Undercover Lover (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Jane Leopold Quinn

  Someone with strong hands plucked her up under her arms and plopped her over his shoulder. Her hands, still taped behind her, made the pressure on her diaphragm, where it pressed against his shoulder, more severe. She fainted. For real.

  She came to cradled in Sam’s arms, her cheek against his bulletproof vest, his dark eyes searching hers as they fluttered open. Her wrists had been cut free, but the gray bands still encircled them.

  Frightened and sick, her mouth and cheeks still stung from the tape being pulled off. Too exhausted to scream now that she could, she buried her face in the shelter of his neck and clung to his shirtsleeves, her fingers wrapped around the cloth in a death grip. His arms safely enclosed her. She’d never thought it would happen again, and she didn’t want to ever let him go.

  Every time a paramedic knelt next to her, she cringed and clutched Sam tighter. “No, no. Don’t,” she whimpered. He shook his head at them too. She could feel the movement.

  “Honey, you’re safe now. Let the EMT look at you. To make sure you’re okay.”

  She shook her head and clung. “No…no.”

  “Liz.” He tipped up her chin. “Did he hurt you?”

  Her eyes widened. He couldn’t see this was hurt?

  “I mean…did he touch you?”

  Of course he touched me. How does he think I got gagged and tied? Oh. “R-rape?” she whispered against his lips inches away from hers.

  “Yeah, Liz, did he hurt you that way?” He sounded very calm, matter of fact, but his chest heaved hard like he’d been running.

  She buried her face in his neck again and shook her head.

  “Liz, look at me and tell me.” He didn’t sound so calm now.

  She touched his cheek with shaking fingers and said, “No.”

  “Thank God,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why…?”

  Ignoring her question, he continued, “Please let the paramedic look at you. You’re in shock. In pain. They need to take you to the hospital.”

  “You have to go with me. Don’t make me go alone.” Pain in her throat made her voice scrape low and husky. She desperately held on to him. Nothing made sense otherwise.

  “I’ll be with you, honey. All the way. Will you let me stand up and carry you to the ambulance?”

  “In a minute. I can’t go now. Just let me calm down a minute, then I can get up. I don’t think my legs would hold me up.”

  “I’ll carry you. You don’t have to walk.”

  She lay hunched in his arms. Safe. She could nearly forget what had happened as long as he held her. He didn’t ask her again, but she could feel the tension in his body. He wanted to get her to the hospital just as much as she did not want to go there. But the police and paramedics weren’t going to let her alone. It wasn’t like she could get up and walk away from this nightmare.

  “Sam, stay with me…please…don’t leave me alone.”

  “Absolutely, darling. Let’s go now.”

  She reluctantly nodded.

  He rose first, knelt, picked her up like a baby, and carried her to the ambulance. He helped put her on the stretcher and held her hand while they rolled it inside.

  “Sam!” He’d let go.

  “I’m here,” he assured her as he scrambled in after her.

  The paramedic lowered the stretcher flat.

  “No, not flat. I need to sit up.” She panicked, afraid she wouldn’t be able to breathe.

  “Let her sit, Meg.”

  He held her hand on one side, and the paramedic put her on a heart monitor and oxygen, and placed a pulse meter on her forefinger. She winced at the jab of the needle on the back of her hand for the intravenous drip. She didn’t think she needed all of this.

  Before she knew it, she was whisked through the ER doors and into a cubicle.

  “Sam. Sam!” They cut her clothes off. “No,” she shrieked.

  His head popped up, his body leaning over hers, face close. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.” He kissed her cheek, pressing his soft beard against her. Tears leaked from her eyes. She felt suspiciously drowsy, and her head rolled to the side. They must have put something in the…

  The next thing she knew, she was in a room, not hooked up to anything but the intravenous drip. Sam sat in the chair next to the bed, his hand lying on the mattress.

  Her eyes opened, and she turned her head toward him.

  He said, “Do you want me to call anyone?”

  He sounded distant. Disengaged.

  “No.”

  “Your parents?”

  “No, I don’t want to worry them. I’ll be all right.”

