“He’s not going to starve.” Feeling dizzy, David leaned against the hood of one of the junk cars. If he didn’t get out of there soon, he was going to lose consciousness. “The police will take care of him.”
“The police will just call animal control, and animal control will take him to the pound,” Adam said, a hint of distress in his voice. “They’ll probably put him to sleep.”
“Jesus, didn’t your parents ever get you a puppy when you were a kid?” David’s unsteady gaze traveled from Adam to the dog. The big lug stared back at him with those huge, black eyes, its nub of a tail wagging a mile a minute. Hopeful. Excited.
Goddamn it.
“Fine,” he bit out, cursing himself for being such a softy. “Let the damn dog loose. But be quick about it. And if he turns around and chews your head off, don’t come crying to me.”
By the time they made it back to the car, darkness had fallen and David was so low on blood he could barely stand on his own. Still, he pushed forward, determined to pass out in the comfort of his own vehicle.
Adam walked a few yards ahead, the dog close at his heels. The dumb mutt hadn’t left his side ever since he unchained it. It bounded around the kid like a puppy, nudging him with its massive head until Adam gave him an affectionate pat.
“Whoa,” David said when Adam started to unlock the back door on the driver’s side. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I figured the dog could sit in the back,” Adam replied, his voice nonchalant but his eyes averted.
“Oh, no you don’t.” David braced a hand against the doorframe, wishing the kid would hurry up and unlock the passenger door so he could collapse with some semblance of dignity. “I said you could let the dog go. I didn’t say anything about taking it with us.”
“Oh, come on,” Adam said, placing a protective hand on the dog’s head. “Just until I find a home for him.”
“No.”
“It’s just as cruel, leaving him out here with no way to fend for himself. He’s not a wild animal. He needs a home.”
With an audible groan, David thumped his forehead against the roof of the car. “I don’t need this shit.” He looked back up and saw two Adams floating in front of him. Any other time, he’d crack the whip and tell the kid to get rid of the damn dog, but right now he was too tired and too lightheaded to argue. “As soon as we get back, you’re taking it to a shelter.”
After a grueling day at work, Sarah trudged up the stairwell leading to her apartment. Contaminants in the lab had ruined a week’s worth of preparations, forcing her to start the tests over from scratch. Then Angelo had caught wind of the contamination problems and things went right down the dumper. Add in the fun of driving past the horde of protesters on her way out, and you had all the ingredients for a two-drink-minimum evening.
The handles of the plastic grocery bags dug into her hands as she struggled to fit the key into the lock and push the door open. She nudged the door shut with her hip and rushed to the kitchen, letting out a sigh of relief when she dumped her purse and the bags onto the counter.
Once everything was stored away, she went to the bedroom to change out of her work clothes and into something more casual. She settled on her favorite pair of blue cotton pajama bottoms and a gauzy pink tank top. Feeling relaxed and much more comfortable, she went back to the kitchen, slapped a frozen dinner in the microwave, and poured a glass of wine.
What a day, she thought as she took a long sip and moved out to the balcony. Angelo had been in fine form after hearing about the contamination, nit-picking about everything from her choice of dye for the cell cultures to the way she logged results into the database. Another day like today and she might snap like a stressed-out postal worker.
She closed the sliding glass door behind her and stretched out on the plastic Adirondack chair. After being stuck indoors for ten hours, she found the heat and humidity to be a welcome change of pace. She took another sip and closed her tired eyes, relishing the relative calm of early evening.
Inside, the phone rang. Not feeling particularly social, she chose to let the answering machine do its thing. Still, she cracked the door open so she could listen.
“Sarah?” rang out the familiar voice through the answering machine speaker. “Sarah, are you there? It’s Angelo.”
Crap. How did he get this number? She’d changed it when she moved, making a point of giving the new number to only a select few she trusted not to share.
