Maya Banks - No Place to Run

“What the hell?” he muttered.

“What’s up, Sam?” Garrett asked.

But Sam didn’t answer him. He leaped over the edge of the deck and took off running down the dock toward the water. He heard his brothers’ surprised exclamations behind him, but he didn’t slow down.

When he reached the end of the dock, he dove cleanly into the water, wincing at the cold shock. He surfaced several yards away and swam hard toward the middle of the channel.

He grasped the middle of the log and maneuvered his way down. A woman’s limp body was draped across the end, her wet, bedraggled hair hiding her face completely.

He hesitated a moment, afraid to reach out and touch her, to feel the rigidity of death. Then he shook off the ridiculous fear and grasped her shoulder.

To his relief, her skin was soft and pliable, albeit cold, under his fingers.

“Jesus, what the fuck?”

Sam jerked around to see Garrett approaching with swift, sure strokes.

“Help me get her to shore,” Sam said as he pulled her from the log.

Her head lolled to the side, and he sheltered her face in his neck so she wouldn’t accidentally inhale any water. He put fingers to her neck to check for a pulse. Weak and thready, but it was there.

“Holy fuck, she’s been shot,” Garrett said as he closed in on her other side.

Sam glanced down to see her blood-smeared arm. “Let’s go,” he said grimly as he turned on his side and began doing a sidestroke back toward shore.

Garrett kept pace, holding as much of her body out of the water as he could. As they neared the shore, Donovan waded out and reached for the woman.

Sam waved him off and curled his arms underneath her, lifting her from the water as he stood in the shallow depths. It was ridiculous, but he was gripped by the necessity to see to her himself. He didn’t want anyone else touching her.

His nape prickled and the hairs stood up as he laid her on the ground. The first thing he noticed was the bruises around her slim neck. Someone had done their damndest to choke her.

The second thing he saw was the obvious bullet wound in her arm. Blood still seeped from the jagged crease.

The third thing? His gaze drifted down her body, and he froze as he met with the tiny swollen mound of her belly.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed. “She’s pregnant!”

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Garrett said.

The woman stirred at Garrett’s voice, and Sam reached up to wipe the hair from her eyes.

All the breath left his body as her eyelids fluttered open and their eyes met. He took stock—took full stock of her face—and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.

God, he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He was leaning over her, staring down at her; his mind registered who she was, but it didn’t make sense to him.

“Sophie,” he rasped out.

Her eyes widened in recognition just as fear slammed hard into those big blue eyes of hers.

“Sam.”

It came out a hoarse whisper and dissolved into a cough. Once she started, she couldn’t stop, and her entire body convulsed as she coughed water from her lungs. Her moan of pain hit him hard in the chest and jolted him out of his fog.

And then the next wave of what-the-fuck hit him so hard he nearly lost his balance.

Sophie was pregnant.

He and Sophie had been together just five months ago.

She certainly didn’t look beyond five months pregnant.

In fact she looked exactly that far along.

She was hurt. Someone had shot her. Someone had tried to kill her.

She was pregnant.

“No,” she said fiercely.

“No what?”

“No ambulance. Promise me.”

She grabbed his arm with surprising strength. Her eyes were wild, and he doubted she had a clue where she was, who she was or the danger both she and her child were in.

“You need a hospital,” he soothed. Hell, he needed a hospital. Or a stiff drink. What the hell was she doing here? Where the hell had she been for the last five months?

Pregnant. Sweet Jesus, was the baby his? His tongue felt thick and swollen in his mouth. He couldn’t form the words, and he doubted she’d understand them anyway.

His hand automatically went to her arm, where the wound had started to bleed again. Her blood was warm against her cold skin, and he pressed as hard as he dared, not wanting to hurt her more.

She raised her head, and her eyes, glazed with pain, sparked with determination.

“No hospital. No police. Promise me. Promise me.”

The desperation in her voice got to him. An uneasy sensation crawled down his spine. His gut told him this was a clusterfuck beyond all clusterfucks.

He glanced up at Garrett, who was staring at him and Sophie with a deep scowl of concentration. No doubt he wanted to know what the hell was going on. That made two of them.

“Don’t call the ambulance,” Sam said and turned to look up at Donovan, his hand still clamped over the bullet wound. “Get inside, find bandages, a med kit, anything you can dig up.”

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?” Garrett exploded. “She’s been hurt. She’s been shot. And she’s pregnant.”

Sam swallowed and looked down at Sophie’s eyes that were now closed.

“Garrett, please do as I asked. I know this woman.”

“Who the hell is she?”

He stared both his brothers down. “She’s mine.”

COLD. She was freezing. And she was having hallucinations. Sam. She’d seen Sam. But he wasn’t here. She didn’t know where he was. Only that there was a man who looked an awful lot like him standing over her with an expression of horror on his face. Sam wouldn’t be that horrified to see her, would he? He didn’t know the truth. Yet. No, it definitely wasn’t Sam.

Then a warm blanket surrounded her, and strong arms lifted her up. She settled against a hard chest, those arms still tight around her.

Sophie opened her eyes and glanced up to see a hard jawline. Strong. Firm. With just a hint of stubble, as though he’d been too lazy to shave that morning. It was damn sexy.

Her gaze wandered upward, and then his head moved and his eyes met hers. Blue. Pale blue, like ice. Just like Sam’s eyes. Was she still dreaming? If she was, she wanted to just go along with it. It was a nice dream.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You’re back.”

