Repressed (Deadly Secrets) (4 page)

“Not so well apparently.”

She pulled the towel away. That sickness resurged when she spotted the amount of blood on the white cloth. She pressed the towel against his forehead once more.

He hissed in a breath.

“Sorry.” Sam gentled the pressure. “I’ll try to be more careful.”

“I’m starting to think you’re a bad luck omen, Ms. Parker.”

Sam grimaced because, yeah, she was starting to feel like a bad omen herself.

She checked him for any other injuries as he sat leaning back on his hands, his eyes closed. Colored granules covered his left shoulder, but thankfully he wasn’t bleeding anywhere else. Her gaze skipped over the hard line of his jaw, the muscles in his arms and chest, and the thin tapered waist that disappeared into his slacks.

Warmth gathered in her belly. A warmth that came out of nowhere. But it was quickly overshadowed by the realization that he’d just protected her—again.

All the animosity slid from her veins as she moved the towel so a clean portion of fabric pressed against the oozing wound. “I’m sorry about being a bitch earlier. It’s not you, it’s—”

“Therapists. Yeah, I got that.”

She checked the towel again, reminded herself head wounds bled a lot, but couldn’t quite quell her concern over the fact that the blood wasn’t slowing. “It’s not just that. I like Thomas. He’s trying hard to fit in. I know what it’s like to be the odd man out, and I don’t want him to have any kind of setback. Your being here could do that for him. I know he’s had run-ins with the law, but I honestly believe he wants a second chance. He’s a good kid.”

Dr. McClane’s hand brushed her forearm, and sparks of heat ricocheted across her skin, the kind that drew everything else to a stop. “I’m not here to cause problems for Thomas. As long as he stays out of trouble, my being here is just a formality. Trust me, no one believes in second chances more than I do.”

Her pulse picked up speed. She barely knew this man, and considering what he did for a living, she had no reason to trust him. But something inside said he was telling the truth. And after the way he’d just put himself between her and danger, even when she’d done nothing but antagonize him, she knew he wasn’t at all like her last therapist.

Her gaze locked on his, and in the dim light she saw something else. Something lurking in his eyes that told her even with all the horror and misery she’d experienced in her life, this guy knew way more about second chances than she ever would. And not just from clinical experience.

Electricity arced between them. An electricity that knocked her totally off-kilter. “Dr. McClane—”

“Ethan.” A smile tugged at one corner of his lush mouth. A mouth that was a thousand times more tempting than it had been before. “My first name is Ethan. And since I just got my ass handed to me by your shelving unit, I think it’s time we moved past the formalities.”

“No.”

His cocky grin faded, and she read the disappointment in his eyes, but her heart was suddenly thumping so hard she couldn’t think straight. “Not because you got your ass kicked by my shelves. Because I believe in second chances too. It’s Samantha, but everyone here calls me Sam.”

“Samantha,” he said softly. “Want to seal our truce with something sweet?”

He held out his hand, and heat flared in her belly in anticipation of his touch. But the touch didn’t come. And when one corner of his mouth curled in that sexy smirk again, she glanced down and realized he was offering her another Life Saver.

Her stomach growled. But this time not from hunger. At least not for food. This time it was from a sudden, wicked flash of something a whole lot sweeter sliding along her tongue. Something that would seal their truce in a much more satisfying way.

CHAPTER FOUR

A heavy knock sounded at the door, and Samantha jerked back just when Ethan had thought things were about to get interesting.

“Sam?” a voice called through the door. “Are you in there?”

Samantha scrambled to her feet and muttered, “Thank God they found us.” But Ethan frowned as she rushed toward the door and yelled, “We’re in here!”

He definitely didn’t want to get stuck in a cramped closet all night, but the heat in the sexy chemistry teacher’s eyes when she’d looked at him a minute ago almost made him think she’d been about to kiss him. And even with the head wound and sore back and his crappy history in this town, he wouldn’t have minded one bit if she had.

The lock turned, and the door hissed open, followed by light flooding the small room. Ethan blinked twice and averted his eyes from the blinding glare.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Burke. That was Principal Burke’s voice. Wincing at the pain, Ethan held the rag against his head and slowly pushed to his feet.

“We were locked in,” Samantha said. “Dr. McClane was talking to me in the hall when we heard the break-in. He followed me into the supply closet when I went to see if anything was damaged, and then someone locked us in.”

Ethan stepped over cracked bottles and plastic canisters into the trashed classroom. Burke’s gaze shot from Samantha to Ethan, focusing on the bloody rag against Ethan’s forehead. “What the hell happened to you?”

Ethan opened his mouth to answer, but Samantha cut him off when she said, “The shelving unit came down. David, someone unbolted it from the wall. That thing never moves.”

Burke glanced around the messy room and sighed. When his gaze swung back to Samantha, though, his expression hardened. “Sam, your arm’s bleeding.”

“I am?” Samantha looked down, and for the first time, Ethan noticed her jacket was torn, and that blood welled from a cut in her biceps.

