Twisted Shadows

by Patricia Potter

  “One of your soldiers?”

  “Go to hell,” Nick said.

  Hostility vibrated in the room.

  Emotions warred inside her. She was protecting someone the FBI obviously thought was a bad guy. She recalled her mother’s strained face, the fear in her eyes, and she felt as if her world tipped upside down. She’d always felt safe before, safe and loved. She’d always trusted people, trusted her instincts. Now she didn’t know whether she could trust anyone again.

  Yet the man in bed had protected her, taking a bullet meant for her. He was the brother she’d always wanted. She didn’t want to believe he was involved in his father’s business.

  There it was again. His father. Her mother. Neither of them had entirely accepted the new family dynamics except perhaps for each other. In the past twenty-four hours she felt they had started building something together.

  She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter what he did, or what he was. He had protected her at risk to himself and that meant everything to her.

  Events had happened so quickly, she thought part of her must be in shock, which was why she still didn’t quite know what she was doing, or why, or what the ramifications would be. For someone who had always been so methodical in her life, she felt she was on a runaway roller coaster, holding on to Nick for dear life.

  She realized the FBI agent had not moved, but was watching her carefully. “I’m going to get some coffee,” she said as she turned to the door. She stepped outside and let the door close slowly behind her.

  Nick had called for someone to come and stay with her, but how long would that take? And how could she trust even that person? She hadn’t been safe in Nick’s car. Maybe…

  So many maybes were flying through her head. She needed to call her mother, reassure herself that Patsy was safe. But how? Her pocketbook with most of her money was in the car that had gone up in flames. So, she realized, had her cell phone.

  She could ask McLean for a couple of quarters and call collect, but then there would be a record. A call from the hospital room had the same problem.

  “Damn,” she said. She needed to get back to the hotel room where she’d left both money and two credit cards in a safe. It was always a precaution she took when traveling after a thief had snatched her wallet on one of her business trips.

  She knew one thing. She didn’t want to talk to McLean again. She was too tired. Too uncertain. Too vulnerable.

  She had no idea how long it would take for the man her brother had sent for to arrive. She would do some exploring, then return up here. Perhaps McLean would be gone then, and her brother would fall asleep.

  She walked down to the nurses’ station and waited patiently. There was only one person there and she looked swamped. Another nurse was going into a room down the hall. Finally the woman looked up. Her name tag said Susan.

  “I’m going to get some coffee,” Sam said. “By the way, my brother needs some rest. There’s a gentleman there…”

  She walked swiftly down the hall to the elevator, turning to see a nurse head toward her brother’s room. She got in the elevator, thankful that the doors had opened almost immediately. It never did that. An angel was with her.

  Or a devil.

  She took the elevator to the second floor and wandered down the hall, stopping at a rest room. She entered the small room and locked the door behind her. Then she leaned against the wall and took a deep breath.

  Everything had always been easy for her. No big problems. No big decisions. No one had ever betrayed her. She’d never lost a friend, or at least didn’t think she had. Distrust was something she’d never really experienced. Fear was part thrill as she skied down a steep slope.

  Now she was in a different world, and she didn’t know the rules, or whom to trust. She had never believed she would be terrified to go out on a street. Now an empty lobby raised the hackles on the back of her neck.

  She never should have come. She knew that now. She might have put her mother in jeopardy, both physically and emotionally. And yet she’d always thought she could control things, control her life, because she’d always been able to. She had blithely believed she had made some ground rules and everyone would honorably respect them, simply because a long-lost father had wanted to meet her.

  Her rules were obviously not their rules. And she couldn’t even be sure—not if she was entirely honest— whether her rules were Nick’s rules.

  She’d always hated stupid heroines in books and movies. Now she felt like one.

  The question was how to repair the damage she might have caused by her curiosity, by her need to discover what had happened so many years ago.

  Or even how not to make things worse.

  She went to the minor and faced herself. She was pale, haggard looking. No lipstick, and no purse in which to find lipstick. Her silk shirt was splotched with blood. She looked as if she’d staggered in from a war zone.

  She rinsed her face with water and did her best to comb her hair with her fingers. Without her purse, it was the best she could do. There was nothing to be done about her clothes. They were ruined.

  What to do now?

  She could go back to Nick’s room, but Agent McLean might still be there, and she was too tired to fence with him. And too wary.

  And Nick’s bodyguard? He probably wouldn’t be there yet.

  She could hide here.

  Dear God, she was emotionally drained.

  She decided to go down to the lobby. Surely there would be people there. She had never believed the movie world’s myth of empty hospital corridors. She wished she had a sweater to cover her stained clothes, but blood shouldn’t be out of place at a hospital.

  She returned to the elevator and pushed the Down button. When the doors opened, a technician of some kind stood inside. Safe and normal.

  Sane.

  Her throat felt as if it had a boulder in it. But she was free for a few moments. Free of the hatred that had vibrated between the two men upstairs, of the accusations each had made of the other.

  When she reached the first floor, she turned toward the lobby.

