The Good Samaritan

by Price, Melynda

  * * *

  Emma was walking past the dining room when her picture on the poster board caught her eye. Below her name was a list of commonalities between her and the victims. A shudder racked her spine, goose bumps prickling her flesh. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Sawyer was working night and day to find whoever was doing this, but what if he was too late? Shaking her head, she dismissed the thought otherwise fear would paralyze her.

  “You shouldn’t be in here.”

  She startled and spun around to find Sawyer standing in the doorway. He shrugged off his coat and tossed it over the back of the chair. Her gaze dropped to the gun holstered at his side and badge clipped on his hip. It was a good look on him.

  “You’re back. I didn’t hear you come home. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude on your work.” She began backing out of the room. “I saw my picture and—honestly, it’s a little disturbing.”

  He caught her wrist as she moved past him, stopping her from leaving. His grip was firm, but gentle. Heat spread up her arm and the memory of their kiss took her thoughts down a road Sawyer seemed determined they not travel.

  She understood his reluctance, but those ‘what ifs’ seemed to be taking up permanent residence in her mind, and she was having a hard time resisting them. Technically, she was under his protection and a part of this case, but even before any of this, something had sparked between them.

  “I’m sure it is. Seeing your picture up there bothers me too,” he confessed.

  “How was your meeting?”

  He shrugged. “It was alright. The more I think about it and study the different angles of this case, I’m increasingly convinced the killer’s setting your doctor up to take the fall.”

  My doctor? Blake? “Okay, first of all, he’s not my doctor.”

  “He wants to be.”

  Was that an edge of jealousy in his voice? “How do you know that?”

  “I talked to him.”

  “You talked to Blake? Today? And he told you that?”

  “Yeah. He did.”

  “He’s my boss—”

  “Which is why he hasn’t told you yet that he’s in love with you.” Sawyer reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Sometimes, in spite of our best intentions, it’s hard to maintain professional boundaries.” His dark blue eyes raked over her, leaving Emma overheated and exposed. “He thinks he’s losing his chance with you and he blames me for it.”

  “He actually said that to you?”

  “He did. But after talking to him, and despite the mounting circumstantial evidence pointing his direction, I think you’re right. He’s not the guy. But he still needs to prove it.”

  “Do you have any other suspects?”

  He shook his head. “I’m back to searching for more threads. Do you have time for some more questions?”

  “Sure.”

  Sawyer closed the ends of the murder board and laid it down before taking the seat across from her. He opened Karen Spears’ file and cleared his throat. “Some of these interview questions are going to get personal. Please don’t be offended, but I need to ask them. Whatever you tell me stays in here. It doesn’t affect us outside this room.”

  A flicker of unease rolled through her. “Okaaay.”

  Sawyer opened his notebook and picked up his pen. “Have you ever been to a sex club? Particularly a place called Hevven?”

  Emma’s brow arched.

  When she didn’t answer he pressed, “I need you to answer the question, Emma. If I can find a connection between you and Karen, I can work on trying to link it to the other girls.”

  Despite his little disclaimer, she was having a hard time not being offended. “No, I haven’t.”

  “Are you into bondage? BDSM?”

  “Okay, really?” she snapped.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to ask, Emma. It’s my job. I can’t assume to know the answer based on conversations we might have had in another capacity. Would you be more comfortable if my partner interviewed you?”

  “No.” If Sawyer wanted to sit there and ask her personal questions, then he was going to get personal answers. He deserved to be as uncomfortable as she was. “I don’t know if I’m into bondage or not. I might be. I’ve never been tied up before, but I can’t say I’m repulsed by the idea of your hand on my ass.”

  The look he gave her was a mixture of surprise and hardcore lust. If the context of this conversation were any different, she might have laughed.

  “Emma,” he warned, his voice a low growl.

  She shrugged. Come on, he knew she was a virgin. Did he really need to ask her these questions?

  “Have you ever been with a woman?”