  “They’re probably going to hear about it on the news. You’d better call them before that.”

  He was right. She also knew as soon as her parents got here, he would leave. She felt his withdrawal, his discomfort, his impatience to be free of her.

  She wouldn’t hang on to him if he didn’t want to stay. Sicker at heart than she wanted to admit even to herself, she gave him her parents’ number and took the phone when he handed it to her.

  “Mom?” she began. “Hi, Mom.”

  God, they’re going to freak out.

  “Hi, honey. You sound funny. Is something wrong?”

  “No, Mom. Everything’s okay now. Um…”

  “What do you mean? What’s the matter?”

  She heard the panic in her mother’s voice. “I’m all right, but I’m in the hospital. Illinois St. John’s.”

  “Liz, what happened? Were you in a car accident?”

  “No, I’m all right. They’re not keeping me overnight. But it’ll probably be on the news,” she added hesitantly.

  “Tell me what’s going on. Jack! Come here!”

  The fear in her mom’s voice was heart-rending. “Someone broke into my house, but the police came right away.”

  “Oh my God! Jack, Liz is in the hospital.”

  “Can I stay with you for a couple days?”

  “Of course, you can.”

  “The police need to investigate, and then the place has to be cleaned up.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes, Mom, I’m fine.”

  “We’ll be there as soon as we can. Are you all alone?”

  “Someone’s here with me.”

  “Will they stay ‘til we get there?”

  “Yes, he’ll stay.” She looked pleadingly at Sam. That was the least he could do.

  “Who is it? A doctor?”

  “No, he’s a policeman.”

  “Let me talk to him.”

  “No, he can’t talk to you right now…oh…wait…Sam…no…” He pulled the phone out of her hand. Then she heard only one side of the conversation.

  “Mrs. Aspen? Oh, Mr. Aspen. This is Detective Bolt. No, your daughter is fine now, just shook up. I can drive her to your house. She’ll be released in the next hour or two. Any time? We’ll call you again when we’re on our way. Thank you. I’ll put Liz back on.”

  “Dad?”

  “What’s going on?” Her dad sounded frazzled.

  “I’m really fine. Just a couple of bruises and scrapes.”

  “Who’s that man? That officer?”

  “Um…Detective Bolt? He’s been with me the whole time.” She stole a look at Sam who stared at her with such a deep frown his eyebrows met in the middle.

  “You’re not in trouble or under arrest, are you?”

  “No, no, nothing like that, Dad. And everyone’s being nice to me, don’t worry. They’re letting me out soon. It’s not bad enough to keep me overnight.” All she could do was keep assuring him.

  “We’ll be waiting for you. How long will you be? We can be there right away.”

  “No, no. I won’t be too long. I’ll call when we’re on our way, okay?”

  “Okay, honey.”

  “Okay, bye, see you soon. I love you.” She handed the phone back to Sam and lay back on the pillow, letting out a sigh. “Is there some tranquilizer in this?”
She indicated the IV bag.

  “Yeah, I think so. Are you feeling sleepy?”

  “Can they let me go before I do go to sleep? I’d rather do that at home…um…at my folks’.”

  “I’ll go check.” He left the room before she could take another breath.

  What the hell was going on? Why did that man want to kill Sam? She’d been trapped between them and had no idea why. To make matters worse, as safe and protected as she’d felt earlier in Sam’s arms, and as caring as he’d been, now she felt alone. In his obvious attempt to distance himself from her, he’d been stiff and unsmiling. Well, so be it. Too tired right now to think about it, her jaw cracked with a yawn. Could she get out of here before she fell asleep?

  As if in answer to her question, two doctors came in trailed by a uniformed police officer and two other men in suits. One doctor looked in her eyes with the little flashlight, checked her blood pressure, and listened to her heart. The other one made notes.

  No sign of Sam. Her insides felt numb. He’d gone and wasn’t coming back for her.

  A spark of anger crackled through her body. Damn him.

  I was the one held hostage. I was the one almost killed.

