A Little Too Hot

Chapter Sixteen

“RED? WAKE UP.”

I open my eyes and look down at Jonathan’s blurry form. “What?”

His image in the hospital bed sharpens as my eyes focus, and I realize I must have fallen asleep at his bedside. It’s been three days since we got run off the road, and my head is finally clear enough that they’re discharging me. There’s a bandage covering the gash over my right cheekbone, but it didn’t need stitches. What hurts more are the bruises across my right shoulder and left ribs where the seat belt was, and my right arm’s in a sling because my shoulder’s sprained. But I still came out of everything better off than Jonathan.

His eyes flick to the other side of the room and I follow his gaze to find Blake, leaning into the door frame with a gun strapped to the left side of his chest. I straighten up in my seat and wipe the drool off my chin with my sleeve.

“We’re ready to move you to the safe house,” he says, all business.

“Is Jonathan coming?”

Blake splits a glance between us. “No.”

“But . . .” I look at Jonathan. “You said you thought this was Ben.”

Jonathan’s eyes widen and shoot to Blake. “Seriously, man?”

For just an instant Blake’s jaw tightens, then he shrugs off the doorjamb and fixes me in his gaze. “As long as Jonathan is here, he’ll have our protection. But Arroyo wasn’t after Jonathan. He was after you. We need to get you somewhere safe.”

I’m stuck in Blake’s intense gaze until I feel Jonathan’s fingers thread into mine. “You need to go.”

I look down at him in the bed, then back at Blake. “Where am I going?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t tell you. If anyone knows,” he says with a glance at Jonathan, “it would defeat the purpose.”

It kills me that he still doesn’t trust Jonathan. “What about my family . . . my parents? Can I call them?”

“If there’s anyone you need to call, you have a few minutes now, before we go. You can use your cell, but you’ll be leaving it here when we leave.”

I feel my eyes widen. “You’re taking my phone?”

He shrugs. “Sorry. We need to take every precaution.”

“What about the rest of my stuff. All my clothes are at Jonathan’s.”

“We’ve taken care of it,” he says, his eyes catching mine before he lowers them.

“I’ll hold onto your stuff, Red. You’ll be home soon,” Jonathan says. He lifts a hand and touches my bandages. “Did I mention how hot a chick with scars is?”

I’ve been avoiding thinking about that. “Yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes. “They’re all over the fashion magazines.”

His eyes spark as he pokes at the ring through his lower lip with his tongue. “You think I’m joking? I’ll show you how hot when I get the fuck out of this hospital bed.”

I roll my eyes again. “One word, Jonathan. Ginger.”

He grins. “She’ll want one too. It’s gonna be the new thing. Plastic surgeons’ offices will be flooded with hot chicks wanting scars.”

You can question his methods all you want, but Jonathan’s heart is always in the right place. I squeeze his hand and turn to Blake. “I can call people now . . . before we go?”

“Anyone you want. But please don’t give them any details of your situation.” He lays a hand on the doorknob. “Do you need some privacy? There’s a room up the hall.”

“Give me a minute?”

Blake nods and slips through the door into the hall.

I wrap Jonathan in a one-armed hug. He squeezes me hard and it hurts my sprained shoulder, but I don’t let go.

“Listen,” he says in my ear, suddenly sounding uncharacteristically serious. “I don’t really think this was Ben, but I’ll see what I can find out. If I got you into this, I’m going to get you out.”

“You didn’t get me into anything but a job. A perfectly legal job,” I add with a glare at the door.

He gives me that cocky sideways smile and tweaks my chin. “There’s no way anything that hot is legal, Red. You’ve gotta know that.” I lean in to kiss his cheek, and he pulls me to his shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay,” he says into my hair.

“You too.”

I pull back and find him grinning. He pounds a fist into his chest, but then winces. “Indestructible, baby.” I stand and he reaches for my hand. “Stay in touch, Red.”

“I’ll try.” I start to the door, but then shiver as something cold fingers up my spine. I turn back to him. “Jonathan?”

He grins at me. “Are you going to profess your undying love? Because I already know.”

I smile despite myself, but it falters when dread that I can’t explain coils in my gut. “Stay away from Ben, okay?”

He tips his head in a question.

“Just . . . please,” I say, my face scrunching in embarrassment. I have no idea where this is coming from but . . . “I have a bad feeling.”

He gives me a slow nod.

I move to the door and glance over my shoulder at him as I open it. “And I do love you.”

He smiles sideways. “I know.”

