Dangerous Curves Read online

“There will be plenty of time to see him once this is over.” His words sounded false to his own ears.

  “I know.”

  “Do you want me to wait here?”

  Sam shook her head. “No. I’d like you there.” She flashed him one of those rare smiles that he couldn’t get enough of. “I could use the moral support.” With that, she climbed out of the car, looking at her father’s house with something close to terror on her face.

  They walked to the front door, Fletcher in the lead. Something—maybe it was his training or maybe it was the increasing evidence that their chances of surviving this ordeal were slim—made Jake glance back over his shoulder—just in time to see a black, windowless van turn the corner in their direction. Under normal circumstances, Jake wouldn’t have thought twice about it. This wasn’t normal.

  Jake grabbed Sam’s elbow as she raised her hand to knock on the door, but it was too late. Her knuckles grazed the door and it swung inward. She whipped her head around and saw the van. At her expression of fear, Jake knew she understood what it meant.

  “It’s a trap,” he said.

  Chapter 13

  Clutching at Jake’s arm, Sam braced herself for gunshots. But they never came. The door swung open and instead of armed killers, Amalinaú greeted them.

  “Good morning. I’m so glad you came back.” Stooping, she rubbed Fletcher’s ears. In turn, the dog wagged his tail harder. “He sure is a frieadly dog, isn’t he?”

  Sam nodded, her pulse pounding so hard she couldn’t speak. The van traveled past them, never slowing nor showing signs of stopping. Still expecting gunfire, Sam grabbed Amalinaú’s arm and pulled her into the house. Jake and Fletcher crowded in right behind them.

  Through a crack in the door, Jake pointed to the retreating vehicle and asked Amalinaú, “Have you ever seen that van before?”

  Squinting after the van, she nodded. “Sure. Don’t know who it belongs to, but I’ve seen it around.” She turned her curious gaze back to them. “Is this about the trouble you’re in?”

  Sam threw a startled look at Jake, who nodded. “I told Amalinaú the film would help straighten out the legal mess.”

  Sam caught his unspoken warning. He obviously hadn’t told Amalinaú the extent of the trouble they were in. With the threat of danger over for the moment, Sam’s heart began pounding for a different reason. She offered Amalinaú a hesitant smile. “Is my—my father home yet?”

  The word “father” tripped over twenty years of abandonment and pain. Sam felt her cheeks grow warm as Atnalinaú’s penetrating eyes looked into her soul. Seemingly satisfied with what she saw, Amalinaú nodded.

  “Sammy’s out back tendin’ his garden.” She gesture toward the rear of the house, then added more gently, “He will be happy to see you, Samantha.”

  Sam nodded again, feeling Jake’s hand on her elbow steering her into the cool interior. “Thank you,” she said faintly, to no one in particular.

  Once inside the living room, Jake offered her an encouraging smile. “Why don’t you go talk to your father. Fletcher and I will hang out with Rover.”

  “‘Rover’?” At her question, a large, lumbering lizard wandered into the room. Sam took an unconscious step back, her recent run-in with a gator still fresh in her mind.

  “Family pet,” Jake said.

  “He won’t hurt you,” Amalinaú added.

  The large reptile made its way across the floor, the sound of his sharp nails rasping on the tile. He stopped next to Fletcher, who cautiously smelled the foreigner, his tale quivering slightly. Sam decided that even if the lizard was harmless, she’d just as soon not take any chances.

  “I guess I’ll go out back,” she murmured, heading for the sliding-glass door that led to a narrow yard beyond.

  “Take your time,” Jake called, even though they both knew time wasn’t something they had much of.

  Sam nodded silently. She felt as if the thin control she had over her life was tilting precariously off-balance. She still didn’t know where she stood with Jake and she had no idea what to expect from her newfound father. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door, determined to put at least one aspect of her life in order.

  The yard was bursting with color. Fragrant gardenias and colorful hibiscus bushes lined a chain-link fence that bordered the small yard. Off to the right, Sam spotted what Amalinaú had called the “garden.” Raised two-by-fours bordered a small plot filled with greenery.

  On the far side of the garden, a man dug in the dirt with a trowel Sam could see that his short blond hair was thinning on top, he had a small bald spot pink from the sun. The man looked up and the trowel dropped to the dirt with a thud. He stared at her, his facial features familiar, but faded.

