A Vow to Love

by Sherryl Woods

  "I don't blame you," he told Johnny. "Thanks for trying. I'll talk to Randy, but if he doesn't want to make the break from this gang of his, I'll try to figure out something else."

  Johnny regarded him worriedly. "I hope to hell he'll listen. He's a good kid. I can see that. But those friends of his are real trouble."

  Back in the gym, Sam pulled on his gloves and started warming up at one of the punching bags. Randy, trailed by the two-bit criminals he considered his pals, finally showed at five-fifteen. All of them were wearing black jeans and black T-shirts with the logo of some rap group that thrived on violent lyrics. They all had haircuts that could break a mother's heart. Most of them had diamond studs in one ear. Probably real, Sam thought, wondering which jeweler they'd ripped off.

  He shot a disapproving frown at Randy. "You're late."

  "Sorry. We were tied up."

  Sam could just imagine what had detained them. They'd probably been staking out a business to rob. He bit back a suggestion that Randy send his delinquent buddies on their way. Maybe he could do something to get through to all of them. Okay, so he suffered from delusions, but it was worth a shot.

  "Any of you guys want to go a few rounds?" he inquired.

  "Nah. We're just fixing to watch Ran-dall," Tank Landry informed him. The scrawny, dark-haired kid with mean eyes already had an impressive rap sheet for someone not even out of his teens. All pretty tame stuff so far, but it was only a short leap from burglary to armed robbery.

  Sam read the anticipation on Tank's face. He was probably hoping Randy would pound the cop into the ropes. Fortunately, Randy wasn't that quick on his feet yet. With a little practice, though, Tank and his associates could get their wish. Tonight, however, maybe it would do them some good to see that one of their own wasn't nearly as tough as they imagined.

  Before they entered the ring, he pulled Randy aside and nodded toward the onlookers. "I thought we had a deal."

  Randy cast an uneasy glance in their direction. "Shaking loose ain't as easy as I thought."

  "Do you want the job here or not? If you don't, I've got kids lined up who'd jump at it."

  Randy regarded him with dismay. "Come on, man. You can't do that. You told me Johnny needs somebody who can do math like me to help with that mess in his office."

  "I'm sure some of them can add and subtract, too. I'll find out which ones can, if you don't keep these jerks out of this place and out of your life." Sam used his glove to tilt Randy's chin up so he could look into his eyes as he warned, "They'll drag you down with them if they can, Randy."

  The boy looked miserable and frightened. Sam could understand how he felt. If Randy made the break, he'd lose the only friends he'd ever known. A series of foster homes hadn't given him much in the way of family. Tank's gang was all he had. They might even retaliate for his defection. It took courage to face that.

  Months ago, when he'd busted Randy for petty theft, Sam had seen something of himself in the troubled teen. He'd wanted desperately to steer him onto the right path before it was too late. Saving a kid like Randy was the whole reason he'd joined the police force, rather than taking the nice, cushy job in sales at Halloran Industries that had been waiting for him. Brandon had been saddened by his choice, but he'd supported him in it.

  "Well, what's it going to be?" Sam asked, refusing to relent.

  "I'll tell 'em to get lost," Randy promised. "Just let me do it in my own way."

  Sam nodded. "Fair enough, but do it soon. I mean it."

  He figured that victory meant a lot more than the one that followed in the ring.

  "Nice job. You landed some great punches," he told Randy when they climbed out of the ring. "You're developing a nice left hook. I'm going to have to start watching myself."

  The teen struggled against a grin and lost. "Johnny's been working with me," he admitted. Suddenly his gaze seemed to be riveted on something just beyond Sam. He gave a slow, approving whistle. "How come we don't get more regulars down here who look like that?"

  Even without turning around, Sam guessed he was referring to Penny. He also had the oddest desire to level the kid with a punch to his jaw. He glanced over his shoulder and caught Penny staring at him in open-mouthed shock. If he hadn't been so irritated by Randy's blatant reaction to her, he might have been amused by the expression on her face. She looked as if she'd never seen a sweaty, bare-chested man before in her life.