“I called to apologize for being so difficult today,” Angelo continued, sounding as smarmy as usual. Funny, at first she’d found him charismatic. Then she got to know him and her assessment changed dramatically. Now she looked past the charm and saw the true man that lay beneath, a brilliant mind with the morals of an alley cat. “You know how I get when I’m under stress.” He chuckled, and Sarah wanted to reach through the receiver and choke him. “Anyway, I want to make it up to you. How about dinner and drinks tonight? My treat. Give me a call when you get in, okay?”
“Like hell,” she said under her breath. Not even if it meant losing her job and working the graveyard shift at the Gas ’N Grub.
After mentally running through the short list of people with her new number, she picked up the phone and began dialing.
“Did you give Angelo my new number?” she asked as soon as Jackie picked up.
“I’m sorry, honey,” Jackie said, her voice tinged with sympathy. “But you know how he is. Once he realized you changed your number, he was like a dog with a bone trying to get the new one. And when he found out I had it, he started up about how he needed it in case of an emergency, and when that didn’t work, he made it real clear he’d have my job if I didn’t cough it up.”
Sarah took another sip of her wine, but it didn’t taste so sweet anymore. Cradling the phone between her ear and her shoulder, she stepped to the kitchen and rooted through the drawers for a funnel. She found one in the back of her junk drawer and used it to pour the wine back into the bottle. No sense in wasting good Riesling, after all. “Please don’t tell me you gave him my new address. I haven’t even finished unpacking.” The last thing she needed was Angelo knocking on her door. Again. She wanted to stall the inevitable for at least another month.
“Oh hell no,” Jackie said, sounding much more chipper. “The only address on file is your post office box.”
“Good.” Sarah let out a sigh of relief.
“I’m sorry, Sarah, I really am.”
“It’s okay.” Actually, it wasn’t, but she didn’t see the point in making a big fuss over it. By hook or by crook, Angelo always found a way to get what he wanted. Well, almost always. “I just hoped for another couple weeks of peace and quiet.”
“Don’t sweat it. He’ll get over it soon.” A note of confidence returned to Jackie’s voice. “I’ve seen him like this before. After a few months he usually loses interest and shifts his attentions to someone else.”
“Lucky me,” Sarah said, not looking forward to another couple months of inappropriate comments and “accidental” pats on the ass.
As the largest testing facility in the central Florida area, Cava Tech had a reputation as the dream employer for scientists aiming to build a name in the biomedical research community. She’d considered herself fortunate when Angelo Cavalli offered her the position at the main lab. He’d even helped secure the government grant to fund her research. But over time his attentions had turned more personal; a whisper in the ear, an inappropriate comment followed by a facetious apology, followed by not taking no for an answer when he asked her out to dinner. And with each refusal, he became more focused and determined.
A scream from the apartment next door startled her from her thoughts.
“What on earth was that?” Jackie asked. “It sounds like something’s getting slaughtered over there.”
“I have no idea.” Sarah moved closer to the wall that separated her apartment from her neighbor. “It sounds like it’s coming from the guy next door.”
“Yeah.” Since moving in three weeks ago, she’d barely had time to get settled in, much less get acquainted with the eye candy next door. Blonds normally didn’t push her buttons, but something about this guy made her stomach do little flip-flops every time she laid eyes on him. She’d run into him a handful of times since then—once when Jackie helped her with a load of boxes—but had gotten no more than a cordial nod as they passed in the hallway.
Oh well. It wasn’t like she had any free time on her calendar. Between work and Grandma Pearl, she was lucky to carve out a couple hours to get her laundry done. Maybe, once her project cleared the live trials, she’d have some breathing room for the little things in life, like a sunny day on the beach with a drink in her hand and a hot blond by her side.
She heard another scream, this one filled with such agony Sarah cringed. Then the grinding beat of Linkin Park filled the air, the thumping base making the walls vibrate and drowning out all other noise.
“What’s going on over there?” Jackie asked.
“I have no idea.” Sarah walked over to the front door and slipped on her sandals. “But I’m about to find out.”
