by Jodie Bailey
Her body stiffened, and she resisted for a second, but as he reached around her waist and pulled her closer, her muscles seemed to give up and she sank against him, turning her face into his chest. There were no tears, no shaking shoulders. Just a silent surrender, a contentment to let Sam bear a part of her burden, if only for a moment.
Wrapping his arms around her, Sam rested his chin on her head, breathing in the clean scent of whatever her shampoo was, her hair soft on his skin. Man, she really was stronger than anyone else he’d ever met. Stronger and more honest, more vulnerable and more loyal...
She was everything Lindsay had never been.
The thought ripped through him, tightening his arms around Amy as it nearly strangled him. No. No way. It was one thing to think of Amy as a friend, another entirely to compare her to his ex-wife.
Amy pulled away slightly and lifted her head. She must have felt the shift in his demeanor, might even have been close enough to read the thought as it rocketed across his mind.
Her eyebrows drew together as she searched his expression, trying to read what he was thinking.
And what he was thinking was she was too close. Not just in proximity but too close to his heart. His heart...which was beating about ten times too fast in his chest, loud enough for her to hear it in the silence, he was certain.
He wanted to back away. Wanted to put space between them, but he couldn’t. Her gravity was greater than his strength to resist.
Dana was wrong. Sam couldn’t be Amy’s friend. He was too far past simple friendship. At some point during all of those meetings with Amy and Edgecombe, she’d made her way into his heart. Her face had become the face he saw in those rare moments he dared to dream of a future wife, home and family. This was the reason she’d seemed so overly familiar earlier, because she lived in his head, whether he wanted her to or not.
The air between them shifted and he kept watching her eyes; he could see the exact moment his thoughts were mirrored in hers, the exact moment a type of wonder softened her expression and her eyes dropped to his lips.
Pulling her closer, Sam granted the request she hadn’t voiced, brushing his lips against hers softly, then responding as she met him in the kiss.
His eyes drifted shut and the rest of the world faded into nothing. No danger. No job. No nothing outside of Amy Brady and the peace her kiss brought to his heart.
EIGHT
Sam Maldonado was kissing her.
She was kissing Sam Maldonado.
Amy threaded her arms around his neck and lost herself in a moment she prayed would never end. He’d haunted her dreams almost from the moment she first laid eyes on him. He’d had her heart skipping twice every time he’d shown up at her apartment with Deputy Edgecombe.
And she’d denied it as though her life depended on it. Maybe it did, because he was only doing his job. But as the moment drew longer, Amy didn’t care to think any longer. She only cared that, for the first time in three years—maybe longer—she felt as though she knew who she was and where she belonged.
She felt as though she’d finally found a home.
Had felt that way almost from the moment Sam had found her mired in her own foolishness when she’d fled WITSEC to search for Layla and he’d rescued her.
He’d rescued her.
With a gasp, Amy broke away, shoving Sam in the chest and stumbling to her feet. She stared down at him, still able to feel his lips on hers, her heart screaming that she was doing the wrong thing while her head argued with a ferocity she couldn’t deny.
Sam had been her rescuer. Twice. She was no better than her mother, falling for the fairy tale of the knight in shining armor. Her hands went to her mouth, pressing her lips, trying to destroy the sensation of his kiss. Maybe if she could make that go away, she could forget the way he made her heart feel.
Like she really was alive and ready to do more than hide for the rest of her life.
Sam was on his feet almost as fast as she was, regret written all over his expression in a way she could almost read. “Amy. I never should have...” He dragged his hands down his face, almost as though he too was trying to scrub away the moment forever. “That was wrong.” Sliding his hand to the back of his neck, he walked to the door and stood staring through the crack, kneading muscles in his neck.
Amy dropped her gaze to the floor. She knew why she’d backed away, but he didn’t have to regret it as well. Her heart ached at the implied rejection. She was a job. A moment. An irrational action.
Nothing more. And she would never be anything more.
She could never let him know he’d wounded her. Pulling herself to her full height, she crossed her arms over her stomach and stared at the back of his head. “Forget it. It was nothing. A lot’s happened today. We’re both tired and we’ve both been through a lot. That’s the only thing that happened here. Nothing more.”
Sam flinched, then froze, almost as though her words had hit him with a kidney punch. When he turned to face her, his expression was stone. “You’re right. We can just forget it and move on from here.”
He’d never been so cold, so professional with her. Amy fought hard to keep the pain from leaking out of her eyes.
Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, Sam said, “In fact, I should walk up the hall right now and let Deputy Watkins know you need someone else to care for you. He can task Isaiah with—”
“No.” The word ripped out before Amy could stop it, an involuntary reaction to the thought of losing him. Sam might be unattainable, and his presence might be breaking her heart, but he was all she had, the only person in the world she trusted. If he left her alone... “Please.”
She hated herself. Hated the pleading in her voice, the reminder that she was no better than her mother and, in fact, might be infinitely worse. But she needed Sam. No one else made her feel safe. “You’re the only one who knows what to do if I panic again.” It was lame, but it was all she had short of begging him not to leave, and she would never sink so low.