  Suddenly feeling surprisingly territorial, he left Randy without a word and strolled over to her. "I have a few rounds left in me. Care to hop in the ring?"

  Her mouth snapped shut. She still couldn't seem to take her eyes off of him, though. Finally she said in a faintly horrified whisper, "You've been brawling."

  "Boxing," he corrected.

  "What's the difference?"

  "In the ring we fight by the rules."

  "Rules?" she repeated in a choked voice. "What kind of rules give a grown man permission to beat up on that poor kid? He has blood on his face."

  "Split lip," Sam acknowledged. "He has to learn to duck."

  "You...you..."

  For the first time since he'd met her, she seemed to be at a loss for words. "Savage," he supplied cheerfully. He'd heard most of the arguments against boxing before.

  She blinked at his ready admission. "Yes, that's it. Savage. How can you do that?"

  He shrugged. "I learned from one of the best. He suggested it was an improvement over brawling in alleys."

  Penny was clearly unimpressed. "Sounds like the sort of argument you'd get from that disreputable-looking man I saw in the office on my way in."

  "Actually, it was Jason who brought me here."

  Her eyes widened in obvious disbelief. "Jason Halloran?"

  "The very one. He boxed in college. So did his father. And even Brandon enjoyed going a few rounds."

  "I don't believe it."

  "Ask them. Actually it's good exercise. Dana comes down here with Jason every once in a while. She can slam a punching bag with the best of them. She says it's better than slugging one of the kids."

  "I suppose," Penny said doubtfully.

  Sam grinned at her. "Personally, I think she likes to look at all the bare-chested guys."

  Penny's gaze drifted back to the bare chest smack in front of her. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. "Um, yes, I suppose I can understand the fascination."

  Sam chuckled. "Anytime you're through, I'll go shower and change."

  She blinked and looked at him in confusion. "What?"

  He gestured toward the locker room. "A shower."

  Still looking shaken, she nodded. "I'll wait outside."

  "No, you won't. This isn't the best area for a lady to be hanging around on the street alone. Wait in Johnny's office. He won't mind. I cleared off a chair earlier, so I know there's a place to sit."

  She nodded and, still looking somewhat dazed, wandered off in the direction of the office. It took Sam slightly longer to move. Penny's innocent fascination with his body had had an incredibly arousing effect on him. The reaction both stunned and worried him. The last thing he needed was to be affected in any way whatsoever by Penny Hayden.

  "Well, well, well," Tank Landry said, following Penny's departure with a leering expression. "Looks like the cop has a lady friend. I'll bet she'd rather get to know a real man."

  Sam glared at him, but he managed to keep his voice calm. "You get within one mile of the lady and you'll answer to me, smart guy."

  A calculating gleam lit Tank's black eyes. "It's always good to know what your enemies really prize. You just made a big mistake, smart guy."

  It took every last bit of control Sam possessed to keep from slamming his glove into the punk's midsection, then following that by a punch straight to his smug face. He knew, though, that he had made a terrible miscalculation by warning Tank away from Penny. He had inadvertently made her a target for this gang of street toughs. They loved nothing more than taking away what belonged to someone else, be it a televisi
on set, a car, or a woman.

  The possibility of this creep laying one finger on Penny sickened Sam. Like it or not, he was going to be keeping a very close eye on her, at least until he felt relatively certain that Tank and his buddies had lost interest.

  He realized with dismay that the prospect of sticking close to her worried him almost as much as what might happen if he didn't.

  Chapter 4

  Dinner had been a bad idea. Sam wondered why he hadn't left well enough alone after their disastrous meeting a few nights earlier. Oh, sure, some of the decision to ask Penny out had been in response to Brandon Halloran's latest round of needling, but the real bottom line was that he hadn't been able to get her out of his mind.

  To his astonishment and deep regret, she'd gotten under his skin with those big blue eyes, which communicated whatever emotion she was feeling--hurt, anger, loneliness and something that might have been adoration. Hurt, anger and loneliness were things Sam knew a lot about, emotions with which he could empathize.

