9781618857293WhisperSweetNothingsHunter (5 page)

At
the sound of her name, she looked to Donovan, shaking her head.
This is crazy.
She couldn't do it.
Taking a step back, she was instantly filled with fear and shame.

"Seems
our songbird has a little stage fright tonight…let's see if we can remedy that…"
He nodded to the band and they started to play, taking the immediate attention
from the situation.

"Sarah!
What the hell is going on? Every damned week you ask me about Sam and here he
is, in the flesh and you don't want to see him?"

Tears
stung her eyes, but she refused to cry. "It's…it's complicated. There are
things I haven't told you and…"

He
cut her off. "Then they are none of my business. What
is
my business is the boy out there who has been through hell and
back. Do you have any idea what it took for me to get him here? This is the
first time he's been out since he came home and…Sarah—he needs this. Trust me."

Swallowing
hard, she struggled with the urge to run like hell or stay and do the right
thing. This was Sam,
her
Sam. If he'd
called her at WSN, she would never have turned him away. Why should she
tonight?

Because he doesn't even know
who
you
are.

"So
are you going out there or what?"

Nodding,
she watched him walk back on stage, fidgeting uncharacteristically with the
long, red dress she'd worn tonight.

"Ladies
and gentlemen…for your listening pleasure…Sarah Cole." The lights dimmed
as he walked off the stage.

Again,
the crowd erupted in applause, the audience filled with the regulars—familiar
faces who frequented
Crossroads
.

Walking
onto the stage, her gaze moved over the crowd, searching for Sam, filled with
both trepidation and joy at the prospect of actually seeing him.

Then
she caught sight of a gorgeous man—jet hair and familiar blue eyes. Sam. God,
he looked so much older, as if he
had
been to hell and back just as Donovan had said.

His
gaze moved over her appreciatively, an easy smile on his face, but she caught
what appeared to be a glint of disappointment in his eyes. Was it that he didn't
like what he saw or had he been expecting someone else?

To hell with it.
She was here to sing and sing she would. Starting her set, she put everything
she had into each song. With her cover of Cage the Elephant's,
Ain't
No Rest for the Wicked
, she had the
audience on their feet and singing every chorus with her. She loved performing
this song in particular, tossing in mild theatrics to draw the crowd into the
scene she painted with the lyrics, lyrics rather true to real life.

All
the while, she felt his eyes on her, but each time she looked at him he seemed
uncertain yet expectant, as if still waiting for someone else.

She
wanted to scream.
It's me, damn it! The
real
me!
But she kept her features schooled
and put on the show of a lifetime.

Just
before leaving the stage, she took a bow, thanking the crowd and the band
before announcing the headliner for the night. One last time, her gaze found
his and for a moment, she searched those blue eyes, giving him a sad smile
before turning to go.

Halfway
down the second step, she stopped. Chances were once he talked to Donovan, the
truth would be revealed and she might be out of a job. Worse, though, he'd
never know what he'd given her, even if he wasn't interested in pursuing their
friendship…or whatever the hell this was…once he discovered the truth. He
deserved to know.

Marching
back onto the stage, she whispered to the house band before stepping forward. "As
mentioned earlier, we have a special guest with us tonight. I think the
occasion calls for a
special
song…my
gift to
him
for the sacrifices he's
made for all of us. What do you say?
One more?"

The
crowd roared and Sarah began to sing the song she sang for him on the phone
that night so many months ago. The crowd fell silent. Her gaze held his,
watching as blue eyes widen in surprise and then—recognition. He sat up
straight, never looking away, even as the last strains of Dido's,
Here with Me
left her lips.

Tears
filled her eyes as the audience stood. If she could do this every night of her
life, she would be the happiest woman alive. Taking a final bow, she nearly ran
off the stage, planning to leave before he could find her. She heard someone
calling her name, but kept moving through the crowd.

"Sarah?
Please…wait!" The voice came from right behind her and she turned,
watching as Sam struggled to catch up, a seemingly painful limp making the task
difficult.

