by Meg Allison
“But you must know,” he said with a small smile. “You and I, we belong together, don’t we? We’re connected. Those other women were just in the background. I never even saw them, not really, but you knew they were there. You knew they wanted me and you…you were just protecting me, weren’t you Katherine? You were keeping them away so I couldn’t make mistakes and get hurt again like that girl in New York hurt me. I told you about her, didn’t I?”
Katherine’s face lit into the most joyful smile and she nodded her head. “Yes, you did! You do understand. I couldn’t let them have you, Nathan. They were always watching you, talking about you. I couldn’t let them defile you the way they wanted to…” Her smile faded as she turned to look at Samantha, “Just as I can’t let her ever touch you again.”
Samantha lunged to her right, but couldn’t avoid the invisible noose that Katherine somehow threw around her neck. She clawed at her throat, desperation sending fight signals to her brain. But the oxygen was going…going…gone. Her eyes widened and she felt herself slump to the cold, hard linoleum as Nathan and Katherine stood staring down at her.
“Katherine…” Samantha heard him plead, “You don’t have to do this. Just let her go, and we can leave. We can be together now that I understand.”
“No,” the other woman screeched and the pressure around Samantha’s neck intensified until she felt the bones in her neck must soon snap. “Don’t you see, Nathan? She has to die. You’ll never completely forget until she’s dead.”
Shadows filled Samantha’s vision as a scream echoed across the tiled walls. Her lungs burned like hellfire, and then she felt the cold numbness wash over her. A loud explosion and voices followed as her world went from a blur of gray to noiseless black.
* * ‡ * *
Chapter Fourteen
She stumbled through the dark apartment to the door, silently begging the pounding to stop. About to jerk the door open, she paused. What if it was him? She couldn’t face him right now. She glanced down. Not the way she looked…not with that last scene at Liam’s hanging between them.
And then he had gone and saved her life, putting his own in jeopardy, and she hadn’t even called him once to say thank you or tell him to go to hell or that she loved him. Tears burned her eyes as she thought of it. God, how she loved him.
“Samantha!” Adam bellowed. “Open the damn door before I break the thing down.”
She sighed, content to face her big brother’s ire instead of her former lover’s. Tears burned her eyes again as she realized it was, indeed, over with Nathan.
“Just a minute,” she called and undid the five locks Adam installed during her overnight hospital stay.
When she finally pulled the door open, the light from outside made her wince and squint. “What?”
He made a noise of disgust and pushed past her.
“Did you forget to pay the electric?” He walked to the side table and flipped the lamp on. “Nope, apparently, you just forgot to turn the lights on.”
She pressed her hands to her face to block out the glare of the forty-watt bulb. “I’ve been sleeping.” It sounded lame, even to her ears.
“It’s six o’clock in the evening, Red. How long have you been asleep?”
She frowned and thought about it. “What day is it?”
“Shit!” Adam walked around her and went straight to the kitchen. The swinging door flapped behind him and she saw the light come on beneath the jamb.
“When did you last eat?” he called.
“I had an omelet for lunch…” she ran a hand through her hair or tried to. Her fingers caught in a tangle and she yelped. “Or maybe was that breakfast? I think it was this morning.”
She heard more cursing, followed by the clink of dishes and then the sound of running water. Adam pushed open the door and glared out at her. “From the looks of these dishes piled in the sink, it was not this morning or any other time today. They’ll have to soak for a few hours before they’ll come clean.”
She felt her cheeks tingle with warmth. “Oh, well, maybe it was last night?”
He raised a brow, giving her that condescending look that had made her want to slap him for as long as she could remember.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Standing here, being interrogated by my big brother,” she snapped. “You?”
“I’m considering the consequences of hauling my little sister over my knee and spanking her ass until she can’t sit down again.”
Indignation filled her…followed by a small niggling fear that he might do just that. Then the anger came back like a flame fanned with pure oxygen. Fear be damned. She was freaking sick of always being scared. Instead of retreating, as good sense dictated, Samantha folded her arms and glowered back.
“You wouldn’t dare…” she regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.
Adam raised his other brow and slowly re-entered the room, arms at his sides. The door swung to and fro behind him, distorting the sound of the faucet running. It was then that her senses came fully awake and she realized her brother was well and truly angry. With that kind of anger, he just might well follow through on his threat.
“Now, Adam—” she began.
“I wouldn’t dare, huh?” he took another step closer, the anger and frustration rolling from him in waves that vibrated in the air.
She stepped back but he kept coming. Tall, dark and menacing, she found herself for the first time in her life somewhat afraid of one of her brothers. Adam was a gentle man, despite what his reputation demanded. But she knew he had a dark side. A side seen only by a few who had dared hurt someone he loved. That side was standing before her now, full in the flesh and ready to do battle.
“Now…calm down, Adam…” she said as she backed into the sofa. There she lost her balance and fell on her butt. Hands on hips, feet a shoulder-width apart, he leaned over her.
“After all the crap we’ve been through recently, I don’t blame you for running home to hide for a while,” he began, eyes dark with fury.
