Starting now.
She sprung up from the couch.
The coffee shop was closed indefinitely, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t still make treats for Steve and the guys.
She started pulling out everything she would need—flour, sugar, cocoa, baking powder, eggs, oil.
She was running low on vegetable oil. Should she make a quick trip to the store for more?
She checked the clock. It was almost ten. The grocery store was closed, but the twenty-four-hour mini-mart might have some.
Sam threw on a pair of comfortable workout pants and a light jacket. Her hand was on the doorknob when she froze.
Was she really thinking about heading out alone at ten o’clock at night, knowing someone might be stalking her?
The mini-mart was only a few blocks away, and the area was generally well-lit, but maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea, given the circumstances. Besides, with the way her luck was running lately, something would catch on fire along the way and she would be suspected of that, too.
Gah! She hated this! Hated being too afraid to leave her own apartment to do something as normal as running to the store for vegetable oil.
She dropped her purse and took off her jacket with a heavy sigh.
Things would get better. They would find out who really set that fire, and whoever was stalking her would be caught. She had to believe that. In the meantime, she would just have to stay smart and make the best of it.
“Applesauce instead of oil, it is,” she muttered to the empty space around her, then pulled out her big mixer and got started.
* * *
Anthony pulled on the lumpy body suit, followed quickly by some oversized stockings that gathered at the ankles and the dress he had picked up at the thrift store. The formless, print-flowered monstrosity was hideous and smelled like moth balls, which was precisely why he had chosen it. Glasses were next, as were a pair of gaudy, faux pearl earrings, followed by the bluish-gray wig of short curls to complete the ensemble.
He appraised himself in the mirror. The heavy pancake makeup did a good job of concealing his five o’clock shadow. In retrospect, he probably should have shaved, but disabling G.I. Joe’s Jeep had taken longer than anticipated.
Oh well. It didn’t matter now. The task was done. In a matter of hours, G.I. Joe would be out of the picture, and he and Sam would be beginning their new life together.
Anthony grinned, adjusted his denture overlay, and slipped the small bottle of chloroform into his handbag.
Showtime. It would be Mrs. Himmelwright’s final performance.
Chapter Ten
Steve couldn’t get out the door fast enough. He jumped into his Jeep and dialed Sam’s number. She answered on the third ring.
“Sam? It’s Steve. Is everything all right there?”
“Yes, Steve, everything is fine.”
“Good. That’s good.” He closed his eyes in relief.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “Did you meet up with the guys?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. And yes, I did. I’m just leaving.”
“Are you okay to drive?”
He smiled at the concern in her voice. When was the last time someone other than his teammates had given a shit? “Yeah, I’m good. Listen, I know it’s kind of late, but I’d like to stop by when I get back if that’s okay. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”
“You sure you don’t mind?”
“I’m sure. I’m making muffins.”
His grin grew. He could just picture Sam in the kitchen, wearing a little apron, puffs of flour on her nose and fingers. He pushed those thoughts away when he started getting hard.
“Then I’ll definitely be there. See you in about twenty?”
“Okay.”
He disconnected the call and started up the Jeep. Hearing Sam’s voice eased some of his worries, but that sense that something was wrong was still there, tugging persistently.
Ten minutes later, it had become so bad his heart was pounding and his knuckles glared white against the black steering wheel.
Some of the symptoms were similar, but this wasn’t one of his flashbacks. Rather than debilitating him, they were urging him to action.
He pressed the Bluetooth button on the console and spoke the verbal command to dial Sam’s number. After a moment, the ring could be heard over the vehicle’s speakers.
It rang once, then twice.
“Come on,” he muttered. “Pick up.”
Three rings, then four, before a digital female voice said, “Please leave a message,” and was followed by a beep.
“Sam, it’s Steve again. I’m on my way. Don’t open the door for anyone but me, okay? And call me back as soon as you get this.”
He disconnected then applied pressure to the accelerator, no longer simply surpassing the posted speed limit, but shattering it.
Flashing blue lights appeared in his rear-view mirror, eliciting a string of muttered profanities.
Stopping now wasn’t an option. The sense of impending danger was nearly overwhelming. He was only five minutes out from the apartments, less if he kept up this pace.
He downshifted and stepped on the brakes to make the turnoff into town. Less than a second later, the resistance beneath his foot disappeared entirely and the pedal slammed down to the floor boards.
“Fuck!” What the hell had happened to his brakes?
Steve was an accomplished driver, but at the speed he was going, no amount of skill was going to get his Jeep around the turn without rolling it.
He shot past the turn-off, his years of training taking over. He calmed his mind and concentrated on staying on the road and avoiding other cars while considering his options.
The answer came in the form of a dairy farm half a mile later. With the cops still on his tail, Steve downshifted again, then yanked the wheel, veering the Jeep off the road.
Gears grinding in protest, the big tires hit the soft soil and lurched to the side, causing Steve to bang his head … hard. That slowed his forward momentum, but it didn’t stop it entirely.
Blood poured into his left eye. He blinked it away, focusing hard on the moonlit landscape.
