The self-directed courtesy laugh died in her throat as Sam’s fingers circled around to the back of her neck, and his thumb began tracing her jaw line.
“What were you going to ask me?”
“What?” Viola was having trouble remembering her name, let alone the very intricate plan she’d spent almost a week building. She couldn’t bear to ask him. Not yet. What if he said no?
“Oh, right. I uh... I don’t want to get you into any kind of trouble, so I thought I’d wait until I was out of the hospital.”
Sam’s laugh was deep and sinister. It caught her off guard, and she took a step back.
“I think it’s far too late for that,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Warily, Viola followed the silhouette of his other hand as it reached into the pocket of his...jeans? He wasn’t even wearing his hospital scrubs. Based on her intimate experience with hospital policy, she was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be there, especially not off duty and out of uniform. The small finger of fear once again slid down her spine, warning her that Sam wasn’t above being manipulated into betraying her. It had happened before. Hadn’t it?
But when his hand leveled out in front of her eyes, Viola was staring at her watch.
“How?” She reached out, running her fingers over the cool, familiar metal—and yes, a bit of his hand too, while she was at it. Just to make sure they were both real. “Where did you get this?”
“I stole it,” he said. “It was supposed to be my proof. That I was sorry.”
“Oh.” Viola couldn’t look him in the eye. Not while her face was burning up with embarrassment. She still couldn’t believe how rough she’d been with him, how easy it had felt to abandon control, right before she’d said that. Prove it. Forcing herself to smile—because this was so not the time or the place to explain what she’d really meant, that she’d wanted him to stop being so damn disconnected, physically—she laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “Why Sam, you shouldn’t have.”
“But I did.”
Moving his free hand to take hers, Sam pulled her arm toward him and slid the watch around her wrist, clasping it shut.
“So,” he said, as he continued to pull on her arm, bringing her closer. “Do you accept my apology?”
Viola opened her mouth to say not yet,’ because she couldn’t afford to give up the power she currently held over him.
That was when he kissed her.
Unlike the other times, when he’d responded to her spontaneous assaults on his mouth with all the exuberance of a granite statue, this time Sam took control. His arms felt surprisingly hard and well-muscled when they wrapped around her, especially now that they weren’t hidden underneath a starched white coat. His lips were soft, but demanding. Raising a hand to his face, Viola delighted in the feeling of strong jaw muscles working underneath satiny skin as his mouth urged hers open, as his tongue pushed its way roughly between her lips.
There was no doubt about it. Viola’s fantasies had fallen short. All those years wasted, thinking that boyfriend material was what a girl had to trade in for the excitement and overall sex appeal of an untamable bad boy. Who knew how much more fun it could be to turn a good boy a little bit bad?
And Sam Philips was kissing her like a very, very bad boy.
Viola felt her head swimming as she breathed in the light scent of chlorine and detergent that barely covered his own intoxicating smell. It was ridiculous, how something so ordinary could so thoroughly overwhelm her senses.
His hands slid down her waist, moving over the curve of her hip. For a second, she thought he was going to detour and grab her ass like Aiden used to, which she’d always hated—maybe, if it was Sam’s hand doing the grabbing, she’d kind of like it now. But then his fingers slipped just underneath her shirt, moving across the soft skin of her stomach, strong thumbs tracing her hip bones. Okay, that was better. So much better. Lower, she wanted to tell him. But then he pulled her close against him, and she let out a gasp of surprise.
Correction. Make that a very bad, very big boy.
Viola couldn’t remember where she’d been going, or what she’d been about to do, but some part of her mind registered that there was a bed nearby. And she wanted to be on it, with Sam, letting his weight crush her into the mattress as they explored each other, sans vêtements.
From the doorway, someone cleared their throat. She turned her head to see Kevin standing there, tapping his watch. As nice as he had been to her, she could’ve killed him in that moment.
“Come on, mama. Discharge time is now or never.”
“Damn.”
