Accurately sensing that Josh was ready to erupt, Kathleen stepped between him and the feckless guard. “He’s an infant,” she murmured close to his ear. “And he doesn’t know any better. Mac,” she called, much louder. “Why don’t you stay, wait for the forensics team to get here. I’ll accompany Josh to see what we can find out.”
Just then a nurse scurried in, looking harried and frazzled, hand clutched to her chest. “I’m sorry,” she exhaled loudly. “We had a patient expire and I had to move Mr. Martin to another room, not to mention this whole… incident, and well, it’s been a crazy night. But if you’re looking for Mr. Martin’s sister, Dr. Niles took her down to the ER.”
Barreling into the ER like a maddened bull, Josh made himself no friends by demanding information. He wanted to see Sam now. Kathleen followed along, smoothing feathers ruffled in his wake, and by the time he got to Sam’s cubicle he’d earned himself a reputation.
“Look out,” a disgruntled nurse called from down the hall to Dr. Niles, whose wide shoulders blocked Josh’s view of the bed, “pissed-off detective on your six.”
The man glanced up from where he was bent over Sam’s palm, apparently stitching it back together. Josh ignored him as his heart hiccoughed, pulse scrambling like hot oil on a skillet. A pale, banged-up Sam lay on the bed, eyes glassy from either pain or medication.
Both of which thoughts made him want to rip somebody apart.
“Hold on a minute, Detective.” The doctor rolled his stool to block Josh’s path. “This woman has been through quite an ordeal, and I’ll not have you distressing her with a bunch of questions until I’ve seen to her medical needs. You and your partner will just have to wait out in the hall for a few minutes.”
“That’s my fiancée.” Josh pulsated with anger. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Ah. Well that explains the out-for-blood expression.” He offered a wan half-smile. “But regardless of who you are or why you’re here, I still need you to back off for just a few moments. These stitches are almost complete.”
Josh managed a nod to show he’d heard the older man, but his eyes never strayed from Sam. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to her.
She shook her head, but didn’t answer, gesturing helplessly to her throat.
It was then that he saw the bruises.
“All set,” the doctor chirped, offsetting the black cloud of anger coming off Josh. He reached over and patted Sam’s hand. Then he turned to Josh and Kathleen. “Her larynx is bruised,” he informed them, although Josh had figured that one out for himself, “so it’ll be hard for her to answer your questions. And given the fact that I just put ten stitches in her palm and shot her hand up with anesthetic, writing them out isn’t the best option. The swelling in her throat should be down a bit by tomorrow, so you may have to hold off until then. In the meantime, I’ll be happy to tell you what I know, although I’m afraid my arrival on the scene was pretty much after the fact.” He focused in on Josh. “She has two bruised ribs and a mild concussion, and the bruise on her cheek looks worse than it is, though Ms. Martin might be inclined to disagree with me. I’ve given her something to take the edge off her pain, and I recommend we keep her here overnight for observation. But on the whole, she’s incredibly lucky. As well as incredibly brave.” He patted her again before standing up.
“I’ll handle this,” Kathleen said to Josh, indicating questioning the doctor. “You stay with Sam and I’ll check back later.”
Josh nodded, sparing her only the briefest glance as he murmured his thanks to the doctor. When they’d departed he moved toward the bed.
He was afraid to touch her. She was so bruised and battered and… hurt – that bastard had really hurt her – that he was afraid to do much more than sit down gingerly next to her. He stroked her cheek with trembling fingers, dying a little inside at the hideous purple starburst that was almost certainly the result of a fist hitting her face.
A very large part of him wanted to beat his chest and howl at the moon.
But Sam didn’t need his anger. So he took a deep breath to calm himself and gathered her into his arms with infinite tenderness. “I’m sorry,” he said again, voice catching raggedly as he breathed in her scent. Beneath the hospital odors of disinfectant came the subtle scent of lavender. The thought of how close he’d come to losing her caused his arms to tighten involuntarily. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to protect you.”