  As for adoration, if that's what it had been, well, she'd get over that quickly enough. He told himself it was nothing to panic about, no reason to avoid her as if she had some contagious disease. He'd had lots of practice at keeping women at arm's length. Most of them made the decision to go on their own, once they'd realized that even physical intimacy would not lead to a full-fledged relationship, much less marriage.

  In Penny's case, discouragement should be even easier, he decided midway through dinner. All he would need to do would be to bring up his work as an undercover cop. She seemed about as impressed with that as she had been with the gym. In fact, she looked downright horrified as he talked about the increase in gang-related violence and the sad, dysfunctional kids who had nowhere else to turn for acceptance. For some reason he couldn't explain, he was oddly disappointed by her reaction.

  "Like those boys at the gym?" she asked, her distaste evident. "The ones who looked as if they were about to pull guns and shoot up the place? You honestly think they can be salvaged? I thought the police force was the last place I'd find some bleeding-heart liberal. Grandfather would have a stroke if he knew what you were up to."

  Sam shook his head. "I don't think so. In fact, he's the main reason I became a policeman."

  She regarded him with obvious disbelief. "You can't mean that."

  "Oh, but I do. When I met the Hallorans, I was a lot like those boys you saw at the gym, just itching to get into trouble, searching for a way to feel important. Dana was worried sick about me. Jason wanted to turn me around for her sake, but let's just say he found my immediate response discouraging. Brandon, however, actually saw something good in me and set out to teach me some self-esteem. I figure his faith saved me. I owe it to him to do whatever I can for some other kid who's headed down a dangerous path."

  "And you honestly don't think those boys are beyond redemption?"

  "Not all of them," he said cautiously.

  Penny regarded him so intently that he found himself warming under the scrutiny. The reaction was particularly disturbing since there was nothing the least bit intimate in her perusal. If anything, she merely looked worried, as if she were concerned about his safety. His body, however, seemed to be responding as if she were visually stripping him naked. These wayward thoughts were beginning to get irksome, especially when he'd made a firm decision to play it cool around Penny so that she didn't misunderstand his intentions and get hurt a second time.

  "The one whose lip you split, he's the one you think has a chance, isn't he?" she said finally.

  Sam nodded, glad to have something to talk about to get his mind off his unexpectedly rampaging hormones. "He's had a lot of bad breaks," he explained, trying to find a way to make her understand why Randy's future had become so important to him. "He's been in some lousy foster homes. All he wants is someplace to belong, somebody to care. Up until now his only choice has been that gang of thugs you saw with him today."

  Penny shuddered. "Quite an adoptive family."

  Sam debated whether to tell her that those charming young men had their eyes on her. Unless he planned to keep her under twenty-four-hour surveillance, he had to. She needed to be more alert to her surroundings, to replace her instinctively trusting nature with some realistic cynicism.

  "There's something you ought to know," he said finally.

  She paused with a forkful of pasta halfway to her mouth. "I don't think I like the way you said that."

  "You're psychic now?"

  "No, but I'm beginning to recognize that somber, protective look. Grandfather gets it all the time. It's some Halloran family trait."

  "I'm not a Halloran," he reminded her irritably.

  "Close enough. Come on, spill it. What's the bad news?"

  "Tank..."

  "The boy with the split lip?" she inquired almost hopefully.

  "No, the one who looks as if he enjoys torture."

  "A pleasant description."

  "Unfortunately, an accurate one."

  "Okay, what about him?"

  "He's gotten the notion that I...that you and I..." He fumbled for a description that wouldn't stir up a hornet's nest. Unfortunately, there wasn't one.

  "Are an item?" she supplied helpfully.

  There was a definite twinkle in her eyes. For some inexplicable reason he found her amusement irritating. "Right."

  "Big deal. Tank's thought process and opinions rank right up there with some national tabloid's. I don't think we ought to worry about them."

