Deception (Southern Comfort) (34 page)

The tip of the needle pressed into the soft skin of her neck, and though he was obviously threatening her to keep her quiet, her throat was too bruised for her to do much more than squeak.  He dragged her backwards toward the edge of her brother’s bed, heading farther away from the doorway. Sam looked plaintively toward that opening hoping one of the
nurses or orderlies would come in.

But given the noise still coming from the hall she figured she was on her own.

Clawing at the arm around her throat earned her a meaty fist upside her head, and after the stars had faded Sam tried to stop panicking long enough to think.  She’d been trained to defend herself, but at the moment that instruction seemed beyond her.  Her thoughts were such a jumble of raw emotions and nerves that it was hard to remember to breathe. 

Angling her head to the side as much as she could, Sam saw him messing with her brother’s IV.  This creep obviously intended to pump something into it that would do God knows what to her brother.  Rage bubbled up so hot and fast that her body stiffened of its own volition.  The man behind her sighed, tightening his grip around her throat.

“We can do this one of two ways,” he informed her equably, all trace of southern honey gone from his voice.  His accent sounded vaguely northern, harsher and more guttural than it’d been before. “I can hit you with the needle, put you in one of these beds and take you downstairs. Maybe leave you behind the hospital in an alley, make it look like a mugging gone bad. Or I can tap you on the head, take you out of here the same way, and then bring you along on a little trip to visit with my partner.  He has a real thing for sexy broads – gets him in a lot of trouble. I feel pretty sure he’d enjoy taking you out for a test spin or two before he decided how best to dispose of you.  Either way, you’re gonna die, but it’s up to you how painful we make it.  Fight me now and I’m inclined to introduce you to my pal.  Be quiet and behave like a good girl and I’ll make sure you and your brother don’t suffer.”

Oh, God.  He was going to kill them.  And he was threatening her with rape to make his job easier.  Whoever this man was, he had no idea what he was saying.

Because instead of making Sam quiescent, that particular threat made her blood burn hotter. 

But forcibly, exercising as much willpower as she possessed, she made herself tremble meekly and nod her head in terrified agreement.  The trembling part was accurate – there was enough adrenaline in her body to jumpstart a turbo jet – and the terrified part wasn’t far off. 

But meek and agreeable she was not.  Like she’d just sit back and let him blithely murder her and her brother?  She had way too much to live for and there was no way she’d sacrifice Donnie. 

How many times had he sacrificed himself to help her?

And the possibility – just the possibility, however slim – that she might have become pregnant last night gave her whatever final impetus she needed.  No way would she allow this madman to harm her and Josh’s baby before it even had a chance at life.

So she went limp, her shaking muscles purportedly incapable of supporting her any longer.

“That’s a girl,” he nodded approval and actually patted her on the shoulder.  The Grandpa Jekyll and Doctor Hyde thing was so unnerving that she would have been petrified if she wasn’t so furious.  But luckily for her, she’d seen enough of the dark side of men that what she was currently experiencing was closer to retribution. 

She wanted to kill this man and every vile thing he represented.

He reached for Donnie’s IV line again and Sam swung her bag around and hit him. The heavy book inside lent enough momentum to pack some punch.  He staggered back, the blow throwing him temporarily off balance, but didn’t loosen his grip on her neck.  However, the centrifugal force of the swinging bag pulled Sam around in a circle, so that instead of being backed against him she was now rotated into a facing position. 

She took advantage of that fact by driving her knee deep into his groin.

“Little bitch,” he gasped, face purpling in pain and anger.  He dropped both the syringe and his hand to cup his injured parts.  Sam scrambled away, but not quickly enough to prevent him from grabbing her sweater.  He hauled her back with enough force to send them both flying backward, crashing into one of Donnie’s now defunct pieces of monitoring equipment.  He landed first, swearing loudly as his back hit metal, breath rushing out in a pain-filled whoosh when Sam fell heavily against his chest.  Those extra few pounds she was packing in her breasts and hips suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad thing.    

