.
And the way Sam had touched her…oh, boy. There was going to be some trouble resisting him, that was certain. Especially since he cared for her. No one could have looked at her as he had and not cared deeply. But it wasn’t going to work, because he’d never let her in, not really. And she couldn’t settle for less.
Was Sam still asleep on her couch? Lord, she hoped so. She wanted a chance to stare at all the long, lean, tough masculinity without him knowing. She wanted to drink in her fill.
And then walk away.
That part would be hard, but she was a grown-up. She could do it. Tiptoeing into the living room, she was breathless already, and she hadn’t even gotten a look at him yet.
She hoped he slept in the nude.
At that thought, she had to laugh at herself. Then sighed in disappointment at the empty couch.
She saw the note and sighed again.
Call if you need me. I’ll be in touch.
Sam
Hmm, sounded like a promise. Too bad he was a man who didn’t make them.
* * *
Josephine was waiting in the kitchen when Angie finally arrived. “You look pretty good for a woman whose apartment was broken into last night.”
“How did you hear about last night?”
“The hunk called for you.”
Angie set down her purse, picked up her apron and pretended her heart hadn’t picked up speed. “Hunk?”
“Oh yeah.” Josephine waved a wooden spoon. “Tell me everything, starting from the beginning.”
“Sam called here for me?”
“You got another hunk sniffing around I don’t know about?”
Angie leaned back against the refrigerator and tried to decide how she felt about Sam leaving before she woke, and then calling her. “He is pretty hunky, isn’t he.”
“He wanted to make sure you got here okay, so call him back.”
“Yes, I will. But it’s not going to be like that between us.”
“Of course it is. He looks at you.” Josephine fanned herself. “I mean really looks at you.”
“Only because, for the most part, I drive him insane.”
“For the most part?” Josephine looked very curious. “And what do you do when you’re not driving him insane?”
Kiss him until I can’t remember my name.
“Oh, stop looking at me like that.”
“Well, someone has to.” Josephine came close, cupped Angie’s face in her big hands. “Honestly, honey, I thought you were stronger than that. But the truth is, you still don’t believe in yourself.”
“I do believe in myself. So much that I want more for myself this time around. I want respect, Josephine. Affection.” She sighed. “Love.”
“So?” Josephine lifted her hands. “Go get it.”
If only it was that simple. But with Sam, it wouldn’t be. He’d been through too much, seen too much. He’d made up his mind not to open his heart, and though she could almost understand why, after all he’d been through, she also knew nothing she could do or say would change anything. “He doesn’t have it to give. We’re just…friends.”
“Friends don’t keep stopping by for coffee and then stare at you when you’re not staring at him.”
“He comes here because I keep seeing his suspect. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It is.” Angie peered out the window and studied the alley, as she did every morning, wondering if she would see the guy yet again. Wondering if Ellie or George had seen him since she’d gone over there and asked them to keep their eyes open. “So stop matchmaking.”
“Over my dead body,” Josephine muttered beneath her breath when Angie went into the dining room to take orders. “Over my dead body.”
* * *
Other than the fact that Angie found herself craving a man who wasn’t good for her, and oh yeah, someone was out there trying to scare her, things were perfect.
She was, after all, alive, right? Right. In light of that, she impulsively ate pastrami instead of lean turkey for lunch. She had high-fat barbecue potato chips to go with it.
And then she drove to the library to see if the latest mystery had come in.
Lie. She wanted to see the woman who’d deserted her son. Sam’s mother.
Behind the reference desk sat a woman nose deep in a stack of books. She had long, dark hair streaked with gray, which was pulled back by clips that didn’t stop it from falling over her shoulder.
As Angie came closer, the woman looked up with sharp, light brown eyes and an easy smile.
Both stopped Angie in her tracks. She knew those eyes, that smile. “You’re Sam’s mother.”
The woman opened her mouth, then slowly closed it again. Her expression went from helpful to unwelcoming in two seconds flat. “Who are you?”
“Angie Rivers. You…he looks like you.”
Her mouth tightened. “Sam is young and ridiculously handsome. We look nothing alike.”
Angie sat in the chair in front of the desk. “Oh, but you’re wrong. I knew right away. It’s in the eyes. There’s no mistaking it.”