Ethan’s stomach tightened as she struggled out of her coat. Moving back into the closet, Ethan grabbed another towel, came back, and handed it to her.

Samantha took the towel and pressed it against her wound. “Thanks.”

“Annette?” Burke pressed the phone on Sam’s desk to his ear. “Get paramedics over here. Then call the police. We’ve had a break-in.”

While Burke relayed what had happened, Ethan’s gaze skipped over Samantha. Chocolate curls had slipped free from the clip at the base of Samantha’s neck, framing her features in wisps and corkscrews. Some kind of white powder dusted her hair, and her face screamed of frustration and stress, but those eyes . . . they were just as mesmerizing as they’d been before. And even though his head hurt like a bitch, Ethan felt himself being sucked back under her spell all over again. “You wasted time tending my injury when you had one yourself?”

“I didn’t feel it.” One corner of her lips curled. And though he tried not to notice, he couldn’t totally ignore the way her breasts pushed together under the thin white tank when she moved her arm to check the blood on the towel. “We make quite a pair, don’t we?”

Yes, they absolutely did. “I—”

“Paramedics are on their way,” Burke said as he hung up the phone. “Both of you head up to the office. Police should be here any minute.”

“David, I don’t need an ambula—”

Burke frowned. “Don’t argue, Sam. You’re covered in God only knows what, and you probably need a tetanus shot.” Looking toward Ethan, Burke added, “Hell of a first day for you, Dr. McClane.”

“Technically not even my first day.” Ethan stepped around downed tables and chairs and followed Burke and Samantha toward the door. She’d draped her jacket over her forearm, leaving her shoulders bare and the tank molding to her curves, and he thoroughly enjoyed the view of her ass way more than he probably should. Especially knowing she’d been hurt.

He cleared his throat, focusing on Burke instead of the sway of Samantha’s luscious hips. “How did you find us?”

“Janitor came in and saw the mess, called in the break-in. I rushed over from the district office.”

Ethan nodded, happy they’d been found, but also disappointed he hadn’t had more time alone with Samantha.

Their shoes clicked down the wide hall as Burke asked them both questions about what they’d seen when they’d first come into the room. By the time they reached the office, the ambulance was just pulling up out front in the darkening light.

Paramedics rushed in and ushered them toward the vehicles. Samantha continued to protest that she didn’t need first aid, but when she pulled the cloth away and Ethan caught a glimpse at the gash on the back of her arm, he couldn’t stop himself from muttering, “Let the poor guy do his job, Ms. Parker.”

She shot him a challenging look but finally climbed in and sat on the padded bench.

Heat gathered in Ethan’s belly while he followed and sat beside her. She was definitely feisty. And high-strung. And he liked both things about her. Liked them a lot more than he probably should.

The paramedic checked the wound on Ethan’s forehead, and as another tended Samantha’s wound, he took a good long look at her under the ambulance lights. The woman had great shoulders. Strong, toned, feminine. And the contrast between light and dark where her curly hair fell over her bare skin was more than captivating. But aside from her good looks, she was tough. He’d seen it in the way she’d rushed into her room during the break-in. Granted, that had been reckless, and she could have been seriously hurt, but she wasn’t the kind of woman who backed down from a fight. And he couldn’t help but be awed by that trait.

“You’re going to need stitches,” the paramedic told him. “I’m closing the wound with butterfly bandages until we get to the hospital.”

Wonderful. A hospital. Just how he wanted to spend his evening. “I left my bag inside. I need to—”

“David will get it,” Samantha said beside him as the EMT tending her moved out of the truck.

Ethan looked back at her, and like they had before, those eyes sent a jolt straight through him. The memory of the way she’d looked at him in the white light of that closet made him want things he knew he shouldn’t. Things he had not come to Hidden Falls to find.

He tried to remember what they were talking about. His bag. Yeah, that was it. “There are case files in there that I—”

“Sam,” a voice said from outside the open ambulance doors. “Are you okay?”

They both looked toward the blond man dressed in blue standing in a circle of light just outside the open ambulance doors.

“Will.” Samantha’s features relaxed. “Yes. I’m fine. I’m glad you’re here.” She nodded Ethan’s way. “This is Dr. McClane. Ethan, this is Will Branson.”

Ethan froze, and a knot formed in his stomach. And everything else—the break-in, his injury, what the hell he was doing in this town, even Samantha Parker’s hypnotic eyes—fell to the wayside.

Because in that moment he wasn’t thirty-one anymore. He was thirteen and trying hard to fit in with a group of kids that had altered the course of his life.

Sam sat on the side of a bed in an emergency room bay and waited while the doctor finished stitching up her arm. She’d had to argue until she was blue in the face that she didn’t need a shower. The chemicals that had fallen on her and Ethan were mostly harmless ones, such as sodium chloride and ammonium sulfate. She kept the really dangerous stuff locked in a separate cupboard.

