Dangerous Curves

by Kristina Wright

  “Do you trust him, Sher?” Jake asked. “Under the circumstances—”

  “I trust him. He was a real rock after Charlie....” Her words trailed off. “Anyway, I’d like to hear what Joe has to say about this mess. He should have some of the answers you need. And with any luck, he’ll be able to help you.”

  “You don’t know how much this means to me,” Sam said.

  “To us,” Jake added.

  Sherry brushed off their thanks with a wave of her hand. “Save it. When you get out of this nightmare, we’ll talk.” She looked pointedly at Jake. “And you will owe me. Big time, sugar.”

  Jake grinned. “You got it ”

  “I’d better get out of here or Emily is going to be on my case.” She stood to go.

  “Would you like us to come with you?” Sam asked.

  Sherry looked from Sam to Jake and back again. “No, honey, you all stay here. Turn in early. You look like you both need it.”

  Jake nodded, feeling the slow drain of exhaustion settle over him. “Be careful.”

  Sherry winked at him. “I’m playing catcher for a bunch of adolescent girls. I have to be careful.”

  After they heard Sherry’s car pull out of the driveway, Jake looked at Sam. She arched an eyebrow at him, the smoky look in her eyes making his blood boil.

  “Well?” he asked finally.

  She kept looking at him as if seeing him for the first time. It made him nervous. It made him uncomfortable. It made him want to take her in his arms and loss her senseless. He was getting addicted to her sharp tongue and her soft eyes. What he needed, he decided, was one of those nicotine patches. Only this would be for women. Correction. not for women, just Sam. A Sam patch.

  “Well, what?”

  He rested his arms on his knees and laced his fingers. “What do you want to do?”

  The corner of Sam’s mouth tipped up in a tired smile. “You don’t want to go to sleep?”

  Two could play her cat-and-mouse game, Jake decided. “Only if you do.”

  “I took a nap on the plane,” she reminded him.

  “Right. So I guess you’re not tired.” He yawned. She might not be tired, but he sure as hell was. He stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes. “Maybe I’ll just turn in for the night.”

  “Fine. You do that.”

  Jake cracked his eyes open and watched her take the mugs into the kitchen. He’d bet his plane that she put a little extra sway in her hips as she walked away. He shifted on the couch, painfully aware of what she was doing to him.

  Sam returned, and slumped down in the chair. Then she stood. “I’m too restless to sleep. I think I’ll go for a walk.”

  “Alone?”

  “Sure, why not? I’ll be all right”

  “Wait a minute, Sam.” He hadn’t intended to say anything yet, but he wasn’t sure how tomorrow would go. He pulled the crumpled envelope Sammy Martin had given him out of his back pocket. “You should read this.”

  She hesitated for only a moment before taking the envelope from him. “From my father?”

  He nodded. “He thought I would know when to give it to you. Well, this seems as good a time as any.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you want me to leave?” he asked as she ripped open the envelope.

  She shook her head, her eyes on the letter “No, you’re fine.”

  He tried to relax, but all his muscles were tightly coiled as he watched the play of emotions on her face. It couldn’t be easy reading a letter from the father you hadn’t known for most of your life.

  Sammy had written a long letter and Sam took her time reading the small, neat handwriting. Jake watched as she went back and read it a second time, a small sigh escaping her lips as she folded the pages and put them back in the envelope.

  Leaning back in her chair, she looked emotionally drained. He wanted to hold her, to soothe her. He wanted to protect her from the world. He was the last person on earth who should think he could take care of anyone, but he wanted to take care of Sam.

  “So what did your father say?”

  “That he was sorry, mostly.”

  “I think he is, Sam.”

  She nodded. “I know. I believe that now. He said he sent me other letters. A lot of them, apparently. That’s what’s in the box, right?”

  He nodded. “Do you want me to get them?”

