The Southern Comfort Series Box Set

by Clark O'Neill, Lisa

  Josh squeezed the remaining hand in his own. “Do you happen to know if she ever went to her superiors about him, maybe lodged any kind of complaint?”

  “I don’t know,” she told him shakily. “Do you think he went after her for some kind of revenge?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m just trying to fit all the pieces together. Like I said, there are a few discrepancies. And just to be sure we’re talking about the same man, do you happen to remember his name?”

  Sam rolled her head back on tense shoulders. “I think Karen may have mentioned it, but…” she looked back at him and grimaced, “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t paying enough attention. That was the night that Donnie spoke, and I’m afraid everything else seemed insignificant.”

  “That’s okay. One of the detectives handling the case can ask Karen about it.” Josh would also have to tell them to ask Karen if there had been any type of indication that Salinas may have been abusing incapacitated patients. That type of behavior was more typical of a sadist, and from what Karen had told him about her own ordeal, it certainly seemed to fit. The attacks on the other women, however… well, like he’d told Sam, there were definitely some inconsistencies in behavior.

  “So did you catch him then?” Sam inquired, interrupting his musings. “Is he in custody?”

  “Well, that’s another interesting situation. The townhouse he was renting burned this morning, and it’s possible he went with it.”

  “Burned? So he’s dead?”

  “The verdict’s still out on that one,” he told her. And couldn’t resist brushing his thumb in a small circle against her palm. “The detectives working the case are trying to run down some dental records to make a positive ID, because the remains found in the unit were burned beyond recognition. If worse comes to worst, I may have to do a reconstruction, because all of the viable DNA comparisons burned in the fire. Unless he kept a comb or a toothbrush at the hospital. But anyway, until then, I’m not accepting anything at face value. I still want you to be cautious.”

  “So do you think this guy is responsible for the breakin? Or sending me the negligee?”

  “Negligee, no way. It just doesn’t fit this guy’s profile. He wouldn’t care enough to want to attempt to entice you. But the verdict is also still out on the breakin. It could be a retaliatory thing. Did you happen to have any confrontations with this guy other than the other night?”

  “Honestly, I don’t remember even seeing him before then. Certainly no confrontations.”

  “Okay.” Josh blew out a breath.

  “Is Karen at MUSC? I’d really like to stop by and see her.”

  “I think that would be a great idea, but she’s over at East Cooper Regional and won’t be allowed visitors until tomorrow. She’s in ICU right now.”

  “ICU,” Sam said weakly. “Oh my God.”

  He squeezed her fingers again. “Mostly, it’s because she caught that flu or whatever was going around right about the time she was abducted and then spent several nights… somewhat exposed to the elements.” Locked in the bathroom of an unheated building, which she unfortunately couldn’t really describe to them because she’d been unconscious when she’d been brought there. “And if it’s any consolation, I told her you were taking great care of Snickers. That alone seemed to help her improve.”

  “It would.” Her smile was watery. “She’s crazy about that stupid dog.”

  “You said it, not me.”

  Sam laughed a little, and Josh felt his heart swell. “Look, I have to get going. I’ve got that rehearsal dinner tonight.” And he’d agonized over whether or not to invite Sam, but thought she’d be too uncomfortable under the circumstances. “Just do me a favor and keep your eyes open, okay? Just because the man who attacked your friend may be dead doesn’t mean that your situation is all well and good. There’s still the chance that whoever sent you the negligee,” Dane Wilcox, the rat bastard “is also the perp who trashed your apartment. It may not have anything whatsoever to do with what happened to Karen, but I’m still not discounting the possibility of a stalker.”

  “Got it,” she assured him. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

  “Good. You going to be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Alright then.” He stood up and pushed in his chair. “I don’t know how long this thing is going to go, so I may not see you until tomorrow.”

  “Have a good time,” she prompted.

  “I’ll try.” He smiled down into her face. “Turn the alarm on when you get home.”

