Bad to the Bone

by Wendy Byrne

  “Do you have something for me to wear?” She tightened the towel around her breasts and picked up the sweat-soaked garments she’d discarded earlier. “I’d prefer not putting these back on unless I have to. They’re disgusting.”

  “I can lend you a T-shirt. Maybe I can scrounge up a pair of old shorts that might not end up around your ankles.”

  His jet-black hair glistened in the soft light filtering through the window. Sammie closed her eyes to push away thoughts of what she’d done and how incredible it had been.

  Caught in a problem of her own making, she was surrounded by trouble, no matter where she turned. Still, she kept willingly getting caught in his trap.

  He rummaged through his dresser until he found what he was looking for and tossed a T-shirt and a small pair of navy shorts onto the bed. “These should work.”

  His eyebrows rose as she dropped the towel to put on the clothes. She tamped down her libido.

  “We need to establish some boundaries,” she said, hoping to convince him. And maybe if she said it enough times she could convince herself as well.

  What was that old saying something about being too late to lock the barn door? Would it even be possible to return to a platonic relationship? And if they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, what would she do? She couldn’t very well leave town with all that was going on with her uncle. Even if she fired Enrique from Murphy’s, she suspected that wouldn’t keep him away.

  “I thought we agreed one time or a hundred, it wouldn’t matter. Besides, you’ve got to admit we have some amazing chemistry together.”

  She nodded. “But this whole thing between us is distracting. Now that I’m thinking with a clearer head, I can see this is a really bad idea. I have to make sure I stay right where I belong—in my uncle’s apartment above the bar. It’s for the best to keep me focused.”

  Enrique dropped his towel and yanked on a pair of boxers, followed by shorts. She didn’t look. Okay, maybe she sneaked a quick look. Besides, she’d seen everything he had, and it wasn’t like she was going to see it again anytime soon, so she might as well enjoy it one last time.

  He might have seen her watching. She hoped not. It would make him believe he had a chance for a repeat performance. Which he absolutely did not. Okay, maybe he did. But she’d never admit it to him.

  Remaining suspiciously quiet, he pulled on a T-shirt espousing the merits of exercise. His jaw tightened. “So you’re saying flings are okay, but anything more is out of the question?”

  “It’s that pheromone crap that makes us think there’s more.” She shrugged.

  “What do you propose we do about it?” He laced his fingers with hers.

  “Ignore it and hope it goes away.”

  “I have a feeling that’s not going to work, because every time I’m around you, all I can think about is getting you naked and having my way with you.” He brought her fingers up to his lips for a kiss. “Or you having your way with me. I’m not particular.” After giving her one of those orgasm-inducing smiles, he rested his hands on her shoulders.

  “Maybe we should try to focus on what’s important instead of this physical thing between us. For me, it’s about helping my uncle. For you”—she waved her hands in the air as if she had no idea what he might focus on, because she knew so little about him—“whatever it is you need to do.”

  He dropped his arms to circle her waist and sucked her into him. The intensity behind those coal-colored eyes made her go all squishy inside.

  “And what if what I need to do is you? How does that fit into the equation?”

  Even as his erection pulsed against her, she fought back the sensation. She needed to get some space from him so she could think. “It’s that testosterone thing. You need to ignore it unless we mutually agree that we should…you know.”

  “Have mind-blowing sex?”

  She felt the blush creep up her face. He sure as hell knew how to call a spade a spade. “Something like that. We don’t want to tempt fate, so from now on there will be no more pseudodates, no intimate little field trips. No dancing. No sparring. Nothing. Unless we’re surrounded by a crowd of thousands, we need to steer clear of each other.”

  “Thousands, huh?”

  “All right, at least twenty or so. It’s the only way we can keep this thing between us under control until I leave for good.”

  “Or until we both feel that overwhelming urge.” He smirked and those darn dimples popped out.

  She eyed him suspiciously. He gave in much too easily. “Don’t try any of that flirting stuff with me, either, because it’s not going to work.”

  He looked her up and down. “So you’re saying we’re not going to pretend there’s something to what’s between us. We should live life like always and be content to be each other’s booty calls. Is that what I’m hearing?” He nuzzled her neck, weakening a bit of that resolve to keep some distance. “’Cause maybe I need to call in that booty call card. I’m more than willing to go another round.”

  She felt hot all over again. “You are incorrigible.” She turned and left, determined to keep some distance between them until she could get some guidance.

  …

  Sammie went through the door of Jonathan Crane Ltd. with a fire in her belly. She’d gone to see Jack today to seek his much-needed counsel, and he’d refused to leave his cell. There had to be something she could do about that.

  Jonathan seemed startled when she stomped inside with only a cursory tap at the door before barging in. “I want some kind of legal remedy.”

  “Sit down, Sammie. What’s on your mind?”

  “I need to see Jack. You’re his lawyer. Make it happen.”

  “There are some things within my legal purview, some that are not. I’m afraid forcing visitation isn’t one of them.”

  “But I need to talk to him.” She needed to straighten things out in her head and only Jack could help with that. “I need to know what in the hell is going on.” Tears threatened at the memory. Why was her uncle so adamant in his decision?

