Cat 'N Mouse (25 page)

“Oh, Robyn,” Alexandria reached for Robyn’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t touch her!” The venom in Dennis’ voice made her recoil. She stood up, backing into Sam. His hand caught her by the waist to steady her. “This is your fault. Stay away from us.”

“That’s uncalled for, Dennis,” Sam said.

“Since we don’t have deep pockets to hire a full time bodyguard, you keep
her
the hell away from us, Sam.”

Alexandria started to tremble as tears streamed down her face. She had almost gotten her friend killed. If Sam didn’t have his arm around her waist she would have bolted. But there was nowhere to run, not from the mad man that wanted her dead. Now he was willing to shoot her dearest friend.

“She didn’t pull the trigger,” Sam reminded Dennis, coming to her defense, but it didn’t make any difference.

“She might as well have.”

Dennis was right, and it felt like someone had taken a knife and drove it through her heart.

“I’m sorry, Robyn,” Alexandria said, but all she saw was blame in Robyn’s eyes. The friend that had always stood up for her was almost killed because of her.

“We’ll meet you at the hospital,” Sam said when the ambulance pulled up to the front entrance of the hotel.

“We don’t want you there,” Dennis said, his eyes widened in anger. “You’ve done enough.”

“No, please.” Alexandria pleaded with Sam for him to do something. She wanted to go to the hospital to be with Robyn.

“Why are you doing this, Dennis?” Sam asked. “It’s not fair.”

“She’s pregnant,” Dennis said with tears in his eyes. “Or we hope she still is.”

“H
ow is she?” Sam asked Cameron when he entered the hotel suite and closed the door. Cameron dropped the magazine he was reading on the coffee table and got up from the sofa. Instead of maneuvering around the large marble coffee table, he pushed it out of his way. Guess when you’re a six foot ex-NFL ball player, it’s easier to shove things out of the way than go around them.

“I don’t know.” Cameron met him at the door. “Never said a word when I brought her up.” Cameron glanced toward the closed bedroom door. “I feel bad for her. This is going to be hard for her to deal with.”

“Tell me about it.”

After Dennis’ bombshell announcement, Alexandria had fallen apart and he had to get her away from the scene. She’d pulled out of his arms, wanting to be alone. That’s why he’d asked Cameron to take her to the room.

He had hung back to talk to Hanes, hoping to get a look at the video cameras to see if the footage could reveal the shooter. After pouring over the video camera footage for almost an hour, they’d found nothing. They weren’t even sure where the shots were fired from, which led Sam to believe that the shooter was a professional. Who hired him? More unanswered questions.

“Thanks, Cameron. Do me a favor? Do another check of the grounds then connect with Matt. If you come up with anything, give me a call.”

“Will do.”

Sam closed the door behind Cameron leaning heavily against it. Nothing made sense. He was leaning toward Dennis first as being the stalker with his history, thinking maybe he was jealous of Alexandria’s friendship with Robyn. Would he go as far as hiring someone to shoot his wife since she was pregnant, to throw suspicion from himself?

Then there was her father. Hell. He may want her scared enough to run back home, but would he resort to killing? What about Damien? Or Matt. Or the tooth fairy. The fairytale evening had turned into another nightmare.

Loosening his tie, he pulled it from around his neck, shrugged off his jacket and headed for the master bedroom. The room was empty and he followed the sound of running water to the closed washroom.

His knock went unanswered and he pushed the door open. Alexandria sat curled up in the glass enclosed shower stall, still dressed in her gown, the water from the rain showerhead beating down on her, eyes closed.

“Damn.”

Sam opened the stall door. Sad eyes looked up at him, mascara mixed with water, and no doubt tears, running down her cheeks. At that moment he wanted to take it all away…her hurt, her pain, but he didn’t know how. He sat down next to Alexandria, pulling her into his arms. Resting her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes again and let him. He couldn’t think of anything to say so he just held her while the water fell on them, around them. When he closed his eyes, he felt as though he was caught in the rain. It was peaceful.

Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, he didn’t know how much time had passed, but it was time to dry off when the water ran cold.