“Now wait a minute, I’m not a child.”
“No, you’ve just been acting like one,” he interjected. “You run home and hide. Lock yourself up. You won’t answer your phone. You haven’t been returning messages. You haven’t been to your office in days. You’ve been missing appointments, which everyone is sure must mean you’re dead or worse.”
“Wait, worse?”
He continued undaunted, “I finally get tired of everyone asking about you, nagging me to check in on you, and I drive all the way over here to find you still in bed at six o’clock and looking like hell, wallowing in self-pity.”
“Excuse me?” she sputtered, unsure what part of his tirade bothered her more.
“You heard me, Red,” he retorted. “You look like you’ve been on a three-day drunk.” He wrinkled his nose. “Not to mention the fact that you’re more than a little ripe.”
“I am not!”
“You stink, Samantha. When did you last shower?”
She blinked up at him and opened her mouth to respond. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t remember when she last ate, let alone bathed. Samantha looked around them, taking in the disarray for the first time. The blood-spattered costume still littered the floor near the front door. Unread newspapers and unopened mail was piled on the small coffee table and scattered on the floor around it. The air smelled musty and stale.
Then she looked down at herself and cringed. Her pajamas were stained and rumpled, her socks mismatched. She touched her face and felt the layer of oil coating her skin. She already knew her hair was a tangled mess. Then there was that nasty, sour taste in her mouth—the combination of rum and something with garlic.
“Oh, God,” she whispered as tears of shame filled her eyes. They burned her dry, raw lids. She blinked, but it only made the burn intensify. “I…I don’t remember. I can’t remember a thing for days…it’s all a blur.”
Adam sighed and sank to his knees before her,
taking her hands in his. Gone was the big bad brother, he was back to his usual compassionate, reasonable self. That made the tears fall. His anger she could handle—she had experienced the brunt of it enough in her lifetime among the testosterone fueled company with which she often found herself. Compassion was another matter entirely.
“Hey…” he soothed as he pulled her to him. “Come on, Baby Girl, it’s not that bad. A nice cup of coffee, a toothbrush, and a hot shower will do wonders, believe me.”
She shook her head, unable to talk past the gasping sobs that seemed to take over. It was as if she had no control of anything—her body, her life…her heart.
“Sammy-Jo, it’ll be okay. You’ll see.”
“No…” she mumbled after a moment. “No, it won’t. Nothing will ever be okay again.”
They sat a long time with him simply rocking her in his strong arms. Then she felt him sigh and heard the rumble of his voice in his broad chest.
“He’s not Johnny,” Adam reminded her.
“He might as well be,” she insisted with a sniffle. “The way he acts when he can’t draw or when he’s trying not to draw his visions. God…” The pain welled up her throat again, sending another round of sobs erupting out of her. Her body shook, stomach clenching and unclenching as the emotions of the past week tore at her. “And he tried to control me with lies—just like Johnny. I couldn’t help either of them. Johnny died because I couldn’t help him. I wasn’t enough.” She looked up into his green eyes. “Another woman died in my place, Adam. I could have stopped it. I could have been the bait and kept it from happening, but he wouldn’t let me.”
“Actually, it was me that wouldn’t let you do that, remember? But I think you’ve hit on the real problem. You feel helpless. You feel out of control. No, Nathan’s not like Johnny and you know it. Johnny was screwed up,” Adam admitted. “It went a lot deeper than anyone knew. I’m not sure he even realized it until it was too late.” He pulled away and held her face between his hands. “I should have seen it. I’m a cop—I know the signs when one of us is getting in too deep. But I didn’t. You didn’t. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own.”
“Nathan…”
“Damn it, Sam, Nathan is a good guy. He has a gift, not an addiction. You damn well know there’s a difference. And he’s not the only one that kept you out of the loop. It was my decision as well––mine and Davu’s. Why aren’t you still angry with us, huh?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe because I trusted him? I haven’t let myself trust anyone outside the family in years. It scares me, Adam. The way I feel for him. His gift…”
She took a deep breath as she tried to piece her own emotions together. She could read others like a book, but couldn’t even figure out what was going on inside her own head and heart.
“It controls him, just like the heroin controlled Johnny. I can’t do it again, Adam. I can’t love another man and watch him kill himself. I can’t watch him let something else control his life and his choices. I just can’t do it.”
“Sweetheart, no one can stand up to their demons alone, you know that. Yeah, maybe he needs to control his gift—but he is trying. I’ve seen it.”
She looked up at him. “When? You’ve seen him?”
“Yes, I have,” he continued. “But how the hell is he going to learn it all on his own? He needs someone who understands. Someone who can be there when it gets bad and pull him back up if he falls on his ass. He needs you.” He watched her face for a moment as his words sunk in.
God, how could she stay with him? But how could she ever stay away? Never to see his smile or the laughter in his dark eyes. Never to feel his touch or taste his kiss. She took a shuddering breath. Maybe she had her own addiction to deal with.
“You need him, too,” Adam pointed out, as if he could read her thoughts. Maybe he could. Her brother’s intuition had always been there when he needed it, whether he admitted it or not.
