Falling for Her

by Sandra Owens

  The wood floor at her feet could use a good wax, something she’d meant to get around to doing. Thinking about failing to wax her floors was damn easier than meeting Jamie’s gaze and seeing what a disappointment she was to him.

  “Go home, Jamie,” she whispered, the fight having gone out of her. “Just go home.”

  Rodney laughed, the absurd sound of it grating over her skin like the feel of fingernails over a blackboard. “You really should listen to my wife, Saint . . . or should I call you Jamie?”

  Oh, shit. She’d called him Jamie. She did not want Rodney to know his name, not even his first one.

  “You’re still hesitating, Saint Jamie,” Rodney said. “Maybe it’ll make a difference if you knew my wife killed a nice old woman just to steal money that wasn’t hers. Smothered her with a pillow and then slept through the night like a baby.”

  Sugar jerked her gaze up to Jamie’s and opened her mouth to deny she could do such a thing, that she’d spent the entire night crying for her friend. I didn’t, she almost screamed, but the cold-as-glaciers blue eyes stopped any protest she might have uttered. It was better that way. Let him believe she was pond scum so he’d take himself safely away.

  “Makes all the difference in the world, Mr. Vanders. I assume you’re here to arrest her?”

  Never having the brains God gave even a goat, Rodney took an agonizing full minute to consider the excuse Jamie had just given him. Nor did it occur to him to wonder how Jamie knew he was a cop. But Sugar knew her husband. Unfortunately. Knew he’d latch onto the excuse Jamie had handed him to justify his right to her.

  What was Jamie up to? During the long seconds she could almost hear Rodney’s small brain making an effort to engage, she stared at Jamie. He stared back with an expression devoid of any clue to his feelings, and she wondered if she knew him at all. She’d wanted him to walk away, to not get hurt by anything she or Rodney did. She guessed she was about to get her wish.

  Her poor, deluded heart, however, had thought he just might step up and be her hero.

  “Arrest her? Exactly. That’s why I’m here. To take Hannah back where she can face her crime.”

  Jamie almost snorted at the blatant lie. How had Sugar’s father justified to himself putting his young daughter into the man’s hands? Sugar . . . He tried to think of her as Hannah, but it just didn’t work. She was Sugar to him and always would be. The woman he’d come to know would chop off her fingers before she’d hold a pillow over an old woman’s face.

  But she had neglected to mention she had a husband. Stupid him, it hadn’t occurred to him to ask if she was married. Biting down his disappointment that she still hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him everything, he focused on the situation at hand. Later, when she was safe, they’d have another little chat.

  With a gun pressed to her spine, his options were limited. If he put a bullet through the middle of the man’s forehead as he longed to do, there was too great a risk of Vanders’s gun going off. The smartest thing to do would be to convince her bad-cop husband that he couldn’t care less about her well-being and make his exit.

  Vanders would be anxious to get back home where he felt in control, and Jamie would be waiting for them to walk out of the condo. It wasn’t the greatest plan, but it was the best under the circumstances.

  “You know what, I knew the minute I met her she was trouble, and as far as I’m concerned, she’s all yours.” Trusting the man wasn’t fool enough to shoot a stranger, Jamie stuck his gun in the back of his waistband. “I’ll just leave you two lovebirds with best wishes for a happy life.”

  “You can go, Saint Jamie, but your gun stays.”

  Jamie snorted. “Not happening.” Forcing himself to ignore the desperation in Sugar’s eyes, he backed toward the door, hands held out in front of him.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  Out of nowhere, a hissing, spitting cat flew through the air, his back feet landing on Vanders’s shoulder as his claws dug into the man’s face. Vanders screamed and punched at the cat. Jamie reached for Sugar to pull her away.

  “Junior,” she cried when he pushed her toward the door.

  “Damn it, Sugar, just go.”

  Upon hearing his name, Junior sprinted to Sugar, and she snatched him up.

  “Go,” Jamie urged.

  “He’s going to shoot you,” she cried, then tossed Junior onto the sofa before stepping in front of Jamie just as Vanders fired.