Warring
with the need to leave and the desire to stay, the decision quickly became
obvious—she couldn't leave him…not like this. Unable to resist the urge, a
hopeful smile slipped from her wary façade.

Just
a few steps away now, he stopped to catch his breath, a brilliant smile
lighting his face.

Time
seemed to stand still as the fantasy of finally meeting face to face became
reality.

An
instant later, chaos erupted around them.
"Gun!"

One
word elicited terrified screams and Sarah found herself caught in a stampede
toward the front doors, nearly falling several times as the crowd dragged her
along. The sound of Sam's voice shouting her name faded in the din. Finally
knocked to her knees, she grasped the back of a chair, looking up to find Joe
holding a gun on the bartender.

"Oh,
God…Joe?" she managed to say, her voice barely a whisper, but the sound
enough to draw his attention in the now nearly empty club.

"What
the hell are you doing here tonight? You weren't supposed to be here!"

"Joe,
don't…put the gun down before you hurt someone." On shaky legs, she stood
to face him.

"Sarah,
get away from him damn it!" Donovan shouted, charging towards her
protectively.

She
shook her head, her gaze never leaving Joe. "Please…"

Security
quickly surrounded them both and one burly guard surprised her by drawing a gun,
training it on Joe.

"I
don't want to hurt anyone." Joe's voice
cracked,
the gun unsteady in his trembling hands.

"I
know," she said calmly. Taking a deep breath, she leveled her gaze on his.
"This isn't like you. Come on…talk to me."

"They're
gonna take my kids, Sarah. I can't let that happen. They're all I got left…just
give me the money and I'll go." His desperation was palpable, as was his
obvious lack of judgment.

"This
isn't the way. You have my word I will help you. But if you do this, your kids
are going to family services and you…you're going to jail. For the love of
God…put the gun down."

A
long moment passed before he finally put the gun down on the bar. "It's
not loaded." He dropped to his knees and quickly, she went to him, hugging
him tightly, shielding him from security.

"Don't
hurt him! He didn't mean to do this."

"Sarah…let
me take care of this." Donovan stood over them, reaching a hand down
towards her.

"Promise
me you won't hurt him. He's a good man and he loves his kids. He just needs a
little help and…"

"No
one will hurt him. You're family now…any friend of yours is a friend of mine."
He echoed his sentiment from the first night they'd met. "Trust me."

Taking
his hand, she stood, watching as his men took Joe to the back.

Oh, God.
"Sam! Where is he?"
Frantically, her gaze searched the club, looking for any sign of him. A small
group had gathered near the stage and she pushed her way through, unsure what
to expect.

Huddled
in the corner, Sam had his hands around his head, as if shielding himself from
some unseen attack.

"He's
suffering from PTSD," Donovan whispered, standing behind her. "We
have to get him out of here."

She'd
seen a few cases of PTSD at the nursing home, a devastating consequence of wars
old and new. Without a second thought, she went to him. "Sam…hey, it's me."

"Sherry?"
His voice broke.

"Sherry.
Sarah. It's still
me
."

"I'm…sorry."

"There's
nothing to be sorry for…come on…take my hand. I don't know about you, but I
need some fresh air."

The
moment Sam put his hand in hers, a wave of soul-deep awareness tore through
her, shaking her to the very core. Speechless, she worked on steadying the
erratic beat of her heart while helping him to stand.

Walking
towards the front door, she stopped long enough to let one of the girls
retrieve her bag from the back room. Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she turned
to find Donovan looking at her worriedly.

"Thank
you. What about Joe?"

"You
take care of Sam and I'll take care of Joe. We'll get him in a cab and have him
taken home. We can talk tomorrow, all right?"

Nodding,
she reached out to hug him before leaving with Sam.

The
cool night air rushed over the heated flesh of her face, a welcome reprieve
from the confines of the club. Nearly midnight, the streets were quiet. "Oh…this
feels much better. How are you doing?"

