Deception

by Lisa Clark O'Neill

  She was just about to edge the curtain back when it was whipped from beneath her hand. The heavy fabric rubbed a burn into her palm and she shook it, stepping back in surprise.

  An older man stood there, a deep scowl creasing his face, but Sam refused to be intimidated by his displeasure. She stuck out her hand, despite the fact that it still throbbed painfully, and flashed her most disarming grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she insisted.

  The man looked at her, and then flicked a glance at her hand, annoyance stamped all over his features. With obvious reluctance he held up his own gloved appendage. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t shake,” he said finally. “With all of the illness going around, we’re trying to keep cross contamination to a minimum.”

  “Oh. Of course,” Sam agreed, dropping her hand to the top of her bag and doing her best not to feel intimidated. She looked down at her shoes, fighting the embarrassment that flushed her cheeks, then returned a more determined gaze on the doctor.

  There was something familiar about this man, disagreeable as he was, but she just couldn’t place him. Maybe she’d run across him in the cafeteria.

  “It’s another reason you shouldn’t be here just now,” he scolded softly, interrupting her thoughts. “I don’t need to remind you how vulnerable your brother is. Surely you wouldn’t want to make him sick?” He smiled now, all warm and avuncular, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. They were an unnatural shade of blue behind his thick glasses and something about that struck Sam as odd.

  “Of course not,” she said, shifting slightly. There was something nagging at her, making her uncomfortable. She glanced toward Donnie’s bed, where her brother lay still and pale against the sheet. The urge to protect him was suddenly overwhelming.

  Then the fine hairs on her neck stood up like sentinels.

  So she looked at Donnie. Really looked. Something was wrong. He just didn’t… seem right. “Did something happen?” she asked suddenly, concern creasing her brow.

  “Not at all,” the man assured her, moving to take her by the elbow. His fingers were thick as sausages and he smelled of aftershave layered over sweat. As he steered her gently away from her brother’s bed, Sam did her best not to recoil.

  “Your brother’s doing as well as can be expected, Miss Martin. Why don’t you come back tomorrow when you can talk with Dr. Munoz?”

  Sam glanced over her shoulder, trying to pinpoint what had made her uneasy. The guy at her elbow was sending mixed signals, first irritated then overly friendly. But aside from that there was something…

  The sole of her shoe squeaked against the vinyl flooring, the sound jarring in the relative silence. She suddenly realized how quiet it was in the room. From down the hall came the muffled din of activity, but Donnie’s little area was disturbingly lifeless. He was the only patient in the room at the moment, but it wasn’t the absence of roommates that accounted for the unnatural stillness. The white noise was missing. There were no hums, no blips – barely the sound of gentle breath easing past his lips.

  “His monitors aren’t working.” The startled realization made Sam draw to a halt, unconsciously shaking her arm to loosen the man’s hard grip on her elbow.

  “Just a temporary problem,” he assured her, a finger of ice poking through the warmth of his drawl. “We’ve been having trouble with the equipment all day. You know what they say about when it rains.”

  His rueful chuckle was far too forced, his aw shucks tone too discordant. This man was ruthlessly herding her out. Then his hand sought purchase on her arm again, his thick fingers biting into her biceps. Sam winced, the unexpected force causing her to drag her eyes away from the silent monitors, their blank faces making her heartbeat skip erratically in her chest.

  Not right, her instincts whispered. Something was definitely not right.

  She looked at the doctor, saw a bead of sweat rolling from his temple, mindlessly following its path with her eyes. Her senses scattered, and she felt disjointed as her brain tried to wrap itself around what was happening. The bead of sweat dropped past his jaw before finally disappearing under the collar of his lab coat.

  Sam noticed it was stained with blood. Not drops of it. More of a… smudge.

  Her eyes drifted to the embroidered name on his chest.

  It read Dr. Justin Wellington.

  Sam’s muscles locked up, shock freezing her in place, every instinct she possessed screaming for her to run. But she couldn’t because her legs simply wouldn’t carry her.

