by Sharon Sala
HEART-POUNDING DANGER!
A bouquet of flowers from a secret—and deadly admirer sends Kristie Samuels straight into the loving arms of sexy detective Scott Wade in this powerful and provocative tale by USA TODAY bestselling author SHARON SALA
Sudden Danger
Sharon Sala
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Kristie Samuels stepped out of the cab and pulled the collar of her full length blue coat a little tighter around her neck. Ducking her head against the cold, December wind, she made a dash toward the front door of the office building where she worked. It was the day after Christmas, and in her opinion, the time when all good girls should still be warm in bed. However, no one at Shay, Tremaine and Weller had asked her opinion, so here she was, trying to outrun a wind chill of ten below just for the privilege of being employed in one of Chicago’s premiere advertising firms.
The security guard at the front desk looked up as she entered the building, and waved a greeting at her before he returned to the morning paper.
“Good morning,” Kristie replied as she headed for the elevators, then flinched as she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. It was only after she realized she was seeing her own reflection in the highly-polished metal of the elevator doors that she relaxed.
She shook off the spurt of anxiety, took a deep breath and pushed the up button, reminding herself that she had nothing to fear. The crazy letters and weird phone calls she’d been getting over the past few months had turned her into someone she didn’t like. She was jumping at shadows and becoming afraid to answer her phone. And then just as suddenly as they began, they had stopped. It had been three days since she’d had any contact from this stalker and she was praying that it was over. Last night was the first night in weeks that she’d had a good night’s sleep. For whatever reason, the nut who’d been bugging her must have moved on to greener pastures.
And since he’d never called her at the office, or indicated that he even knew where she worked, she had no earthly reason to assume she was in danger here. She got on the elevator, absently punching the tenth-floor button as she ran a practiced hand over the slick chignon she’d made of her thick, red hair. On a good day, it was very, very curly. On a day like today, with the wind and the threat of snow, it was out of control. Thus the need for the somber hairstyle, which in a way, matched her mood.
This was the first Christmas of her life that she hadn’t spent with her family back in Texas. Not only that, but she’d spent all day yesterday alone, trying to remember exactly why she’d ever wanted to move so far away. Between the loneliness and the stalker, she was a hair away from calling it quits and moving back to Midland. Midland wasn’t exactly the cosmopolitan city that Chicago was, but it had its own allure, especially if you were partial to mesquite and pump jacks on an ever-flat horizon.
The elevator stopped. Kristie exited quickly and as she entered the office, had already slipped into the mind-set of what needed to be done today. But as she approached her desk, she stopped in mid-step and stared. There was a huge vase of red roses on each secretary’s desk and neither the receptionist or her co-workers were in sight. Not unusual, since she had a habit of getting in to the office about an hour earlier than everyone else. Her bosses appreciated her eagerness, as they were earlybirds themselves. Curious, she hung up her coat, still eyeing the flowers.
As soon as she got back to her desk, she lifted the card from the bouquet. Maybe they were from her parents. When she’d called them yesterday to wish them a merry Christmas, she’d been feeling sorry for herself. They’d probably heard the tears in her voice and sent her a pick-me-up. She leaned down and smelled the bouquet, thinking to herself that hothouse roses never smelled as sweet as the ones that climbed up the trellis on her mother, Shelly’s, back porch.
Still thinking of her parents, she glanced at the note.
This is going to be our year.
Love…your secret admirer.
Her heart skipped a beat as she read it again, and as she did, the blood drained from her face. Secret admirer? She didn’t even have a boyfriend. It had to be him. The stalker.
Without thinking, she dropped the note as if she’d touched something filthy, shuddering as she tried to draw a decent breath. Her heart was pounding, her mouth had suddenly gone dry. This had gone on too long. Either she called the police now or she quit her job and went home. But not to her apartment here in Chicago. She meant home, as in Texas. There the neighbors were not strangers, but friends of long standing, and family was only a phone call away.
* * *
Detective Scott Wade leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, and rubbed the back of his neck with both hands. The day was just starting and he already had the beginnings of a headache. He stood abruptly and strode into the break room to refill his coffee cup. Maybe another dose of caffeine would help.
“Hey Wade…Fisk is looking for you.”
Scott grabbed a doughnut from the box on the table and picked up his coffee. The fact that the lieutenant was already looking for him didn’t bode well for the headache he was trying to lose.
“What does he want?” Scott asked.
“You,” the detective said, and then grinned and dodged as Scott flicked sugar from the doughnut on his arm.
Scott ate the doughnut in three bites and washed it down with a quick sip of coffee before he headed to the lieutenant’s office.
“You wanted to see me, Lieutenant?”
Joe Fisk looked up from his desk and handed Scott a piece of paper.
“Go check this out,” he said.
Scott glanced at the name and address. “What’s it about?”