“I…see.” Sam’s mother set down her pencil. “What do you want?”
There was no way to ease into this conversation. “I guess I want to know why you don’t talk to him. Why you don’t call him.”
She frowned, her knuckles white on a book. Then she turned away.
“I’m sorry,” Angie said to her ramrod-stiff spine. “I shouldn’t have asked. He thinks of you, is all.”
She didn’t turn back. “Is he…all right?”
“Yes.” Angie hesitated, then decided to go for broke. “He told me about you. About you not wanting to see him, since he’s a cop like his dad.”
“If he told you that, the two of you must be close.” The woman’s hands trembled. “Oh dear,” she breathed, then covered her eyes before turning around again. “I think of him, too.”
“He’d probably like to hear that.”
“It’s been so long. Are you his girlfriend?”
“Not exactly.” Angie managed a weak smile. “He, uh, has a few issues in that area.”
“Yeah.” She reached for a stack of books and made herself busy separating them. “I’m sorry, I’m working.”
Angie nodded and, taking her cue, walked away. Halfway across the room, she hesitated, then glanced back.
Sam’s mother stood staring out the window, work forgotten, lost in thought.
But there was an achingly sad smile on her lips.
* * *
To avoid going home after work, Angie went to the bookstore to waste the hours before class.
Ellie Wilson was behind the counter, frowning as she added up something on her calculator. “Studying?”
“Always. How’s business?”
“It’d be a heck of a lot better if people would just do their jobs.”
“Employee trouble, huh?” Angie smiled sympathetically. “You haven’t by any chance seen that guy I asked you about?”
Ellie’s frown deepened. “For your cop?”
“Yes.”
“You should stay out of that nasty business before something terrible happens.”
Angie thought about the prank calls, the break-in, and nearly said, Too late.
“I’ll be okay.”
“Well, just be careful.” Ellie sighed and set aside her paperwork. “And no, I haven’t seen him. Got enough to worry about. I never thought it would be this complicated and stressful to run a business.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“That’s so sweet.” This from George, who came out of the office. He gently set aside his wife and sent Angie a warm smile. “You’re looking quite happy today. It’s nice to see you that way after all you’ve been through.”
“Thank you.”
“You must have something special going on to be glowing like that.” Ellie peered at her from over her spectacles. “You pining over that cop or something?”
“Uh…no.” Not much anyway.
Okay, yes. Yes, she was, but she didn’t have to admit it.
“Cops are terrible lovers,” Ellie said with a shake of her finger. “Remember that.”
Angie choked on a laugh. “That’s quite a blanket statement.”
“They’re too sidetracked with their work,” Ellie insisted, slapping George’s hands away when he tried to steer her aside again.
Angie didn’t know about all the other cops in the world, but given how Sam had kissed and touched her—as if she was the only woman on the entire planet—she had to say, Ellie was pretty far off base.
“Just watch out,” the older woman warned, still pushing her husband aside. “Will you stop?” she said to him. “Men are traitors, Angie. Every one of them.”
“Hey, not all,” George corrected mildly.
Ellie rolled her eyes, and when George turned his back, Ellie mouthed, All of them.
* * *
After class that night, Angie walked to her car with a group of other students and purposely didn’t allow herself to think about going home.
Alone.
Instead she concentrated on how lovely her day had been, doing as she pleased, filling her mind with new and exciting things.
It was late when she pulled into the carport of her apartment. For a moment, she sat in her car, staring at her apartment, wishing she’d had the insight to have left on lights.
Her cell phone sat in her purse.
Call if you need me, Sam had written.
Angie put her chin in the air. She was a big girl. Strong. Independent.
And only a little scared. So she got out of the car, walked up the path and…nearly had a seizure when Sam stepped out of the shadows and said her name.
“Holy smokes,” she whispered, hand to her heart, which had skipped a beat at the tall, leanly muscled, grim-looking man waiting for her. “Don’t do that! You scared the life out of me.”
“I could say the same for you.”
She had time to think he looked pretty darn amazing with that deep scowl on his tough face, when he held up his flash light, illuminating a note that had been left taped to her door.
Mind your own business or die.