  The man paused, feeling her resistance, his big body tensing as he noted the look on her face. He followed her gaze, eying the name emblazoned on his chest, then raised his head and smiled in a way that made Sam’s stuttering heart stop beating.

  “Friend of yours?” he asked conversationally. Strangely, his voice sounded genuinely friendly. Maybe there was an explanation, maybe he’d simply borrowed Justin’s coat. Maybe she was simply overreacting because her whole life was suddenly crazy.

  “What?” she asked innocuously, trying not to panic because this just wasn’t right. All justifications aside, she simply knew this man wasn’t supposed to be here. Not wearing Justin’s lab coat. Not looking at her from behind colored contacts. That was it. That was what had bothered her. Why bother with contacts and those ridiculous lenses unless he wanted to alter the color of his eyes? How many men did that sort of thing for vanity?

  And he was also hell-bent on trying to hustle her out of there. Obviously because he wanted to do something to her brother.

  Was this the man who’d been stalking her?

  Is that why he looked familiar?

  Was he trying to hurt Donnie in some kind of attempt to lash out at her?

  “Good effort,” he said with a smile and a chuckle even as his fingers tightened on her arm. Five fat sausages made of steel. “But I can tell that the gig is up. I guess, in retrospect, taking this lab coat wasn’t such a good idea.” He shook his head in what seemed like disappointment and Sam felt her skin crawl beneath his hand. “I should have known that handsome young doctor wouldn’t have wasted any time in making your acquaintance. But then, Miss Martin, you weren’t supposed to be here to see me. I had a plan. You messed it up. That seems to be a problem with both you and your brother.”

  Sam’s mind whirled in confusion as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. What exactly could Donnie have done considering he’d been in a coma for the past few months? And the almost… fond way he was speaking to her was in direct conflict with his hold on her arm. He was gripping her so tightly she’d no doubt have a bruise. But that was the least of her worries. This guy was clearly psychotic. Whether he was the man stalking her or not, he was certainly up to no good. Sam opened her mouth to scream for help but it died in her throat when he squeezed her voice box.

  With the hand that had been gripping her arm he fumbled around in the pocket of the lab coat.

  Justin’s lab coat.

  Oh, God.

  Was his plan to hurt everyone she cared for in some way?

  He eased his grip on her throat and she gulped in a breath of burning air. Just as she felt the prick of a syringe below her ear.

  “One push,” he told her softly. “One push from my thumb and its lights out, Samantha. A shame,” he continued in that conversational tone that was completely divorced from the current reality. “I didn’t want to have to kill you.”

  The tip of the needle pressed into the soft skin of her neck, and though he was obviously threatening her to keep her quiet, her throat was too bruised for her to do much more than squeak. He dragged her backwards toward the edge of her brother’s bed, heading farther away from the doorway. Sam looked plaintively toward that opening hoping one of the nurses or orderlies would come in.

  But given the noise still coming from the hall she figured she was on her own.

  Clawing at the arm around her throat earned her a meaty fist upside her head, and after the stars had faded Sam tried to stop panicking long enough to
think. She’d been trained to defend herself, but at the moment that instruction seemed beyond her. Her thoughts were such a jumble of raw emotions and nerves that it was hard to remember to breathe.

  Angling her head to the side as much as she could, Sam saw him messing with her brother’s IV. This creep obviously intended to pump something into it that would do God knows what to her brother. Rage bubbled up so hot and fast that her body stiffened of its own volition. The man behind her sighed, tightening his grip around her throat.

  “We can do this one of two ways,” he informed her equably, all trace of southern honey gone from his voice. His accent sounded vaguely northern, harsher and more guttural than it’d been before. “I can hit you with the needle, put you in one of these beds and take you downstairs. Maybe leave you behind the hospital in an alley, make it look like a mugging gone bad. Or I can tap you on the head, take you out of here the same way, and then bring you along on a little trip to visit with my partner. He has a real thing for sexy broads – gets him in a lot of trouble. I feel pretty sure he’d enjoy taking you out for a test spin or two before he decided how best to dispose of you. Either way, you’re gonna die, but it’s up to you how painful we make it. Fight me now and I’m inclined to introduce you to my pal. Be quiet and behave like a good girl and I’ll make sure you and your brother don’t suffer.”