  Jamie had seen the crazed look in the man’s eyes and was reaching for his gun even as he knew he’d be shot before he could get to it. He had expected to feel the pain of a bullet slicing into him, and had even had enough time to hope it wouldn’t hit a vital organ.

  He had not expected Sugar to take a bullet meant for him.

  Vanders stared in shock as Sugar crumpled to the floor, then he took off, heading for the back door. Acting on instinct, Jamie fired at the fleeing man. Vanders let out a yell and clutched his arm, but kept going. As much as Jamie wanted to chase him down, Sugar was hurt and needed him.

  “Stupid woman,” he murmured, swallowing past the lump of fear in his throat. As he searched for where she’d been shot, his heart felt like it had tripled in size and no longer fit in his chest.

  “Not . . . not stupid. Ha-have an IQ of over one forty.”

  “We’ll debate that later.” Her weak voice worried him. A circle of blood grew on her T-shirt near her stomach, and he lifted the shirt. “Thank God,” he said upon seeing the bullet had gone through the skin at the edge of her waist. He gently probed her back, relieved to feel an exit wound.

  “H-hurts.”

  “I need to get some towels, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

  She grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “Hush, my love.”

  My love. He backed away from the pain-filled eyes that were welling with tears. He’d never used those two words before with any woman. Hadn’t wanted to. Ever. People he loved died. Hadn’t he just proved that all over again by almost getting her killed?

  Unable to face what was in his heart, he turned his attention to summoning help. Hanging up after calling for an ambulance, he dialed Jake’s number as he pulled a bath towel out of her linen closet.

  “Sugar’s been shot,” he said as soon as Jake answered, praying he and Maria had returned from New Orleans.

  “Where are you?”

  “Her condo. Are you home?”

  “Just walked in the door. We’re on our way.”

  Jamie stuck his phone into his pocket as he hurried back to the living room. Curled next to Sugar’s neck, Junior blinked green eyes at him as he gave a cry that Jamie fully understood. He could easily curl up on the other side of her neck and cry, too.

  “I don’t know if you saved her or made things worse, cat, but I don’t doubt you love her. She’s going to be okay. I promise.”

  Sugar opened her eyes and pressed her chin against Junior’s head. “I love both of you.”

  Don’t! Don’t love me. Jamie wanted to shake her back to smart, back to that IQ she claimed to have. When she felt better, when she had her brains back and remembered how he’d failed to keep her safe, she’d see he was dangerous to those he loved.

  Sirens sounded as he pressed the towel against her wound. “Hold this for a minute, sweetheart, while I go open the door.”

  “I do love you, Jamie,” she said; then her head fell to the side as she lost consciousness.

  “What the hell happened here?” Jake asked as he followed two cops and the EMTs in, Maria on his heels.

  Jamie pressed the paramedic’s hand onto the towel he’d put over her wound and backed away. She’d said she loved him. She had taken a bullet meant for him.

  “I almost got her killed,” he spat, standing back as the paramedics carried Sugar to the ambulance.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
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br />   Why did she smell medicine? And who was that chattering like a squirrel on speed?

  “Wake up, dearie. Is your name really Sugar? Says here on this chart your name’s Sugar Darling. Sounds like some kind of porn star to me. If you are, can I have your autograph? Gertie and Frances won’t believe it, and they’ll have to come meet you in person. I watched a porn movie once. Back when I was young and wild. Can’t say I liked it much. Still, if you’re a star, then you’re the second one I’ve met. I met Ellen DeGeneres first . . . sorry, dearie, you’re my second famous person, and if I’m being honest, I liked Ellen better’n you. She’s the tiniest little thing. Looks bigger on TV. She’s gay. Did you know that? Doesn’t bother me none. I figure God has better things to worry about than who someone loves. You know, like murderers and child molesters. The wars popping up all over. Now them things, God surely worries about. I’m not home to watch her show because I’m here taking care of all my wounded little birdies, but I tape her and watch her at night with a glass of wine. Gertie says drinking spirits is a sin, but . . .”

  Sugar cracked open an eye to see a small, thin woman with pink-tinted hair, and wearing a pink pinafore, bustling around the room with the energy of a busy hummingbird. “Who are you?”