"Better."

"Do
you want me to take you somewhere?"

He
looked at her with those haunted blue eyes and her heart skipped a beat. "I
don't want to be alone. I…"

"After
what happened in there, neither do I. Would you like to come home with me for a
little while?" The fear of rejection sent her fragile heart pounding.

"I
don't want to be any trouble."

"You've
been trouble since the first night we met," she teased and he laughed.

The
ride back to her apartment was quiet, both unsure what to say.

"Well,
here we are. Be it ever so humble." Once inside, she showed him to the
sofa, making sure he was comfortable. "Want something to drink?"

"A
beer if you have one."

Nodding,
she went to the kitchen and pulled two beers from the refrigerator, turning in
time to catch him looking at her backside. He blushed then smiled sheepishly.

"You
weren't lying…you do have a nice ass," he teased and she laughed,
remembering their first call at WSN.

"As
do you, lieutenant." Handing him the beer, she sat on a chair opposite the
couch.

"Yeah,
well if you like one with a dozen or so scars, then I'm your man. Those IED's
are murder on a guy's ass, you know."

"Is
that why I haven't heard from you? I've been worried. I asked Donovan about you
every week and…"

"I
returned stateside a little while ago but…I don't know. I have been dealing
with some stuff."

"I
understand but…not knowing if you were alive or not…it was hard." She
tried to keep any judgment from her voice.

"I'm
sorry. I didn't think you'd want—" He cut himself off before finishing. "So
your
real
name is Sarah?"

Nodding,
she took a sip of beer. "Sherry is my stage name so to speak. You had to
know I wasn't likely using my real name, right?"

"Yeah,
I guess I did but to me…you were Sherry…
my
Sherry. Are you still there?"

A
moment passed before she answered.
You
have nothing to be ashamed of Sarah.
"Yes, I am. Not as much these
days since I've been opening at Crossroads on Friday and Saturday nights but…"
she hesitated when a look of disappointment crept over his face.

"I
have responsibilities, Sam. I told you about my grandmother in those
letters…the one person in my life that has been a constant. I'd do
anything
for her. I have college loans
and…" Her voice trailed off and she paused a moment.

"The
letters I wrote to you came from my heart…from
me
—Sarah. I told you more about
me
than I've ever shared with anyone…except my grandmother. And if you ask me why,
I couldn't really tell you, but it wasn't just because you were safe. For me, there
was
something
about you…about us."

He
remained quiet, his continued silence driving her crazy.

"If
I hadn't been working there, I wouldn't have met you and I'll never be sorry
for having the chance to get to know you. I can't say I believe the same for
you at this moment. The way you
just
looked
at me and…say
something
damn
it!" Her voice broke, tears stinging her eyes.

"I'm
not judging you, Sarah. I never would. It's just the thought of you talking to
other men the way you talked to
me
that
night…it's hard. I guess part of me wanted to believe it was just me. An
unrealistic fantasy, but it got me through so many damned nights over there."

Standing,
she put the beer down and went to sit next to him on the couch.
"Same here.
You have no idea." Taking his hands in
hers, a wave of relief came over her when he didn't pull away, instead
threading his fingers through hers.

"I
think I do," he challenged.

She
chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Having pictures of you made this harder
in some ways, you know. I felt guilty not sending you any of me, but you never really
asked and I was afraid."

"I
didn't want to pressure you and risk losing what we were building, whether real
or just a fantasy."

She
understood, having felt the same way. "Oh, Sam…this
is
real. Don't ever doubt that. Each letter you poured your heart
and soul into made it all the more so…the sound of your voice when you called
the second time just because you wanted to hear
my
voice and…I still don't know how you convinced me to sing."

He
laughed. "I have my ways. I had my suspicions when you were up on stage,
but Donovan didn't give me any warning and the moment was surreal, a dream. I
was afraid if I blinked, I'd wake up and you'd be gone.