  “No. Not now. It’s enough to know they exist My mother returned them, unopened. She let me think he didn’t care about me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right. Now I know.” Sam gave him a wan smile. “I probably should have known it before now. My mother had a lot of pain inside her, Jake. She didn’t want him to be happy and she couldn’t control that. But she could control me.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “I’ll go back and visit him. After we get this situation straightened out.” She shook her head. “If we ever do.”

  “We will, Sam. I promise that.”

  “I hope so.” She stood, worrying the letter between her fingers “I think I’ll take that walk now. I’m too wired to relax.”

  “I guess I’ll just stay here and take a nap.” He yawned again for emphasis. Beside him on the floor, Fletcher matched him yawn for yawn.

  “You do that,” she said, giving him that little half smile again. “You look like you need it.”

  The door closed and Jake bolted upright. “Fine. Go ahead without me.” He ran a hand through his hair as he debated whether or not to go after her

  “To hell with it.” He sighed. He wasn’t going to chase her like some puppy.

  It took him less than sixty seconds to change his mind.

  Chapter 17

  Sam dashed the tears out of her eyes when she heard Jake’s footfalls behind her. She smiled to herself “Miss me?”

  Falling into stride beside her, Jake shook his head. “I didn’t want you to get lost.”

  “Right.”

  She liked that he had followed her. And she liked talking about her life with Jake. It felt right. He cared. Maybe for the wrong reasons, but still... She’d locked everyone out for so long, had been so afraid of getting hurt, that now her emotions were overflowing. She suspected it had been the same for him.

  The tree-lined street was quiet at this hour. The setting sun cast long shadows across lawns and driveways. Sam and Jake walked in silence for a while, their hands brushing but not quite touching. Sam could almost let herself pretend that this was a normal day like any other.

  They crossed the street and ambled down another avenue. The houses were all lined up in neat rows, with tidy lawns and carefully trimmed shrubs. An occasional bicycle left out on the sidewalk attested to the fact that it was a safe community. Sam could imagine potluck suppers and Sunday barbecues with smiling families. It was the kind of life she’d had too briefly as a child. She ached for it now.

  An image of sharing a life with Jake taunted her, but she quickly dismissed it The last thing she needed right now was fanciful daydreams about something that could never happen. They were strangers thrown together by circumstance.

  Jake glanced at her. “What were you and Sherry talking about earlier?”

  “She told me about Emily, what they’ve been through.”

  “They went to hell and back.”

  “But they survived.” It gave Sam hope to see Sherry’s strength. She had endured the worst that any woman—any parent—could imagine. She’d lost a husband and nearly lost her daughter But she’d survived. Sam could only hope that she fared as well when this was all over.

  A tree-shrouded park dominated a large corner lot of the neighborhood. Children’s swings and seesaws dotted the grassy landscape, which was silent and empty now, its colors fading to grays and blues in the dwindling light.

  Sam and Jake wandered through the park as darkness gathered around them. Their hands were still close, but not quite touching. Sam ached to reach out and make that small connection with him,
to feel a part of his life if only for this moment But she held back.

  “Sherry’s tough,” Jake said finally “She shouldn’t have to be, but she is.”

  “I see how much you care about them,” Sam said softly. “So why did you just drop out of their lives like that?”

  “Sherry talks too much,” Jake said, but there was no heat in his words. He sat down on a bench, his hands dangling between his knees. “I did it because if it hadn’t been for me, Charlie wouldn’t have died. They didn’t need me around as a reminder of what they’d lost.”

  Here, at last, was the heart of the matter. Sam sat down carefully beside him, afraid of spooking him. “Why do you think that, Jake?”

  “It was my fault.”

  “That’s not what Sherry said.”

  “Sherry wasn’t there.” Jake didn’t look at her and she sensed he had gone someplace else—back to the night Charlie had been killed. “I never should have turned my back on the girl. I broke the rules and Charlie died.”

  “Tell me what happened, Jake.” Sam kept her voice low, afraid of breaking the spell. She could see the pain etched on his face. Two years had done nothing to cure the hurt he carried around inside him.