“I think I just bought myself a tuxedo,” he said, rising from the floor of the shower stall. “Come on, let’s get out of these wet clothes and get some rest.”

Sam extended his hand to her and pulled her up. She kicked off her shoes. He unzipped her red gown and she stepped out of it like a robot. His tuxedo followed next. After a quick shower, he slipped on one of the white plush terry robes. She stood under the shower staring off into space, and he shut off the water, drying her off. Wrapping her in the other robe, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. When he laid her on the bed, she rolled over to one side curling up into a ball.

As much as she complained about wanting to be left alone, he couldn’t leave her, not like this. He wanted to protect her. Even though the shaking had stopped, she still had that far away look in her eyes and he gently turned her into his arms. In her eyes, he saw sorrow and blame. She held herself responsible for what had happened to Robyn.

Sam knew what that kind of blame felt like and what it did to someone. It ate away at you. He didn’t want her to suffer emotionally like he had. He didn’t have to. After he was shot, he’d curled up in a pill bottle and pushed away someone that loved him. No. He wanted Alexandria to lean on him and held her tightly when she tried to pull away.

The king size, four-poster bed made him feel like they were on an island. The sharks were circling—the stalker, her father, the media. She would be the headline news tomorrow. At least, they were both safe from the rest of the world as long as they were in the hotel room.

Sam’s watch on the night table beeped. It was three in the morning and he was too keyed up to sleep.

“Eduardo doesn’t rent tuxedos,” her voice broke through the silence of the dark room. He thought she had fallen asleep.

Sam knew what she was doing. If she filled her mind with trivial things, what happened tonight wouldn’t hurt so much. But she was wrong. He knew first hand how that worked. Until you deal with it head on, it would eat away at you like a dog gnawing at a bone. He would give her time to adjust before he dropped that one on her.

“I know. He told me when you were in the washroom. He also told me you paid for it.”

She raised up on one elbow staring at him in the dark, her breath warm against his cheek. “And you let me go on ahead with the charade. Why?”

“Because it made you happy. I wanted you to be happy.” He couldn’t see her face, but by the sound of her voice he could tell she had that forlorn look in her eyes again.

“She could lose her baby, Sam.”

“No. Matt’s at the hospital with them. I heard from him before I came upstairs. He said Robyn and the baby would be fine.”

She sprung up from the bed, turning on the lamp, grabbing the remote for the television. She started flipping through the music channels. He sat up watching her.
Unchained Melody
filled the room. She turned up the volume smiling at him, an odd smile.

“I love this song.” Her arms were wrapped around her body and she started swaying to the music, eyes closed. “Do you know who is singing?” She opened her eyes half way through the song staring at him.

He didn’t know what she was doing. He played along, watching her. Her hair had dried in ringlets around her face. She looked young, fragile, like she was about to shatter.

“The Righteous Brothers?” Sam guessed, remembering when they’d played the song earlier at the gala. She’d wanted to dance, but he hadn’t asked her, wanting to stay focused. Had he touched her during that song it would have been all over. He would’ve thrown her over his shoulder and taken her to their suite. Then Matt was at the table whisking her onto the dance floor. The song finished and she stood in the middle of the room as if she didn’t know what to do next.

“No,” she said in a jerking motion as if she’d forgotten where she was. “It’s the Al Green version.” A slow jazz instrumental started playing. “Come dance with me.” She beckoned him with her hands. “You didn’t ask me all night. I thought you would.”

“You were occupied.” He stayed where he was. Still unsure of what she was doing for he couldn’t gauge her mood. Would she end up in a pool of tears? Or would she shatter to pieces?

Alexandria took his hand, pulling him up off the bed. They started swaying together. She felt so good in his arms as she rested her cheek against his chest, his chin on her head.

Every argument he’d raise to himself to push her away didn’t matter. He had never met anyone like her before or thought he ever would again. When it was all over, he didn’t think he could walk away from her. He didn’t want to. What if she chose Matt over him? Now wasn’t the time to bring Matt up, but the green-eyed monster wouldn’t let it rest.