  The woman gave one last adjustment to a vase of flowers, then came to the bed and leaned her face over Sugar’s. “Oh, good, you’re awake, dearie.” She pressed a button on a little box at Sugar’s side. “The nurses will want to know.”

  “Nurses?” Sugar eyed the plastic bag hanging above her and followed the tube coming from it to the needle in her arm. “Hospital? Why?” Her throat felt like she’d swallowed the contents of a sandbag. “Water?”

  “Patience, dearie.” The woman patted Sugar’s shoulder. “See, here’s your nurse now.”

  The pink woman disappeared from sight, and a young man in a teddy-bear-print scrub shirt came into view. “Water?” Why was she so thirsty?

  He handed her a cup of ice. “This to start. If you hold it down, then we’ll get you a little water. I’m Mike by the way.”

  The sliver of ice felt like pure heaven on her tongue, and she sucked on it, letting the melted drops slide down her parched throat. The man went to lift her hospital gown, and she grabbed his hand.

  “I just need to look at your wound, Sugar. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Wound. It all came back then. She’d been shot. Precisely, Rodney had shot her.

  “Jamie? Is he . . . is he okay?”

  “If you mean the man who sat outside your room all night, guarding you, yes, he’s fine. Open your mouth.”

  A thermometer was stuck under her tongue, keeping her from asking more questions. He’d sat outside all night? Not that he was responsible for her, but why hadn’t he stayed in her room?

  The door opened, and Maria stepped in, then stopped. “Oh, sorry. We’ll just wait outside.”

  Mike glanced over his shoulder. “No, come on in. I’m done for now.” He turned back to Sugar and smiled. “I’ll be back in about ten minutes. If your stomach’s not upset from the ice, we’ll get you a cup of water.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Oh, honey, how are you feeling?” Maria said as she rushed to the bed, taking Sugar’s hand.

  “Pretty good, considering. I think there’s some drugs in that bag though, so that must be why I feel like I’m floating away.” She yawned, but forced her eyes to stay open. “Jamie?”

  Jake stepped up to the bed. “We made him go home to get some sleep. While you’re here, one of our men will be stationed in the hall. We’ve got everyone else out investigating, trying to find out where Vanders might have stayed, who might have seen him. Kincaid’s talking to one of our FBI contacts, and he’d like to meet with you.”

  “Who? The FBI?” Rodney really would kill her if she talked to anyone about him, especially the FBI.

  “Maybe, but I mean the boss first.”

  “I don’t know.” She couldn’t think right then, just wanted to pull the covers over her head and go to sleep. But first, she had to know. “Jamie? Is he mad at me?” Maria and Jake exchanged a glance, confirming her fear. Tears burned her eyes, and she just wanted them to leave before she embarrassed herself and cried.

  “Ah, I think it’s girl-talk time. I’ll be just outside.” Jake brushed his lips over his wife’s. “Take your time, Chiquita.”

  Sugar winced as she pushed up against the pillow. Maybe if she sat up she could stay awake. Mike walked in, and she held in her questions while he filled a cup half-full of water.

  “If you’re not barfing by now, you’re good to go,” he said with a cute grin that revealed a dimple on the left side of his cheek. He handed her the cup.

  “Barfing, Mike? Is that what they taught ya to say in nursing school? You do have a charming bedside manner though.” Where was this flirting coming from? Yeah, he was cute, but she’d only ever love one man, and he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her. It must be the drugs.

  “Sometimes, Sugar,” he leaned over her. “I improvise.”

  There went that dimpled grin again. She grinned back. “I bet you were a handful for your mama.”

  Mike gave a burst of laughter. “You don’t know the half of it, Sugar, my sweet.” He turned to Maria. “She’ll probably fall asleep on you. Buzz me if she needs anything.”

  “Now there’s some serious eye candy,” Maria said, her gaze following Mike’s retreating back.

  “Don’t let Jake hear ya say that.”

  Her friend’s eyes went soft at the mention of her husband. “He knows he’s my man, but it doesn’t hurt to keep him on his toes. Why don’t you slide down and get some rest? I’ll send Jake back to the office and sit here with you.”

