No Place to Run
Page 8

“I came back for you,” he said, surprising the hell out of her.
She furrowed her brow and frowned hard at him. “What are you talking about?”
He ran a hand through his hair and looked briefly away. “I was there undercover. I couldn’t tell you things, Sophie. I couldn’t share anything more of myself than I did. But when it was over, I came back, but you were gone. Disappeared. I searched, and it was as if you didn’t exist.”
Her cheeks warmed under his scrutiny, but she refused to feel guilty. She hadn’t had a choice but to run and run hard. She’d spent the last five months hiding. All because she’d helped him. And betrayed her father in the process.
“Look at me and tell me she’s mine,” Sam said fiercely. “I have to know. Don’t jerk me around about this.”
She raised her gaze until she stared levelly at him. She let calm invade her because she had nothing to hide when it came to this. Oh, she had plenty of secrets, but in this, her conscience was clear.
“She’s yours. There’s been no one else, Sam. Not for a long time.”
Was that relief she saw in his eyes? Regret? Joy? Maybe a mix of all three? It was hard to tell.
For just a moment, his focus shifted to her belly. He spread the material of the shirt tight over her stomach and he slid his fingers over every inch, studying the curve and the shallow indention of her belly button.
“I can’t wrap my brain around it,” he said hoarsely. “I’m going to be a father.”
She started to thrust her fingers into his hair but held back. There was so much unresolved between them. And maybe there was nothing to resolve. She had been a fling for him—or so she’d thought—but he said he’d come back for her. Did she dare believe him? A man would say a lot to get himself off the hook when his ass was to the fire.
But then he hadn’t made her any promises, and she sure as hell had kept a lot from him. So many secrets. So much betrayal. It would be a lot easier to just warn him of the impending danger to him and his family and walk away.
As if sensing her sudden desire to flee, his hand tightened on her stomach and then he rose from his knees and took her hand in his.
“We can talk more about us later,” he said in a quiet voice. “Right now we need to talk about who the hell is trying to kill you and why you think me and my family are in danger. And we’re not leaving my brothers out of this conversation, since they’ll be the ones I’ll be depending on to help save our asses.”
CHAPTER 7
A myriad of emotions flickered across Sophie’s face. Fear, indecision, pain and deep weariness. She should be in bed, resting, but she was as jumpy as a cricket, and she looked like she’d flee if he looked away even a second.
Sam urged her back to bed. He plumped the pillows and mounded the covers up over her body until she sat like a queen presiding over her subjects. Only she looked small and frail instead of stately.
He held up a finger as he stared down at her. “Don’t move. Not even a muscle. I’ll be back in a minute with my brothers.”
The sudden wash of fear in her eyes made his gut clinch. Her hands went to her belly, and she rubbed in a tight circle. He wasn’t sure who she was trying to reassure. Her baby or herself.
It was all he could do not to lean down and kiss her. To tell her it would be all right, that he’d take care of her and their baby.
There was too much unsettled between them, and the uneasiness in his belly kept growing in direct proportion to the suspicion that had taken root in his mind.
When he was sure she wasn’t going to bolt from the bed, he turned and strode to the door. He leaned out and didn’t see Van or Garrett, but he could hear them in the kitchen. With a quick look back at Sophie and an unspoken directive for her to stay put, he hurried to get his brothers.
Donovan was stirring something in a mug while Garrett stood to the side, arms crossed over his broad chest, a typical scowl etched on his face.
They both looked up when Sam walked in, and Donovan dropped the spoon on the counter.
“I heated up some broth for her. Found some pain medication in our stash and did a cross-check for contraindications for pregnancy.”
Sam nodded. “I need you both in the bedroom. Sophie’s got some things to tell me that I want you to hear.”
Garrett shoved off the wall and did nothing to disguise his interest.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know yet. She says she’s in danger—that we’re in danger. Since I depend on you two to cover my ass, and vice versa, I figured it would be helpful for you to hear whatever it is she has to say.”
“What if she’s full of shit?” Garrett asked. “Doesn’t this whole thing scream setup to you? I’d like to know how the fuck she knew where to find you. According to you she was a sweet-faced waitress with big eyes and you blew her off when we got the tip about Mouton’s arms shipment moving out.”
Sam’s jaw clenched. “You’re pissing me off right now, Garrett. You need to back the fuck off. You’re not saying anything I’m not thinking, but I’m not going to go beat her down when she’s hurt, scared and pregnant. She’s a woman, for God’s sake. Use your head.”
“One of us has to,” Garrett said evenly. “The right head.”
“I won’t tell you again. Back off.”
The two brothers stood nose to nose. Garrett’s eyes glittered with anger and impatience, but Sam knew he just wanted answers. Well so did he. Hopefully he’d use a little more finesse than Garrett.
Finally Garrett backed away.
Donovan cleared his throat. “So uh, are we going to be uncles?”
The casual question made Sam flinch. Then he slowly nodded. “Yeah. The baby is mine.”
“Jesus,” Garrett muttered.
“Hoo boy,” Donovan said from pursed lips. He gathered the mound of supplies, then picked up the mug from the counter. “Not sure what you want me to say, so I’ll just shut up.”
“Yeah,” Sam snapped. “Shutting up is good.”
“You’re so sure she’s telling the truth,” Garrett said with a hint of anger in his voice.
Sam stopped on his way back to the bedroom and turned around. He eyed Garrett evenly. “No. I’m not saying that at all. I am, however, embracing the very real possibility that the baby could be mine. She says it’s mine. For now I’m going with it. I’m not going to let anything happen to my child.”