Sam held him tightly for long moments, shuddering once before going still, then roused herself enough to smack him in the back of the head, the universal symbol for you big dummy.
She pulled back and rolled her eyes before motioning for pen and paper.
“The doctor said –” he began after interpreting her gestures.
She cut him off with a waving hand. And there was sufficient urgency in her movements to have Josh reaching into the pocket of his sport coat. He extracted a small notebook and a pen, which he clicked into position before handing over.
Sam took them both and began writing awkwardly.
After several laborious minutes, she thrust them back with a grimace.
No guilt trip! Crazy guy wearing Justin’s lab coat. Find out if he’s okay.
A couple letters were mixed up and her writing barely legible, but Josh got the general drift. “You’re sure?” he asked, worried that this did not bode well for Justin. When she nodded he straightened from his position on the bed and walked over toward the closed door. He opened it, peering out into the corridor, hoping to catch Kathleen talking to the doctor.
Luckily they were only a few yards down the hall and when Kathleen caught sight of him she trotted over. “Problem?”
“I hope not. Sam told me that the bastard who attacked her was wearing Justin Wellington’s lab coat.” Josh watched distress chase surprise across Kathleen’s face and remembered that she and Justin were pretty tight.
“I’ll get right on it,” she told him, heading off quickly to do just that.
Josh turned back to Sam, who blinked at him like an owl, eyes huge in her banged-up face. But even as he made his way toward her he noticed her lids were growing heavy. Stubborn to the last, she motioned for the pen and paper.
“Sam,” Josh admonished, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “We can go through everything later. The important thing right now is that you rest.” No doubt the adrenaline rush which had kept her going since the attack was giving way to exhaustion.
She patted him in a gesture of appreciation, then turned her palm up in blatant demand. He’d forgotten that the other end product of a spent adrenaline rush was a fractious temper, so he stifled a sigh and handed the stuff over. Doctor’s orders or no, he was so damn happy to have her beside him that he’d pull the moon down for her if he could.
He watched as she labored with the pen, head bent low in concentration. With her dyslexia, writing was a challenge under the best of circumstances, let alone with an injured hand.
He wondered exactly how she’d come by that particular wound and grew angry all over again.
“Did you recognize him?” he asked, thickly.
Sam looked up and nodded, and Josh felt sick over the flash of fear which contorted her face. But only a moment passed before she controlled it. She had reserves of strength that frankly awed him. Instead of sitting here cowering she was determined to do what she could. Which was why it was no big surprise to him that her next message regarded her brother.
Man familiar. Have seen him in hospital? Here to kill Donnie. Said Donnie and I messed up his plans? Mentioned partner – implied rape if I didn’t cooperate. Maybe man who took Karen? Is Donnie okay? Make sure he’s somewhere safe.
The effort involved in writing so much had clearly exhausted her, and Sam sank into her pillow as Josh read. The legibility had gone downhill since her first brief missive, and it took him a few minutes to make everything out. By the time he looked up she was almost out.
“I’ll get a guard put on Donnie’s door,” he told her, because he sensed
that was what she was waiting for. She nodded and blew him an appreciative air kiss before giving in and allowing herself to sleep.
Josh leaned forward and kissed her head before pulling out his phone to call Kathleen. There were several things in Sam’s note that made no sense, at least when he tried to fit them into his previous assumptions. If the man Sam killed was somehow connected to their serial rapist – which was unusual in itself, to say the least. Serial killers sometimes worked in pairs, but rarely serial rapists – that still didn’t explain what that had to do with Sam’s brother.
What plans could Donnie Martin have interfered with?
Josh’s thoughts drifted to the circumstances that had landed Sam’s brother in the hospital in the first place. Why had he been shot? And why had he attempted to run?
Did the man who’d attacked Sam have something to do with that? And if so, why bother to come after Donnie after all this time?
