Melinda Di Lorenzo - Worth The Risk

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 phone, talking in a low voice, attempting to leave a message for the client who hired him to track down Tamara. When he hung up and shot her a reassuring smile, Meredith’s heart gave a surprising lurch.

A half a dozen other questions surfaced. What would have happened to her if he hadn’t shown up when he did? Would the gun-wielding man in the sedan have kidnapped her? Killed her? And what about Tamara? Would her sister have stood a chance if the local PD had been put in charge?

“You okay?” Sam’s voice cut through her worried thoughts.

“Should I be?” she replied.

“Probably not,” he admitted. “But I’m working on it. And we’re here.”

“We’re where?”

“My place,” Worm said and cut the engine.

Belatedly, Meredith realized the big truck had come to a halt in front of a squat bungalow.

“You can rest up,” Sam told her. “Maybe eat something, if you want. Though from what I remember, Worm’s cooking skills consist of takeout and toaster waffles.”

“I’ve had worse,” Meredith said and she let Sam help her from the truck.

Her body ached, and as weird as it seemed, her stomach rumbled the second she thought of food. But as soon as they’d settled into Worm’s living room, and Sam started to lay out his plan, hunger and exhaustion quickly took a backseat to her concern.

“I need to get my notes from my apartment,” Sam said. “Once I have them, Worm’ll use his super tech skills to track Tamara’s movements. I won’t be gone long.”

“You don’t really expect me to agree to being left here, do you?” Meredith asked.

Sam shot Worm a look, and the big man glanced from one of them to the other, muttered something about making coffee, then disappeared up the hall.

“Sending him away isn’t going to change my mind,” Meredith said. “You’re my only lifeline to my sister. If something happens to you while you’re out there getting your notes...”

At the end, her voice almost broke. Because it suddenly struck her that it was true. The man standing over her was the only one she could count on right that second. He was the only other person who knew Tamara was missing and quite possibly the only other person searching for her. The police couldn’t be trusted. Nicholas was nowhere to be found. Not that she exactly trusted him, either. Meredith also couldn’t put any of her friends in danger by telling them what was going on. And if the media got involved, the situation would turn into a circus and Tamara’s life would be at risk. If it wasn’t already.

Oh, God. What if she’s— Meredith shut down the thought before it could even finish. She refused to consider that her sister was anything but alive.

Sam sat beside her on the couch, and she lifted her hand to stop him from getting any closer. She knew if he touched her, that zap of attraction would floor her again, and she’d be in a bad position to say no to whatever he asked. And she wasn’t backing down. But as her arm raised, so did his, and before she could draw away, his fingers closed on her wrist. He pulled her palm to his chest in a gesture that was both strangely intimate and comforting at the same time.

“I promise I’m doing what I think is best to help Tamara,” he told her gently. “And nothing’s going to happen to me while I’m doing that. It’s my job.”

“If you really believed that, you wouldn’t be asking me to stay here.” Meredith shook her head. “And this might be just a job to you, Sam, but to me, it’s my sister’s life.”

“I didn’t say this was just a job,” he amended. “I said it is my job.”

“I don’t see the difference.”

He finally let her wrist go.

“I get paid, but I’m not in it for the money. My goal is always the same—to help people. Because I know how it feels to—” He cut himself off abruptly, cleared his throat, then started again. “I’ve seen how my clients feel when someone they love can’t be located, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I only take on missing-persons cases, nothing else. My closure rate has been one hundred percent since I started doing this. So the difference is, Meredith, it’s never just a job for me.”

At the end of his short but impassioned speech, Meredith stared at him. What had he been about to say before he stopped himself? And why did she get the feeling that, whatever it was he did before he became a PI, his success rate wasn’t a hundred percent and that made him unhappy?

So many more questions. And no time to ask them.

“If all of that’s true,” she said, “then you know I can’t just sit around waiting.”

“Let’s say I agreed to let you come with me. What if something did happen? How much worse would it be if you were there? How much worse would it be if I couldn’t protect you?”

“How can you protect me at all if I’m here and you’re somewhere else?”

He said her name in a frustrated growl. “Meredith...”

“Just because you don’t want me to be right doesn’t mean I’m not.”

Sam lifted a hand to his hair, which he tugged, then released. “The car.”

“What?”

“You’re going to wait inside of it. You’re going to hold my phone with Worm’s number set to go. If a single thing goes wrong, you call him. You don’t follow me, you don’t call the cops. Just Worm.”

And Meredith nodded her head quickly, afraid if she spoke, he’d change his mind.

* * *

Sam kept his mouth shut and his eyes on the road as he maneuvered the borrowed hatchback—another of Worm’s vehicles, but a far less obtrusive one than his truck—through the streets. He hated that Meredith had talked him in to letting her come along. He hated that it still seemed better than the alternative of leaving her behind. She was right, though. He couldn’t keep her safe if she wasn’t in sight.

Is that the real reason you want her here? asked an irritating voice in his head. Or is it something more?

Her safety was definitely a factor, no question. The problem was what was making that safety so important to Sam.

He cast a quick look at Meredith. She’d closed her eyes, her long lashes dipping down to caress her skin. Sam was ridiculously envious of that motion. When was the last time he’d felt an attraction like this one? Had he ever? The jolt each time they touched was definitely unique. Even now, his fingers itched to reach across and trace the ridge of her cheekbone to her delicate jaw. He longed to feel her lips again.