“Wait! Don’t go over there!” Jackie sounded genuinely panicked. “You said he keeps weird hours. What if he’s a serial killer? You might be interrupting his latest kill!”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not being ridiculous! It’s always the normal looking ones that do the really sick shit. For all you know, he might try to eat your liver with some farva beans and a nice Chianti.”
“You watch too many movies. And it’s fava beans.” Still, Jackie was starting to give her the creeps, so she stuffed her cell phone into her pocket. “I’ll bring my phone with me. I’ll call nine-one-one if I run into any trouble. If I don’t call you back in fifteen minutes, you have my permission to call the police.”
Before Jackie had the chance to voice any further objections, Sarah disconnected and ventured next door to investigate.
chapter 3
Sarah pounded on the neighbor’s door again, frustration mounting with each rap of her knuckles. Between the music and the yelling, she’d be surprised if anyone heard her knocking. Or maybe they were simply ignoring her. Either way, if no one answered soon, she’d go back to her apartment and let the police deal with the noise.
The music suddenly stopped and the door cracked open.
“Yes?” It wasn’t the blond she normally saw coming and going at odd hours. No, this guy was taller, leaner, with darker features and a laid-back demeanor. If she had to guess, she’d put him somewhere in his late twenties. And while he was attractive in a bad boy kind of way, she didn’t find him as appealing as the blond. He leaned against the doorjamb and ran his eyes over her. “Something I can help you with, darling?”
“Uh, hi,” she replied, a strange feeling of unease making her heart rate kick up a notch. Considering the racket going on a few moments ago, this guy was acting way too nonchalant. “I’m Sarah Griffith, I live next door.” Like a dork, she pointed toward her apartment.
He smiled, showing off a perfect set of pearly whites. “Adam. Nice to meet you, Sarah.”
“Is everything okay?”
He gave a casual shrug, which would have looked normal, except for the fact that his clothes were scuffed with dirt and he didn’t have any eyebrows. “Everything’s fine. Why do you ask?”
“Because I heard somebody screaming bloody murder in there.” She peered around his lanky form and gasped at the sight of the blond stretched out on the couch, looking like he’d been on the losing end of a fight with a grizzly.
Holy crap, why didn’t she listen to Jackie? Sarah stepped back from the doorway and jammed her hand into her pocket, her fingers wrapping around the cell phone.
“Wait!” Adam said. “Don’t go. Please.”
He stepped into the walkway and she automatically took a step back.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I swear.” Adam raised his palms in a gesture of surrender. His hands were filthy, and she couldn’t help but notice the slight tremble. Then the cocky expression crumbled, replaced by a look of sheer helplessness. “Please, I could really use your help. There was an accident. I’ve tried to help him, but …” His voice trailed off as he glanced back toward the open door.
Sarah’s gaze darted from Adam to her neighbor and then back to Adam. Self-preservation demanded she make a break for her apartment and call the police. It was the logical thing to do. But instinct kept her rooted in place, refusing to abandon this man who obviously needed help. Intuition railed against common sense, and she found herself entering her neighbor’s apartment and crossing over to the couch.
“What happened to you?” she asked as she crouched down beside her neighbor, too shocked to do much more than stare. His short blond hair was matted with sweat and his jeans were smeared with dirt and blood. His T-shirt was ripped open, revealing a muscular chest marred by ugly gashes and chunks of shrapnel embedded in his skin. A large white Tupperware bowl was on the carpet beside the couch, filled halfway with murky water the color of rust. “You need to go to a hospital!”
“No hospital,” the blond grunted. “I’m fine.”
“Like hell you are. You look like death warmed over.”
For some strange reason, that got a chuckle out of him.