  She’d always thought a hospital lobby would be occupied, if not busy. This one wasn’t. She didn’t see another soul. She did see the front door, an information desk that was empty. Lord, but she needed a breath of fresh air, a relief from the antiseptic odor. From being trapped.

  She looked first, then stepped outside and glanced around, trying to figure out where she might be. A street name. A cross street. The air wasn’t refreshing as she’d hoped. It was hot, stuffy, cloying. A large medical office building across the street looked mainly empty, and a parking lot was only a quarter filled. Several cars were parked along the street, all in places that said “No Parking.”

  She thought she saw movement in one car, and she edged back toward the door. Then she heard the sounds of a siren and saw an ambulance hurtling around a corner and turning into the hospital. A police car followed.

  There was something particularly lonely about a siren in deep night. She fought a wave of quiet despair. She could call Paul Merritta and ask for help. But where had the car come from earlier if not from one of the Merrittas?

  In truth, she had no place to turn except to the man her brother had called earlier. If only she had her purse, if only she could get to the hotel, then she would have resources of her own.

  She peered at the cars parked in the “No Parking” place again, and wondered whether the police would make them leave. Then she saw one man get out. He walked toward the steps, toward the hospital, toward her.

  She turned back into the hospital. The halls were as empty as before.

  She looked at the bank of elevators down the hall, but what if she had to wait? She turned down the hall. The waiting room. It was at the other end of a very long corridor, but there would be people there.

  Something told her to hurry. She glanced around. One man had entered and was moving toward her. He was large—not fat, but big.

&n
bsp; Then he increased his pace. She could hear his steps behind her. She followed the arrows toward the emergency section. God, there had to be someone cleaning. But there wasn’t. The only sound was that of footsteps echoing in the hall.

  fourteen

  Panic raising, Sam turned a corner and ran into a body. A very solid body. Arms wrapped around her and kept her from falling.

  “Whoa,” said a voice.

  She knew that voice.

  “What is it?” McLean asked.

  “Someone… I thought someone was behind me.” She glanced over her shoulder.

  He steadied her, then let go and strode to the corner. “No one there now,” he said.

  “It was probably nothing,” she said. Someone going on duty. Someone making a late visit to a critically ill patient. It was a measure of what had happened these past few days that she’d assumed it was all about her.

  She straightened. She had felt safe for a moment, safe and something else. Somehow, it hadn’t surprised her that he was the one there to reassure her. Her arms burned where he’d touched her. But the warmth cooled when he returned and she remembered the exchange in Nicholas’s room. She steeled herself against wanting the solidness of his body, that momentary safety she’d felt. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was looking for you. The nurse said you would be back. I didn’t think you should be alone, so I decided to try the emergency waiting room.”

  “You wanted to ask more questions.”

  “I would be lying if I said no.”

  “Nick doesn’t trust you. He said you used people, that you wanted to use me.”

  She tried to hold back tears. For a while earlier in the evening McLean had been a savior. Even at the airport, she’d sensed safety rather than menace in his presence. Now she didn’t know whether he was saint or sinner, at least where she—and her brother—were concerned.

  “We go back a way.”

  “How?”

  “He has the kind of business that’s the perfect front for money laundering. Foreign sales. Clients worldwide, including in Switzerland.”

  “Do you have any proof of money laundering?”

  “No,” he admitted. “But…”

  “He’s a Merritta?” she said. “So am I. Does that make me a criminal?”

  “Did your father finance your business?”

  “No.” At least she didn’t think so. Could Merritta have had something to do with the business? Perhaps even secretly? He said he hadn’t known where they were, but was that the truth? The shadows were thick again, filling her mind with suspicion and doubts. Nothing was real and whole and honest.

  She felt chilled.

  “What did you see just now?” he asked.

  “Probably no more than someone going to work or to see a patient.” She tried a small laugh. “I’m a little spooked.”

  “That’s understandable,” he said. “Someone tried to run you off the road and shoved a pistol in your face. Anyone would be.”

  Anyone might be, but she’d always conquered fear before. She’d always thought she could handle almost anything, and now she was fleeing through hospital corridors like a ninny. She didn’t like the image at all, or that this man had witnessed it.

  “I’m fine now,” she finally said.

  “Let me take you somewhere safe,” he said.

  She was surprised at how much a part of her wanted to accept that offer. He still carried the aura of authority and safety. And he attracted her as few men did.

  But he wanted something from her. He wanted her biological father. Her brother. Perhaps so much that he would destroy her mother to accomplish it.

  “I’m sorry, but I really have to get back to his room.”

  “Don’t trust him, Miss Carroll.”

  “He said the same thing about you.” She looked at his face, at the eyes that had always attracted her, that had remained painted in her mind. They went through subtle changes in color. Perhaps that’s why they fascinated her so. That and his restless energy and the intensity of emotions she sensed in him. It was almost like watching the approach of a hurricane.

  Attraction rippled between them again, strong and vibrant and so alive and heated that she forced back a gasp.

