Worth The Risk. Melinda Di Lorenzo
barely heard a word. Because a necklace slipped out from under her T-shirt and caught his eye, and suddenly, he was pretty damn sure that the redheaded thug was tracking her.
Before Meredith could comment, Sam reached over, closed his hand around the pendant charm hanging from her neck and pulled it close to his face. And since she was attached to the necklace, Meredith had little choice but to follow. Which drew her near enough to Sam that she could smell his clean scent once again.
After a second, Meredith cleared her throat. “You a big fan of gaudy jewelry?”
“Not particularly. Where’d you get this piece?”
“Why?”
He sighed. “Can you answer any question without a long, drawn-out explanation?”
Meredith resisted an urge to stick out her tongue. “Depends on who’s asking. Can I have my necklace back?”
“Nope. I just hope you didn’t have that anywhere near your shower.”
For the second time that day, a blush crept up Meredith’s cheeks. “What?”
“Bedroom?”
The color in her cheeks deepened. “It was still in the box it came in. Until yesterday, anyway. Why does it matter?”
Sam’s brows went up. “Still in the box? Did you buy it for yourself?”
“No. It was a gift.”
“From?”
Meredith bit back another of her own questions. “Tamara. But you’re not telling me—”
“She gave you a gift?” he interrupted. “Recently?”
“Two days ago. Like I said, we hadn’t spoken in months and then this box turned up...” She trailed off with a shrug.
“You haven’t spoken in months, but she sent you a necklace out of the blue and you didn’t think to question it?”
“She’s my sister and it was my birthday, okay? And...”
“And what?”
She shook her head. She had to admit, she’d been a little surprised to receive the necklace. It wasn’t her style. And more importantly, it wasn’t Tamara’s style. Meredith had considered calling her sister when the necklace arrived but never got around to it. Now she really wished she had.
“Meredith?” Sam persisted.
“Nothing. Has anyone ever told you, you sound like a cop?”
“A few people,” he replied drily.
She frowned. “Speaking of cops...”
“No.”
“No what?”
“We can’t wait for them or assume they’ll get to us before the guy in the sedan does.”
“Does that mean you’re going to tell me why you’re following me around and asking me questions about Tamara?”
He smiled grimly, and with a quick yank that burned Meredith’s skin a little, Sam tore the pendant clean off.
“Hey! You can’t do that!”
But any further protest died in Meredith’s throat as the blue-eyed man set the necklace on his knee and pulled a Swiss Army knife from his boot, then used it to dig in behind the large, black stone that formed the charm’s focal point. One sharp push and the stone flew off. And underneath it sat a microcamera.
“What the hell!” Meredith exclaimed.
“What the hell, indeed,” he murmured, then met her eyes. “I think we can agree that Tamara didn’t send you this.”
Meredith swallowed. “Yes.”
“Does your sister have any enemies?”
“Enemies? Lots of people don’t like her program, but enemies?” She shook her head. “What’s going on, Sam?”
In reply, he held the necklace up for a second, examined the camera once more, then placed it on the dashboard and smashed it with the handle of his knife.
“What’s going on is that I need to get you out of here.” He shoved the damaged piece of equipment into his pocket. “Quickly.”
“You think I’m leaving with you without more of an explanation of who you are and how you knew someone was spying on me?” Meredith knew her fear was making her defensive, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
“Do you see a better option?”
“No, but—”
“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not giving you a choice, and I don’t have time to give you an explanation.”
“What’re you going to do? Drag me by my hair?”
He eyed her hair like he was seriously considering it, then shook his head. He barely managed to open his mouth, though, before a ping echoed through the air, followed by a sharp crack. Sam’s eyes flew to the windshield, and Meredith followed his gaze with wide-eyed horror. A flattened piece of metal had buried itself in the glass directly in line with Sam’s head.
It only took a second for Meredith to figure out what it was.
A bullet.
Sam confirmed it a moment later. “The glass is only bulletproof-ish, apparently. I should probably ask for a refund.”
He was making jokes? While someone shot at them? Was he completely insane? But when Meredith met his eyes, she saw that his face was deadly serious. And under that, he was worried. She could see it in the pinch in the corner of his eyes.
He was trying to reassure me, she realized.
For a weird second, she appreciated the gesture. It even helped her—a little—to recover from the fear making her heart thump against her rib cage. Then a second ping rang out, and this time the side mirror located to Meredith’s right exploded, and any semblance of bravery went out the window. She dove into Sam’s side and clung to his arm.
“Listen to me,” he said into her hair, apparently unperturbed by how she held on to him. “We can’t stay in the truck. And I know you have no real reason to trust that I’m telling the truth, but I promise you, I’ll get you somewhere safe, then I’ll tell you what I can. Can we agree to do that?”
Her mouth was too dry to answer, so she just nodded into his chest.
“Good. You can go back to fighting with me as soon as we’re in the clear.”
Sam reached over her to pop open the glove box, and Meredith sucked in a breath as she caught sight of what was inside.
A gun.
No, wait.
Two guns.
Sam pulled both out, then leaned forward to tuck one into the holster under his jacket. The other, he held out, butt-end first, to Meredith. She didn’t reach for it.
“Take it,” Sam urged.
She shook her head. “I can’t shoot.”
Why did she feel bad about the admission? Firing a gun wasn’t something she’d never even considered doing before that second.
“It’s easy.” He pointed at the trigger. “Aim. Click.”
Meredith took it cautiously. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You won’t have to.”
Meredith wanted to ask why, if she wasn’t going to have to fire it, he was so insistent that she carry it. But he didn’t give her a chance. He reached down