“Well, if you won’t go to the hospital, at least let me help clean you up.” She looked over her shoulder at Adam. “You,” she ordered, her memory reaching back to the First Aid Certification course she took during her sophomore year of college, “I need bandages and something to cleanse these wounds. Alcohol, iodine, hydrogen peroxide, whatever you have handy. And I need fresh water.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Adam disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Sarah with the task of performing first aid on her reluctant patient. Her clinical nature took charge of the situation, forcing out all thoughts of bare skin and taut pectorals. She paused long enough to gauge the full extent of his injuries and map out a plan of attack. Might as well work on the larger pieces first, she decided, starting with the rusty chunk of metal lodged in the skin between his ribs.
“Easy now,” she murmured, forcing her voice to remain level, soft, calm. Poor guy. He had to be in a world of pain. No wonder he was yelling earlier. “I’ll do this as gently as possible, but it’ll help if you try not to move.” Using more force than she originally thought necessary, she wrenched the first jagged piece from his chest.
Jaw clenched, he cursed under his breath.
“I’m Sarah, by the way,” she said without looking up, her focus locked on an inch-long piece of green glass embedded just above his left biceps. She gripped the shard with the tips of her fingers; the toned muscle twitched as she gently eased the glass from his skin. Hopefully, there weren’t any splinters left behind or he’d end up with a nasty infection. “I live next door in 4325.”
“David,” he replied through gritted teeth, his voice tight with strain. He let out a low grunt when she pulled out another chunk of glass, this one just above his sternum. Blood welled up from the open wound, sending a rivulet of crimson trickling down his chest. “Sorry about the noise, but it hasn’t been one of my better days.”
“How did this happen?” she asked again, her gaze shifting to the circular gash on his chest beneath the right pectoral, the blood still flowing freely. With each ragged breath more blood poured from the wound, the sight making her question the wisdom of volunteering to play doctor.
His fists clenched and unclenched when she began working on the next piece of shrapnel, this one embedded deep in his shoulder. “Long story.”
“I have time.” And feeling queasy, she needed the distraction. One of the reasons she’d forgone medical school was her weak stomach for open wounds. Good thing she hadn’t eaten dinner yet, or she would have lost it by now.
“Explosion,” Adam said from behind. He knelt down beside Sarah and handed her a
bottle of rubbing alcohol. The rest of the supplies he set on the floor beside her.
“What kind of explosion?”
“Uh, it’s kind of embarrassing.” Adam flashed her a sheepish grin. He averted his gaze and busied his hands by arranging the supplies into orderly rows. “You see, we were trying to build this potato gun and things sort of … got out of hand.”
Well, there was an answer she hadn’t been expecting. Sarah turned her attention away from David long enough to shoot Adam a quizzical look. “Potato gun?”
“Yeah, potato gun. You know, you can make one out of PVC tubing and a can of hair spray. But we wanted to make a really big one, with a really big punch to it, so we traded hair spray for propane and …” His cheeks puffed out while he made an outward motion with both hands.
“And it blew up on you?” He had to be joking.
Adam nodded, dead serious. “You got it.”
Just her luck. She’d moved next to a couple of frat boys with destructive tendencies. Next time they’d probably blow the roof off their apartment and get the entire building condemned.
She shifted her focus back to David, determined to get him the medical attention he so obviously needed. “You’re lucky none of these went too deep. But I still think you should to go to the hospital.”
David shook his head, his pale eyes crinkling with pain. “No hospital. A good night’s rest and I’ll be right as rain.”
“But you’re white as a sheet. And you’ve lost an awful lot of blood. You probably need stitches and a tetanus shot.”
“I’ll be fine.” He managed a weak smile. “While my employer pays well, he doesn’t provide much in the way of benefits.”
“Oh.” She nodded in understanding. “No health insurance?”
“You got it.”
Now she understood his reluctance to go to the hospital. She’d walked in those shoes before and didn’t envy his predicament. Without insurance, he’d be stuck covering the outrageous cost of an emergency room visit out of pocket. Not many folks had that kind of cash lying around. “Still, it wouldn’t be a bad idea—”
Grave Intentions Page 4