  Nick saved your life. He doesn’t trust this man. How can you?

  “Don’t trust him.” McLean’s words.

  The problem was that she was inclined to trust both of them. What did that say about her instincts or lack of them? One was a man she’d just met. The other was a brother she barely knew. The former had been in the right place. Three times now. That alone was suspicious.

  She stiffened her spine. “I really have to get back to my brother’s room.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “As far as the elevator,” she said.

  One side of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “All right.”

  He stayed at her side as she walked back through the empty corridor. No bogeyman. No sign of the figure she’d seen earlier. They reached the elevator and he pushed the Up button.

  She rested against the wall, waiting. He was inches away. Too close.

  “Would it be so bad to lean on someone else for a while?” he asked softly, distractedly, as if he couldn’t help himself.

  An almost palpable desire leaped between them, filling her with a hungering need. The air seemed to thicken with it. She closed her eyes and swayed. How easy it would be to lean against him, to put her problems, her fears, in his hands…

  She felt the back of his fingers stroke her cheek, then curl around her neck, easing the tension, cupping the tight muscles, drawing her toward him. His breath brushed her mouth, then his lips followed. Lightly at first, as if testing the waters.

  Lightning struck and flashed through her body. She found herself standing on tiptoes to draw even closer. Her body took over her mind as he found her willingness and deepened the kiss.

  Every bell rang. Nerve endings erupted. She found herself leaning into him as his fingers tangled in her hair.

  She was barely aware of the elevator bell, but then the doors opened. Her legs were rubbery. She hoped it was not entirely because of the kiss. But she’d never responded to a kiss like this before. Her body had never sung like this before.

  “Let it go,” he whispered into her ear.

  She wanted to.

  “He’ll use you.”

  The mental reminder was a splash of cold water. What was she doing?

  She moved away, but it was too late. The doors had dosed again. His hand caught hers, keeping her with him. Then their lips met again and he pressed the kiss, his tongue finding its way inside her mouth, ravishing and seducing in turn until she felt a warm puddling inside. She pressed against him as if their bodies were made for each other and clothes were no obstacle. All the attraction between them exploded into something that went beyond reason.

  Reason. The elevator bell rang again and the door opened once more. She jerked away and ducked inside, her legs nearly buckling beneath her. He stood in the corridor, looking stunned as the doors closed. He started to reach out, but it was too late. She forced herself not to push the Open button, forced herself to lean back against the wall of the elevator and take a deep breath. She had never been kissed so spontaneously before, nor had she felt such an impact from a kiss. She tingled all over. She still tasted his lips, felt the warmth of his body.

  “Damn,” she said softly, though she rarely swore. But there was no other word that really expressed what she felt at this particular moment.

  She looked at the numbers lighting up. In her hurry to get inside, she’d pressed the sixth-floor button, passing the floor where she wanted to go.

  She looked at her mussed clothes, her shaking hands. Why did she react to him as she did?

  The doors opened again, and a man in a white coat stepped in. An intern or resident from his age. She was grateful for his presence.

  She reached over and pressed the third-floor button.

  “
That’s mine, too,” he said.

  She felt an immediate gratitude. A fellow human being who didn’t know her, didn’t want anything from her.

  They both left the elevator. No sign of McLean.

  She made her way to the nurse’s station.

  “Miss Carroll? Someone’s looking for you. He’s in Mr. Merritt’s room.” The nurse’s eyes sparkled just a little as she said Sam’s brother’s name.

  “Thank you,” Sam said.

  She went down past two doors, then came to Nick’s. The door was open, a light on inside.

  Sam hesitated outside, wondering whether the kiss had branded her. She knew her face must be flushed. Her lips felt bruised. Were they swollen, too? She ran her tongue over them before knocking lightly, then entering.

  A man sprawled in a chair next to Nick; he stood quickly when she came in. He was thick but not fat, and over six feet tall. Sam noticed that despite his size, he had a quickness about him.

  He stuck out a hand to her. “I’m Dan Kelley. Mr. Merritt’s security chief sent me to look after you.”

  She nodded, then looked accusingly at Nick. “You are supposed to be resting.”

  “Have you ever tried to rest in a hospital? It’s a revolving door,” Nick said lightly, though his face was strained. “Where did you go?”

  “Just for a little walk. I thought it might take some time for someone to get here.”

  He searched her face. She wondered whether she was still flushed from the kiss. But if he noticed it, he didn’t say anything. Instead he turned to Dan Kelley. “I want you to stay with her until she leaves Boston.”

  “Any special problems?”

  “Someone tried to shoot her tonight.”

  Kelley didn’t look surprised. “Anything I need to know?”

  “Only that they seem to be professionals.”

  It was almost as if they were talking about someone else. He said the words so easily. They were normal for him.

  Would they ever be normal for her?

  “Any idea who the shooter might be?”

  “Someone hired by either my family or an opposing one,” Nick said.

  The man didn’t blink an eye. Sam wondered exactly what he had done for Nick in the past.