Back? Where the hell had she been? Her brow crinkled in confusion. “Have I been here before?” she asked. For that matter how had she gotten here? Everything was so fuzzy. She felt funny. Not herself at all. She was having a hard time remembering the smallest of details. It frustrated her because there was something important she had to do.

He shook his head. “No.”

“But you said I was back, as if I’d been here before.”

He gave her a worried look and picked up his pace. “I meant that you were back. Conscious. You regained consciousness briefly when I pulled you out of the water, but then you passed out again.”

“Oh.”

His concern deepened and he glanced over, and it was then that Sophie saw another man striding beside them. Big. Mean-looking. He was scowling at her.

Sophie shrunk against the man carrying her and gave an involuntary shiver.

“It’s all right,” he murmured soothingly as he hoisted her higher in his arms. “No one’s going to hurt you, I promise.”

“Who is that?” she whispered.

Again he glanced sideways. “That’s Garrett. He’s my brother.”

“He’s big and mean-looking,” she muttered.

He shook against her as he laughed. “He’s harmless.”

A snort sounded, and Sophie guessed that Garrett didn’t appreciate his brother’s assessment.

Then Garrett leaned over to stare at her. “The question is, who are you?”

She shrank back and would have crawled over her protector’s shoulder and hidden behind him if she could have.

“Back off, Garrett, you’re scaring her.”

Garrett scowled again and gave her a look that suggested he wasn’t finished. Anger surged over Sophie. Damn it, she’d had enough of overbearing, asshole males.

“Easy,” the man carrying her soothed, as though he sensed her tension.

He mounted steps and then carried her past another man—just what the hell kind of mess had she landed herself in now? At least they weren’t carrying guns, and so far they hadn’t tried to kill her. That was a plus, wasn’t it? Maybe they could tell her how to find Sam.

“Where am I?” she asked faintly as he settled her onto a bed. Not waiting on a response, she curled into a ball and reached for the covers and a pillow simultaneously. God, she was tired. She hurt from head to toe.

“Oh, no you don’t,” a male voice reproached. “You can’t go to sleep yet.”

She shoved at him with a hand and snuggled deeper into the pillow. It felt good. Her muscles started to relax into the warm covers, and then they started screaming in protest.

Her mouth and eyes flew open as pain overwhelmed her. Her arm. Fire. The numb had worn off. And then she remembered. Going overboard. Getting shot. Escaping.

Her hand climbed up her arm, feeling for the wound. It couldn’t be too bad, could it?

“Easy,” the Sam look-alike murmured. “I’d say some of the shock has worn off and now you’re starting to feel it.”

She shook violently, her fingers still gripping the area of the gunshot. A gentle hand grasped her fingers and pried them away from her wound.

“H-hurts.”

“I know. You should be in the hospital.”

Her head flew up. “No.”

“Here’s the bandages,” Garrett said as he strode into the room. “Van’s bringing some water and washcloths so you can clean the wound.”

Sophie clutched the covers to her chest and stared cautiously at Garrett.

Garrett didn’t look any more impressed with her than she did him. He regarded her with what she could only describe as deep suspicion.

A moment later, the third man crowded in behind Garrett. He at least didn’t look like he’d like for her to be anywhere but here, but caution radiated from him nonetheless.

“This is my brother Donovan,” fake Sam said as he jerked a thumb over his shoulders.

“How many brothers do you have?”

He grinned. “Five. Only two are here, though.”

“There’s three more?” she asked, trying to keep the horror from her voice.

The room spun crazily around her, and she was so cold that her teeth were going to break from chattering. There was something important she had to do, but she couldn’t remember anything beyond keeping her baby safe.

She clutched her belly when she realized she still hadn’t felt her baby move. Tears scalded her cheeks, and she sniffed loudly, but she couldn’t manage to get air through her nose.

Through the haze and confusion she remembered the one thing she had to do above all else.

“Sam,” she croaked out. “I have to get to Sam. They’ll kill him.”

She sank lower in the bed as the room dimmed around her.

“I’m here, Sophie.”

“Sam?” No, it was that guy who looked like him. She shook her head. “No, Sam K-kelly. Have to get to, Sam. Important. They’ll kill me too. My baby.”

Her teeth clanked together until her jaw ached.

Why couldn’t she pull herself together? Why did she feel so disjointed and murky? The room spun crazily around her, like she was stuck on some Ferris wheel from hell. Her stomach knotted and boiled. The god-awful pain was making her nauseous, and the last thing she wanted to do was puke.

Nothing made sense. She’d heard herself babble on, but she couldn’t even remember about what.

Sam. That came back to her. It was her one constant.

She tried to say his name again, but found her lips stiff and uncooperative. Her lashes drifted over her eyes, and she tried to rub at them so she could see.

Darkness crowded in until the room was so dim she couldn’t even make out the men. It hurt to fight the growing dark. And so she gave up.

Sam watched as she drifted into unconsciousness again. He glanced up at Garrett and Donovan to see them both staring holes through him.

“What the ever loving hell?” Garrett finally said.

Sam dragged a hand through his hair and cupped the back of his neck. “Christ, I don’t know.”

“Who is she?” Donovan demanded.

Before he could answer, Garrett’s eyes narrowed and he stared between Sophie and Sam.

“It’s the chick you were involved with in Mexico isn’t it?”