He tips his head in a question.
“Just . . . please,” I say, my face scrunching in embarrassment. I have no idea where this is coming from but . . . “I have a bad feeling.”
He gives me a slow nod.
I move to the door and glance over my shoulder at him as I open it. “And I do love you.”
He smiles sideways. “I know.”
When I step into the hall, Blake is waiting for me. We dodge hospital staff, bustling all around with carts and gurneys, as he leads me up the wide corridor to a small conference room.
“Five minutes,” he says, closing the door.
I stare at my phone for a minute, working up all my courage and forcing the shake out of my limbs before dialing Mom. I don’t want her to hear how scared I am. When it goes straight to voice mail, I’m one part disappointed and three parts relieved. “Hey, Mom. I know I’m thrown out and all, but . . . I just wanted to tell you . . . I have to go away for a while. Everything’s okay but I just wanted you to know in case you called my cell and I didn’t answer or it was disconnected or whatever. I’ll call you when I can.”
I disconnect and blow out a breath.
Next, I call the shelter.
“Janice, it’s Sam,” I say when she answers. “How is Sabrina?”
“She’s doing better,” she says. “Finally interacting with the other residents, and she’s asking for you.”
My heart clamps in my chest. “I’m not going to be able to come in for a while.”
“Is something wrong, Sam?” she asks, alarm lacing her words.
“It’s just . . . something happened and I have to go away for a while. But give Sabrina a hug for me, okay. And tell her that I’ll come see her when I can. I’m so happy she’s doing better.”
“Is there something you need . . . something we can do to help?”
“It’s nothing anyone can really help with, but thanks, Janice. I’ll call when I can, okay?”
“I have to say, you’re worrying me a little bit. Can you just tell me what it’s about . . . if you’re okay?”
I rub a hand over my forehead. “I’ll be fine,” I tell her, and hope to God I’m not lying.
“Okay, Sam. Keep in touch.”
“I’ll try.”
I hang up and dial Izzy, not sure if she’s going to answer. Last I saw her, she was at a table in Benny’s, being questioned by the police. Is she under arrest too?
“Sam!” she says when the phone connects. “Where are you?”
“I’m okay. How are you?”
“I’ve been trying to call you since they dragged you out of Benny’s the other night. Jonathan is missing and Ginger and the guys are flipping out, and no one knows what’s going on, and with Benny’s shut down, I can’t get a hold of—”
“I’m okay, Izzy,” I interrupt. “But . . . there was an accident. Jonathan and I are in the hospital.”
“Oh my God,” she gasps. “Is he . . . are you—”
“We’re both fine, but Jonathan has to stay here for a while. They’re letting me out today.”
“How are you getting home? Do you need help?”
“They won’t let me go home right now.”
There’s a pause as she tries to reason that out. “What?”
Can I tell her that Ben might have tried to kill me? I’d never forgive myself if I did something to put her in danger too. “I can’t really say much more, Sorry.”
“You’re sure you’re okay?” she asks warily.
“Promise. Can you let Ginger know Jonathan’s okay?”
“You got it,” she says. “Call me when you can, Sam. I’m worried about you.”
“I will. I gotta go.”
My next call is to the only other friend I have who might care if I fall off the face of the planet. I’m halfway through explaining to Katie that I’ll be out of touch for a while when Blake pokes his head into the room and gives me a look. I finish up and he holds his hand out for the phone.
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”
His mouth presses into a line. “It’s the only way we can keep you safe.”
“I would have been perfectly safe if you’d never walked into Benny’s,” I counter, throwing it at him.
He makes the grab before it hits the floor and his expression darkens as he takes a step back into the hall so I can pass. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
He urges me up the hallway and Cooper meets us at a back door marked EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY. He looks over my shoulder at Blake. “You ready?”
Blake nods. “We clear?”
Cooper pushes the door open. “Jenkins cleared the area. We’re good to go.”
I’m shaking again as we slip through the door because I know the reason for the sinking feeling in my stomach. This is really happening. Ben is really trying to kill me. Nothing else makes sense. I feel stupid for the tears pressing at the backs of my eyes, but it felt really good that someone finally gave me a chance. He told me I was a natural. Nora put me on center stage. For the first time in my life I didn’t feel like second best.
And now he wants me dead.
Cooper and Blake flank me, and I don’t shake him off when Blake grasps my upper arm, because I don’t feel quite steady. He opens the door to a black Escalade and I scramble in. He closes the door and looks at me through the window for a second before striding around the front and climbing into the driver’s seat. Cooper slips into the driver’s seat of one of two black Chargers.
“Sam? Are you okay?” Blake asks.
That’s when I realize I’m bracing my good hand on the dashboard, digging my fingers into the vinyl, right on the edge of hyperventilating. I lean forward, with my forehead on my knees, and focus on taking slow, steady breaths. “No,” I finally say.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”
All my insides have turned fluid, and they’re roiling around like lava in a volcano, ready to erupt. “How is this happening to me?”
When he touches my back, it surprises me. He doesn’t rub, or stroke my hair. He just lays his hand softly over my ribcage. But it’s warm and solid, and seems to help bring things back into focus.
After a minute I straighten in my seat and his hand drops away.
He doesn’t say anything else as we slip out of the garage between the black Chargers, one in front and one behind. I lean into the window and watch in the side mirror as the Charger with Cooper behind the wheel follows us through the city streets. As we’re accelerating up the ramp onto the Bay Bridge, the sound of a phone rings out of the car speakers, slicing through the silence and making me jump.
Blake punches a button on his steering wheel. “How’s it looking back there, Coop?”
“We’re clear. Jenkins is going ahead to recon.”
“Ten-four.”
He pushes the button on his steering wheel again, and I slap my hands over my ears as something that I think is supposed to be music assaults my fragile brain.
“Oh my God! What is that?”
He turns down the stereo and shoots me a sideways glance as the Charger in front of us takes off at well over the speed limit. “What? You don’t like country music?”
I scrunch my face at the stereo. “Is that was this is? It sounds like someone’s torturing a cow,” I say, lowering my hands and punching the Seek button. “I didn’t know there was even a country station in San Francisco.”
He arches an eyebrow at me and thumbs a button on his steering wheel. The country song is back. “Some people have taste.”
“Did you grow up in a barn or something?”
He scowls at me. “Because only rednecks like country?”
“Well . . . yeah, pretty much.”
He answers by turning up the music another notch.
“You’re making my brain bleed again, just so you know,” I mutter, dropping my head onto the headrest.