  SAM watched him go, returning his wave as he pushed through the door, the afternoon sun sparkling in his eyes. He looked so handsome and genuine and well, perfect that she forgot where she was for a moment. She wanted him, wanted that. Wanted that feeling of inexorable rightness whenever they happened to be in the same room.

  The hand falling lightly upon her shoulder made her jump in surprise.

  “Are you okay?” Dane asked from above her. Way, way above her. Josh was crazy if he thought anything else.

  “I’ll be fine,” she offered a smile, returned her focus to the beer nuts. “Just some bad news about a friend.” And the fact that she wanted to rail at whatever whim of fate that made her fall in love with the perfectly wrong man.

  “I’m here for you, if you need to talk.”

  Sam looked up at Dane’s handsome face, surprised by the fact that it appeared earnest. The only thing Dane had ever seemed earnest about before was having a good time. But he and Donnie had somehow gotten along really well despite their myriad differences, so he couldn’t be all that bad. Maybe he really did see her as a friend.

  “Thanks, Dane.” She touched his hand briefly before turning around. Considering him, Josh and Justin her collection of male friends was now truly impressive. Three gorgeous, intelligent and classy males who had absolutely no interest in her sexually. It was quite a step in the right direction.

  She thought of Josh, and how beautiful he’d looked silhouetted in the doorway.

  Too bad the right direction evidently sucked.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THERE were two dozen roses in front of his door when Josh returned home that night. He blinked, unable to reconcile himself to their presence, then bent down to retrieve the small white envelope nestled amongst the fuchsia blooms. Josh figured they were probably meant for one of his neighbors and had been delivered to his condo by mistake.

  He opened the envelope, drew out the card.

  SAMANTHA MARTIN

  White hot fury set his blood to boiling, followed closely by the icy grip of fear. Drawing the small pistol out of the holster on his ankle, he kicked the vase of flowers to the side. They spilled over, water rushing out to darken the carpet as Josh fitted his key in the lock. Sam’s name emerged as a desperate shout as he pushed through his front door.

  FROM beneath the shelter of the down blanket Sam heard the muffled thud of the front door, and her name being shouted over the high-pitched warning that signaled the impending scream of the alarm. In her kennel, Snickers began to bark.

  For a moment, Sam simply froze. Then the familiar tenor of the voice had her breath rushing out, and she wondered why Josh was shouting. She was just about to haul herself up when the blanket was whipped from the bed.

  Whatever sarcastic remark she’d been about to make died in her throat when she spotted the gun. Snickers went crazy in her cage. Sam scrambled to a sitting position, gaze switching from the weapon to his frantic face. “What happened?”

  Instead of answering, Josh sat the pistol on the nightstand and gathered her into his arms. He was warm, and masculine, and smelled so damn good that she decided it didn’t matter. It was so easy to pretend, just for a moment, that this was how things could be between them. But then reality started to intrude and she realized she was setting herself up for disaster. These feelings were blooming in fallow ground, and would just end up embarrassing them both. And aside from all that, Josh had to have had real cause for concern t
o come busting in here with weapon drawn.

  The alarm cut loose with an ear-splitting shriek, and Josh disentangled himself with a soft curse.

  Sam heard him open the front door, make a couple apologies to a neighbor, and she calmed Snickers before she joined him. He was scowling at a vase of partially crushed roses, setting them on the dining room table as she approached. With a noise of disgust he tossed a small white card beside the vase.

  “Josh?”

  JOSH blinked, noticing for the first time that Sam was wearing a T-shirt and nothing else. Her breasts strained against the Savannah College of Art and Design logo, and it took a moment for the words to register. Hell, it took a moment to remember he knew how to read. He’d seen her naked before – in drawing class, at Clay’s bachelor party – but seeing her like this was somehow more stirring. She was sleep-rumpled, bare-faced, and pretty much completely unaware of and unconcerned about her body, suggesting the level of comfort she’d come to feel in his presence. He knew how very rarely she was truly comfortable around men – how few she’d ever trusted enough to let past her emotional shields – and something inside him ignited.

