"I can and I will until you get your head back on straight and start being sensible."
"You don't know anything about the state of my head, Sam. And you barely know me."
He sneered. "I know enough. I know you're trying to get yourself hurt."
"I am not. I'm trying to get out of this mess I got us both into."
"And I'm telling you, for the hundredth time to let me handle it."
"I can't!"
"Why? Because you just love this shit?"
"No. Of course not." My fingers curled into fists at my side.
"Then why? Because your ex screwed you up so much you can't trust a man anymore? Running into one abusive asshole doesn't mean the rest of us are the same."
The retort I'd been planning to toss at him froze in my throat at the implication of his words. "What? How do you know anything about my ex?"
"I'm a cop, Carly. When all of this started I looked into you."
"You…" I blinked away tears of rage and betrayal. "You had no right."
"Yes I did. I am trying my hardest to help you."
"Then stop. If this is what it means to be helped by you, I don't want it. Since you started 'helping' I've been kidnapped, interrogated and threatened. Not doing such a great job, Detective. I'm better off on my own."
"Don't be stupid." He reached out a hand to touch my arm and I slapped it away.
"Fuck you, Sam." I glared at him for a second and then turned on my heel and walked away, shaking.
Digging into my past without my consent wasn't the worst thing a man had ever done to me by far. But I had learned from that experience and no matter how much I liked him, I wouldn't be with someone who would violate my trust. Never again.
I could hear Sam's footsteps behind me, but he didn't say anything else. When I got outside I climbed in the car and left without looking at him at all.
Choking back sobs, my encounter with the threatening strangers was almost forgotten. All of the fear of the past few days descended on me and I couldn't do anything but drive, concentrating on the road, pushing everything else out of my mind as much as I could. It was a defense mechanism, I knew. And unhealthy in the long-run, but I needed it all to go away, if just for a little while.
Without thinking about it consciously I'd driven to the south side of the city. When I noticed, I smiled. I couldn't go back to my apartment, but I could go somewhere else that felt like home. I found a space a few blocks away and practically ran down to the pizza place.
When I opened the door the familiar sweet and sharp smells covered me in a blanket of nostalgia. The place was busy with late lunch customers and I had to shove my way through the crowd to get to the counter.
I hadn't so much as opened my mouth before Angelo, owner of the pizza place and my old boss, bellowed across the shop. "Carly Chase, light of my life!"
I grinned broadly and genuinely. It was good to be home. "Don't let your wife hear you talking like that."
He let out a hoot of laughter and swept across the shop to come and hug me. He was an adorably round man, short and well-padded in his mid-section. For the first year I worked there I thought he was a real old-fashioned south side Italian, but one night after a few too many glasses of wine with the customers, he admitted the truth.
"Angelo" was actually Andrew. He was born and raised in the suburbs of Atlanta and came north to find his fortune after his mother died. He'd used all his savings to buy the pizza place and kept the name. Over the years he stopped correcting people when they assumed he was Angelo. And then after his new bride gave him one of those silly fat chef figurines, he grew out his moustache, started eating a second dessert every night, and assumed the whole look.
He thought I'd be annoyed at his real history, but it charmed me. There was something appealing about remaking yourself, becoming something new, something better. Especially after having my shameful past thrown in my face, the idea was even more attractive.
So, back in the present, I hugged Angelo tight.
He stepped back and kissed me on both cheeks before frowning at me. "My darling, you're too skinny. Come sit down in the back. Let me feed you before you waste away to nothing."
It's silly, but that was the other thing about Angelo. Anyone under two-hundred-fifty pounds was emaciated to him. As a chubby high school student it had been worth a lot more than the free pizza and tiny wage that working there got me.
"No, no," I protested. "I'm just here to visit. You've got a lot of customers."
"Pardon my French, but fuck 'em. Come on." He dragged me through the now laughing crowd back to what he called the "chef's table," a rickety folding table and two chairs in the corner between the counter and the kitchen door. "Sit."
I did, of course. There was no point arguing with the man when he was trying to feed you.
Within minutes there was a pile of food in front of me enough for an army. And while the last thing I wanted to do was eat, the first bite of the house special pizza brought my appetite roaring back, and I dug in big time.
Angelo sat with me for a little while before he went back into the kitchen. A few of the cooks and others who I'd worked with came by to say hello as well. There were even a couple regular customers who waved.
With hands covered in sauce and lips burning from a taste of Anna's favorite calzone, I felt a million times better. I wondered why I ever left the place. Everything was simple and fun. No stress, no one threatening more than a small tip for late service.
Thoughts of my current situation soured my stomach and I put down my fork.
And then Sam walked into the restaurant. I saw him before he noticed me, and considered ducking into the kitchen. But if he'd found me here he'd find me back there too. It wasn't worth the hassle.
"Howdy, stranger," I said wryly.
"Carly." His face was dead serious."
I looked up at him as he approached. "At least sit down to yell at me again."
He sighed and dragged his hand through his hair. "I'm not here to yell."
"No?"