  She’d never tell her family the whole truth, though, would never hear the end of it, about the dangers of living alone, yadda, yadda, yadda.

  “I need to get to my parents’ house. I don’t have my purse. It’s still in my house. Can someone get it to me? They live on the northwest side. If someone will lend me cab fare, I can go. I’ll pay you back,” she babbled away. Anything to prove to them she was okay. Anything to get out of there.

  The doctors left, but the men in suits, the detectives, stayed. She wasn’t ready to give them a statement yet. They agreed to question her tomorrow at her parents’ house.

  When they left, the nurse helped her get dressed. Her clothes had been cut off in the ER, so they gave her a pair of green scrubs and some slippers. The nurse helped her into a wheelchair and then wheeled her down the hall. On the main floor, when the elevator doors opened, a swarm of reporters with cameras and lights literally attacked her.

  “No, take me back up!” she cried.

  Before anyone could jump in the elevator with them, the nurse jammed at the close button, and they rode back up to the third floor.

  Okay, now what?

  The nurse patted her shoulder but didn’t offer any suggestions. God damn it, exhausted and alone, did she have to think of everything herself? About to suggest that if they’d call a cab, she’d walk out a back door under her own steam, Sam appeared.

  “I’ll take care of her. We’ll go through the basement loading area,” he said to the nurse.

  The nurse looked from Sam to Liz for confirmation.

  “It’s okay, I’m a policeman.” He showed her his badge.

  “Yeah, it’s okay,” Liz echoed. “I know him. He’ll take me to my parents’ house.”

  Wordlessly, he rolled her down the hall through swinging doors to a freight elevator. Silently, they rode down four floors to the basement, rolled past the big metal food tray holders, past mysterious closed doors, past a double door labeled Morgue.

  “I have an unmarked car right outside. Can you walk out? It’ll be faster than transferring you from the wheelchair.”

  She nodded and started to push herself off the arms of the chair before he locked it into place.

  He caught her as she started to fall. Being with him was painful enough, but having his arms around her was much, much worse. He half carried, half walked her to the passenger side of the car and carefully placed her inside, buckling the seat belt. His every touch was utter torture. Between that and the shock, tears welled, but she blinked furiously to keep them from falling. She’d be damned if she’d show him needy and pathetic. She did snuffle a lot, though, to get it all up while he walked around the car to the driver’s side. She gave him the address, and they sped off into the night. It should only take about thirty minutes, because there would be no traffic at this hour.

  “How soon do you think I can get back in my house?” She leaned on the door armrest and lethargically watched the dark, silent cross streets fly by.

  “You want to go back? To live?”

  “Yes, it’s my home.”

  He was quiet after that, white-knuckled fingers clutching the wheel in the prescribed ten and two positions, his face set into a grim expression. The only conversation they had was when he gave her his cell phone to call ahead. Her parents hovered at the front door when they arrived.

  “Liz.” He turned in the seat toward her.

  Her heart tripped with anxiety. Would he explain why all this had happened?

  “I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you again,” he told her in a chilly voice. He gazed at something past her shoulder outside the car, because he certainly wasn’t making eye contact.

  “That guy said you two had a history. He said he wanted revenge.”

  “Shit.”

  “Something about your brother.”

  He leaned back against his door, putting physical and emotional distance between them.

  She caught the motion of her parents approaching the car. Apparently he did too, because he put up a hand as if to stop them.

  “Please just give us a minute, then Liz’ll come in.” He turned back to her. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “Yeah, okay, Sam. I understand. I’ll see you around. Or not,” she added furiously. “You don’t need to feel obligated.” She pushed open the passenger door, turning on the overhead light and making the mistake of glancing back at him. His ravaged, grief-stricken expression shocked her to her core. She had the very odd and very real feeling that she was abandoning him.

  The overhead light going on signaled her parents, and they descended on the car. He acknowledged her mom and dad, but in the crush of their exclamations and of her being bustled in since she only had on the thin scrubs, Sam vanished.