Elbowing him in the stomach as she pushed herself up, Sam grabbed the edge of Donnie’s bed for leverage.  There was a call button near his head and if she could just get to it she could attract some outside attention.  If everyone hadn’t been otherwise occupied down the hall they would have been in here like a flash already. 

But just as she gained purchase on the rail, he jackknifed up and caught her by the waist.  Panic surged but Sam maintained her grasp, nearly tipping the bed when the man dragged her backward.  Instead it rolled, jostling the surrounding equipment, toppling another monitor over on her head. 

Stunned, she fell back, tears blurring her vision. But not blinding her to the grim smile which stole across the older man’s face.  He was enjoying her pain, damn him.

So she curved herself around, found the first available flesh, and sank her teeth into his upper thigh. 

Surprised by the unexpected viciousness of the attack, her attacker yanked Sam’s ponytail.  “You… little… bitch!” The shock of having hair ripped from her head blinded Sam temporarily, so she couldn’t duck from the hard-knuckled hand that he sent backwards across her cheek. 

Pain blooming like an ugly garden, she went sprawling into the foot of the bed. The formerly rational-looking man maneuvered himself until he loomed over her with feral eyes.  Glasses long gone, one of his contacts had slipped, revealing nearly black irises beneath the artificial blue.

“You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” 

Sam squirmed, her lower body pinned by his thighs, but he held her with ruthless efficiency. And when he extended his hand to reach for something she thought, this is it.  She’d failed her brother, she’d failed Josh and herself because what recourse did she have now?  Her purse was out of reach, her best bodily weapons incapacitated, and her throat too swollen to scream.  He pulled over a pillow that had landed on the floor, and Sam’s body exploded with fury.

It couldn’t end this way.  It just couldn’t.

“Lights out, Samantha.” The man pressed the pillow against her face. 

No.  Frantic, panicked, already feeling the pain in her lungs, the terror of being helpless, one hand clawed at his wrists while the other blindly sought a weapon.  Bucking against him was getting her nowhere but exhausted, because he was simply too heavy to dislodge. And with little white pinpricks of light flashing behind her eyes Sam knew her time would soon run out.  Playing dead wasn’t an option, because this type of man didn’t leave anything to chance. 

Lungs burning, limbs growing weaker, Sam’s fingers brushed against something sharp.  Stung by the unexpected slice to flesh they recoiled for just a split second.  Glass, she thought, desperately.  Broken glass from one of the monitors.  Her fingers closed around it, adrenaline making her oblivious to the pain.  And with a last desperate bid to save both herself and her brother, swung the shard until it connected.

A howl of pain and the warm splash of blood preceded the easing back of the pillow.  Sam bucked, and managed to slide out from under him.  Sucking in
a lungful of searing air, she clambered away, slipping in blood. She crashed into Donnie’s bed again before hauling herself to her feet. But his hand shot out, pulled her by the ankle, and her chin smacked the floor with a sickening crack.

“You… little… bitch,” he repeated, trying to haul her back toward him.  But the blood loss had obviously weakened him because when Sam kicked he let go of her ankle.   She turned, horrified by the blood pumping between the hands now gripping his thigh.  And realized shakily that she’d hit an artery. 

That black eye looked at her with shock and loathing.  He was going to bleed to death.

The door to the room burst open to show a stunned doctor, two nurses peeking around him with widened eyes.

“What the hell is going on here?” he roared, taking in the state of the room and its three occupants.

“I couldn’t let him hurt Donnie,” Sam croaked, voice unrecognizable to her ringing ears.  

It was the last thing she remembered before passing out.  

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

EVERY
molecule of Josh’s being vibrated with sick rage and helpless terror. He bounded up the hospital steps, towing Kathleen and Mac. 

Sam could have been killed.  He’d done everything he could to keep her safe – taking her out of that hellhole of an apartment, sending friends to escort her through dark parking lots when he couldn’t be there himself, cautioning her, trailing her, loving her…

God, he loved her so much.  And yet he hadn’t been there when some madman attacked her in the middle of the freakin’ hospital.