"No. I…I was going to leave you alone. We both needed time to cool off, but we can't right now."
"Why not?"
"There's been a development in the case. But that can wait a minute. Right now I just want to talk."
"Ah, okay." I picked at a Caesar salad but didn't take a bite. "How'd you find me anyway?"
"I called your friend Anna and asked where you might go to try and forget you ever met me. This was the second of five options she suggested after telling me where she thought I should really go."
I snorted. "I bet that was an interesting conversation."
"I'll say. She's got a mouth on her for such a little thing."
"Sam, you have no idea."
"So, are you meeting a team of football players for lunch, or is all of this for you?"
"I used to work here. The owner went a bit overboard."
"No kidding."
I passed him a spare fork – a peace offering of sorts. He took it without comment and speared a bite of manicotti. He shoved into his mouth and chewed, and a strange expression spread across his face.
"My god, that's really good. Great, really."
"I know. But don't tell Angelo when he comes out. He'll never let you leave."
Sam grinned at me, pumped his fist in the air and snapped his fingers in a gesture that seemed strangely familiar. "Why would I want to leave here?" He bent down a little and really started putting it away again.
There, distracted by the mountain of free food, I saw the real him again. The man I smiled just thinking about, and couldn't keep my hands off of. It was a wonderful moment, but I knew he had something serious to tell me, so I cherished it for as long as I could.
We sat and ate for a while, talking about nothing more meaningful than the secret to Angelo's sauce, which I refused to share on pain of death. When the man himself appeared he beamed at Sam and teased me about leaving him for a younger man. It was normal. And perfect. And all t
oo brief.
When Sam had managed to put a sizable dent in the food, he leaned back in his seat and groaned. "I think I just ate ten pounds of food."
"Probably."
"I bet I could do anther ten pounds with a short break."
"Don't try. We can just come back here another time."
He raised an eyebrow. "We can?"
"Well." I blushed. "You can. Or whatever."
"Uh-huh. I'm holding you to that, Carly. If you-" His phone buzzed. "Shit, one second."
I tuned out his short conversation and looked around. The pizza place was clearing out a bit, but soon the dinner rush would start and it would be insane. I remembered so many afternoons enjoying the all-too-brief lull.
"I'm sorry to break up this party, but we have to go now."
"Where?"
He frowned. "Down to the station."
"Why? What's happened?"
"They just want to talk to you again."
"What's the urgency? I thought you guys were still dealing with the new warehouse."
"We are. They are. But…" He averted his eyes.
"Sam, just tell me. What happened?"
After a long pause he sighed and met my gaze again, with sadness and resignation all over his face. "Apparently another unit had been looking into that first warehouse. They've been surveilling it for a few weeks. And… they got a picture of you delivering that package. Their evidence just got processed and another member of the task force made the connection."
"Oh god," I said, feeling woozy. "I'm in deep shit, right?"
"Not necessarily. We'll explain everything. And you really helped the investigation today. It's got to count for something."
"And what about you? Are you in trouble?"
"Maybe. I don't know. All we can do now is go in and share everything we know. No more holding back. We can do this together."
I bit my lower lip and looked down at my lap.
"Carly, look. I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I know you're pissed at me and you should be. But I care about you. I want to protect you. Please believe that."
"I do."
"So we're okay?"
"I don't know, Sam. But I trust you know what's right in this situation. Let's get this over with and then we can talk about us." It wasn't the answer he wanted, but it was the best I could do.
"All right."
We left the rest of the food there over Angelo's loud complaints and headed out. I left Anna a message about where her car was and we started the drive through rush hour traffic.
As Sam drove into the tunnel that would take us downtown I spotted something strange. The road in the opposite direction was closed to traffic, but a vehicle was barreling towards us anyway. It was a dark SUV with chrome accents that shone brightly even in the dim tunnel light
"Sam, do you see that?"
He glanced over. "Idiots. Everyone's in such a hurry."
"You don't have to pull them over or something, do you?"
"Nah. If I was in a better mood I'd call it in to traffic, but I don't really care right now."
I smiled. "City's finest, eh?"
He chuckled and then cursed as the car in the other lane passed us, hung a sharp U-turn and slipped behind us in the line of slow-moving cars.
"What the hell?"
"See, in a hurry to wait with the rest of-" Before he could finish the sentence the SUV bumped the back of Sam's car.
"Oh my god," I said, turning in my seat to look at what was going on.
Sam pulled forward a little, adding space between us. "Now this bullshit I have to deal with. We'll pull over as soon as we get out of the tunnel."
I nodded and kept my eyes trained on the SUV. I could see there were two people inside but the low angle of Sam's car made it impossible to see their faces.
What I could easily see is when the driver gunned his engine and plowed into us again, much harder.
"Sam!"
"I know. This isn't an accident. Hold on, baby."
I clutched the door handle so hard it hurt, but I was scared to let go.
The SUV hit us again, and this time my head jerked. "What do they want?"
"Us to stop. Which means we're not going to."
