The Good Samaritan

by Price, Melynda

  “That’s okay, I like it black. Thank you.” He took the cup to the table and sat. She was pouring herself one when he said, “Emma, I need to talk to you.”

  The gravity in his voice sent her stomach bottoming out. Oh no…he had heard them. Emma carried her coffee to the table feeling like she was walking to the emotional gallows. Taking a seat across from him, she held the cup to warm her hands. Spine stiff, shoulders back, she met his implacable stare. She refused to be embarrassed about her sex life—or lack thereof.

  “I know what you want to talk to me about, but it really isn’t any of your business.”

  A confused frown settled between his dark brows. Was he going to make her spell it out? “Molly and me. You heard us talking, didn’t you?”

  “Emma, that’s not it.”

  “So, you didn’t hear us?” For about two seconds relief flooded through her.

  “No, I heard you.”

  She winced, her cheeks heating with embarrassment.

  “That isn’t what I wanted to talk about. But since you’re bringing it up, your friend is wrong. I’m not out of your league, Emma. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.”

  His words caught her off guard. Before she could fully process what he was saying, he followed that up with, “But as much as I like you, whatever this is between us? It can’t happen.”

  Okay, wait a minute. That was not where she envisioned this conversation going. And as far as “this can’t happen,” went, she was pretty sure that was her line. “I don’t understand.”

  But it all became shockingly clear when Sawyer said, “Emma, I think someone’s trying to kill you.”

  * * *

  Okay, he probably could have finessed that a little bit better. And he might have stopped to let her digest that information before adding, “I think you should come and stay with me.”

  “What?” Her eyes grew incredulous, wide and unblinking. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  He wasn’t sure if she was referring to the “someone’s trying to kill you” part or his offer for her to stay with him. Both stood an equal shot at winning that bet.

  “Normally, I would suggest you find a friend or family member to stay with, but under the circumstances, I wouldn’t recommend risking their welfare by bringing a madman to their doorstep.”

  “And you want him on yours?”

  “I welcome him on mine.” The venom in his response drew her eyes back to his, and he held her gaze with stony determination.

  “This is crazy.”

  He wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince, him or herself.

  “Why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.”

  Not true. He knew Emma a hell of a lot better than she thought he did. In his line of work, he’d become an excellent judge of character. He knew she was kind and compassionate. She had nerves of steel, and she’d demonstrated that grit the night he was rolled into her ER. She was also extremely intelligent. Their conversation in the hospital cafeteria and her mini toxicology lecture had proven as much. He also knew she was conservative, though he hadn’t realized just how much until a few minutes ago.

  Sawyer suspected there was a very good reason Emma had chosen to remain a virgin. Coupled with her refusal to date, if he had to venture a guess, he’d say someone, somewhere, had hurt her—badly. The thought made him want to hunt the son of a bitch down. Emma stirred something inside him he didn’t fully understand, but the need to protect her was undeniable.

  “Well, I suspect that’ll change in a hurry. If it helps, I’ve never been married, so you won’t have a crazy ex-wife or kids to deal with. I’m a marginally good cook, and I never leave the toilet seat up.”

  “I can’t believe you’re actually suggesting this.”

  Neither could he, but the alternative was much worse. He didn’t think he could stand the idea of Emma staying here alone. If anything happened to her… Just the thought of her close call last night made his blood run cold.

  “If you agree, it will be strictly professional. I would never take advantage of your situation.”

  He must be losing his mind. For the briefest moment he swore he saw a flash of disappointment in her eyes.

  “I’m going to submit an official request to put you into protective custody, but they’ll probably deny it. A disconnected battery cable without any real attempt to harm you probably won’t be enough to garner the resources needed for that.”

  “Wait… Was my car okay?”

  She sounded calmer than she looked. He hadn’t missed the wash of color from her beautiful face or the furrow of her delicately arched brows. If he wasn’t trying to convince her she was in danger, he wouldn’t have disclosed the details of this case, but Sawyer needed Emma’s cooperation and her help if he was going to find the connection between her and the three other women.

  “I went to the impound lot this morning and inspected the victims’ cars. Each one had a loose battery cable and they all show evidence of tampering—the same evidence I found when I checked your CRV. Your car will need to be taken for evidence and forensics will go through it. If they don’t find anything, you should have it back in a couple of days. I’ve got a vehicle you can use, or I can arrange for a rental in the meantime. I trust my gut, Emma, and it’s telling me you’re not safe here. Even if the captain approves my request for protective custody, it’s going to take a little time to arrange. I just don’t want you here alone, and Molly should stay somewhere else too.”

  Emma grew more shell-shocked by the minute. He felt like shit for doing this to her and putting her in this position, but her resiliency impressed the hell out of him when she seemed to rally and met his stare with her own. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that this is just some elaborate scheme to get me in your bed.”

  His bark of laughter was unexpected, her bravado impressive. “I wish it was.”