Garrett rubbed his palm over his face and nodded. “Yeah, I understand, man. Van and I have your back. You know that.”
Sam nodded. “Thanks.”
He turned around and walked back into his bedroom. Sophie was listing badly to the right, her eyes half-closed. When she heard them come in, she jerked up and her eyes flew open. She winced and grabbed at her shoulder with her free hand.
“Careful,” Sam murmured as he went to her. He glanced back at Donovan. “Will this pain medicine knock her out?”
“That’s the plan,” Donovan said. “For the first little while she needs something stronger. Then we can knock it down to ibuprofen.”
Sam grimaced, then turned apologetically to Sophie. “We need to talk. I’ll have Donovan give you the medicine afterward. Then you can sleep for a good long while.”
She shook her head, her eyes fierce. “I can’t sleep, Sam. After I tell you what you want to know, I have to go. I can’t stay here. I’ve already been here too long. If you won’t go with me, I don’t have a choice but to take off on my own.”
He shot his brothers a pointed look but didn’t respond to her statement. He sat down on the edge of the bed and motioned for his brothers to get comfortable.
Donovan edged onto the bed on the other side of Sophie and looked at her as if seeking permission. He might as well have not even been there for all the attention she paid him. Her face was pale and strained, and it was obvious she was fighting to stay conscious.
Garrett stood at the end of the bed, arms folded over his chest, and he stared broodingly at Sophie. When she happened to glance up at him, she went even paler.
“Damn it, Garrett,” Sam muttered. “Ease up for God’s sake.”
Garrett shifted his position with an irritated huff.
“Talk to me, Sophie. I need you to back up and tell me why you disappeared. Then I need to know how you knew who I was and where to find me and why people are trying to kill you and why you think me and my family are in danger.”
She threw him an impatient look that suggested she didn’t appreciate the fact that he was questioning what she’d stated as fact.
Then she looked down at her hands, and he could see the tips go white as she nervously twisted her fingers. She took a deep breath and then glanced up at him, her eyes almost challenging. Like she was gearing up for battle.
“My father was Alex Mouton.”
“What the fuck?”
Sophie jumped at Garrett’s explosion. Even Donovan recoiled and glared at Sophie. Sam processed the information with a sense of disbelief. He just stared at her, wondering just how badly he’d been set up and fucked over.
She stared back at him, her lips pressed into a tight line as she waited for him to digest the bomb.
It was Donovan who finally prompted Sophie to continue. Sam wasn’t able to speak. He was too furious. He felt like the biggest goddamn fool on the planet.
“Okay so Mouton is your father,” Donovan said in a tight voice. “Wait a minute. You said was.”
Her eyes grew distant, and she looked at them as if measuring whether she trusted them enough to say anything.
“Just a figure of speech.”
“He sent you to me, didn’t he?” Sam asked before she could continue.
Her chin went up and her gaze hardened. “He did. You hit his radar the moment you came into his town. He wanted information.”
Sam’s nostrils flared. “Pity you failed. Or maybe you weren’t good enough to get me to talk.”
She winced and looked away. He felt like a bastard kicking a puppy, but goddamn it, he was pissed.
“He got nothing from me,” she said. “He didn’t really need it. He was on to you shortly after you stepped into his territory, but he thought it was a good idea for me to stay close to you in case you dropped any information he’d find valuable. How do you think I knew where to find you? Here, I mean. It’s why you need to understand the danger that you and your family are in.”
There was a whole lot more she wanted to say. Sam could tell. Her lips quivered, and he saw the flash of her teeth as she sank them into her bottom lip to squelch the flow of words. What the hell?
She’d played him from the start. Her father was an arms dealer and currently occupied the number two spot on the U.S. government’s most wanted list. She claimed to be pregnant with his child. Her father wanted something from her and was using Sam’s child as leverage, not to mention Sam and all his family were now in danger. And she expected him to drop everything to protect her. From what?
Donovan shot Sam a look that clearly said shut the fuck up. Was it that obvious he was ready to explode?
“We need clear heads here,” Donovan said. “I get that you two have history, but right now, that’s not as important as why someone’s trying to kill Sophie. Why is that, Sophie?” He stared hard at her, but his expression wasn’t as fierce as Garrett’s or what Sam knew his own must be. “You’re not telling us everything.”
No, she wasn’t. Sam could see the shadows in her eyes. She was holding back out of fear, but of whom? Was she afraid of him and his reaction? Or was she afraid of her father, and if so, what the hell had she done to make him turn on her after she’d prostituted herself for him.
“Look, you have to know my father was a bastard. It’s not like he gave his flesh and blood a free pass. I saw my opportunity to escape, and I took it. There are people not so pleased with me because of it.”
“And we figure in where?” Garrett demanded.
She threw him a disgusted look. “You encroached on Mouton territory. You fucked with the family business. You were a target as soon as you showed up looking to score a deal.”
“That was five months ago,” Sam pointed out. “Why now?”
Her lips twisted. “You were bait. They were waiting for me to come to you. I stayed away as long as I could. But I’m getting bigger and clumsier by the day. Soon I’ll be completely defenseless. So I came here because I was sure you’d at least protect your child.”
Sam looked up and closed his eyes in frustration. “So you stayed away, kept the knowledge of my child from me even though you were both in danger, and you did this all to protect me.”
Rage burst in her eyes like a flare. It was a sharp mixture of anger and grief and of helpless anxiety.
“You know what? Fuck you.” She looked to his brothers, including them in her fury. “Fuck you all.”