Worth The Risk. Melinda Di Lorenzo
involved in with an investigation—and grabbed Meredith by the waist. Her green eyes widened, then shut as he dragged her body against his own and closed his mouth on her lush lips.
Coherent thought flew from Meredith’s brain as Sam kissed her. His exploration was almost tentative at first. Gentle. But as soon as she lifted her arms to his shoulders, welcoming the attention, the kiss deepened, and Sam’s exploration grew more demanding. He tasted the corners of her mouth with his tongue, probing firmly.
Then his hand lifted to the small of her back, and Meredith gasped at the contact. He took advantage, delving between her lips. And each time his tongue found a new spot, Meredith’s desire spiraled higher. In mere moments, a fan of heat radiated through her. It was hottest at the points where Sam’s body touched hers directly. Their mouths. The tips of his fingers under the back of her T-shirt. The brush of his cheek on her chin. But where it was most distracting was at the points where she wanted to be touched.
Everywhere, she thought. I want him to touch me everywhere.
Except he was already pulling away, already giving her lip a final, light tug and putting a few inches of space between them.
“Meredith...” He spoke her name in a low, sexy rumble and ran his thumb along her jaw. “I’m not going to apologize for that.”
Apologize?
She stared at him wordlessly. She seemed to be having a hard time catching her breath. And it had nothing to do with their frantic escape. Not that she would fully trust her voice anyway. She’d never, not in all her twenty-seven years, been kissed like that. Never felt such a strong attraction to a man after such a short time. Maybe never at all. She didn’t know if the adrenaline really was heightening things, or if it was just Sam. All she knew was that the last thing she wanted was an apology. But she couldn’t make the words come.
After a silent minute, Sam sighed and pulled a slim black phone from his pocket. He keyed in a set of numbers, then carried on a monosyllabic conversation before turning his attention back to Meredith.
“Worm’s on his way.”
She finally found her voice. “Worm?”
“A guy I trust when I can’t trust anyone else.”
“Why can’t you trust anyone?” Meredith’s forehead creased with worry.
He met her eyes. “The less I tell you, the safer you are.”
“Then I must be the safest person on the planet, because you haven’t told me anything.”
“Meredith.” His voice was flat. Totally at odds with the kiss he’d just given her.
Fine. We can both do that.
“Tell me why you showed up at my door this morning,” Meredith said, just as evenly. “And tell me why you’re looking for Tamara. I think I’ve been patient for long enough.”
A smile tipped up one corner of Sam’s mouth. “This is you being patient?”
Meredith narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t going to let herself be charmed.
“Tell me, or I swear I won’t go another step with you. I’ll walk up to one of these big houses and knock on the front door and tell them I need to call 911,” she warned.
He shot her a glare, but when she took a step toward the closest driveway, he relented.
“I’m a private investigator, Meredith. Someone—a client of your sister’s—hired me to look in on Tamara.”
“Why?”
“I’m breaking the terms of my contract by telling you anything, you realize that?”
“And I’m breaking the terms of my life by running through the streets while someone tries to kill me.”
He let out another sigh. “Fine. The client showed up for an online session, and your sister wasn’t there. I guess that’s pretty unusual.”
“The business is everything to Tamara,” Meredith stated. “She’d never abandon a client.”
“Which is what she said. So when Tamara missed a second session that week, she started to get worried,” he explained. “The client didn’t want her identity compromised and she didn’t want to involve the police, so she called me.”
She sensed there was more. “And?”
“I haven’t been able to locate Tamara. And now this.”
“Do you think—” Her voice caught. “Do you think someone took her?”
“I try not to get ahead of myself.”
“But you won’t call the police?”
Sam’s face darkened. “I can’t.”
Worry spiked at his unwillingness to involve the authorities. Then she thought about the police at Nick’s office. Was it something she should tell Sam? It seemed more and more relevant. But aside from his skills as a lifesaver and as an incredible kisser, what did she really know about the man in front of her? She had no clue if his reluctance stemmed from a lack of trust in cops, or if it was something darker. Meredith opened her mouth to ask—or maybe just to insist that the situation was far too dangerous to not call for help—but an oversize truck whipped around the corner, cutting her off. It barreled toward them, then jammed to a stop a few feet away. A big, fully bearded man with a curly ponytail stuck his head out the window.
He tossed a suspicious look at Meredith. “Who’s that?”
“The target’s sister,” Sam replied. “Meredith, this is Worm.”
“Why’s she here?”
Sam put an arm around Meredith’s shoulders. “Because she is.”
Surprise registered on the big man’s face for a second before he recovered. “Let’s see it.”
Sam stepped away from Meredith, reached into his pocket and pulled out the smashed camera.
“What the hell did you do to it?” Worm reached out and snatched it away.
“Disabled it. I hope,” Sam replied drily.
“Possibly. Sure as hell didn’t give the serial number a fighting chance.”
“It’s there,” Sam assured him.
Worm ducked back into the truck and, over the engine, Meredith swore she could hear the sound of a keyboard clacking. A minute later, the bearded man leaned out the window again, drew back his hand and tossed the camera through the air.
“You were right,” he said. “Police-issue.”
Meredith gasped. “The police planted the camera?”
Well. At least now his paranoia about the local authorities made sense.
“Still want to call 911, sweetheart?” Sam teased grimly, then looked up at Worm. “Can you give us a hand, my friend?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” the big man replied. “Hop in.”
As Sam helped boost her into the truck, Meredith’s mind alternated between wanting to go numb and wanting to race wildly. What had Tamara done? Fixed the wrong marriage? Or not fixed it? Or was it Nick? Had he crossed the wrong client? She still had a hard time believing her sister would call her in an attempt to help him. And what about the police involvement? She didn’t have an answer for any of the questions bogging her down, and she was left staring out the window blankly, wondering just how she and Sam would figure it out.
She and Sam.
From the backseat, she stole a glance at him. His held his head tipped to the side, his striking profile on display. He was on the