Viola detangled herself from Sam’s arms, not embarrassed, but frustrated with herself for forgetting how urgently she needed to get away. For risking even another day of being locked up in this prison, just so she wouldn’t have to wait another minute to find out whether being kissed by Sam was as good as she’d dreamed he was. Even if it had been so much better than she’d imagined, was that worth leaving herself vulnerable to Jacques’s plans?
“We really should stop meeting like this,” Sam said dryly, addressing the psych tech.
Giving him an exasperated glance, Viola pulled him back down so she could whisper in his ear. “I have to go. Meet me at South Broadway Mall at nine o’ clock. I’ll call your cell phone and tell you exactly where. Don’t let anyone see you leaving here.”
Leaving Sam stunned behind her, Viola followed Kevin out into the hallway.
When they got to the front desk, he handed over her toiletries bag—which had undoubtedly been searched at least once more since she’d returned it at lights out—and a small plastic bag with her earrings. Then, he handed her a clipboard with a self-discharge form she was supposed to sign, confirming that she was leaving the hospital ‘against the advice of her physician.’ Web of lies, Viola thought, as she completed the paperwork.
“Oh, and by the way,” he said. “That guy has some questions he wanted to ask you.”
Giving Kevin a look of surprise, Viola turned around to see a security guard with a mustache standing behind her. Her heart immediately started pounding harder, but she kept her face blank.
“Hello officer, what can I do for you?”
“I’m very sorry to tell you this, miss,” he said. “But it looks like we might have misplaced one of your belongings. According to this gentleman here, your paperwork says you came in with a very valuable watch. Now, we’ve looked everywhere, but we can’t seem to find it. If you’d like, we can go down and review the security tapes with you…or we can help you file a police report?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Viola told him. She held up her wrist, unable to stop herself from breaking into a huge smile. “I think someone in your department probably forgot to make a note that I asked to have it brought up earlier this morning,” she lied easily, thinking back to how many times in her life she’d talked her way out of various brushes with rent-a-cops. Or actual cops, like the time in Croatia when she and Aiden had almost been arrested for starting a bonfire on the beach. By the time she was done throwing around names, the officers were practically offering to stoke the coals for them.
“I can’t remember the name of the officer who brought it,” she continued. “It was something like…” She took a stab. “Greg? Or maybe Dwayne? I’m terrible with names.”
“Could it have been Steve?”
“Steve….” Viola looked at the ceiling, biting her lip in concentration. “Yes, that might have been it.”
Apparently, this wasn’t the first time Steve had forgotten to note something, because the security guard rolled his eyes. “Sorry for the mix-up, miss. I’ll make sure it gets put in the record.”
“Thank you so much.”
When the guard was gone, Viola turned back to Kevin. He was watching her with that same ‘too cool to care’ expression he always had, but underneath she knew he had a razor-sharp mind and a heart of gold. A part of her was going to miss the psych ward. How was that for bizarre?
/> “Do I want to know?” he asked her.
“No, you don’t.” She looked down at her watch, which Sam had risked everything to bring her, less than an hour before she would’ve rightfully gotten it back on her own. Men really were ridiculous sometimes. “My taxi is going to be here any minute. Do you have the numbers?”
Kevin handed her a piece of paper with everything she’d requested.
“These are for you,” she said, handing him the bag with the earrings. “I won’t take no for an answer, so suck it up.”
For some reason, talking trash to a scary-looking former gang member who was three times her size was still less difficult for Viola than a simple ‘thank you.’ Maybe because she owed him more than words could express. Almost as an afterthought, she raised herself up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek across the desk.
“Bye, Kevin.”
He smiled. “Good luck, mama. Give ‘em hell.”
Viola wasn’t sure if he was talking about Sam, or the people who’d messed with her family. But either way, she was going to take his advice.
Downstairs, Viola left through the hospital’s back entrance, climbing into the taxi that Kevin had called for her. It wasn’t nearly as nice as the chauffeured cars she usually took around the city, when she wasn’t driving her own, but that was sort of the point.