“Josh,” Kathleen called up to him, pitching her voice to be heard over the clang of his boot heels hitting the stairs.  “Wait up a second, Josh.  We need to discuss this.”

“It’s not the time.” He’d already inundated them both with everything he knew about the anonymous gifts Sam had been receiving, the break-in at her old apartment, and his initial concerns that what was happening to her was somehow connected to the rapist, despite the fact that that theory was now defunct. He told them about the videos he’d commandeered from the traffic cameras – still awaiting the chance to be viewed – and even his suspicions regarding Dane Wilcox.  He’d come completely and utterly clean with them, and really had nothing much left to say.  He just wanted to get to Sam. 

But then suddenly Mac was behind him, large and implacable, his meaty hand on Josh’s shoulder, holding him back as he gained the landing.

“It’s the perfect time,” Kathleen disagreed, huffing out a breath as she caught up to the men.  Josh glowered at both her and her partner while trembling so hard that his vision blurred.  Kathleen placed a hand on his arm, a watery redhead in a fuzzy pantsuit.  He blinked his eyes to clear them. 

“She’s okay,” she reminded him gently, even though she had to know Josh wouldn’t be certain until he saw her.  “The doctor said she’s going to be fine.  But you have to remember, when we get in there, that this is a crime scene that needs to be processed. And a case – our case, mine and Mac’s, not yours – that we need to investigate.  You are not acting in your capacity as a City of Charleston detective right now.  You’re Samantha Martin’s boyfriend.”

“Fiancé,” Josh corrected, trying to resist the urge to kill them both where they stood.  He knew this shit already. “She agreed to marry me last night.”

Kathleen’s brows shot up, but she quickly recovered.  “Congratulations,” she said, and meant it.  “But I just want to make sure we’re clear on the fact that you are not to get in our way.”

Josh seethed, because they were holding him back from Sam.  But he also knew that Kathleen was only looking out for both his and Sam’s best interests.  Justifiably or not, a man had been killed tonight and there were questions that needed to be answered, if for no other reason than to exonerate Sam.  And if her fiancé waded into the investigation and muddled up the crime scene by dismembering the dead body, it could look bad all the way around.  So he’d sit back, let his friends and colleagues do their jobs, and then rob the grave after a sufficient time. 

He could dismember the bastard later.

“I’m okay.”  Although he wasn’t.  “I know my job.”

“Just so we’re clear.”

Apparently satisfied, Mac released his hold on Josh’s shoulder and they all hustled toward Donnie Martin’s room.  A staff security guard manned the door, but a flash of badge had him stepping aside.

Whatever hold on his control Josh had previously maintained shattered when he saw that room.  Blood pooled on the floor, splattered the beds, streaked the walls.  Equipment was knocked over and broken. And a prone figure lay still, wrapped in a formerly white lab coat now stained crimson from his own blood.  An older man, sprawled on a gurney. Clothing disheveled and torn from where the staff had attempted to revive him. 

A crash cart stood silent beside him, the only functional piece of equipment left in the area.

All of which Josh noted instantly, as well as the fact that Sam wasn’t there.  His gaze swung around, a heat seeking missile, landing on the guard with the force of a blow.  “Where is she?” he demanded.  “The woman involved in this. We were told she was going to be here.”

“Uh, I’m n-not sure,” the young man stuttered, startled by the ferocity with which the question came at him.  “I just got the word to come up here and cover the door until you guys got here.”  He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “But, uh, I’m sure she’s, you know, contained.  We wouldn’t let her get away or anything.”

Accurately sensing that Josh was ready to erupt, Kathleen stepped between him and the feckless guard.  “He’s an infant,” she murmured close to his ear.  “And he doesn’t know any better.   Mac,” she called, much louder. “Why don’t you stay, wait for the forensics team to get here. I’ll accompany Josh to see what we can find out.”