When I step into the hall, Blake is waiting for me. We dodge hospital staff, bustling all around with carts and gurneys, as he leads me up the wide corridor to a small conference room.

“Five minutes,” he says, closing the door.

I stare at my phone for a minute, working up all my courage and forcing the shake out of my limbs before dialing Mom. I don’t want her to hear how scared I am. When it goes straight to voice mail, I’m one part disappointed and three parts relieved. “Hey, Mom. I know I’m thrown out and all, but . . . I just wanted to tell you . . . I have to go away for a while. Everything’s okay but I just wanted you to know in case you called my cell and I didn’t answer or it was disconnected or whatever. I’ll call you when I can.”

I disconnect and blow out a breath.

Next, I call the shelter.

“Janice, it’s Sam,” I say when she answers. “How is Sabrina?”

“She’s doing better,” she says. “Finally interacting with the other residents, and she’s asking for you.”

My heart clamps in my chest. “I’m not going to be able to come in for a while.”

“Is something wrong, Sam?” she asks, alarm lacing her words.

“It’s just . . . something happened and I have to go away for a while. But give Sabrina a hug for me, okay. And tell her that I’ll come see her when I can. I’m so happy she’s doing better.”

“Is there something you need . . . something we can do to help?”

“It’s nothing anyone can really help with, but thanks, Janice. I’ll call when I can, okay?”

“I have to say, you’re worrying me a little bit. Can you just tell me what it’s about . . . if you’re okay?”

I rub a hand over my forehead. “I’ll be fine,” I tell her, and hope to God I’m not lying.

“Okay, Sam. Keep in touch.”

“I’ll try.”

I hang up and dial Izzy, not sure if she’s going to answer. Last I saw her, she was at a table in Benny’s, being questioned by the police. Is she under arrest too?

“Sam!” she says when the phone connects. “Where are you?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“I’ve been trying to call you since they dragged you out of Benny’s the other night. Jonathan is missing and Ginger and the guys are flipping out, and no one knows what’s going on, and with Benny’s shut down, I can’t get a hold of—”

“I’m okay, Izzy,” I interrupt. “But . . . there was an accident. Jonathan and I are in the hospital.”

“Oh my God,” she gasps. “Is he . . . are you—”

“We’re both fine, but Jonathan has to stay here for a while. They’re letting me out today.”

“How are you getting home? Do you need help?”

“They won’t let me go home right now.”

There’s a pause as she tries to reason that out. “What?”

Can I tell her that Ben might have tried to kill me? I’d never forgive myself if I did something to put her in danger too. “I can’t really say much more, Sorry.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” she asks warily.

“Promise. Can you let Ginger know Jonathan’s okay?”

“You got it,” she says. “Call me when you can, Sam. I’m worried about you.”

“I will. I gotta go.”

My next call is to the only other friend I have who might care if I fall off the face of the planet. I’m halfway through explaining to Katie that I’ll be out of touch for a while when Blake pokes his head into the room and gives me a look. I finish up and he holds his hand out for the phone.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

His mouth presses into a line. “It’s the only way we can keep you safe.”

“I would have been perfectly safe if you’d never walked into Benny’s,” I counter, throwing it at him.

He makes the grab before it hits the floor and his expression darkens as he takes a step back into the hall so I can pass. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

He urges me up the hallway and Cooper meets us at a back door marked EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY. He looks over my shoulder at Blake. “You ready?”

Blake nods. “We clear?”

Cooper pushes the door open. “Jenkins cleared the area. We’re good to go.”

I’m shaking again as we slip through the door because I know the reason for the sinking feeling in my stomach. This is really happening. Ben is really trying to kill me. Nothing else makes sense. I feel stupid for the tears pressing at the backs of my eyes, but it felt really good that someone finally gave me a chance. He told me I was a natural. Nora put me on center stage. For the first time in my life I didn’t feel like second best.

And now he wants me dead.

Cooper and Blake flank me, and I don’t shake him off when Blake grasps my upper arm, because I don’t feel quite steady. He opens the door to a black Escalade and I scramble in. He closes the door and looks at me through the window for a second before striding around the front and climbing into the driver’s seat. Cooper slips into the driver’s seat of one of two black Chargers.

“Sam? Are you okay?” Blake asks.

That’s when I realize I’m bracing my good hand on the dashboard, digging my fingers into the vinyl, right on the edge of hyperventilating. I lean forward, with my forehead on my knees, and focus on taking slow, steady breaths. “No,” I finally say.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”

All my insides have turned fluid, and they’re roiling around like lava in a volcano, ready to erupt. “How is this happening to me?”