  Oh, God. He was going to kill them. And he was threatening her with rape to make his job easier. Whoever this man was, he had no idea what he was saying.

  Because instead of making Sam quiescent, that particular threat made her blood burn hotter.

  But forcibly, exercising as much willpower as she possessed, she made herself tremble meekly and nod her head in terrified agreement. The trembling part was accurate – there was enough adrenaline in her body to jumpstart a turbo jet – and the terrified part wasn’t far off.

  But meek and agreeable she was not. Like she’d just sit back and let him blithely murder her and her brother? She had way too much to live for and there was no way she’d sacrifice Donnie.

  How many times had he sacrificed himself to help her?

  And the possibility – just the possibility, however slim – that she might have become pregnant last night gave her whatever final impetus she needed. No way would she allow this madman to harm her and Josh’s baby before it even had a chance at life.

  So she went limp, her shaking muscles purportedly incapable of supporting her any longer.

  “That’s a girl,” he nodded approval and actually patted her on the shoulder. The Grandpa Jekyll and Doctor Hyde thing was so unnerving that she would have been petrified if she wasn’t so furious. But luckily for her, she’d seen enough of the dark side of men that what she was currently experiencing was closer to retribution.

  She wanted to kill this man and every vile thing he represented.

  He reached for Donnie’s IV line again and Sam swung her bag around and hit him. The heavy book inside lent enough momentum to pack some punch. He staggered back, the blow throwing him temporarily off balance, but didn’t loosen his grip on her neck. However, the centrifugal force of the swinging bag pulled Sam around in a circle, so that instead of being backed against him she was now rotated into a facing position.

  She took advantage of that fact by driving her knee deep into his groin.

  “Little bitch,” he gasped, face purpling in pain and anger. He dropped both the syringe and his hand to cup his injured parts. Sam scrambled away, but not quickly enough to prevent him from grabbing her sweater. He hauled her back with enough force to send them both flying backward, crashing into one of Donnie’s now defunct pieces of monitoring equipment. He landed first, swearing loudly as his back hit metal, breath rushing out in a pain-filled whoosh when Sam fell heavily against his chest. Those extra few pounds she was packing in her breasts and hips suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

  Elbowing him in the stomach as she pushed herself up, Sam grabbed the edge of Donnie’s bed for leverage. There was a call button near his head and if she could just get to it she could attract some outside attention. If everyone hadn’t been otherwise occupied down the hall they would have been in here like a flash already.

  But just as she gained purchase on the rail, he jackknifed up and caught her by the waist. Panic surged but Sam maintained her grasp, nearly tipping the bed when the man dragged her backward. Instead it rolled, jostling the surrounding equipment, toppling another monitor over on her head.

  Stunned, she fell back, tears blurring her vision. But not blinding her to the grim smile which stole across the older man’s face. He was enjoying her pain, damn him.

  So she curved herself around, found the first available flesh, and sank her teeth into his upper thigh.

  Surprised by the unexpected viciousness of the attack, her attacker yanked Sam’s ponytail. “You… little… bitch!” The shock of having hair ripped from her head blinded Sam temporarily, so she couldn’t duck from the hard-knuckled hand that he sent backwards across her cheek.

  Pain blooming like an ugly garden, she went sprawling into the foot of the bed. The formerly rational-looking man maneuvered himself until he loomed over her with feral eyes. Glasses long gone, one of his contacts had slipped, revealing nearly black irises beneath the artificial blue.

  “You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?”

  Sam squirmed, her lower body pinned by his thighs, but he held her with ruthless efficiency. And when he extended his hand to reach for something she thought, this is it. She’d failed her brother, she’d failed Josh and herself because what recourse did she have now? Her purse was out of reach, her best bodily weapons incapacitated, and her throat too swollen to scream. He pulled over a pillow that had landed on the floor, and Sam’s body exploded with fury.