  Chapter 13

  When Sawyer asked Emma to stay with him, she’d been expecting a cramped two-bedroom efficiency apartment, not a turn-of-the-century Colonial on Summit Avenue.

  “This is where you live?”

  He gave a negligent shrug. “My brother and I inherited the house when my parents died. It’s been in the family for generations, so I can’t in good conscience sell it or believe me, I would. The upkeep and taxes are worse than a mortgage.” He reached for the visor and pressed a button. “I probably should have mentioned my brother is temporarily staying with me. He’s stationed at Camp Pendleton but came back when I was shot. He’ll be here a few more days until his deployment.” Sawyer pulled into the garage and cut the engine, then turned to her. “He’s a good guy, a little tense sometimes, but you can trust him with your life.”

  Okaaay.

  She sat in the car while Sawyer got out and grabbed her duffle bag and suitcase from the trunk. You can do this, Emma. You’ve lived through worse. On that note she took a deep breath, muscled her courage, and tucked Paco a little closer, giving him a kiss on the top of his head before climbing out. Sam was at Sawyer’s side as they stepped into the house. The moment the door opened, she was greeted by the sound of automatic gunfire and the shouts of “Cover me! I’m taking fire!”

  The look Sawyer gave her was both an apology and an I told you so all wrapped into one grimace.

  “That you, man?”

  “Yeah, it’s me,” Sawyer called, leading Emma through the foyer.

  “Well, get your ass in here and give me some backup. These online losers can’t fight for shit.”

  More automatic gunfire resonated from the living room to their right. Sawyer put his hand on the small of Emma’s back, leading her into what sounded like a war zone. The unexpected contact sent a current of energy lighting up her nerve endings. They stopped in the doorway and Emma was surprised to see a man who looked like he belonged in that video game instead of sitting on the couch playing it. The guy was undeniably Sawyer’s brother—same dark hair and piercing blue eyes. But where Sawyer had a laid-back, charming quality
about him, his brother did not. The man looked cut from steel and just about as warm.

  “What are you doing?” Sawyer asked him.

  “What’s it look like? I’m practicing.”

  “Somehow I don’t think COD Black Ops is going to prepare you for Haiti.”

  “Maybe not, but it sure is fun blowing shit up.”

  The man’s sharp gaze cut their way and then did a double take, locking on Emma. He dropped the controller and jumped to his feet, brushing his hands down his thighs as if to tidy himself up. “Who’s this?”

  “This is Emma Rhodes”

  “Wait, Sam’s doctor?”

  “I am,” she greeted.

  His keenly sharp gaze locked on her. “Can I just point out that when I was shot, my doctor was an overweight, middle-aged, balding man? Damn, if you were my doctor, I’d consider taking another bullet.”

  A small laugh caught in her throat and she shot an uncertain glance to Sawyer.

  “If you don’t shut up, I’ll be happy to oblige,” Sawyer growled, stepping into her side and placing a protective hand at the base of her spine.

  “Oh, cool your jets, bro. The doc knows I’m just kidding. Well, mostly.” He gave Emma a flirtatious wink and came over, hand stretched out in greeting. “I’m Hunter.”

  He shook her hand and gave her a flash of white teeth. His dark blue eyes were far more intuitive than his playful manner led on. This man was taking her measure; make no mistake. She just hoped she didn’t come up short. His gaze lit on the bags in Sawyer’s hand and his dark brow arched. “You movin’ out or movin’ her in?”

  “I had a break in the case and Emma’s going to be staying here while I try to get her into protective custody.”

  That caught his brother’s attention and his playful demeanor turned serious. “So the dead battery?”

  “Not a dead battery.”

  “Really... Well, Emma, you’re in good hands. My brother is the best at what he does. He’ll get this bastard off the streets.”

  “I hope so.” Hunter’s words were meant to put her at ease, but considering the circumstances, the task was near impossible. “It was nice meeting you,” she politely said, clutching Paco a little tighter, and then turned to follow Sawyer and Sam as he guided her through the main level of the house for a brief tour before showing her upstairs.

  Sawyer gave her a house key, the security code, and offered her the use of his Explorer. Numb and overwhelmed, she retained about half of what he was telling her.

  “This is my room.” He pointed left. “And two doors down on the right is Hunter’s. This is the spare bedroom.” He opened the door next to his and stepped aside for her to enter.

  “This is really nice. Thank you. Wow, it even has a fireplace.”

  Sawyer followed her in and set her bags on the bed. “Don’t be too impressed. These houses aren’t well insulated. The fireplace is a necessity, not a luxury.”

  “It’s double-sided.” She bent down to get a closer look and got a clear view into Sawyer’s room.

  “They were built that way for heating efficiency.”

  She wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about having her bedroom connected to his by a giant hole but under the circumstances, she didn’t have much of an option.

  “All right,” he said. “Well, I’ll let you get settled. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything. I’ve got a lot of work to do so…” He dragged his hand through his hair as if he wasn’t sure what else to say.