  “Just another screwed-up teenager. A pretty blonde named Carla. The guy we were after was her boyfriend.” Jake’s jaw worked over the words, biting into each as if it were poison. “A small-time hood dealing drugs to kids.”

  A whippoorwill trilled overhead, its melancholy song a fitting tribute for Jake’s anguish. When the bird’s song trailed away into silence, Sam pressed Jake for more information. “What happened?”

  “We cornered him in an alley. The bust went down without a hitch. We had the guy in cuffs, his girlfriend sobbing on the sidelines.” Jake glanced at her. “She looked so helpless. We’d taken her in before—possession, prostitution. All of seventeen, and she’d lived a lifetime’s worth.”

  Sam could only shake her head in sympathy. She’d seen the images before, through her camera lens. The epidemic wasn’t drugs, it was apathy.

  “I told Charlie to watch out for her. She was pretty pissed we’d busted her man. He was busy loading the boyfriend into the car and didn’t hear me.” Jake shook his head. “I was calling it in when I heard the shot.”

  “She shot Charlie?”

  He nodded. “Pulled a gun out of her purse and fired like she’d been doing it all her life. For a second it didn’t dawn on me where the shot had come from. I ran around the side of the car and saw the gun.”

  Sam could feel the tension coming from him in waves, but she didn’t push.

  Lost in his memories, Jake drew a shaky breath. “I froze. She fired again, nailing me in the leg.”

  “Oh, my God,” Sam breathed. She’d noticed the slight hitch in his walk but had never imagined he’d been shot. Last night they’d undressed in darkness. She had been too caught up in the moment to notice his injury.

  Jake went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “I pulled my gun and warned her off. She was crying and cursing me. She fired again and I shot back. She died at the hospital.”

  Sam gripped the bench seat until her fingers hurt, afraid Jake would pull away if she tried to touch him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “You weren’t there.” He spat the words out between clenched teeth. “If I hadn’t screwed up—”

  Finally Sam reached out, gently laying her hand on the clenched fist resting on his knee. “It was an accident. A horrible mistake. But it wasn’t your fault.” She carefully enunciated each word, wanting so badly to make him see the truth that was so clear to her.

  “I’m not going to argue about this,” he said, pulling away from her. He stood, jamming his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

  “Jake—”

  “Don’t, Sam,” he pleaded. The pain in his voice embedded itself inside her, wrapping around her heart.

  The muscles in Jake’s broad back rippled under his shirt and Sam fought the urge to run her hands across his shoulder blades and ease some of the tension there. He wasn’t ready to listen to her, wasn’t ready to forgive himself. She sighed in helpless frustration and forced herself to change the subject.

  “What happens tomorrow?”

  She could see him shifting gears, moving out of the past and into the immediacy of the present. “I don’t know.” He kept his back to her, shaking his head. “I hope Sherry is right about Joe being able to help. I doubt he’s duty, but I don’t know if he’ll believe our story.”

  It seemed too much of a long shot to count on. Sam shivered, eyeing the deepening shadows around them. She’d been so caught up in Jake’s emotions that she’d allowed herself to forget how much danger they were in. They’d gotten away this time. Next time they might not be so lucky.

  “What if he doesn’t?”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head, offering her a half smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wish I did, Sam. But I don’t know.”

  She searched frantically for some shred of hope. There had to be something they could do. “Maybe we could go public.”

  “A press conference in front of the governor’s mansion, maybe?” Though he said the words sarcastically, Sam could see the wheels turning in Jake’s mind.

  “Sure. They wouldn’t dare try to kill us then.”

  “No, but they could easily arrest us. I’m wanted for murder, remember?”

  The small flicker of hope snuffed out. They couldn’t win, no matter what they did. “Right”

  “But it might work for you,” Jake said. “They faked your death. We have proof of that. If you told your story with the evidence you’ve got, they couldn’t touch you. Sherry could help you get the best attorney in the state.”