  “Do you want me to talk to him for you? Maybe I can convince him you need to see him to make sure he’s okay.”

  A sense of relief flooded through. “That would be wonderful. I’m sure he’d listen to you.”

  “I’d be happy to do that.” He folded his hands together on his desk and smiled. “Now, what else can I do for you?”

  Nerves flittered along her spine. “Can you run a background check on Enrique Santana? He works for me at the bar.” It felt all kinds of wrong to not trust him—jeez, she’d had sex with him—but she needed to know.

  “If you don’t mind my saying, shouldn’t you have done that before you let him work at your bar?”

  Sammie drew in a breath. He was right. She’d let his good looks and charming ways win her over. Just like always.

  “I’ll find out his birth date. Is that enough?”

  Jonathan nodded. “I can pull in a favor if you need me to.”

  Sammie felt like someone had stuck a pin in her, letting all the energy driving her escape, and everything within her that was keeping her going seeped out.

  …

  Sammie paced across the length of her small apartment while nerves jumbled inside her. Lost in thought, she jumped when the phone rang. “Hello.”

  There was silence on the other end, other than the faint sounds of breathing.

  “Hello?” Goose bumps rose along the surface of her skin while a tremble of fear snaked along her spine. She should hang up. But somehow she couldn’t. She heard an intake of breath from the other end of the line, the only sign anyone was there. Even though her heartbeat boomed inside her chest like a big bass drum, pure stubbornness caused her to stay on the line.

  “Sweet cheeks.” The whispered words spoke of pure evil.

  “Who is this?”

  “We might have a job for you to do soon, and you’d better comply as instructed. Your uncle’s going to be in big trouble if you don’t follow orde
rs. You see, he owes us a whole lot of money, and we got to get it from somewhere. If it’s not him, it’s got to be you.”

  Emotion coupled with fear rattled around, making her knees weak and her heartbeat speed up. She should have known Jack was in trouble. Those betting slips. Damn it. No doubt his gambling addiction was connected to his arrest on drug charges. But how could she ever prove it? She gulped back the fear. “I came like you told me to last time. You didn’t show, except to send some goon to threaten me.”

  He barked out a laugh, the sound grating on her nerves like fingers scraping across a chalkboard. “Are you alone? Or are you waiting for that Spanish guy you’ve been snuggling up to?”

  “How did you…?” She let the question hang in the air, even though the answer was obvious. He’d been watching her. Somehow he knew every move she’d made.

  He chortled. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to make a move.” He sucked in some air as if taking a drag on a cigarette. “That Spanish guy might get himself into real trouble, if you know what I mean. Or maybe that hot little waitress you have working for you.”

  Sammie struggled to work this through. She should have been more savvy—all her encounters with less-than-perfect boyfriends should have prepared her for this kind of thing. “Then you need to hold up your end of the bargain and explain exactly what you want from me.”

  “Okay smart-ass, you do as I say, when I say, or things will not go well for Jack. You got that?”

  She gulped back the fear residing in her throat. “You’ve been perfectly clear.”

  “Just remember, prison can be a very dangerous place.” He hissed out a sigh. “Next time I ask you to do something, you drop everything and comply.” With that, he hung up the phone, leaving her shaking.

  …

  “Sammie, what’s up? You look like you just lost your best friend.” Enrique walked inside the bar ready to start his shift and found her sitting on one of the bar stools staring off into space.

  “Jack refuses to see me.” She wiped an errant tear from her eye.

  “He’s probably going through some stuff he doesn’t want you to worry about.” Enrique made a mental note to see if there’d been any problems at the jail.

  She shrugged as if even that move cost her. “That’s the point. I am worried about him, but he won’t let me in. All kind of things…” She shook her head. “I need to focus on getting him out, and I have a feeling this fling with you is getting in the way.”

  He tempered his anger. “How so?”

  “It’s awkward. I mean”—she pointed to him, then herself with a shaky finger—“once you’ve seen somebody naked, it’s hard to go back.”

  He smirked. “Yep, I have a tattoo of that hot little body of yours on the back of my eyelids.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. We’re working side by side while at the same time I know how it feels to have you inside me.” Her face flushed. “I know how it feels to have you in my mouth. I know you tend to mutter in Spanish right before you come.”

  “Okay, you’re going to have to stop being so explicit or I’m going to have to close up shop and play the booty call card.” He nuzzled the side of her neck and wished it didn’t feel so good to hold her. Keeping close tabs on her was integral for his success. Success at this operation that could make or break his career. He needed to get this right.

  “That’s what I’m talking about. Maybe we need to have a little separation so it’s not so tempting. And then I’ll get my focus back.”

  “Some of us have restraint, but I hate to say it, apparently it’s not you.” He laughed when her eyes went wide and her mouth opened and closed a couple of times.

  She elbowed him in the ribs and moved away. “You make me crazy.” The fact that a smile played on her lips showed him she was struggling hard to keep her perspective. When the front door opened a few minutes later, she glanced at her watch and frowned. “Chloe’s not here yet. I’m going to check on her.” Sammie pulled out her phone and set it down moments later. “She’s not answering.”