She had no idea what was happening back at school, and part of her didn’t want to know. All she wanted to do was get home, see Grimly, and fall asleep for a week. Oh, and make sure Dr. McClane—no,
Ethan
—was okay.

Her pulse ticked up at just the thought of him. Beside her, the doctor looked down at her arm. “You okay?”

Her cheeks heated when she realized he must have felt it too. “Yeah. Fine. Just anxious to go home.”

The doctor applied the last bandage and finally let go of her arm. “Try to keep it dry. I’m writing a script for antibiotics just in case. If you have any problems, call your primary care doctor or come back and see us if it’s after hours.”

She thanked him, climbed off the bed, and reached for her jacket. Cringing at the burn in her arm, she slid her arms into the sleeves and was just fixing the collar when footsteps shuffled from the doorway.

“All done?” Ethan asked.

Sam’s stomach flipped. He’d obviously argued his way out of a shower too, because his hair was still dusted in fine white powder, making him look more gray than dark. A bandage covered the right side of his forehead, and the left shoulder of his white dress shirt was stained pink.

For a moment, worry rippled through her as she mentally cataloged what had been on those shelves. Then she realized it had to be sodium nitrite. Pink salt. Definitely safe. She breathed easier. “Yeah. Just. You?”

He slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks and rocked back on his heels. “Good to go.”

She was suddenly aware of the width of his shoulders, the way he filled the doorway to her room and seemed to suck up all the air in the space. And her nerves tightened when she remembered leaning over him in that closet, the way he’d looked up at her, the sincerity in his eyes, and how much she’d wanted to kiss him in that moment.

Which—she knew now—was completely and utterly insane and only went one step further in proving she was walking on very shaky mental ground.

She pulled her sleeve down and averted her gaze. Reminded herself to be smart. “How many stitches?”

“Six.”

“You got me beat. I only needed four.”

She stepped toward the door. He eased back to let her pass, but their shoulders brushed, and heat slid all along her skin where they touched, sending tiny tingles through her whole body. Tingles she liked way too much.

“I was wondering if you wanted to split a cab back to the school,” he said. “I’m guessing your car’s there?”

A cab ride alone with him in the dark? Where they’d talk more, and she’d find out he really was a nice guy, not the slimy shrink she wanted him to be? If she were a normal woman, she’d say yes. He was hot, and she was picking up all kinds of interested vibes. But she wasn’t normal, and killing this wild attraction was the best thing she could do. For both of them.

“I—”

“Sam.” Will’s voice down the corridor drew Sam around, and relief spread through her at the perfectly timed interruption.

“Will,” she said. “Hey.”

Concern furrowed his blond brow. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just a couple of stitches. No big deal.”

Will nodded, but the concern in his eyes didn’t lessen, and Sam’s anxiety ramped up in the silence that followed. He wasn’t just the chief of police; he’d been her brother’s best friend when they were kids, and that made him her oldest friend too. In fact, he’d done more for her over the years than anyone in this backward town, even her mother, which made him the one person she knew she could depend on when things got rough. And she’d done just that for the last few days. Probably more than she should have, because lately she’d been getting the feeling he wanted more. And she didn’t know how to handle that knowledge.

Feeling awkward, Sam turned toward Ethan. “We’re both okay.”

Ethan didn’t answer, but Sam noticed his suddenly tight jawline and narrowed eyes. Eyes that only a minute ago had been deep emerald pools.

“I need to ask you both a few questions,” Will said before Sam could ask Ethan what was wrong.

They stepped back into her room, and she waited while Will pulled a pad of paper from his back pocket, switching from concerned friend to chief of police. “We’re running fingerprints, but you had a hundred kids in that room today—”

“Closer to two hundred,” Sam clarified.

“Right. Which means prints aren’t going to tell us a whole lot. We’re also conducting a locker check but don’t expect to find much as the break-in happened after hours. Tell me what you saw when you went in the room.”

Sam relayed for Will what she and Ethan had found and how they’d ended up in the closet. Will jotted notes. But when he looked up at her, his hazel eyes softened, as if he were speaking to a child. “Sam, honey. There was nothing written on your whiteboard.”

“What?”
Sam’s gaze snapped to Ethan, then back to Will. “It was there. I swear. I didn’t make that up. It was there, just like the window.”

Ethan glanced her way. “What window?”

Sam’s stomach tightened, but before she could answer, Will said, “Sam’s had some kids harassing her at home. Pranks. Nothing serious.”

“Breaking into my house is not a prank.”

Will sighed as he tucked the notebook in his back pocket. “There was no sign of B&E at your house last night, Sam.”

“That’s because whoever did it washed the window before you got there. Just like they obviously wiped the board after they locked us in that closet.”

When Will didn’t answer, incredulity spread through her. He was supposed to be the one person left on her side. “Are you implying we locked ourselves in that closet? Trashed my room just for the fun of it? Is that what you’re saying to me, Will?”

Will rubbed a hand down her good arm, placating her. “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I just think with everything going on, you might not be remembering clearly and—”