Directing the taxi to take her to the nearest branch of her bank, Viola asked him to wait while she hopped out and withdrew the maximum cash limit from the ATM. Then she told the driver to take her to the nearest convenience store, where she bought a disposable cell phone. At that point, she paid the driver and sent him on his way. With only about an hour to spare until her meeting with Sam, she flagged down a second taxi, and directed it to take her to Niemen Marcus.
When Viola walked in, she immediately shanghaied the first employee she saw.
“Excuse me.” The stylishly-dressed woman eyed Viola’s wrinkled workout clothes, lack of makeup, and un-styled hair with blatant judgment—if not outright hostility—but Viola pretended not to notice. “I’m going to need as many sales associates as you can get your hands on. I’m in kind of a big hurry.”
The woman raised her perfectly penciled eyebrows, not yet moving to do as Viola had asked, but definitely intrigued.
“We close at nine o’ clock on weekdays, miss.”
“Yes, I know,” Viola said, pulling her no-limit American Express card out of her wallet and waving it in the woman’s direction. It was tacky, but she really didn’t feel like going three rounds with a retail worker over whether or not she deserved to be treated with respect. “I’ve got a lot to buy, and it would be extremely convenient for me if I could do it all in one place. However, if you don’t have the staff…” she raised an eyebrow, looking around like she was bored. “I’d be happy to take my business to Bloomingdale’s.”
The woman nearly toppled off her heels in her haste to run down a manager.
Less than an hour later, Viola stood outside the department store’s entrance, wearing an entirely new outfit—down to the lingerie—and surrounded by bags filled with all her favorite designers. She’d even bought a new swimsuit and a new ski jacket, just to throw Jacques off the trail in case he decided to do an itemized check of what she’d bought.
Pulling the disposable phone out of her new purse, she called the number at the bottom of the list—the airline ticketing office at JFK airport.
When the customer service representative on the other line asked how they could help her, Viola rattled off her frequent flier number and booked a first class ticket to Paris, on the next available flight. By the time Jacques checked his e-mail and realized she’d spent several thousand dollars at the local mall, he’d assume she was long gone, and on her way to the airport.
Next, Viola called Sam’s cell phone—which Kevin had looked up for her in the hospital database.
“Viola, is that you?”
Just the sound of his voice sent chills down her spine. Viola forced herself to focus on the next step in her plan. “I’m standing outside the entrance to Neiman Marcus,” she said, telling him the address. “How soon can you be here?”
“I’m already here,” he said. “Just give me one minute.”
Less than thirty seconds later, a dark blue car pulled up to the curb in front of her.
Raising her eyebrows, Viola watched Sam climb effortlessly out of the very shiny, very low to the ground sports car. It wasn’t at all like the responsible, unassuming sedan she’d imagined Sam would drive. And yet, the deep-throated rumble of its engine reminded her of his voice, sending a bolt of lightning through her nerve system. As he rounded the car, she suddenly had to fight the urge to throw herself into his arms. His slightly shocked, yet appreciative stare, which started at her face and moved slowly over her leather jacket and short, fitted wool dress, finally ending at her high-heeled boots, made Viola’s knees feel weak.
She needed to use her head, not her other parts. She couldn’t afford to fall into Sam the way she wanted to, not until she’d dealt with Jacques. Plus, she had to be sure that he could be trusted to stick with her, no matter how crazy things got. There was still so much they didn’t know about each other. So much she couldn’t tell him.
“Jesus,” he said, frowning when his eyes fell on the consumer debris at her feet. “What did you do, rob the place?”
She laughed, and gestured for him to help her carry the bags to his car. “It’s all part of my plan to look like I’m taking a long trip.”
“To where?”
Biting her lip, Viola gave Sam her most enigmatic smile. “That remains to be seen.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Beauty has no obvious use; nor is there any clear cultural necessity for it. Yet civilization could not do without it.” –Sigmund Freud
As Sam drove, Viola talked.