Chapter Seven
Sam's face was cold and determined. He slammed his foot down on the gas and swerved out of the lane. In seconds we were flying out of the tunnel in the wrong direction. Sam maneuvered the car onto the shoulder and barely avoided sideswiping a construction vehicle. I cast a series of quick glances through the back window and noticed the SUV was nowhere to be found.
"I think it worked. I can't see them."
"We're not risking it. I'm getting you as far away from here as I can in this fucking traffic."
"Okay," I replied weakly.
Sam took his eyes off the road long enough to look at me for a second. He put his hand on my knee. "Don't worry, baby. I've got you."
I nodded. "I know."
For the second time since we met I saw him in all his fierce warrior-cop glory. The first time was when he pummeled Mitchell when he attacked me. Careening through the city streets fast enough to move but slow enough to avoid an accident, he was magnificent.
"What about the station?" I asked when I noticed we were passing the city limits.
"It isn't safe for you there. No one but my team knew I was picking you up or the route we'd have to take. I suspected there was something shady happening in the department and now I know it's true."
I sighed and told him what the strange man with the scar had told me about being able to get rid of any evidence.
"Fuck," Sam said. "We need to get out of town and take some time regroup somewhere safe."
"Well, I'm all out of brilliant ideas."
"Lucky for you I've always got plenty," he joked.
A few hours later as the sun sank below the horizon, I sat in the car while Sam checked us into a motel forty minutes west of the city. He brought back the key, which was an actual key. On any other day I would have found that hilarious. On this date it barely got a smile out of me as he drove us over to room nineteen.
We took the snacks and change of clothes he'd bought on the way inside and I sat down on one of the beds and looked around.
"Not exactly a romantic vacation spot. Sorry," Sam said.
"It's fine."
"Want something to eat? A drink?"
I took a deep breath. "No, thanks. I need a shower but first I want to talk to you about something."
He sank down across from me, shifting on the lumpy mattress. "More bad news?"
"No. Just an apology."
"For what?"
"For being…the way I am. For lying to you, not trusting you as much as I should."
His brow furrowed with confusion. "Where's this coming from?"
"I was thinking all the way here. It's not easy for me to trust someone. And you and I have been through so much so fast. I'm scared of whoever is after us, scared for my friends and scared of you in a way."
Sam leaned over and took one of my hands in his. "Scared of me? Why?"
"Because you're cocky and bossy. And sexy and kind. And funny and smart."
His grin widened through each word. "I agree with all of those, but why does it scare you?"
"You know the general story of what happened to me a few years ago. I don't want to go into details, but…I never dated much before Phillip. I was always too tall or too fat for the boys I liked. So when someone handsome and charismatic actually liked me I jumped in without looking. I gave everything to that relationship and it nearly killed me." My free hand rubbed at my neck. "Emotionally and physically."
"I can understand that," he replied softly.
"I'm not that girl anymore. I've changed a lot. I learned to listen to my feelings, my fears, and not discount them. Sometimes I'm wrong and sometimes I'm right, but I'm always aware now."
"And what do your feelings and fears tell you about me?"
I smiled slightly. "That yo
u're a good man. And beyond that, I know all of this is what you do. And I can work on trusting you, but I can't – I won't – let my life depend solely on your judgment. I won't just take your word for big things, important things."
Sam sighed and ran his fingers through my hair. "That's fair. I've gotten used to the authority than comes with my job. And it'll drive me nuts that you doubt me."
"It isn't about doubting you. It's about needing that bit of control for myself."
"Okay. I think I get that."
"Good. So what now?"
"Now we stay put. Take the night here to regroup. Tomorrow I'll get in touch with some guys on the force I know we can trust. Get some information and go from there. Sound like a plan?"
"Sure. Especially the staying put part. Does this dump get cable, at least?"
"Dump? Dump?" He slapped his chest as if I'd wounded him. "I get it; you're just with me for my money and were expecting a fancier place."
"Uh-huh. Everyone knows cops make huge bank. As long as there's something to watch on television and hot water in the shower, as far as I'm concerned this is best motel in the state."
He chuckled. "You can shower later. Let's chill and watch something."
"Okay." I grinned and scooted back on the bed so my back was against the headboard.
Sam followed, slung his arm around my shoulder and turned on the TV. We caught the last twenty minutes of some gross-out comedy from a few years ago and both enjoyed groaning and giggling at the on-screen antics.
By the time it ended I felt a million times better and had relaxed next to Sam. He flipped over to another movie that was just starting. This one was a romantic comedy. After a few minutes, when the lead characters met and immediately hated each other, Sam started shifting as if he was antsy.
"What's up?" I asked.
"Nothing. I just want you to know I'm only watching this girl movie for you, Carly."
"Of course. Which is why you turned to it and didn't even try to change it. You're a sappy romantic, aren't you?"
"Hell no."
"I don't believe you."
"Please. I'm a big manly man. The only reason I watch sappy things is to get girls in the mood."
One Night More (BBW Romantic Suspense) (One Night of Danger) Page 5