  “You’re wearing my shirt,” he pointed out huskily.

  “What?” Sam glanced down at her chest, and when she looked up her cheeks were pink. “I, uh, guess I took it with me when I left Savannah. You loaned it to me – do you remember that night we got caught in the rain? We were doing a bar crawl along River Street and the sky just opened up. I wore this while you threw our clothes in the dryer at that twenty-four hour Laundromat.”

  Josh remembered. It was one of many evenings that he couldn’t forget, captured like a snapshot in his brain. She’d had a fight with Collin, and as she was inclined to do during that time period, anesthetized the hurt with alcohol. Josh knew it was a symptom of her profound lack of self-respect, almost classic behavior for a girl who’d been the victim of abuse.

  After their clothes had dried that night, he’d pushed Sam home in one of the Laundromat’s metal buggies, because she’d been having trouble walking a straight line. She’d spent the night on his couch, avoiding Collin. She’d cried herself to sleep in his arms that night, and it had killed Josh to let her go back to the man the next day.

  Not long after, she left them both.

  “It’s a miracle we weren’t arrested,” he concluded, temporarily ignoring the more painful aspects of the memory.

  “Probably.” She smoothed her hand down the front of the shirt. “I, uh, found it when I went out to my storage unit earlier today. There were a couple boxes of clothing I’d forgotten about.”

  “Oh,” he said absently, watching the way the shirt molded to her body. And then he realized he was being an idiot. “God, I can’t believe I’ve been standing here blabbering like a moron.” He shoved inappropriate thoughts about Sam’s T-shirt to the side. “Does this look like the same handwriting that was on the outside of the box with the negligee?” He pointed to the little card on the table. “The corner of it got wet when I kicked the vase over so the last part of your name’s pretty smeared. Try not to touch it, although I did a pretty good number on it already.”

  Wary, Sam scooted toward the edge of the table and stared down at the words. “I can’t say for sure about the writing, but it looks like the same thing. Where…” she cleared her throat anxiously, “where did these come from?”

  “They were sitting in front of the door.”

  “I guess that explains why you came in brandishing a gun.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry if I scared you. I just saw that they were addressed to you and…” His sentence dangled from the precipice of spent panic, and Josh ran a weary hand through his hair. He’d hoped there was a rational explanation – that maybe he’d been wrong and simply overreacted – but his instincts told him otherwise. There was no florist’s name printed on either the card or the envelope, not to mention an identifying signature. If someone legitimate had sent the flowers, he’d expect to see one or both.

  “Is there any chance these could be from someone you know? Maybe Karen had them sent over as a thank-you?”

  “SHE doesn’t even know I’m staying here,” Sam pointed out. “I never told her anything about what was happening.” And she wished now that she had. Maybe warned Karen to be careful in the parking lot. Although if the man who hurt her was indeed the one who’d burned up in that fire then there was no chance her abduction and Sam’s supposed stalker were related. She made that point to Josh.

  “This sort of throws a wrench in the theory, huh, about all this stuff being connected?”

  “Looks that way.” He dragged his eyes from hers to glare at the roses. “I’m assuming these weren’t here when you got home tonight.”

  “No. And that was…” she glanced toward the kitchen to squint at the clock, “just a little over an hour ago, I think.”

  “So you were in before eleven.”

  “Must have been, because the front door downstairs was still open. Plus I walked Snickers, which took about fifteen minutes. So it was probably ten-thirty, ten-forty five”

  “Okay. At least that narrows down the timeframe, because it’s just after midnight now. The guy either had to have come in before the door was locked or someone let him in. I’ll have to ask around, see if any of the other residents saw anyone who didn’t belong.”

  “What do you think this means,” she asked “in the grand scheme of things?”

  “Well, first and most obvious, someone’s been paying close enough attention to know that you moved in here. Have you told anyone where you’re staying?”