“Some woman is claiming she’s being stalked. I don’t like stalkers. See what you can find out.”
Scott took the paper, glancing briefly at the name of the caller. K. Samson.
“Tucker’s not coming in today,” Fisk said, referring to Scott’s partner, Paul Tucker.
“What’s wrong with him?” Scott asked.
“His ex-wife had an emergency appendectomy last night.”
“Oh man…who’s got the kids?” Scott asked, thinking of the two little boys that Paul had every other weekend.
“Her parents.”
“That’s good, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather work alone until Tucker comes back,” Scott said.
“Okay for today, but if he’s still gone tomorrow, you take someone else with you. I don’t want my men going out alone. You always need someone at your back.”
Scott nodded, then grabbed his coat as he headed for the parking lot. The wind was bitter, and not for the first time, he thought about relocating somewhere further south. It wasn’t like he had any ties to the area. His parents had moved to Florida his senior year in college and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d dated a girl more than two or three times before calling it quits.
It dawned on him as he pulled into traffic that part of his dissatisfaction with the weather had to do with being lonely. If he had someone special to come home to every night, he probably wouldn’t care how cold it got.
A short while later, he pulled up in front of the office building and got out, his strides long and hurried as he ducked through the revolving door, grateful to be out of the wind. The security guard looked over his newspaper long enough to tell him to sign in.
Scott flashed his badge and asked what floor Shay, Tremaine and Weller was on.
At that point, Barney the guard dropped the paper, jumped to his feet and put his hand on his gun.
“Is there a problem?”
“As you were,” Scott said. “I’m just here to investigate a complaint.”
The guard blustered and puffed. “Well…if you need any help, just let me know.”
Scott shook his head as he moved toward the elevator. Something told him that guard wasn’t worth the lead he was carrying on that gun belt. He stepped on the elevator and then combed his fingers through his hair as the car began to move, trying to put a semblance of good grooming to his wind-blown hair. Moments later, he exited on the tenth floor and started looking for the office. It was halfway down the hall on the right. He pushed the double glass doors open. There was a woman standing with her back to the door. As he walked into the office, she turned around. At that point, Scott froze, staring at her in disbelief. When he felt the floor shifting beneath his feet, he knew it was time to speak.
“Kristie?”
For a moment, the world was put on hold. “Scotty?”
“I’m looking for a K. Samson? Something about a stalker?”
Scott pulled his badge out of habit. Kristie stared at it in disbelief, trying to assimilate the fact that her high school sweetheart, whom she hadn’t seen in years, was working for the Chicago P.D.
“You’re a cop?”
“A detective, but that’s not important right now. I was given to understand there was a stalking complaint. Where is this K. Samson?”
Kristie started to hedge. It seemed embarrassing to be admitting what had been happening to her, especially to him. He’d been her first love, her first lover, and the first boy to break her heart. Of course that hadn’t really been his fault as much as the fault of his parents for moving away during his senior year. It had been slightly disappointing to her that she hadn’t died from the grief of losing him. He wrote a couple of letters, one of which she had answered, but the last one he’d written had been more of a farewell than their actual parting had been. After that, she’d given up her youthful dreams of living happily ever after with Scott Wade and finished growing up without him. Looking at him now, with no traces whatsoever left of the gangly teenager that he’d been, she was consumed by a new set of anxieties. That bone-straight chocolate brown hair had been cut to frame a face that had turned into a mixture of hard angles and planes and his dark, brown eyes were giving nothing of his emotions away. He was all man in every sense of the word.
“I’m the one who made the call,” she said. “Someone must have written the name down wrong.”
Scott looked at Kristie again, and this time saw past her surprise to the fear in her eyes.
“Tell me,” he said.
Kristie sighed and then gestured toward the vase of roses on her desk. “It’s just so ugly.”
“These are from your stalker?”
“I think so.”
Scott eyed her closely. “No husband?”
She shook her head.
“No significant other?”
Kristie sighed. Again, admitting this was embarrassing. It made her sound like such a loser.
“No, Scott. I’m not married, nor have I ever been. There is also no partner, no significant other, no boyfriend. Not even an acquaintance with a crush.”
Scott stifled a rush of pleasure at the news and made himself focus on the business at hand.
“This is surely not the only thing you’ve received?”
She leaned against the edge of her desk and folded her arms across her breasts in an odd, protective manner, as if the act alone might somehow keep her safe.
“There are letters at home, as well as a half-dozen tapes from my answering machine.”
“Have you ever seen him?”
“No.”
“How long has this been going on?”
Kristie looked up at him, her eyes welling with tears.
“Too long.”
Scott couldn’t resist. He slid his hand beneath the weight of her hair and gently squeezed the back of her neck.
“I know this is rough, honey, but could you be more specific?”