Was whatever Donnie had been involved in the real reason for the thorough ransacking of his apartment?
How did the negligee and roses fit into everything, if at all?
And if the man’s so-called partner really was their serial rapist, did any of this have any more than a coincidental relationship with what happened to the mayor’s daughter?
“Hey,” Josh said when Kathleen answered, corralling his stampeding thoughts for the moment. “Any word on Justin?”
“We just found him,” she acknowledged, and from the relief in her voice Josh knew it was good. “He was unconscious in the men’s locker room. He’s groggy and pretty damn grouchy but he’s going to be okay.”
“Thank God.” Josh knew Sam would have been devastated had it turned out otherwise. “Well, listen, Sam wrote out some things she thought we’d need to know, and I want you to come take a look. Also, I’d like to get a guard posted at her brother’s door, preferably one of ours.”
“You think he’s in danger?”
“I don’t know.” There were too many puzzle pieces yet to figure out. “But until we know what the hell is going on, I’m not willing to take any chances.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SAM was patient with Josh as he carried her onto the elevator, knowing that whatever horror she’d gone through last night, it had been nearly as terrifying for him. She thought of what she would have felt like had the situation been reversed, and forgave him his obsessive hovering.
Although carrying her bodily from the car was a bit extreme, if you wanted her opinion. Not to mention embarrassing when you factored in their audience. A uniformed officer – Troy Simms, the same man who’d showed up to escort her through the hospital parking lot last week – was accompanying them up to the condo.
After a lengthy question and answer session this morning with Josh’s colleagues, they all seemed to have determined that there was Something Going On. There had been a great deal of Meaningful Glances amongst the detectives as she’d answered all their questions, over and over, to the point that her injured throat protested and Josh concernedly called things to a halt. She gathered what had happened in Donnie’s hospital room might somehow be linked to another of their cases, although even Josh had remained closemouthed. Whatever they were working on appeared to be big.
How it had come to involve either her or her brother was beyond her ability to reason.
They were still trying to ID the man she’d… God, it was difficult for her to even think about it, although she knew she’d done nothing wrong. The man she’d killed. The bastard.
And even though Josh had been pulled from the case insofar as it involved her, there was apparently a facial reconstruction of utmost importance that still needed his attention.
Hence Officer Simms. Josh refused to leave her alone any longer, but had no choice but to go in to work. She knew that it was killing him, but apparently the reconstruction he was working on – the burned up rapist, was her guess – was somehow linked to the case and he was the only one who could do it. Therefore, he’d wrangled poor Simms to babysit her while he went to the station and finished up.
Sam offered the man a small, rueful smile as he stepped onto the elevator behind them.
He flashed her an amused grin, freckled cheeks dimpling endearingly. Apparently, despite the fact that what had happened was no laughing matter, quite a number of the Charleston police force were getting a kick out of Neanderthal Josh. According to Kathleen – who Sam liked immensely, despite her earlier feelings regarding the woman’s penchant for gossip – they were all so used to him being charming and elegant that having him murderously aggressive was quite a revelation.
Josh finally released his hold on her, for which her bruised ribs were grateful even if her other body parts were not – being held by Josh was still too new to take any opportunity for contact for granted. He tucked her onto the sofa with a warm, fuzzy blanket and gathered together a book, her pain medication and a bottled water, setting them out on the table so that everything would be easily within reach. Then ignoring Simms, who’d been watching the proceedings with interest, proceeded to kiss her stupid.
After he’d satisfied himself with what felt suspiciously like a branding, Josh pulled back and ran his hand over her cheek. “You okay?” he asked with so much love and concern radiating from every pore that Sam felt the prick of unexpected tears behind her eyes. She ruthlessly blinked them away because if she cried she knew he’d never leave.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, covering his hand with her own. “I have reading material, mind-altering drugs, and Simms. What more could a girl ask for?”
