Melinda Di Lorenzo - Worth The Risk

In reply, he held the necklace up for a second, examined the camera once more, then placed it on the dashboard and smashed it with the handle of his knife.

“What’s going on is that I need to get you out of here.” He shoved the damaged piece of equipment into his pocket. “Quickly.”

“You think I’m leaving with you without more of an explanation of who you are and how you knew someone was spying on me?” Meredith knew her fear was making her defensive, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

“Do you see a better option?”

“No, but—”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not giving you a choice, and I don’t have time to give you an explanation.”

“What’re you going to do? Drag me by my hair?”

He eyed her hair like he was seriously considering it, then shook his head. He barely managed to open his mouth, though, before a ping echoed through the air, followed by a sharp crack. Sam’s eyes flew to the windshield, and Meredith followed his gaze with wide-eyed horror. A flattened piece of metal had buried itself in the glass directly in line with Sam’s head.

It only took a second for Meredith to figure out what it was.

A bullet.

Sam confirmed it a moment later. “The glass is only bulletproof-ish, apparently. I should probably ask for a refund.”

He was making jokes? While someone shot at them? Was he completely insane? But when Meredith met his eyes, she saw that his face was deadly serious. And under that, he was worried. She could see it in the pinch in the corner of his eyes.

He was trying to reassure me, she realized.

For a weird second, she appreciated the gesture. It even helped her—a little—to recover from the fear making her heart thump against her rib cage. Then a second ping rang out, and this time the side mirror located to Meredith’s right exploded, and any semblance of bravery went out the window. She dove into Sam’s side and clung to his arm.

“Listen to me,” he said into her hair, apparently unperturbed by how she held on to him. “We can’t stay in the truck. And I know you have no real reason to trust that I’m telling the truth, but I promise you, I’ll get you somewhere safe, then I’ll tell you what I can. Can we agree to do that?”

Her mouth was too dry to answer, so she just nodded into his chest.

“Good. You can go back to fighting with me as soon as we’re in the clear.”

Sam reached over her to pop open the glove box, and Meredith sucked in a breath as she caught sight of what was inside.

A gun.

No, wait.

Two guns.

Sam pulled both out, then leaned forward to tuck one into the holster under his jacket. The other, he held out, butt-end first, to Meredith. She didn’t reach for it.

“Take it,” Sam urged.

She shook her head. “I can’t shoot.”

Why did she feel bad about the admission? Firing a gun wasn’t something she’d never even considered doing before that second.

“It’s easy.” He pointed at the trigger. “Aim. Click.”

Meredith took it cautiously. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You won’t have to.”

Meredith wanted to ask why, if she wasn’t going to have to fire it, he was so insistent that she carry it. But he didn’t give her a chance. He reached down to her feet, snapped up the purse she’d dropped back at her building and handed it to her.

“We’re going out my side,” he told her. “And all I want you to do is stay as close to me as possible.”

Then he flung the door open, threaded his fingers through Meredith’s and dragged her into the street.

* * *

Sam was absolutely sure of two things. One, he was in over his head, and two, he needed to get Meredith out of whatever this was, alive and unscathed. Especially if his suspicions about the origin of that camera turned out to be true.

No. Don’t focus on that. Concentrate on the moment.

He held his body in front of Meredith’s as they snaked along the side of the Bronco. His flesh might be an ineffective shield from a bullet, but at least he could make her feel secure. They reached the edge of the truck unharmed, and he scouted for the next point of safety.

“What do you do for work, Meredith?” he asked as he scanned the area.

She replied in a shaky voice, “What?”

“Work. What do you do?”

“I’m, uh, at a temp agency. So right now, I’m at a market research place. Internet survey stuff, mostly. Compiling data.”

He spotted a potential spot for cover, about fifteen feet away. It was an easy dash. One that would build confidence for the next, undoubtedly longer run.

“Can you see that building sign over there?” He inclined his head.

“The one that says Brookside Apartments?”

“That’s the one.”

“Yes, I see it. Why?”

“In a few seconds, we’re going to run toward its south side. Whoever is firing is coming from the north, and I don’t think they know exactly where we are or they would’ve shot again already. Okay?”

A pause, followed by an audible inhale. “Okay.”

Sam counted to ten silently, then tightened his grip on her hand. “Go!”

At full speed, they hit the pavement, propelling themselves away from the Bronco, and in seconds they reached the sign, unharmed.

“Do you think they’re gone?” Meredith whispered.

“No. They wouldn’t give up that easily.”

“Then why aren’t they firing?”

“Probably waiting for a clear shot,” Sam replied. “But we’re not going to give them one. How well do you know this area?”

“Not very.”

“Could you navigate our way out?”

“I think so. You want to go somewhere specific?”

Sam had an idea, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. “For now, let’s just get away from this neighborhood—and let’s stay away from yours, too. If you can do that, I can get us somewhere safe.”

“All right,” Meredith agreed.

“Which direction takes us out?”

“We can stick to the south side, if you think it’s safer?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Sam eyed the urban terrain again. “Do you like what you’re doing for work?”

“Not really.”

“Why are you doing it, then?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Try me.”

“Well, I’d planned to study law eventually, so I took the paralegal program to tide me over. But...” She trailed off and didn’t pick up the statement again.

And Sam hadn’t yet found a viable option for their next point. The lampposts were too narrow, the nearest car too far.

“But what?”

Meredith sighed. “I never found the time, I guess. Maybe it sounds funny, but having a semifamous sister limits your options. People expect things.”

“People expect things? Or you expect things from yourself?”

He felt her eyes on his back. “Why are you asking me about this now?”

Sam shrugged. “Getting to know you.”

“Getting to know me? Or trying to distract me from the fact that we’re running for our lives?”

“Maybe both.” Then he spotted it. “Central mailbox.”

“I see it.”

“You ready?”

“As I can be.”

“Good enough.”

He snapped up her hand once more, and they moved together. As they reached the mailbox, a shot finally rang out, pinging against the ground and tearing a hole in the concrete a few feet from where they crouched. Meredith let out a barely audible whimper. Sam pulled her closer.

“We’re okay,” he said. “But we can’t wait here long. Can you keep going?”

He expected Meredith to protest, or to ask for more time, but she squeezed his hand and said, “Ten feet behind us, there’s a pickup truck, and five feet from that, there’s a sandwich board. If we can make it there, we can get to an alley, and I think I can find a way out from that point.”