His affection was so familiar, and yet every time she looked at him, it was like looking at a stranger. She was having a difficult time keeping her memories of her Scott separate from this big, intimidating man with a badge.
“I don’t know…four…maybe five months?”
He exhaled sharply. “Why didn’t you call the police before now?”
“Because I didn’t think they’d take me seriously.”
Scott cupped her chin, tilting her face until she was forced to meet his gaze.
“Well, you were wrong. My lieutenant has a big hate for stalkers. I’m sorry you’ve been so afraid, but we’ll see what we can do about stopping the harassment before it goes any further, okay?”
“Very okay,” Kristie said, and for the first time in months, felt as if there was hope after all.
The office doors opened and two men walked in.
“Oh great,” Kristie said.
“Who are they?” Scott asked.
“My bosses. This is such a mess.”
However, Kristie need not have worried. Scott took over.
“Miss Samuels is going to be leaving with me,” Scott said, when he was introduced. “I need the letters and tapes she’s been accumulating at her home to begin an investigation.”
Ben Tremaine and Michael Shay were suitably horrified. They expressed their concerns to Kristie.
“Of course, of course,” Ben said, and Michael echoed the sentiments. “Take whatever time you need to get this cleared up.”
Before Kristie knew it, she was back on the street and being ushered into the passenger seat of Scott’s car. Scott slid behind the wheel, looked at her once again as if he was looking at a ghost, and then smiled for the first time.
“Damn, Kristie Ann, I can’t believe you’re here in Chicago. How long have you lived here?”
“Six years. I came straight out of college and up until this mess started, was satisfied with my decision. However, I will be honest when I tell you that during the past few weeks, I’ve thought about moving back home more than once.”
“I can understand why, but selfishly, I’m glad that you didn’t.”
“Are you married?”
Her question came out of nowhere. He glanced at her once before starting the car, but her expression was closed and the question could have been nothing more than curiosity.
“No.”
“Have you ever been?”
“No.”
“Any significant other?”
He smiled to himself. She was grilling him much as he’d questioned her a few minutes earlier.
“No significant other, or anyone closely resembling the same.”
Kristie glanced at him once, caught a glimpse of his smile and sighed.
“Just curious.”
“Where to?” he asked.
She gave him her address.
Chapter 2
Scott pulled into the parking lot of Kristie’s apartment complex and then stared in disbelief.
“I don’t believe this.”
“What?” Kristie asked.
“I used to live here.”
“You’re kidding? When?”
“Oh, about ten years ago. Right after I got out of college. I was going through the police academy and my parents had just moved to Florida.”
“How are your parents, by the way?” she asked.
“They’re fine, and yours?”
She thought of Blaine and Shelly Samuels and felt homesick all over again.
“Still in Midland.”
Scott nodded. It seemed bizarre to be making uncomfortable small talk with Kristie. There was a time when everything had been easy between them, including sex. The uneasy silence continued to stretch until he pulled the keys from the ignition.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“This feels so strange.”
He turned to face her. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t think I’d ever see
you again and now…to see you again in the middle of this mess.” She sighed and then shrugged. “It’s just weird, you know?”
“Yeah…I know.” He reached across the seat and clasped her hand. “We’ll find who’s doing this and we’ll put him away. Then you won’t have to be afraid anymore.”
“I hope so.”
“It’s a promise, from me to you…okay?”
Kristie hesitated a moment and then smiled. “Okay.”
A few minutes later they were in the building and exiting the elevator. As they started down the hall, Scott commented, “When I lived here, I had a sixth-floor apartment. I would have been right above you. How long have you lived here?”
“About four years. Before that, I was on the east side of the city. The drive was too long and parking was difficult so I moved closer to work. Even now, I still rarely drive my car. I usually just take a cab or the bus.”
Kristie paused in front of apartment number five twenty.
“This is it,” she said, and unlocked the door.
As they entered, Scott swept the room with a practiced gaze, taking in the family pictures and the warm, homey furniture. The scent of her morning coffee still lingered in the air and there were some gardening magazines on the coffee table. Her home was a far cry from the apartment in which he lived. He had furnished his apartment with a display of furniture right off the showroom floor without any thought as to whether or not it fit his personality. And even though it was comfortable, it had never made him feel as welcome as this room did.
He fingered a soft, white-chenille throw pillow and then bent to sniff the bouquet of fresh flowers sitting on an end table. He didn’t know their names, but he recognized some of them from the garden his mother used to have when they’d lived in Texas. As he straightened and turned around, he caught her looking at him.
“You have a great place.”
She nodded her thanks, but then added, “You don’t know how surreal it seems for you to be standing here in my living room.”
“I used to know the way to your bedroom better.”
Her mouth dropped. The fact that he’d just alluded to their teenage years and the stolen nights of making love was more than she’d expected.