  It couldn’t end this way. It just couldn’t.

  “Lights out, Samantha.” The man pressed the pillow against her face.

  No. Frantic, panicked, already feeling the pain in her lungs, the terror of being helpless, one hand clawed at his wrists while the other blindly sought a weapon. Bucking against him was getting her nowhere but exhausted, because he was simply too heavy to dislodge. And with little white pinpricks of light flashing behind her eyes Sam knew her time would soon run out. Playing dead wasn’t an option, because this type of man didn’t leave anything to chance.

  Lungs burning, limbs growing weaker, Sam’s fingers brushed against something sharp. Stung by the unexpected slice to flesh they recoiled for just a split second. Glass, she thought, desperately. Broken glass from one of the monitors. Her fingers closed around it, adrenaline making her oblivious to the pain. And with a last desperate bid to save both herself and her brother, swung the shard until it connected.

  A howl of pain and the warm splash of blood preceded the easing back of the pillow. Sam bucked, and managed to slide out from under him. Sucking in a lungful of searing air, she clambered away, slipping in blood. She crashed into Donnie’s bed again before hauling herself to her feet. But his hand shot out, pulled her by the ankle, and her chin smacked the floor with a sickening crack.

  “You… little… bitch,” he repeated, trying to haul her back toward him. But the blood loss had obviously weakened him because when Sam kicked he let go of her ankle. She turned, horrified by the blood pumping between the hands now gripping his thigh. And realized shakily that she’d hit an artery.

  That black eye looked at her with shock and loathing. He was going to bleed to death.

  The door to the room burst open to show a stunned doctor, two nurses peeking around him with widened eyes.

  “What the hell is going on here?” he roared, taking in the state of the room and its three occupants.

  “I couldn’t let him hurt Donnie,” Sam croaked, voice unrecognizable to her ringing ears.

  It was the last thing she remembered before passing out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  EVERY molecule of Josh’s being vibrated with sick rage and helpless terr
or. He bounded up the hospital steps, towing Kathleen and Mac.

  Sam could have been killed. He’d done everything he could to keep her safe – taking her out of that hellhole of an apartment, sending friends to escort her through dark parking lots when he couldn’t be there himself, cautioning her, trailing her, loving her…

  God, he loved her so much. And yet he hadn’t been there when some madman attacked her in the middle of the freakin’ hospital.

  “Josh,” Kathleen called up to him, pitching her voice to be heard over the clang of his boot heels hitting the stairs. “Wait up a second, Josh. We need to discuss this.”

  “It’s not the time.” He’d already inundated them both with everything he knew about the anonymous gifts Sam had been receiving, the breakin at her old apartment, and his initial concerns that what was happening to her was somehow connected to the rapist, despite the fact that that theory was now defunct. He told them about the videos he’d commandeered from the traffic cameras – still awaiting the chance to be viewed – and even his suspicions regarding Dane Wilcox. He’d come completely and utterly clean with them, and really had nothing much left to say. He just wanted to get to Sam.

  But then suddenly Mac was behind him, large and implacable, his meaty hand on Josh’s shoulder, holding him back as he gained the landing.

  “It’s the perfect time,” Kathleen disagreed, huffing out a breath as she caught up to the men. Josh glowered at both her and her partner while trembling so hard that his vision blurred. Kathleen placed a hand on his arm, a watery redhead in a fuzzy pantsuit. He blinked his eyes to clear them.

  “She’s okay,” she reminded him gently, even though she had to know Josh wouldn’t be certain until he saw her. “The doctor said she’s going to be fine. But you have to remember, when we get in there, that this is a crime scene that needs to be processed. And a case – our case, mine and Mac’s, not yours – that we need to investigate. You are not acting in your capacity as a City of Charleston detective right now. You’re Samantha Martin’s boyfriend.”