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”
She was losing him. There had to be a way... “Layla. I’m the only one who can help you reach out to Layla. She won’t let you near her otherwise. Sam, if you’re going to save her, you need me.”
He eyed her for a long moment as though he could see the desperation in her suggestion and wanted to tell her no. Finally, he looked away from her, out the door, away from the friendship they’d ruined when they kissed. “I think the best thing to do is—”
“Sam!” Another voice overlapped his, rocketing up the hallway with an urgency that snapped the thread between them as footsteps pounded closer. Isaiah shoved past Sam into the room and cast a frantic glance at Amy. His gun was drawn and held low at his side as he pushed the door open wider and faced Sam, shoving a backpack into his hand. “Both of you have to move now. Get her out of here. The building has been compromised.”
* * *
Sam slung the backpack over his shoulder. A go-bag packed with essentials for survival, everything from spare clothing to a prepaid debit card to a burner cell phone. Isaiah handing it over only meant one thing.
They were in deep trouble.
His mind spun through too many questions, too fast. Who’d found them? How could he get Amy out? How was he supposed to protect her when she’d scrambled his emotions and his mind into mush? He turned to Amy. “Put on your vest.” He still wore his beneath his shirt, too warm to be comfortable.
Isaiah stepped into the hallway and looked both ways before heading out the door. “Get her out of here. Watkins is already with Traynor and Barclay clearing a path for you down the stairwell. Don’t tell me where you’re headed but get moving. Don’t make any contact with anyone here until Watkins contacts you.”
Sam’s sidearm was in his hand and he’d laced his fingers with Amy’s, dragging her toward the front of the office behind
Isaiah. “What’s going on?”
Amy clung to him, silent, though her face had paled to the point Sam feared he might have to throw her over his shoulders and carry her out of the building. He wanted to squeeze her hand and tell her it was going to be okay, but he couldn’t. He had no idea what was going on.
Isaiah kept pace beside him. “Dana found how deep they accessed Edgecombe’s computer. Deep enough to know about this place and to post the location on the dark web. His phone was tapped too, and until ours can be checked, every device we have is suspect. Looks like we’re outed to anyone who wants to come looking for us. And the red car that was following you earlier today? It just pulled into the parking garage. No telling if he’s alone, the first wave or the last piece someone is setting into place. They’re already moving against us.”
Sam pulled his phone from his pocket and dropped it on the cot. Someone knew they were here. While the team could likely deal with one assailant in that car, there were no telling how many others there were or how many would come behind him if the building was compromised. “Who’s breaking down the office?” There were protocols in place, and securing their intel was priority number one.
“Dana’s already started the process. We’ve got this. The office isn’t your concern. You get Amy out of here. And you’re dark until further notice. No contact means no way they can track you.”
Great. It was him in the wind with Amy, no backup. He understood the protocol in a situation as desperate as this one. Around the country, other agents were likely going on high alert, taking precautions they’d never dreamed they’d have to take. Sam didn’t want to think how far this would ripple.
He’d have to worry about that later. Isaiah was already headed out the door. “I’ll take the stairs ahead of you and make sure it’s clear. Dana’s keeping eyes on the camera monitors and is going to be our eyes in front and behind.” He stopped Sam at the door into the main hall and pressed a set of keys into Sam’s hand. “Take my truck. It’s my personal vehicle. Nobody will know to track that. Give me a twenty-count head start, then go down the stairs.”
Sam started to grab Isaiah by the wrist and tell him they needed to switch places, that he wasn’t fit to be Amy’s protector anymore. But he hesitated too long, and Isaiah slipped out the glass-fronted door into the hall.
He couldn’t leave Amy behind anyway. He needed to know she was safe, and as much as he lacked faith in himself, he wasn’t sure whom else he could truly trust with their world burning down around them.
Sam started the count in his head, fighting his mind’s urge to start at forty-two.
Twenty. Isaiah had said twenty. If he focused on one thing at a time, doing what his team expected of him and following procedure, Amy would be safe.
She had to be.
Sam prayed Isaiah was counting at the same speed he was. For all tactical purposes, he was deaf, his earpiece abandoned on the desk in his office. There was no time to go get it now. He’d have to trust his senses.
Sam drew Amy close behind him, their hands sandwiched against his back. She dropped her head to his shoulder blade, her breathing ragged, her forehead warm through his shirt.
Squeezing her fingers, he shoved his feelings for her aside and shifted into a cold mental game as he steeled himself to move. “I’m going to get you out of this. I promise.”
He shouldn’t make promises he had no idea if he could keep, but Sam steadied his nerves and prepared for flight. There was no way he was going to fail this time. The current danger was his fault for letting his guard down by sinking into his emotions.
He couldn’t let Amy Brady pay for his mistakes with her life.
NINE
The world was moving too fast. Amy was numb, unsure whether this was real or if her mind had broken up with reality.