“By the time these charge alerts go through, I’ll be long gone. If I check into a hotel with any of my credit cards, Jacques will know I never left the country. And worse, he’ll be able to find me. I don’t want to be found until I’ve figured out how to get out from under his thumb. Until I can stand and address him on…equal footing, so to speak. That means I need to hide somewhere safe.”
Sam left the mall parking lot and wove his way out into traffic. The lights of the other cars slanted across Viola’s face, reminding him of what she used to look like when he’d visit her while she was sleeping. She was so much more animated now, so much more alive. Most of all, she seemed to have a single-minded determination that bordered on frightening. How could he ever have imagined her as any type of damsel in distress?
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot over the past few days,” she continued, “and I don’t think I can stay in the kind of hotel that takes cash. As much as I’d like to think of myself as…some kind of film noir heroine with complete disregard for sanitation….” She laughed self-deprecatingly, looking at him sideways. “What can I say? I’m terrified of bed bugs.”
“You did just get out of an inpatient psych ward, though,” Sam noted, as carefully as possible.
Instead of being offended, Viola just laughed again. “Yeah, and I must say, I appreciated the sanitation…if not the sanity.”
In spite of himself, Sam laughed along with her. There was something so contagious about her moods, like she had the ability to infect the people around her, good or bad.
“What, you’re telling me you didn’t get along with Naked Ronald?”
Viola laughed again, raising an eyebrow. “Wait, how do you know about Ronald?”
Sam shrugged. “Everyone knows about Naked Ronald. He’s a frequent flier.”
“Oh, well that would explain why he always got such VIP treatment,” she said, nodding. “At this point, I honestly just want to sleep in a bed that’s wider than three feet. Growing up, my father used to tell me I slept like an astérie.”
“A what now?”
“Oh, sorry,” Viola furrowed her brow, clearly searching for the right wo
rd. “A sea creature…” she spread her fingers out in front of her. “It has five legs. What’s that word?”
“A starfish?” Sam laughed. Somehow, she even managed to make residual aphasia seem adorable. “You’re saying you’re used to sleeping like a starfish. Yeah, that translates.”
“Yes, well…” she looked mildly embarrassed. “Whatever you call it, I’m looking forward to doing it again.”
Without being asked, Sam set a course back to his apartment in Brooklyn.
“So, I might as well warn you, my place isn’t all that big,” he said. “Of course, you can have the bedroom for as long as you need it. The couch is pretty comfortable, or so Brady has told me after the many times he’s passed out there. Don’t worry, though. I’ll happily surf the couch, to save you from his residual cooties.”
He smiled at his own joke, unable to stop himself from fantasizing about seeing her coming down the hall, first thing in the morning, hair all messed up. Having breakfast together before he left for the hospital...at four-thirty in the morning. Yikes. So maybe not breakfast, but definitely dinner. Sam tried to picture Viola eating Chinese takeout and watching a lame TV show, but the picture wouldn’t form. When he glanced over at her again, he realized with a start that she’d been silently staring at him for a while.
“Oh, no,” Viola put a hand on his knee, but then she seemed to realize how he might be taking the gesture, and she quickly removed it. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I can’t stay with you.”
“What do you mean, you can’t stay with me?” Sam fought off a sudden wave of disappointment. Oh, man. Please don’t let him have completely misinterpreted the situation. Again. Every girl he’d ever dated had told him he was crap at reading signals. His college girlfriend told him she could die waiting for him to decide whether or not he wanted to take the next step. This time, though, it seemed like he was running before he could walk.
“Listen,” he said, feeling desperate now. “I didn’t mean to pressure you or anything. I just thought…when you said you had something to ask me, and then you talked about needing a place to stay…I just assumed. But seriously, I didn’t mean it like…I mean, I know we still haven’t talked about—”
Wake for Me (Life or Death Series) Page 19