  All she wanted was to take one of the pills the doctor had given her and go to sleep. How had she lost control of her life? She’d become involved in Sam’s life in a big way, and now he left with no explanation. Liz asked her parents to wait until morning for the story, assuring them she was all right. She needed to sleep. Needed to be alone. A cold feeling filled her stomach. She’d be alone all right. Without Sam.

  Chapter 13

  Shit. Sitting with Liz in the hospital brought back too many memories. Memories of Petey in a coma. The horror of the fear his brother would never wake up. Horror as to what he’d be like if he did wake up. They’d already said the oxygen had been cut off to his brain, and the fifteen-year-old wouldn’t be the same.

  At eighteen, Sam had known he’d carry the guilt of his actions for the rest of his life. His parents and Jeff, his older brother, had been devastated. He never wanted them to find out the truth of his direct responsibility for Petey’s condition. He hadn’t poisoned his little brother with drugs, but beating up Dominguez led to the overdose.

  Now, eight years later, another life had been impacted by his actions. He’d almost gone mad imagining what had gone on inside Liz’s house. The monster, Dominguez, finally found his revenge. He would have gladly given himself in exchange for her, but his sergeant wouldn’t let him.

  Thank God for the accuracy of the Leupold scope on the sniper’s rifle. Now, he’d had to sit in a hospital room with Liz. Liz who’d almost paid the ultimate price because of him. He was poison to the people he cared about. Thank God, he wasn’t in too deeply with her.

  Liar.

  Sure, they had great sex. All he had to do was touch her, and the sparks flew. She welcomed him into her body like she welcomed him home. But he didn’t belong with her, or inside her. What had he thought to risk destroying her life?

  Well, he hadn’t thought with his brain, had he? His little head had no brain. It just wanted her—the lush, sweet slide of his cock, her soft, pearly skin, and the look of intense sensuality on her face when she came.

  He
shook his head trying to erase that memory. No, didn’t work. Liz Aspen was an un-erasable experience. She represented everything he didn’t deserve—home, comfort, love.

  As well as hot sex. His cock twitched, swelled, balls tightening and aching just thinking about it.

  Son of a bitch!

  He had a lot to answer for. The white shirts, his superiors, had quite a few questions regarding his history with Roberto Dominguez. The review board hearing was coming, and he’d prepared for it since going into the academy. He couldn’t run from it forever. I.A. questioned him. His union rep tried to stop him, but he insisted on telling it all. He just couldn’t hide any more. If it ruined his career, so be it. He deserved it. Petey, and now Liz, had been harmed by his actions, and he couldn’t change any of it.

  He also knew he had to go to his family and admit his part in what happened to his younger brother. Petey’s coma and subsequent brain damage were his fault. His actions set up the chain of events that ruined Petey’s life and almost cost Liz hers.

  * * * *

  Taking a deep breath before walking through the door of his childhood home, he fought the prickles of anxiety eating at his stomach. The Chicago bungalow had seen the best times of his life, and now he would taint all the good memories. He would also confess his part in Liz’s being taken hostage.

  “You don’t have to forgive me. I don’t expect it. I don’t deserve it.” He sat on the edge of the couch in the family room. Petey had been put to bed. His brother Jeff and fiancé, Sherry, sat at the other end of the couch, his folks, Dorothy and Carter, in their separate recliners. He’d told them everything in a flat, unemotional voice, leaving nothing out, not any one of his stupid, disastrous mistakes. Shoulders slumped, elbows balanced on his knees, hands dangling between them, he sat, completely subdued. Defeated.

  “My job is in jeopardy, as it rightly should be.” He scrubbed his face with his hands, pushed them through his hair, holding it back for a minute before it flopped back onto his forehead.

  Without a word, his mother stood and headed for the kitchen. He wondered if he should follow her. She’d given birth to all of them. One child’s life ruined by another child’s actions. Stunned was the only way to describe the expression on his father’s face. These people taught school. They knew nothing about the dangerous life he lived. They hadn’t known about his tactical assignment. God, what a mess he’d made of things. He didn’t have a clue what to do. Jeff, a fire fighter, faced danger every day, but his actions hadn’t hurt their little brother.