A big red barn loomed ahead and was getting bigger by the second. Jerking hard to the left, he maneuvered the bouncing vehicle away from the barn, realizing his mistake too late when he saw what appeared in his headlights.
Steve pulled hard on the emergency brake and braced for impact.
* * *
Sam pulled up the classic rock station on her music streaming app and turned up the volume, moving her hips to the beat. Measure, mix, measure, crack, mix. The motions were familiar, comforting.
A flutter seemed to have taken up residence beneath her rib cage. She couldn’t help it; she was looking forward to seeing Steve. Now that she had accepted the fact that she felt more than friendship for him, as well as the knowledge they would keep things in the friend zone for the foreseeable future, some of the weight had lifted off her shoulders.
Self-denial and worrying about what someone else did or didn’t feel was exhausting. The heart wanted what it wanted, and she could no sooner change what she felt than he could. What she could do was just be herself, make the most of each moment, and see where things went. Whatever happened, happened.
A knock at the door got her attention. He was here!
“Just a minute,” she called out. She put the spooned batter into the last cup and slid the tin into the preheated oven.
She was just setting the timer when the knock came again, louder and more insistent.
“I’m coming!” she called out again, a smile curving her lips. What was it about men and baked goods? Maybe that old saying really was right: the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. If that was the case, she thought with a chuckle, she might actually have a chance with the sexy, chivalrous SEAL.
Sam opened the door, surprised to find not Steve, but her neighbor, M
rs. Himmelwright.
“I’m sorry, dear,” Mrs. Himmelwright said in her croaky voice, wringing her hands as the scents of moth balls and arthritis cream hit Sam head-on. “I seem to have locked myself out of my apartment again, and I heard your music. Do you mind if I borrow your phone to call the building manager? He’s not in his office.”
Sam held the door, her neck prickling with unease. Geez! How paranoid was she if the sight of her elderly neighbor had her guard up?
“Uh, sure, of course. Let me grab it for you. I have it right over here on the counter.”
“Ooo … Something smells wonderful,” her neighbor said, stepping inside the apartment and looking around in interest. “Are you baking?”
“Yes. It helps me unwind.” Sam’s unease intensified. She hadn’t invited Mrs. Himmelwright in and was annoyed the elderly woman had come in, anyway. Maybe it was rude, but Sam didn’t like people in her living space. Well, except for Steve. She hadn’t minded when he had been here.
She reached for her phone, anxious to call the building manager and send Mrs. Himmelwright on her way. Hopefully, he would be quick, and she wouldn’t have to entertain her neighbor until the manager made his way up to the seventh floor. Or worse, Mrs. Himmelwright would still be here when Steve arrived and wouldn’t want to leave.
Sam no sooner had the phone in her hand when a cloth was pressed over her nose and mouth. She tried to scream and twist away, but the arm wrapped around her waist was surprisingly strong.
A sickeningly sweet scent filled her mouth, and her vision grew cloudy.
“Don’t fight it, Samantha,” a decidedly masculine voice said. “Everything is going to be all right now.”
Chapter Eleven
There was nothing like a stack of wrapped hay bales to stop a runaway vehicle, Steve thought wryly. His head hurt like a bitch, but he boxed up the pain and shoved it into the back of his mind. He had survived far worse.
Luckily, he had managed to angle the vehicle so he hadn’t hit head-on.
A few good shoves with his shoulder, and he was able to get the door open enough to stumble out. Tiny stars danced across his visions while he regained his sense of balance.
No, not tiny stars. Flashlights.
The cops who had been trying to pull him over were now making their way across the field, and if their angry shouts were any indication, they weren’t too happy with the car chase.
“Knees on the ground! Hands where we can see them!”
It was impossible to see beyond the blinding beam, but he bet at least one of those yahoos had his firearm out and pointed in his direction.
Steve went down on his knees and put his arms up.
“Can you shine that somewhere else, please?”
“You drunk, boy?”
Steve recognized the voice as one of the cops who had come out to Sam’s the night of the break-in. Typical small-town police officer—older, paunchy, with an inflated sense of self-importance.
“No. The brakes went out on my Jeep.”
The cop chuckled, more in disbelief than humor. “That so?”
“You think I like driving across corn fields and crashing into things?”
“Well, now, maybe our little town isn’t exciting enough for you.”
“He’s got blood all over his face, Joe. Maybe we should take him to the hospital or something.” That was from the younger guy, the one who looked fresh out of the academy and at least tried not to come across as a total douche.
“Nah. He doesn’t need a hospital. He’s a tough guy, aren’t you, Tannen?”
Steven ground his teeth together. He didn’t know what kind of grudge they had against him, but he didn’t have time for this shit. He needed to get to Sam.
“I don’t need a hospital. I need to get back to my apartment building. Sam might be in danger.”
“Sam? You mean the girl who called us because someone sent her flowers?” This time, they both laughed. “What’s wrong? Did a fruit basket show up on her doorstep today?”