  Guess so. “Does kissing count?”

  He must have swallowed wrong, because he started coughing.

  “What?” she shrugged again. “I was in college. I was drunk. It was a dare.” Once he recovered from his aspiration, she noticed his gaze was fixed on her mouth as if he were now imagining it. “I told you I was a virgin. I never said I was a saint.”

  Sawyer muttered a curse under his breath and scrubbed his hand over his mouth. After scribbling some notes in his tablet, he closed the cover and stood. “I think I need a beer. Do you want anything?”

  The only thing that made this slightly more bearable was the knowledge that Sawyer was having an equally uncomfortable time with this. “No thanks. I’m good.” She gave him one of her sweetest smiles, feigning indifference when she was anything but. Seriously? Sex clubs? Come on. Sawyer knew her better than that. Although, if she was being honest the idea of him putting her in his cuffs was pretty hot.

  When several minutes passed and he didn’t return, she went in search of her MIA detective.

  * * *

  Big mistake. Had he honestly thought he could sit there and play the professional while he asked Emma about her sex life and kink preferences? He’d known going into this that it would be a touchy subject, but he hadn’t expected her to start toying with him. Did she really want him to tie her up and spank her ass? Doubtful. But after that little stunt, he was tempted to haul her upstairs and call her bluff. Perhaps she’d think twice before messing with him like that again.

  Karen Spears had been into some extreme shit. When he’d questioned Holly and Amanda’s friends, they’d denied them being involved in any similar activities, but he was also smart enough to know that everyone had a skeleton or two in their closet. He had to eliminate this possible connection, and Emma was the only way he could do it. In the process, she’d given him such a hard on, he was still waiting for it to go away so he could go back and finish the fucking interview. He turned on the faucet, filled his hands with cold water and splashed it on his face. The chill did nothing to help cool his cock, and there was no way in hell he was going back to talk to her in this condition.

  He reached behind him and blindly searched for a towel, snagging it off the rack. Burying his face in the cloth, he muttered a foul curse.

  “There you are.”

  Her soft voice flittered over him like a caress, doing nothing to dull the lust burning through his veins.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” he answered gruffly into the towel, immediately regretting his curtness. It wasn’t her fault she was stuck here with him. And it certainly wasn’t her fault he couldn’t stop thinking about what it’d be like to take her into his bed and school her in the ways of passion.

  Clenching the towel in his hands, he braced himself against the sink and dropped his head to his chest. He stood there a moment, struggling to wrangle his thoughts before he did something stupid like pull her into the bathroom and take her up against the door.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have intruded,” she mumbled when he didn’t respond. From the corner of his eye, he saw her retreat with a backward step. “I, umm, I’m not sure if you remember, but we had plans to meet Molly and her boyfriend tonight. If you want to cancel, I understand. You’ve got your hands fu
ll with this case. I’m sure taking me out is the last thing you want to be doing right now.”

  “Emma, wait.” He canted his head to look at her. An uncomfortable tightness pinched his chest and traveled all the way to his groin. “What time do we need to be there?”

  “Seven. But really, Sawyer, I can go alone—”

  “I’m taking you,” he cut her off. “I don’t want you going out by yourself.” Her gaze broke away and shifted to the floor, but not before he saw her disappointment.

  “I don’t need a babysitter, Sawyer. Molly and her boyfriend can pick me up and drop me off.”

  He begged to differ, but that was beside the point. Exhaling a sigh, he dragged his hands through his hair then stepped out of the bathroom. Catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he tipped her head, guiding her gaze back to his. Her eyes were so beautiful—like two sparkling emeralds staring back at him. “I’m taking you to dinner. And not because I have to, but because I want to.”

  Unable to resist, he dipped his head and brushed a soft kiss against her mouth and murmured, “Now get out of here before I decide to test your curiosity about my hand and your ass.” Because yeah, she wasn’t the only one now wondering if she might enjoy it.