  “Don’t wanna be a pest.” A question hovered at the edge of her mind, but the fuzz in her head made thinking impossible. She snuggled down under the covers as her eyes insisted on closing. Jamie. I want Jamie. Forcing her eyes open, she glanced at the door. “Jamie. He’s gone. He hates me.”

  “Oh, Sugar, wherever did you get that idea? The man loves—”

  She tried to stay awake to hear what Maria said, but sleep took her.

  Long strides took Jamie to Sugar’s room. He wouldn’t go in, just needed to make sure Kincaid had stationed a guard like he’d promised. Her husband—every time he thought the word husband connected to her, he wanted to put his fist through something—was nowhere to be found. If, as he suspected, the bastard had fled back to the town he believed would protect him, Jamie had news for the man who had shot Sugar. As soon as he ascertained for himself that Sugar was protected, he planned to go after Vanders. He hadn’t kept her from being shot, but he’d make sure it didn’t happen again.

  I’m coming for you, you sorry excuse for a man.

  Ryan O’Connor glanced up from the game he played on his cell phone, gave Jamie a curt nod, then pushed the door to Sugar’s room open. “Maria,” he said quietly, “he’s here.”

  “Not staying.” How could he face her after letting her get shot?

  “Not my problem,” O’Connor responded from his chair posted outside Sugar’s door.

  “I meant I didn’t want you to tell them I’m here.”

  “Again, not my problem. Maria said to tell her when you were, so I did.” He gave Jamie a smirk, accompanied by a lift of one eyebrow. “She can fire me. You can’t.”

  “Go to hell.” The mood Jamie was in, Doc was lucky he didn’t get a fist in his face.

  Both of Ryan’s brows lifted, and his damn mouth curved in amusement. “Saint’s still cussing? The apocalypse has arrived.”

  Before Jamie could knock Doc senseless, Maria poked her head out, grabbed Jamie’s wrist, and pulled him inside. He could’ve pulled away. Should have. But he wanted to see Sugar . . . needed to see her. Then he’d go.

  “She’s asleep right now, but sh
e’s been asking for you.”

  “I’m not staying, just wanted to check on her, make sure someone was guarding her door.” He’d avoided looking at her when entering the room, but his gaze finally strayed to the woman lying in the hospital bed. She was so pale. Guilt surged through him that he hadn’t been with her when she’d awakened.

  Her beautiful eyes blinked open and instantly locked on him. A smile curved her lips, sending his heart into a tailspin. He fisted his hands to keep from going to her.

  “I thought I heard your voice.” When he didn’t respond, her smile faltered. “Jamie?”

  “I have to go,” he said, and walked out.

  Coward. That he was, and it was for Sugar’s own good. During the long hours he’d sat outside her hospital room hoping a certain chief of police had the nerve to show his face, Jamie had reached an unwanted conclusion. He loved Sugar Darling, or Hannah Conley, or whatever her name was.

  Nevertheless, he was bad news to those he loved.

  Once he’d seen to it that Vanders would never bother her again, he’d leave Sugar alone. If he was lucky, she would move away so he’d not have to see her every day, or stand on the sidelines and watch her fall in love with one of his buddies.

  He walked out of the hospital to find a thunderstorm had moved in while he was inside. “That’s Florida for you,” he muttered as he ran to his car. Returning home, he planned to take a quick shower, then go to work. Check in and see if the boss had found out anything. If he learned Vanders had returned to South Carolina, then Jamie planned to take a few personal days and make a little trip to discuss matters with the bastard.

  “Meep,” Junior said when Jamie walked into his house.

  The furball’s word for feed me, he remembered Sugar saying. “You can’t be hungry again.” The cat almost tripped him making his figure eights as Jamie headed to the kitchen. Before he fell flat on his face, Jamie picked up Junior.

  “A few treats, that’s all you’re getting.” After they’d taken Sugar away and the cops had finally left, he’d spied the cat peeking out from under the couch. Unable to leave him alone, he had brought Junior home with him.