Josh frowned at that last part, sending Simms an assessing look over his shoulder. Sam felt a laugh tickling her throat instead of tears. Simms was pudgy and balding, not to mention married and a father, but even if he’d been a cross between a movie star and a Chippendale dancer he wouldn’t hold a candle to Josh.
For Sam, Josh was The One. Always had been. Always would be.
“I love you,” she said, nudging his chin back toward her. “Don’t worry. Just go do what you need to do.”
Josh sobered instantly and looked at her. “If anyone calls or comes to the door while I’m gone, I want you to let Simms handle it. Until we figure out what’s going on and who’s involved, I’m going to step all over our usual boundaries and insist on keeping you in lockdown.”
His expression was hard, lips thinned in determination, but it was the fear in his eyes that got to Sam. She had no desire to put herself in harm’s way, for both their sakes, and she’d gladly give up autonomy to avoid it.
“I’ll be good,” she promised, crossing her heart to show she meant it.
“You’re always good, sweetheart,” he said, bestowing a final kiss upon her lips as he stood up. “Just be safe.”
After a few terse words with Simms, Josh winked at her and left.
The next few hours passed in relative comfort. Simms was good company, showing off photos of his young daughter and telling Sam every bit of dirt he knew about Josh, and when her various aches and pains got the better of her she doped herself on pain meds and slept. She’d been out for a little over an hour when a shrill noise startled her awake.
“What’s that?” she mumbled, leaning up onto an elbow as she fought off heavy slumber.
“I don’t know.” Simms pulled his sock-covered feet down from the sofa, clicking ESPN off by remote. He cocked an ear toward the entryway and frowned. “It sounds like a… fire alarm.” He stuffed his feet into his shoes without bothering to tie them and headed toward the door. After peering out into the hall through the fish-eye peephole, he withdrew his service weapon from its holster. He punched the alarm code into the panel to set the system to standby before easing the door open enough to look out.
Rubbing the grit from her eyes, Sam sat up and pulled the blanket around her. The loose-knit sweats she was wearing were both comfortable and warm, but the chill of unrelieved tension had settled deep within her marrow. From out in the hall she could hear murmuring,
as well as the muted sounds of doors opening and closing. It was only a moment before Simms popped back in, expression grim.
“There’s a fire on the ground floor of the building,” he told her, snagging her sneakers from their position by the front door before striding purposefully toward her. “The fire department is evacuating the building.”
“Fire?” Sam asked in slow-dawning horror, thinking of Josh’s beautiful home and everything in it. Clothing and possessions could be replaced easily enough, but his drawings were one of a kind. If nothing else, she wanted to save the portrait he’d done of her with an intensity that was almost frightening. “I have to get something from the bedroom.”
Simms frowned and came around the sofa, tying her shoes for her as he knelt.
“We really shouldn’t mess around,” he said sternly, looking up from his crouched position. “I’m not sure how bad the situation is and I’m not willing to take chances with either of our safety. I’ve got a wife and kid to go home to and Josh will kill me if anything happens to you.”
“I won’t leave without it,” Sam said stubbornly, feeling a completely foreign and unexpected rush of tears. This, on top of everything else she’d been through lately, was somehow more than she could bear. She pushed Simms’ hands aside and surged to her feet, her aching body protesting the sudden movement. “I’m sorry,” she managed to say around her tears. “You go on ahead and I’ll catch up with you.”
Simms stopped her with a firm hand.
“What is it that you want?” he asked on a sigh, glancing over his shoulder toward the door to the hall. No doubt wondering if he should say the hell with it and leave her, not that she could really blame him.
“There’s a framed drawing on the wall of the master bedroom. A pencil sketch. Of me.”
Simms’ gaze snapped back toward her in disbelief, then he rolled his eyes in the face of her silent weeping. “Put your shoes on and go wait by the door. I’ll grab it.” Muttering something about crazy, sentimental females, Sam watched him hurry off and quickly did as he asked.
The Southern Comfort Series Box Set Page 84