  “She could be stuck in traffic.” A prickle of unease wormed up his skull.

  Sammie worried her lip. “Can I borrow your car?”

  He nodded. “What are you thinking?”

  “Chloe. I want to make sure she’s okay.”

  “You want me to go, too?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “If you could handle Murphy’s, I’ll head to Chloe’s and make sure she’s okay.”

  Enrique threw her the keys. “No worries. I’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone.”

  …

  Sammie was surprised to see Chloe’s dilapidated blue Chevy parked in front of her apartment. She walked up the back steps and knocked at the door.

  When there still wasn’t an answer, she turned the knob, shocked to find it unlocked. “Chloe, you in here?” Sammie called as she slowly opened the door. A sense of déjà vu whispered inside her brain.

  Her breath caught in her throat as she stepped inside and surveyed the room. Tables were overturned, a blue lamp was smashed and in pieces on the floor, chairs were broken, the cushions torn off her couch and discarded on the floor.

  Sammie rushed through the small apartment until she found what she’d suspected she would all along—Chloe lying in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor. She ran to her side to check for a pulse, only sucking in a breath when she felt its weak but discernible beat. She flipped open her phone and dialed 911.

  At the last minute, she noticed the pen still clutched in Chloe’s hand. On the paper beneath was scribbled the letter S.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sammie’s legs felt wobbly, like her muscles had suddenly ceased to function. Her stomach churned, making her nauseous and light-headed simultaneously. Her chest squeezed while the urge to scream clawed at her throat.

  Why Chloe? Why hadn’t they gone after Sammie instead? She had a fighting chance, while Chloe was like a babe in the woods.

  Enrique walked into the hospital waiting room and gave her a look that somehow simultaneously embodied I got your back and everything’s going to be all right. A sense of calm, like a cool breeze on a hot day, billowed through her. Maybe he was a good guy after all.

  He sat down next to her, putting an arm across her shoulders. She succumbed to the security he offered, resting her head against his chest.

  “I closed the bar for the night.” His fingers rubbed along the top of her arm. The gesture felt comforting as well as familiar. “I wanted to be here with you. Are you okay?”

  Although she could sense he wanted to ask more, instead of probing he stretched out in the seat, pulling her close. She curled next to him, bringing her hand across his chest.

  She didn’t trust her voice and nodded instead. She was afraid if she opened her mouth to speak, she’d start blubbering. The sobs trapped inside her chest made her ache. But if she began, she might never stop. Everything poured down around her at once. Guilt. Remorse. Was there something she should have done about the menacing phone calls? If she had told Detective Sterling everything, would it have prevented what happened to Chloe?

  Instead of second-guessing all her decisions, she tried to block out everything but the sounds of Enrique’s breathing and the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. Thump. Thump. Thump. In. Out. In. Out. The normalcy of it felt good.

  “Sammie.” Detective Sterling walked into the emergency waiting room and stopped before her.

  With vocal cords clogged with emotion, she had to clear her throat to speak. “How’s Chloe?”

  “Holding her own, but I gotta tell you she’s been beaten up pretty badly. They put ten stitches in the back of her head, which is where all the blood came from. Right now, she’s in a drug-induced coma to keep the swelling in her brain down. Her jaw’s been broken, and she has bruises and contusions elsewhere.”

  “When can I see her?”

  “Her family’s headed in from Tampa, so it’s going to take a while. Not sure if the
hospital will let anybody in besides direct family.”

  “They will if you ask them.” Sammie wanted to see Chloe again. She needed to see her patched up and beginning to heal in order to erase the horrible image cycling through her mind. She needed reassurance Chloe really was alive and the hospital and Bryce weren’t lying to her. And, more importantly, she needed to know more about the note and the letter S she’d scribbled.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” He pulled a chair in front of her. “In the meantime, I need to ask you a few questions.”

  Sammie forced calm by a few deep breaths. “I didn’t see anybody.”

  “Did you touch anything?”

  “The doorknob when I walked in. I think maybe the pen in her hand.”

  “What do you make of it? The letter S. Does she have a boyfriend that you know of?”

  “None that she mentioned. She flirted a lot, but that’s part of the job.” She turned toward Enrique. “I don’t think she was dating any of the customers, do you?”

  Enrique shook his head. “She said something about a guy from school. I don’t think she ever mentioned a name, or if she did, I don’t remember it.”

  “Do you think it might somehow tie into Tony?” Sammie couldn’t believe how calm her voice sounded, considering the all-out war going on inside her body.

  “Well, there is the obvious link to the bar. I guess I’d have to wonder if there was a patron or someone who had a vendetta. Or do you know if the two of them hung around the same social circles?”

  Sammie shook her head. “Not that I know of. Can I see her?”

  “To be honest, I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

  “But it’s my fault she’s there in the first place.”

  Enrique grasped her arm. “What do you mean?”

  Sammie steeled her spine. When her gaze rose, both Bryce and Enrique were staring at her.

  “We’ve been having a lot of trouble. Maybe a customer targeted her.” Sammie shook her head. “I should have discouraged her from working at Murphy’s. I should close the whole damn place. That’s what they want.”