  Chapter 20

  Gunshot wounds and stabbings—no problem. Drug overdoses—piece of cake. Cardiac arrest—bring it on. But going on a date with Sawyer Gerrard had Emma’s palms sweating like a schoolgirl. Thankfully, she was a pro at staying calm under pressure.

  “I think they’re over there,” Sawyer nodded toward the redhead across the restaurant furiously waving her hand.

  “You think?” she teased, returning Molly’s wave so she’d stop making a scene. “Are you ready for this?” Emma joked, trying to mask her nerves.

  Sawyer placed his hand on the small of her back and she jumped, the heat of his touch electrifying her nerve endings.

  Dipping his head, his voice lowered to a husky whisper. “Are you ready for this?” His breath brushed her ear and skated down her neck. The deep rumble of his voice vibrated through her body, resonating in her core. Just the whisper of his voice, the heat of him so close to her, had her knees threatening to buckle. That kiss in the kitchen had done something irrevocable to her. Sawyer had ignited a restless hunger inside her, and she didn’t know how to stop it. Every time he got close to her, touched her, it fueled the flame of her desire.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Liar.” His warm breath kissed her goose-bumped flesh.

  Maybe she wasn’t as good at masking her emotions as she thought. Then again, Sawyer always had an uncanny ability to see past her façades.

  “I’m good,” she insisted, giving him a fronting smile. “I was just concerned about you.” Grasping his hand, she led them through the maze of tables. “Molly can be a lot to handle sometimes.”

  Sawyer chuckled. “Don’t worry about me. I deal with criminals all day long. I think I can handle an OB resident.”

  She laughed at his analogy. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

  As they approached the table, Emma recognized the man sitting beside Molly. She didn’t remember her saying she was dating a security officer from the hospital.

  “Hi. You made it.” Molly glanced at her watch as Sawyer pulled out a chair for Emma to sit.

  “Yeah, sorry we’re late. There was an accident and traffic was backed up,” Emma explained.

  “Actually, she tried to ditch me,” Sawyer said, and flashed Emma a panty-melting grin as compensation for throwing her under the bus. “But I wouldn’t let her.”

  “Figures she would. I like him, Emma. Even if his dog did try to kill me.”

  That comment earned a round of chuckles and Emma relaxed a little. A glass of wine wouldn’t hurt either, which Molly poured from the bottle on the table and handed to her. She gratefully accepted it and took a sip, enjoying the warmth settling into her stomach.

  “Guys, this is my boyfriend, Mark Smith. Mark, this is my best friend, Emma Rhodes, and heeer…?”

  “Sawyer—” Emma answered, not putting a label to him.

  “Gerrard,” Molly’s boyfriend finished, standing to reach across the table and extend his hand. “We actually met this afternoon at the security meeting.”

  “Briefly.” Sawyer accepted the offered hand with a firm shake. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to speak more. It’s nice to see you again. My partner, Cade Peterson, said you’ve been very helpful with the investigation at the hospital. Your cooperation is much appreciated.”

  Molly smiled proudly, but Mark looked a little uncomfortable with the praise. “Yeah, well, I’ve been telling them they needed to get more security cameras in those ramps for a year now. It was only a matter of time before something happened. It’s too bad it took something like this to finally make them listen.”

  He released Sawyer’s hand and reached toward Emma. “Dr. Rhodes—”

  “Please, call me Emma.”

  “How’s that badge working for you?”

  “Not so great. It stopped working again this week. I had to go back to the security office to get it fixed.”

  “Yeah, Russell mentioned that. I don’t understand what’s going on with your access. You’re the only one who’s reported a problem that I’m aware of. It’s weird. He also told me Dr. Weston cornered you outside the office and you looked upset. He felt bad about not interfering sooner.”