When he touches my back, it surprises me. He doesn’t rub, or stroke my hair. He just lays his hand softly over my ribcage. But it’s warm and solid, and seems to help bring things back into focus.

After a minute I straighten in my seat and his hand drops away.

He doesn’t say anything else as we slip out of the garage between the black Chargers, one in front and one behind. I lean into the window and watch in the side mirror as the Charger with Cooper behind the wheel follows us through the city streets. As we’re accelerating up the ramp onto the Bay Bridge, the sound of a phone rings out of the car speakers, slicing through the silence and making me jump.

Blake punches a button on his steering wheel. “How’s it looking back there, Coop?”

“We’re clear. Jenkins is going ahead to recon.”

“Ten-four.”

He pushes the button on his steering wheel again, and I slap my hands over my ears as something that I think is supposed to be music assaults my fragile brain.

“Oh my God! What is that?”

He turns down the stereo and shoots me a sideways glance as the Charger in front of us takes off at well over the speed limit. “What? You don’t like country music?”

I scrunch my face at the stereo. “Is that was this is? It sounds like someone’s torturing a cow,” I say, lowering my hands and punching the Seek button. “I didn’t know there was even a country station in San Francisco.”

He arches an eyebrow at me and thumbs a button on his steering wheel. The country song is back. “Some people have taste.”

“Did you grow up in a barn or something?”

He scowls at me. “Because only rednecks like country?”

“Well . . . yeah, pretty much.”

He answers by turning up the music another notch.

“You’re making my brain bleed again, just so you know,” I mutter, dropping my head onto the headrest.

He flashes me a concerned glance and turns it back down. “The answer is yes. I did grow up in a barn . . . partly.”

I just look at him.

“There wasn’t enough space in the house for all us kids when we got too old to share a room, so my uncle converted the tack room into a bedroom for me and my cousin.”

“That explains a lot,” I mutter.

We whoosh into the Treasure Island tunnel at the center of the bridge a few minutes later, and when we come out the other end, Oakland is laid out in front of us. Jonathan’s apartment was never really “home,” but I long for it now. I want more than anything to hit the rewind button and go back to my life before all hell broke loose, when all I had to worry about was paying for my nine hundred dollar a month sofa.

“Where are we going?” I ask again.

“Somewhere safe,” Blake answers without looking at me.

“How long am I going to have to stay there?”

He shoots me an irritated glance. “Until we know you’re safe.”

I feel suddenly heavier as the weight of all of this presses down on me. I start to lift my right hand to rub my face before I remember my shoulder. It reminds me with a sharp twinge that shoots across my back, making me wince. “So, how long do I have to hide? Are we talking days? Weeks?”

His mouth presses into a line. “Maybe months,” he answers without taking his eyes off the road.

“Months? Seriously?” I realize I sound a little hysterical and try to rein it back. “Can I . . . I don’t know . . . see my friends? Or my family? Ever?”

He shakes his head slowly. “I’m sorry Sam. No.”

“For months?”

He just stares straight ahead as he navigates us off the bridge and through the maze of highways that merge and split on the other side.

The blend of fear, frustration, and anger brewing inside me feels toxic, like mixing ammonia and bleach. I’m choking on the fumes and struggling for air nearly ten minutes later when we exit the highway in Berkeley.

Blake finally flicks me a glance. “We have to know Arroyo is neutralized before I’ll agree to let you back out into the world. I’m not going to let anything else happen to you.”

I glare at him. “What, something like you?”

He winces as we weave into traffic on the crowded surface streets. Cooper’s black Charger cuts off a white Prius to tuck in right behind us. “I’ve told you, Sam, it wasn’t personal. I was just doing my job. We needed something to get us legal access to Arroyo’s financials in order to prove he’s laundering drug money through his club. We’ve spent three years trying everything else. We’ve tapped his landlines, offered deals to all his known associates, and we put Nichols inside Benny’s undercover for six months. We still came away with nothing. This was the last resort.”

I cross my left arm over the sling on my right and slump deeper into the seat. “I’m a resort. Great.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” I can hear the frustration in his voice, and I’m glad. It’s the first real emotion I’ve seen from him since the VIP room. “I just needed you to agree to have sex with me.”

“So, it was just an act? I must have imagined you grinding your hard-on against my ass in the VIP room.”

He stands on the brakes, skidding us to a stop at the side of the road, and there’s something desperate in his icy gaze that sends a shiver through me.