  “No. Although it appears to be common knowledge among your friends. Justin made a comment a number of days ago. But other than that, I…”

  Her brows furrowed together ominously.

  “You’re recalling something now, aren’t you? Come on, spill it, Sam.”

  She glanced up at him uneasily. “I know how this is going to sound, but you have to believe me that it is not what you’re going to think.” She twisted her hands together. “Dane, uh, came back from his trip today and – take that look off your face right now, Joshua Harding, or I am not going to say another word.”

  JOSH did his best to school his features, though inside he plotted Wilcox’s demise. “No look,” he promised her blithely. Dude was going to get well acquainted with Josh’s fists.

  She eyed him skeptically, clearly not believing the front. But hell, he hadn’t grabbed the vase and gone out the door to break the thing over Wilcox’s head, had he? Goddamn hot pink roses. And friggin’ slinky lingerie.

  Did he expect Sam to be flattered by his sleazy overtures?

  “You’re scowling again,” she informed him.

  “Just tell me,” he said between gritted teeth.

  Sam sighed in resignation. “Dane made a comment about the unsavory nature of my old apartment and I told him that I was staying with a friend. He said that’s great, who is it and then you walked in and I said something along the lines of there he is right now, and then I don’t think you need a play-by-play of the obvious display of mutual antagonism which followed because, oddly enough, you were a participant.”

  Josh refused to let embarrassment color his cheeks. “So he knows where he can find you.”

  “Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean anything, Josh. Dane isn’t the type of man who sends anonymous, romantic gifts to his female employees. If he wanted me – which he doesn’t – he would just smile and assume I’d fall at his feet. He only has to breathe to attract women, so what would be the point of all this?” She waved toward the offending flowers.

  Josh had to admit that she had a point. Dane Wilcox was so supremely confident that this whole secret admirer approach didn’t seem in character. But he’d seen enough seemingly inexplicable behavior in his career to allow that point alone to sway his opinion. “Think about it, Samantha. The guy goes out of town right after you get the mysterious negligee, and then all’s quiet until he blows back in. You tell him wh
ere you’re living now and poof! Suddenly the hallway’s sprouting roses.”

  Sam frowned. “Yes, but think about this, Detective Hardhead. Dane was at the bar with me from the time you came in this afternoon until he sent me home a little after ten. So he rushes out, finds a couple dozen roses at those ever popular twenty-four hour florists, and then delivers them all before eleven.”

  “He could have had someone let him in later,” he pointed out. “And picked up the flowers at one of the local supermarkets.”

  She made a small noise of disbelief. “Why pick the best lingerie store in the entire city, yet settle for bargain basement roses? Definitely not in character, if I were crazy enough to buy this theory. And these roses look like one of those special hybrids. Not something you’re likely to find just any old place.”

  He begrudgingly allowed her another point. Her hand snaked over and slipped into his.

  “Look, I know you’re only trying to protect me because you’re a male and it’s etched in your DNA, but even if Dane were interested in me in a romantic fashion, this is not the approach that he would take. Whatever he may be, he’s not… cowardly. Nor is he menacing. And this stuff is partly one, and a whole lot of the other, I just haven’t quite figured out which is which yet.”

  Josh squeezed her fingers gently between his, thinking that Clay had been accurate in what he’d told him. When someone you cared for was being threatened it was almost impossible to maintain perspective. “I’ll grant that you’ve raised good questions, but please accept that I’m not convinced. I won’t embarrass you and confront the man flat out, but I’m keeping him on my short list. Unfortunately, the connection between the negligee and the breakin is even more tenuous when you factor in the roses, so any chance I had of getting a warrant for Intimate Expressions’ sales records is pretty much a pipe dream. But I’ll still head by there tomorrow and see if I can find out anything that might help us.” He glared at the roses again. “I’ll take the vase and the card into the station tomorrow, see if they can lift any prints. Other than mine.” He rolled his eyes. “Then maybe I’ll call around to some different florists.”