“Matt was your focus. I saw you kissing him.” Jealousy rang in his voice like a church bell on a Sunday morning.

She halted her steps, eyes boring into his. “He kissed me,” she said, then continued dancing as if they were talking about the weather or something insignificant.

“When I saw the two of you together tonight, it hit me. He wants a lot more from you than just friendship.”

As if it took a rocket scientist to figure that one out, he waited for her to say something. A long while passed before she spoke again.

“I didn’t know that. He never acted on it until tonight.”

“I was jealous.”

“Good,” she said, and backed him up against the bed. He lost his balance and fell back on the bed, taking her with him.

She undid the belt of his robe, pushing it away and he felt her warm hands on his chest. His muscles clenched as her hand took on a life of its own, moving in a circular motion down his chest and just stopping above his waist.

“Very nice six pack.”

She lifted her eyes to him, as if asking for permission to move forward. Her hands halted their caress as uncertainty clouded her eyes.

“I couldn’t stop you even if I wanted to,” he whispered, willing himself to stay calm, giving himself over to her.

She touched the scar on his right thigh examining it with fascination.

“What’s this?”

“Gunshot wound.” Sam didn’t want to think about it because it stirred up too many memories. He concentrated on her wandering hands. Wherever she touched, she left a trail of heat.

“Tell me about it.”

Sam met her searching gaze as her hand continued to finger the scar. This wasn’t the conversation he wanted to have and would have told her so. The look in her eyes stopped him. She was trying to process what happened tonight—her friend with a bullet hole in her shoulder, and Dennis’ hatred—trying to find some normalcy in a crazy world where some people place so little value on human life…where it was okay to stalk someone and turn their life upside down.

Yes, she had fallen apart tonight, but who wouldn’t. He thought he had seen it all and had also processed most of it. When a woman sold her four-year-old son to a pedophile just to get high—he wasn’t surprised. A day later when they’d found the kid dead, stuffed in a garbage bag, dismembered, he’d puked his guts out.

Yeah, there was injustice in the world. What do you do? Lift your chin up and tough it out, and that’s what Princess was trying to do. She was doing okay in his book.

Sam pulled her down beside him. He stared up at the chandelier hanging over the bed and started counting the crystals hanging from the gold hooks. When he got to twenty he started. It wasn’t a magic number. He just had to wait until his heart stopped racing.

“Before I got transferred to homicide, I worked narcotics. The drug bust was a set up right from the beginning. They knew we were coming. The guy that we busted used his kid as a human shield. When we finally got the kid away from him, the kid ran into the bedroom. He came out with a gun and put a bullet in my thigh. I shot him. Seven years old and I shot him. Dead.” He squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, Sam.”

“A gunshot wound and the death of a kid. Try getting over that and sleeping at night.”

He had tried, in the bottom of a prescription bottle.

•  •  •

“I’m going to get some air.”

Sam abruptly pushed up and Alexandria almost flew off the bed. If his feet touched the carpet he would be gone. She didn’t want that and stopped him with a gentle hand across his chest. Kneeling on the bed, she removed her robe. The pain she had seen in his eyes faded away as his eyes traveled hungrily over her body, and she smiled seductively while she also enjoyed the view.

Strong arms, rock hard abs and, oh yeah, well endowed indeed. He was risking his life for her; a job that he was not keen on at first but did it anyway. He wanted to take care of her, but who would take care of him. Alexandria decided that she wanted to. She would enjoy him because when he found the stalker, his job would be finished.

After his job was completed, he would leave her because he couldn’t imagine a future with her in it. Since she couldn’t bring herself to ask him to stay, she could at least ensure he would always remember her.

“Still want to get some air?” She straddled his hips. Her hands on either side of his face, leaning forward slightly, their lips inches apart.

Sam grinned. “It’s kind of hard since you’ve positioned yourself in such a strategic way.”

“Ever had your toes curled, Sam?” She whispered in his left ear, taking it gently between her teeth.

“No.” His eyes were half closed, the pulse at the base of his neck raced. “But I think I’m about to, right?”

“Absolutely.”