  She grimaced as the heat of Sawyer’s eyes burned into her. He was going to be pissed she hadn’t told him about the run in with Blake, but really there wasn’t much to tell. Sawyer was already suspicious of him, the last thing she wanted was to make it worse. Molly, bless her heart, must have sensed the awkward tension, because she shoved a glass of wine in Sawyer’s direction and said, “Why don’t we order?”

  “That’s a great idea. I’m starved,” Mark added. “I missed lunch today. I was busy helping Detective Peterson pull policies and procedures for security rounding. Before the meeting, we spent the afternoon going through more surveillance footage. Not sure why they were interested in the stuff from last night, though.”

  He made the comment offhandedly, but Emma was surprised when Sawyer didn’t volunteer the information. Why hadn’t he reported the vandalism to his car? And he didn’t appear inclined to mention it now.

  “You know, Emma,” Mark added, “you ladies shouldn’t be walking to your car alone at night. Like I told Molly, make sure you call one of us for a security escort.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Sawyer cut in. “I plan on picking Emma up myself from now on.”

  Mark lifted a glass and took a sip of wine. “That’s a good idea. So, Detective, how close are you to catching the Good Samaritan?”

  Sawyer tensed, growing stone still beside her. Emma instinctively reached over, placing her hand on top of his. Something was wrong. Or maybe she was overreacting because her nerves were shot. Just when she’d almost convinced herself she was imagining it, Sawyer spoke, and goose bumps needled her flesh at the ripcord tension in his voice.

  “What did you call him?”

  “The Good Samaritan. That’s what the news is calling him. The ‘Good Samaritan Killer.’ KARE11 did a whole segment on it at five o’clock tonight. They’re warning women if they get in their cars and they won’t start, not to get out of them and to call the police.”

  Sawyer snarled under his breath. “Will you excuse me?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he shot to his feet, sending his chair skidding back. He pulled his cell from his pocket as he headed out of the dining area. The phone was to his ear and he was demanding to speak with his captain before he disappeared around the corner.

  Awkward silence filled the space at the table. Emma wasn’t sure what just happened, but Sawyer was clearly pissed. “Molly, I’m sorry. I think we’re going to have to take a rain check.”

  “I apologize if I said something that I shouldn’t have,” Mark said, looking surprised by Sawyer’s reaction.

 
“No, it wasn’t you,” she told Mark, making excuses for Sawyer’s abrupt and arguably rude behavior. “It’s this case. It’s really taking a toll on him. Please don’t take it personally.”

  Molly nodded. “I’m sorry, Em.”

  “It’s all right. I’ll call you later.” Emma got up from her chair, shouldered the strap of her purse, and then headed after Sawyer. She hesitated in the doorway, unsure which direction he’d gone. The light over Cosetta’s doorway didn’t reach very far as Emma followed the sidewalk around the building, heading toward the parking lot in the back. Small pockets of streetlight dotted the night as she searched the lot for Sawyer. She was about to turn around and head back inside when a hand clamped tightly over her mouth, muffling the scream tearing from her throat.

  * * *

  Sawyer was livid. They’d talked about this, everyone on the case agreed. No media exposure and no nicknames. No feeding this bastard’s ego with airtime and sensationalism. Who in the hell had leaked this case to the press? He paced the back hall near the kitchen as he waited for the connection to go through to his captain.

  A series of clicks later and the line picked up with an answering, “Don’t start with me, Gerrard. It wasn’t my decision to go public with the Good Samaritan case.”

  “Then whose was it? Because this case is officially fucked.”

  “The chief’s.”

  “Does he have any idea what he’s done?” Sawyer continued his back and forth trek, numb to the pain in his leg. “Is he trying to drive this guy underground? Because this bastard isn’t going to stop. This isn’t an impulsive, inexperienced killer we’re dealing with. What’s gonna happen is he’s going to change his MO, and then we’re back to square one, trying to fit together pieces from two different puzzles. He’s not saving lives, he’s putting more at risk. Not only that, but now he’s turned the St. Paul Police Department into the goddamn Triple A.”