Steve tried to hold his temper in check, but it wasn’t easy. It would take all of about two seconds to disable both of these men, secure them with their own handcuffs, and leave them in the trees for someone else to find. As satisfying as that would be, he would only do that as a last resort.
“Can I put my hands down now?”
“Yeah, but put them behind your back so Lenny here can cuff you. Keep you from getting any funny ideas.”
Talking to these two was like talking to two of the three stooges.
“Are you going to take me to check on Sam and make sure she’s safe?”
“The only place you’re going, pal, is down to the station to sleep it off.”
They had officially reached the last resort.
Steve leaned to the side, sweeping out his leg in an arc and catching both men off-guard. Seconds later, he had disarmed them both and left them cuffed to each other, back to back, with a fence post between them.
“Sorry about this, guys,” he said as he took the clips out of their guns and tossed them out of reach. “I did try to be reasonable, but I don’t have time to play games. My woman’s life might be in danger.”
My woman.
The words made him pause, but there was no denying the truth of them. From the moment he had met Sam, he had felt compelled to look out for her, his gut recognizing what his mind wasn’t ready to accept—Sam was his, had been since the first time she had flashed those pretty eyes his way. Those same instincts were now urging him to get his ass moving with all the subtlety of an air raid siren.
Neither officer responded. When they woke up, they were going to be pissed. Plus, he would have a double shot of assaulting a police officer added on to whatever list of trumped up charges they could come up with between them. He would deal with that later. Right now, getting to Sam and ensuring she was safe was more important.
Steve grabbed his phone from the front seat of his Jeep and tried Sam again. His call once again went to voicemail. He called Church next, giving him a quick rundown of the situation. Church agreed to meet him at his place.
The police cruiser had been left running, something he knew officers did to keep the in-vehicle computers online. He slipped behind the wheel, turned off the lights, and made his way back to the road.
The next call that came over the police scanner all but stopped his heart.
“All units in the vicinity. Smoke reported at Sumneyville Apartment complex, 2173 Spruce Street. Engine and ambulance en route.”
By the time he got there, volunteer fire police already had the road blocked off.
Steve pulled off to the side and jumped out a block away. Flashing lights lit up the area in splashes of red and blue. The big red fire engine was in front of the building, the much-smaller local ambulance parked not far away. Curious onlookers gathered along with evacuated tenants, chattering nervously from across the street.
Steve rushed around to the parking lot side and looked up, his heart falling further when he saw smoke coming out of an apartment on the seventh floor. Sam’s apartment.
He ignored the stares at his blood-stained face and shirt as he searched for Sam among the crowd. There was only one face he wanted to see, and it wasn’t there.
“Smoke,” Church’s voice cut through the din.
Steve looked around to find Church, Heff, and Doc appearing suddenly, as if out of nowhere.
Doc’s eyes immediately went to the gash on his head. “You okay there, Smoke?”
“Yeah, looks worse than it is.”
Doc narrowed his eyes, but thankfully accepted his somewhat truthful self-assessment. Or, more likely, realized there were more important concerns at that moment.
“You find Sam yet?”
“No, and her car’s still in the lot. I need to get inside.” Steve turned his gaze upward. “The smoke’s coming out of her place.”
Church nodded. “Doc, go with him. Heff and I will take another look around down here.”
&nb
sp; The fire police volunteer positioned at the back entrance was just a kid. He gave a half-hearted protest when the two men informed him they would be going upstairs, then stood down when he saw they weren’t going to quietly walk away.
“Looking pretty fierce there with that blood all over your face,” Doc commented as they double-timed it up the stairs. “You might want to wipe some of that off before Sam sees you.”
“That bad?” Steve asked when they reached the seventh floor.
“Not if you’re auditioning for the prom scene in Carrie.”
“Shit.” Steve took the bandana Doc held out to him and did a quick swipe. “Better?”
“It’ll do. You’re going to need stitches.”
“Later.”
Firemen dressed in gear were coming out of Sam’s apartment. One guy took one look at the two of them and held up his hand. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“It’s all right,” said a deeper voice behind him. “It’s all clear. You,” the fire chief said, his eyes narrowing when he saw who it was. “Is this your apartment?”
“No,” Steve said carefully. Apparently, the fire chief didn’t realize the place belonged to Sam. It also meant that Sam wasn’t there. “I live in the one next to it.”
“Well, it’s your lucky day, Mr. Tannen. We were able to contain the blaze before it spread, so you still have a place to sleep tonight.”
“Do you know what caused the blaze?”
Chief Petraski’s eyes narrowed. “Muffins, left in the oven. Who lives in this apartment, Mr. Tannen?”
“How should I know? I just moved in last week. Haven’t had the welcome mixer yet.”
“I’d watch myself if I were you, Mr. Tannen.”
“Noted. Can I get into my place now? It’s been a rough night.”
The chief looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t.
Steve felt his eyes on his back as he opened the door. After Doc followed him in, he shut the door behind him and waited.
“Looks like you make friends wherever you go, Smoke.”
“That’s one of the douchebags who was giving Sam a hard time,” Steve told him.
Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Protecting Sam (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 9
