Leslie Parrish - Pitch Black

“What’s your uncle Nate’s number?” Alec asked. “He can tell us who the organizers were.”

She gave it to him, feeling so confident they’d finally made a breakthrough, she wanted to throw her arms around Alec’s neck and kiss him. She didn’t, of course. His boss might not be here, but it was still inappropriate.

Curious about that, she asked, “Where is Agent Blackstone, anyway?”

“I have no idea,” Alec said, sounding thoughtful. “Strange that he’s been out of touch for this long. Brandon said he was going to keep trying to reach him. Maybe that’s why he’s not here yet.”

The others echoed him, Jackie adding,“I’ve left three or four messages. I couldn’t get in touch with Lily, either.”

Alec frowned. “I hope nothing happened with that other case she was working on.”

The rest of the group appeared curious, but didn’t ask questions. They all had other things to do. Alec got on the phone with Uncle Nate. Jackie interviewed Sam about Tricia’s life and habits. The others talked to the detective.

When they were finished, Sam asked, “Where is the man who brought her in? I want to thank him.”

“He went for coffee,” Jackie said. “He’s a good guy, doesn’t want to leave until he knows she’s okay.”

Remembering what Alec had muttered in the car about the Good Samaritan, she felt the same rush of pleasure, not only because Tricia was okay, but that the Professor had failed. He hadn’t anticipated a good guy, only rapists and killers who might easily have attacked Tricia, or left her for dead.

And while they hadn’t confirmed that the man her mother had intended to meet was the same one who’d attacked Tricia, Sam would lay money it was true. Meaning the bastard had been foiled twice in one night. That made her doubly grateful. Somewhere, someone was watching out for those Sam loved. She only hoped the guardian angel stuck around long enough to ensure she survived, too.

A short time later, as Sam stood in Tricia’s room, watching her repeatedly thank her rescuer, Alec entered. “We’re going to take off now.”

“We?”

“I want you here, safe and sound, with the detective and the officer watching you. Jackie, Kyle, Dean, and I will go to the college.” He frowned. “I hate for all of us to go, but without Wyatt, Brandon, and Lily, we’re a little shorthanded. The professor who organized the symposium sounds very disorganized. There are apparently a bunch of boxes to sort through, and I want to get through them as quickly as possible.”

“You’re sure you don’t need my help?”

“I’m sure. I just want you protected, Sam. Right here, with lots of people-and police officers-around you. I’ll come back here with any lists we can get, copies of credit card slips, whatever, and together we’ll go over the information, okay? You stay here with your friend.”

Her friend was still softly chatting with the big, dangerous-looking man who’d saved her, eyeing him as if he were a cuddly teddy bear. “She’s going to be okay,” Sam whispered, as much to herself as to Alec.

“Yeah, she is. And we’re going to find the man who did this to her and stop him from hurting anyone again.”

Alec reached for her hand and squeezed it. His colleagues were right outside, her friend and a witness just a few feet away, so there was no way he could kiss her the way his glittering eyes told her he wanted to. God, in all the insanity, it had actually slipped her mind that she’d made incredible love with this man a few hours ago.

She smiled and shivered in satisfaction at the very thought of it.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

He leaned close. “Stop looking at me the way you did when I was inside you.”

“Get used to it.”

He pulled an inch away, met her gaze, asked a dozen questions without ever opening his mouth, then turned and walked out of the room.

After he was gone, she wondered where that sassy, sultry comeback had come from. Because when he’d commented about being inside her, she’d turned to mush.

“I could probably use a little sleep now,” Tricia told her rescuer. “Thank you again. Call me soon, okay? I want to take you out to dinner to thank you when I don’t look like somebody ran over me with a truck.”

“That’s a deal. You concentrate on getting better,” the big man said.

Once he was gone, Sam stepped to her friend’s bedside. “I’ll let you sleep. I want to call Mom and tell her what happened.”

“Tell her I really need that plastic surgeon’s number now, ’kay?” Tricia cracked, her voice weak but her wit still sharp.

“You got it. But not too soon. You’re so damned gorgeous, the rest of us finally have a shot at getting some attention.”

Tricia’s eyes were closed, but she said, “I’d say you’re getting more than that.”

Even woozy and injured, the woman had damned good perception.

Sam slipped out, realizing her friend was already drifting off. Smiling pleasantly at the police officer stationed at the door, she said, “I’ll be in the waiting room.”

“I’ll be right here, ma’am.”

Before she had even stepped away, though, her cell phone rang. She cast a quick, guilty look around. She was not supposed to use it inside the hospital, and had intended to use the complimentary landline in the waiting area. When she saw the name on the caller ID, though-MD HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS-she answered in spite of herself.

The reception wasn’t great, with static on the line, but she finally heard, “Mrs. Dalton? This is Dale Carter, Jimmy Flynt’s attorney.”

“Yes, of course. What can I do for you, Mr. Carter?”

“Ma’am, sorry to bother you so early on a Sunday…”

As if she hadn’t been up almost all night, anyway. “It’s all right.”

“I have some bad news. I’m at the prison, got called down here first thing this morning. Jimmy passed away during the night.”

“He’s dead ?”

The officer tensed, and Sam waved to let him know all was well.

“He’s been very sick, as I’m sure you noticed. I’m told he took ill last evening; he was brought to the infirmary and he expired at around two o’clock this morning.”

Sam didn’t know what to say, what to think, what to feel. She had never liked Jimmy, and had always known he liked her too much. But her visit yesterday had thrown her, made her wonder if he had been less full of crap than she’d assumed him to be.

“It was nice of you to call, Mr. Carter,” she said, “though I’m not family or anything. In fact, I barely knew him.”

“That’s not why I’m calling. They contacted me about Jimmy’s belongings, since he has no known family. He left a thick envelope with your name on it.”

She froze. Love letters from a dead inmate did not appeal in the least.

As if reading her mind, the attorney said, “I glanced through them to make sure there was nothing objectionable or criminal. There doesn’t appear to be, just some odd ramblings that don’t make much sense to me, but might to you.”

“Ramblings?”

Papers shuffled. “Something about your being careful, danger heading your way.”

She had been only half paying attention to what the attorney said, still trying to believe Jimmy had died, but his words made her straighten up and take notice. “Danger?”

“Yes. He mentioned e-mail scams, that some people might use them to hurt people rather than just robbing them.”

Good God. “What else?”

He cleared his throat. “This part says, ‘There’s rumors. Somebody’s watching you and I’m worried for you.’ ”

Was it really possible? Could Jimmy have known something about this case? It seemed crazy. Then again, so had the idea of him finding the man who’d ruined her grandmother and taking vengeance on him. Yet she had begun to believe it had happened.