  She didn’t like the way he was talking. It was as if he were distancing himself from her. “But what about you?”

  He shrugged. “I can go underground for a while. It might blow over eventually.”

  Sam’s breath caught in her throat. “No, Jake. You’ve been through hell for me. I’m not about to walk away now. We’re in this together, remember?”

  “You’ve been trying to get away from me since this started. I guess I’ve grown on you.”

  “You could say that.” Her soft words were edged with pain. “Stay with me, Jake.”

  “Let’s not worry about it until tomorrow,” he said lightly. “We don’t know what might happen.”

  Sam’s senses screamed for her not to believe him. He turned to walk away and she caught him by the arm. He could have pulled away again, but he didn’t. They stood there like that for several long moments before he turned around. She could tell by the firm set of his jaw that he’d already made up his mind.

  “Promise me you’re not going to leave me,” she urged, her fingers wrapped so tightly around his wrist she could feel the steady beat of his pulse. She didn’t care how desperate the words sounded, she only wanted to hear him say that they would stick together, no matter what.

  “Don’t, Sam,” he said, his voice lowering in warning. He carefully pried her fingers from his arm and turned his back on her.

  She watched him walk into the shadows, her hands clenched in tight fists at her sides. She was painfully aware of his nearly imperceptible limp. It made him seem all too human. All too fragile.

  “Damn you, Jake Cavanaugh,” she cried.

  She was ripping his heart out but Jake didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. She made him too angry, made him feel too much. He didn’t want to feel, he didn’t want to admit his failure. He’d let too many people down in his life. He’d walk away from her before he’d do it again.

  “Damn you,” she said again and he could hear the tears in her voice.

  He heard her footsteps behind him, felt her hand on his arm as she tried to stop him. She stepped in front of him, her eyes reflecting moonlight. They were angry eyes, but there was somsthing else there, too—something that made his blood run hotter and quickened his pulse until it roared like the ocean in his ears. />
  “Don’t walk away from me,” she whispered before pressing the full length of her body against him.

  Jake put his hands on her shoulders, intending to push her away. But it felt too right. He groaned low in his throat, his arms slipping down to her waist. He pulled her closer, knowing it was the last thing he should be doing, but not caring.

  “Don’t walk away,” she said again, tilting her head up to him.

  Her mouth was an enticement he couldn’t refuse and Jake was long past trying. His lips meshed with hers in a hard, angry kiss. Instead of pulling away, she demanded more, her hands wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer.

  Jake groaned again and dragged his mouth away from hers. He cupped her chin in his hand, his fingers trailing up her jaw and tangling in her hair She was breathing hard. So was he, for that matter.

  “We can’t do this,” he said, stepping away from her. He hoped that putting some distance between them would take the edge off his lust. It didn’t.

  “What are you afraid of, Jake?” she whispered in the darkness. When he didn’t speak, she asked, “Are you afraid that maybe you won’t be able to save the day this time? Are you afraid I’ll leave you like your ex-wife? Are you afraid of letting me down?”

  “What?”

  She took a step closer, moonlight illuminating her uptilted face. It reminded him of the night he’d found her. She’d looked so helpless and vulnerable then—a lost angel in need of protection. She didn’t look helpless now. She looked very much in control-And very angry.

  “You couldn’t save Charlie, you couldn’t save the girl. You couldn’t salvage your marriage. You couldn’t make everything all right for Sherry and Emily.”

  “Stop it, Sam.”

  She took another step closer, her chin edging up a notch as she ticked off his failings. “You don’t have to save me, Jake. You don’t have to be my knight or my hero. You don’t have to be afraid.”

  Something inside him snapped—something dark and cold and hard. “I’m not afraid,” he rasped, hanging on to his control by a thread.

  “Liar.”

  She gasped when he swept her into his arms, but the sound barely registered in his fevered mind. Pressing her back against the tree, he slanted his lips down on hers, mindless of anything except the emotions she incited—the ache in his chest and the lust roaring in his veins.