She wanted to lock herself into the room where she’d been with Sam, but even that was devastating after the kiss and rejection. Still, it had to be safer behind closed doors than it was in front of a glass door with only Sam and his drawn pistol between her and death.
Trust me.
He’d said those words in the car and she’d embraced them as though they could save her. Sam had crushed her heart, but he was the only hope she had to keep her heart beating another day.
His fingers tightened around hers—hands that had already protected her, had already proven capable at keeping her safe. He was preparing to run.
In that moment, there was no doubt. Amy would follow Sam wherever he led. He was the only safety she had in this rapidly shifting world. Well, Sam and God, and she was starting to wonder if the thing in Psalm 139 about God having her days written down was a giant lie.
“Let’s go.” Before she was ready, Sam shoved the door open and tugged Amy behind him. They raced up the main hallway past the elevator to the stairs.
Nine flights of stairs. Amy’s knees quaked, fear and adrenaline overriding exhaustion and hunger. Her knees couldn’t hold up for that many flights down. As Sam burst through the fire door, it was clear she had no choice. She’d have to find reserves.
At each landing he paused, his head tilted as he listened for sounds below them. In the metal and concrete stairwell, every breath echoed, every footstep thundered.
When they reached the bottom, her legs were shaking, liquefied by fear and exertion. Her heart pounded, and dangerous black spots danced before her eyes as her lungs worked triple-time. She needed a second to pull it together so she wouldn’t drop like a dead woman.
The thought of Sam having to peel her off the floor drove her on. She couldn’t be the weak one who proved to be an inconvenience once again.
Isaiah was waiting for them by a heavy metal fire door at the rear of the building. “My truck’s six meters to your left. Nobody’s out there but you need to move fast. I’ll go ahead and cover you.”
Dropping her forehead to the back of Sam’s shoulder, Amy fought for breath and prayed Isaiah wouldn’t be another casualty in the fight for her life. Lord, please. Don’t let anyone else die because of me. Please.
They were moving before she was ready, across the lot and into the cab of a pickup truck before she could process.
This was too fast. Too much. Amy grabbed the handle above the door as Sam shifted the truck into Reverse and pressed the gas. She needed information, something to orient her mind and to provide some control. If she knew where they were heading, that there was a plan she could wrap her head around, she might be able to fight off the panic attack that was already turning her stomach into jelly. “Where are we going?”
“We have a safe house in the mountains a couple of hours away.”
Two hours on the road in full view of the entire world? Fear danced across Amy’s shoulders, pounding tension into a headache that ran up the back of her neck and into her temples. She hadn’t had to flee to a safe house since the very first night when her life had changed forever.
“Somebody managed to to clone Edgecombe’s laptop and locate our headquarters. I have to keep you out of sight as best as I can on my own until Dana can figure out how much the hacker accessed and if they’re on the inside.”
Amy dug her fingers into her knees, trying to hold on. She’d already had two panic attacks today. She definitely didn’t want to battle a third. “That can’t be.”
“Looks like it is.”
“How do you know they can’t locate your safe house? Isn’t that in your database?”
Adjusting the heat in the vehicle, Sam shook his head. “Most of our safe houses aren’t documented.”
Well, that was one thing in her favor, she guessed. One out of a thousand conspiring against her.
They rode in silence, Amy playing the childhood games with road signs until those thinned out. She’d do anything to keep her mind from running away with her.
She didn’t know how long they’d been on the road when Sam finally spok
e. “You hungry at all?”
Adrenaline and the fact they were already winding upward into the mountains in the dark probably wouldn’t let her handle food. “You can stop if you need to, but I’m good.”
“I’ll be okay.” He probably would. Sam seemed to be the kind of guy who could go days without food or sleep or anything else normal human beings needed to survive.
Amy turned her head and watched the trees, which were taller now that they’d made it into the foothills. If her geography was correct, they shouldn’t be too far from Toccoa, where Anthony told her he had sent Layla.
Straightening in her seat, Amy watched the road. Maybe she could talk Sam into finding Layla. Or maybe she’d have the opportunity to slip away and reach Layla on her own. When she did, she’d have to be more methodical than the last time. Sam had found her quickly a few months ago when she’d headed out on her own.
She worked her jaw from side to side, trying to relieve the pressure in her ears as the altitude increased.
“Look, Amy—” he yawned, apparently suffering the same ear pressure issues as Amy was “—I don’t know what whoever killed Meyer is capable of. I know you’re thinking of taking off on your own to find Layla, but—”
“What?” Great. Now he could read her mind.
“Don’t act surprised.” As they straightened out of a curve, Sam turned onto a different road and the truck climbed gently again. “Whoever killed Meyer has reach. Until we know who that is, you’re in danger, even if Meyer is dead.”
“Maybe they don’t want me now that he’s gone.”
“If that’s the case, who’s chasing you?” He navigated a hairpin turn. “You’re still in serious danger.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Yeah, I think you’re purposely ignoring that fact.”
Wow. Her skin bristled, anger once again amping up enough to shove fear aside. “I’m sorry? What are you trying to say?”