  When he turned to leave, Emma caught Sawyer’s arm. His dark blue eyes cut back to hers and she momentarily forgot what she’d wanted to say. His brow arched in question, waiting for her to spit it out. Finally, her brain engaged her tongue. “Thank you. For everything. I honestly don’t even know where to start.”

  His gaze swept lower, stalling briefly on her mouth before settling on the floor. “Don’t mention it. Besides, I owe you.” He reached down and patted Sam’s big head.

  It was more than that. She knew it, and he knew it. But she’d let it be—for now.

  “When you’re up to it, I have some questions I need to ask you. I’m searching for a connection between you and the other three victims. I’m not trying to be too personal, but I’ll be digging into your life a bit.”

  Dread settled in her gut like a lead weight. He must have seen the nausea roll through her, because his expression sharpened, and the look he gave her was eerily perceptive. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  She wouldn’t tell him if it was. Notching her chin, she pasted on a smile. “Not at all.” Sawyer could dig into her life all he wanted, as long as he stayed the hell away from Evangeline Larson’s.

  * * *

  “You sure this is a good idea?”

  Sawyer looked up from Spears’ case file and met his brother’s pointed stare. He’d been reading through the interviews of her friends and family, making a list of questions to ask Emma based on Karen’s profile. He planned to do the same with all the women, hoping to hit on a common thread, but this one was going to be the most challenging.

  Karen had been a woman with an unconventional lifestyle and an interesting sexual appetite. She was Sawyer’s wildcard. Nothing about Emma fit with the other women. He’d poured over those files for hours searching for a connection that had to be there, but he just couldn’t find it. Would Emma be the missing link?

  Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose, desperately needing sleep. “I’m not sure about anything right now. I’ve got dead women turning up all over in this city and Emma almost became one of them.”

  “You’re getting too close to this case. If you’re not careful it’s going to fuck with your head. The minute that guy went after Sam’s doctor, he made it personal. Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe she’s his target and you just got in his way. At any rate, how do you think he’s going to respond once he figures out that she’s staying here? You thought of that?”

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking—period. My mind is like a fucking slot machine, constantly spinning with possibilities and scenarios. I’m making breakthroughs in this case, just not fast enough to get ahead of him. Every life this son of a bitch takes is on my conscience.” He dropped his head into his hands and exhaled a sigh. “I’ve got to stop him. And to make things clear, she’s here for protection. Nothing more.”

  Hunter chuckled and clasped Sawyer’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Whatever you want to tell yourself, bro. Just sayin’, if you start thinking with the wrong head, it’s going to fuck you up. And in our line of work, when that shit happens, people die. Trust me, I know.”

  If he thought Hunter would elaborate, he would have pushed his brother for details. This wasn’t the first time in the last few days he’d made comments full of wisdom only learned the hard way.

  “Are you saying you think it was a mistake for me to bring her here?”

  “I’m saying I think it’s a mistake to set yourself up for failure. Whatever that looks like.”

  The floorboard squeaked in the hall, which sent his head snapping around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. How long had she been standing there? Long enough that she looked nervous—or maybe it was the stress of everything wearing on her. He wanted to tell her it was going to be okay. It had to be, because the alternative was just too unthinkable.

  “You said you wanted to talk to me? If now isn’t a good time, I could come back.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m done here. Just having a brotherly chat.” Hunter gave him a teeth-rattling pat on the back and headed out.

  “Come in.” Sawyer nodded to the chair across from him. As Emma entered the dining room, her gaze landed on the open file with the picture of Karen Spears attached to the inside cover. Her expression remained a mask of composure as she studied it.

  “That’s one of the victims?”

  Closing the file, he set it aside. “She was his first one. That we know of.”

  Emma studied him, her expression reminding him
of the one she’d worn the night he’d met her—tough, clinical, assessing. “You look tired, Sawyer.” There was a note of concern in her voice. “How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

  “Two days.”

  Her brows furrowed. “Is it the pain?”

  He shook his head.

  “The case?” When he didn’t respond, she said, “If you want, I can prescribe something to help you sleep.”

  “No thanks.”

  “This isn’t healthy for you,” she warned.

  “I’ll be all right. There will be plenty of time to rest when this bastard is off the streets.” How did this become about him? They were supposed to be talking about her. “Did you get settled in all right? Do you need anything?” he asked, taking control of the conversation.

  “I’m good. Thank you.”

  “Should we get started then?”

  “Sure.”

  She didn’t sound sure. “We’ll be doing a few of these interviews. The first one is pretty straightforward. It’s the same questions I asked each of the victim’s family and friends. Then, based on the information I’ve gathered from each of the profiles, I’ll ask you more specific questions that might help uncover a connection linking all of you. Sometimes the most minuet or seemingly insignificant piece of information can break a case, so please don’t gloss over anything or disregard it as unimportant.”

  She nodded.

  “I want to warn you that these interviews are going to get personal. But with any luck, we’ll find a thread that will help us catch this guy.”

  A shadow of concern crossed her face, but it was gone so fast he almost missed it. Emma had secrets she wasn’t going to part with easily.