“Does he want me back?” she asked. “After everything I said? After everything that happened?”
Adam shrugged. “Judging by the look on the man’s face when he asked about you yesterday, I’d say yes. I know that look, Sam. He may need an apology and maybe some encouragement, but he wants you back. The man is dead inside without you.”
She sniffed. “Channeling my gift now?”
“No, just speaking from experience.”
She saw the flicker of pain that came and went. Someday, somehow, she vowed she would see her brother happy again. Really, deeply happy. Until then, she had a bridge to mend, a chosen one to save from a lifetime of self-doubt and loneliness. The fact that it would save Nathan, too, was an added incentive to send her into action.
“Will you drive me to him?” she asked, suddenly afraid to face Nathan completely alone.
Adam chuckled. “Um, sure…” he looked her up and down, “After you clean yourself up, Baby Girl. I refuse to be seen with you looking—and smelling—like this.”
* * ‡ * *
Nathan stared at the blank pages before him but he couldn’t see past the memories. He needed to draw something, anything, and yet it was the last thing he felt like doing. The moment Adam Bays had put a bullet in the heart of Katherine Rose, his visions of death had stopped. The moment Davu picked Samantha up and carried her off to the hospital, his desire to draw had followed the need. It was as if someone turned the power off at the breaker. It felt complete. Final. Permanent.
He only wondered if he’d ever be able to draw anything ever again. What would he do if his talent was gone along with his visions? There weren’t many job opportunities for an artist who couldn’t draw. He was also sure the scandal of Dave Miles would haunt him far into the future and into any future job interviews. The local scandal rags had immediately snatched up the sordid story of the less than reputable secret lifestyle of one of Savannah’s top businessmen. The advertising and public relations community would likely forget all about Dave Miles and his company’s successes long before they stopped gossiping about his deviant exploits with various prostitutes and minors. Meanwhile, even the mere mention of the other man’s name on a job application would nix any hope his former employees might have of finding a new position anywhere in the original colonies.
A loud knock on the door startled him, and he wondered who would be visiting this late at night. When he opened the door, he was startled to see Adam Bays standing in the hallway. The man hadn’t said much to him after Katherine Rose’s death, but they’d run into one another just the day before at his brother, Liam’s gallery. Tea and sympathy were what he had needed from Liam––and maybe a bit of news regarding Samantha. Then Adam had come and gone so quickly that Nathan was sure he was on the other man’s list of untouchables.
“Hey,” Adam began and then cleared his throat as if he felt uncomfortable. Nathan frowned. What the hell? He would have bet nothing could make one of Savannah’s top homicide detectives uncomfortable about anything. Ever.
“Uh, yeah,” the other man continued quickly, “I’m sorry to stop by without calling or anything, but we weren’t sure you’d let us come–”
“We?”
A figure moved from the deep shadows to the right of the doorway and Nathan stared. Even beneath the dim lighting her hair seemed to glow like a warm fire. For a moment, he couldn’t think and then she smiled softly, tears glinting in her huge green eyes.
“Sam?” he whispered, almost afraid mere mention of her name would send the mirage away.
“I…” her voice broke and he felt as if something in him cracked, “I’m so sorry.”
He reached for her then and gathered her body against his, burying his face in the long, cool tresses cascading around her shoulders and back. He sighed, breathing her scent deep into his lungs as he held her tight, silently praying that this wasn’t a dream.
“I’m the one who’s sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I never meant to hurt you, Samantha. Please, please forgive me for everything.”
“Yeah, sorry to break this up, but I think you two have a lot to talk about––inside the apartment?”
Nathan looked at Adam and smiled. “Yes, thank you.”
Samantha let him go long enough to tackle her brother in a crushing hug. Then she looked up at the other man and grinned. Again, Nathan found himself envying the closeness these siblings shared. But when she turned back to him, the love shining in those beautiful green eyes chased away everything else.
“Good night, you two,” Adam called as he turned back toward the elevator door. “Take care of each other.”
When her brother was gone, they closed the door and simply stood holding each other as the world spun around them. He felt the warmth of her body through her clothes. The rise and fall of her chest as her lungs filled with air. The beat of her heart mingled with his own until he couldn’t discern which was which. After several minutes, he moved away to look down into her tear-stained face.
“I promise I will never, ever lie to you,” he vowed. “Never again. Just don’t ever ask one of those questions I can’t win.”
She laughed. “Like what?”
“You know: Does this dress make me look fat?”
She smiled and then gently pressed her lips to his and sighed. “I promise, and I also promise to listen when you’re trying to help me. I’m sorry, Nathan.”
“Does this mean we’re good?” he asked, hope filling his heart until he felt his chest might burst. “You love me?”
“We’re better than good,” she told him as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his. “We’re golden. And I’ve loved you since the second time I saw you.”
~~The End~~
Meg Allison is a wife, mom, writer, and crazy cat lady. Not necessarily in that order. You can visit her on Facebook or at her website: www.megallisonauthor.com