  "Wrong," Sam said succinctly. "In this case, they're very important."

  "Why?"

  "Because he and I aren't on the best of terms. I've busted him a few times. He might try to get to me through you."

  Penny swallowed hard. Every trace of amusement vanished. "Does that mean what I think it does?"

  "It means I don't want you taking any stupid, unnecessary chances."

  She regarded him with something that might have been weary resignation. "You mean, like ever leaving my apartment again, don't you?"

  Sam grinned at her perceptiveness. "That's certainly the one I like the best."

  "But it's not very practical, is it? Come on, you don't really think he'd come near me, do you? If anything happened to me, he'd be the first person you'd suspect."

  "Remember what you were saying about Tank's thought process? I don't think he's dealing with an entirely full deck when it comes to logic. Right now, he's going with his gut instinct and that tells him that hurting you will hurt me."

  "Well, he's wrong," Penny said, attempting to sound blase and failing. "Didn't you tell him that? You don't give a hoot about me."

  "That's not entirely true," Sam said cautiously, sensing that he was tiptoeing through a mine field. How could he explain that no one was more surprised than he was to discover that he was attracted to her and in the same breath announce that it didn't mean a damn thing? Talk about mixed signals. This was the stuff that could put a woman in therapy for years, or so he'd been told by a few of his past victims.

  Penny was watching him with a puzzled expression. "I think maybe you'd better explain," she said, though she didn't sound as if she really wanted to hear an answer.

  He sorted through a variety of explanations until he came up with one that sounded sufficiently vague. "Tank might have picked up on some vibes I was sending out."

  "What vibes?"

  "The usual macho stuff," he replied.

  He could read the precise instant when understanding dawned. Pink flooded into her cheeks. It might have been embarrassment, but he had a hunch it was outrage.

  "Let me get this straight," she said slowly.

  He winced at her tone. He was right. She was furious. As if to prove it, she glared at him. He could imagine the withering effect it would have on most men. For some reason, it excited him. Talk about inappropriate responses. She'd probably belt him if she guessed. He tried to focus on what she was saying.

  "You were acting all possessive and probably
making a crude comment or two about your woman," she began, keeping her eyes pinned on him for a reaction. "And he, quite naturally I might add, took this hands-off attitude to mean that I was your personal property. Am I getting close?"

  "Close enough," he conceded.

  "And now, thanks to you, that thug wants to tattoo my name on his chest?" she snapped facetiously.

  Sam thought she was taking it rather well, all things considered. She was mad, not terrified. "That's one of the things he could have on his mind," he agreed. "I'd say there are others you should be more concerned about."

  "What should be at the top of the list? Kidnapping? Rape? Murder?"

  "I don't think he'll go that far," Sam said defensively.

  "But you don't know that, do you?"

  "Penny, I'm going to protect you."

  "Oh, right," she said with heavy sarcasm. "You're the one who got me into this. You and Grandfather. Remind me to thank him, too."

  "You're not going to tell him?" Sam couldn't keep the horrified note out of his voice. He could just imagine the repercussions of that. He'd get a call from the chief the next morning assigning him as Penny's personal bodyguard...probably without pay. He figured it would take less than a week of twenty-four-hour-a-day duty to drive him absolutely over the edge. The maddening desire he had to kiss her would probably flourish into a yearning for a whole lot more.

  "Give me one reason I shouldn't tell him," she retorted.

  "I'll wind up sleeping on your sofa, sharing your bathroom, following you to work, sitting in a corner of the lab while you do whatever you do. Are you getting the picture?"

  "Oh, God," she said.

  She said it with a soft little moan that did astonishing things to his insides. She looked as if she were ready to weep. To forestall that, he asked hurriedly, "Does that mean you'll keep this just between us?"

  "I suppose I don't have any choice."

  She sounded so totally despondent that Sam wanted to hug her. Hugging was not something that came naturally. "That doesn't mean I don't intend to keep an eye on you," he said. Even to his own ears, it sounded grudging. "I do feel responsible for this and I'll handle it in my own way."