  Her father.

  “Samantha,” he mouthed, although she wasn’t sure if she heard him or not.

  “Hello.” Her voice sounded like it was coming from a million miles away—or twenty years.

  “Oh, Samantha.” He made no move toward her, though she could tell he wanted to. She didn’t approach him. didn’t know how.

  He looked down at the forgotten trowel in the overturned soil, then back at her. “There’s no real dirt on the island. Have to buy it by the truckload.” He shrugged, his tanned face breaking into a tentative smile.

  She didn’t know what to say. “Oh.”

  “Amy said you were coming.”

  Sam realized he was talking about Amalinaú. His wife. “Yes. We were here yesterday, but you were gone.” She hadn’t meant the words to sound accusatory, but she could tell by the way he flinched that that was how they sounded.

  “It’s the tail end of tourist season,” he said. “I had another boatload for today, but canceled when I heard you were coming.”

  His voice pleaded for something—understanding? Sam’s hands alternately clenched and unclenched at her sides, her throat constricting painfully. “Well, I wanted to come last month...” The words trailed off. How could she begin to explain everything that had happened to her? He was a virtual stranger, yet she felt a need to explain. “I couldn’t come.”

  He nodded, his eyes that pale blue she remembered so well. Crow’s feet wrinkled his face—“smile lines,” her mother had called them. It bothered Sam that her father might have had a lot to smile about over the past twenty years.

  “Why?” she asked, her voice refusing to finish her thought.

  Somehow, he knew what she’d asked. His shoulders drooped and she was suddenly struck by how very old he looked. She’d been just a child when he’d left. Hot tears pricked her eyes. He had missed so much.

  “Why did you leave?” she asked, tempering her voice with a compassion she was only beginning to feel.

  “Your mother and I thought it would be best.”

  It was too simple, too pat She knew it didn’t begin to explain things. “But, why?”

  He sighed, a gusty sound that ripped through her. “She left me, Sam. She didn’t want me in her life anymore. Or yours.”

  “No. That’s not true!” She hadn’t come here for him to criticize her mother.

  He nodded, pain etched on his face. “You don’t remember, Sam. I wasn’t home much when your mother and I were together. She wanted stability, a full-time husband—something I couldn’t give her as long as I was in the navy. When she’d had enough, she left and took you with her.”

  A vague memory came to her: her father leaving for yet another sea tour; her mother crying. She hadn’t understood then and she still didn’t understand. Her mother wouldn’t have kept her from her father just because he was gone a lot.

  “I don’t believe you. You didn’t care about her or me. You didn’t even come to the funeral.” That last was meant to hurt, and it must have succeeded because he doubled over as if she’d hit him in the stomach.

  “Your mother? She’s dead?”

  She nodded, realizing he hadn’t known. “Ten years ago. I would have let you know, but I didn’t know how to reach you.”

  His fac
e had paled noticeably under his tan. “I lost track of you. You kept moving.”

  That much was true. They’d moved half a dozen times over the years. Sam had always wondered if her mother wasn’t looking for something; some meaning to an otherwise-lonely life. “You should have stayed.” It was all she could think of, all she could say.

  The sun was hot, and nearly blinding. Sam squinted as much from the brightness as from the need to keep from crying.

  Her father shook his head, sadness etched in every line on his face. He walked around the garden toward her, invading the carefully constructed wall she’d put up. He held out his hands and she noticed they were covered in dirt. He came to a stop inches from her, his hands extended like that, not touching her, but too close for her to feel safe.

  “I wish to God I hadn’t left, Sam,” he said quietly.

  The dam burst then and she found herself folded in her father’s embrace. “No, no, no,” she said, over and over, not even knowing what she was protesting.

  “Shh.” He stroked her hair and memories came flooding back—memories of bedtime and a father who could always get the tangles out without hurting. How she wished he could take away her pain now!

  She pulled back, embarrassed by her emotional display. She didn’t want this; she didn’t want to let him affect her like this. He couldn’t hurt her anymore if she didn’t let him. “I’m sorry. It—It’s been a rough week.” That was an understatement, but he obligingly let her go, stepping back.

  “I’m sorry, Sam. I never meant to hurt you.” It was clichéd, trite. But she wanted to believe him. In her heart of hearts, she needed to believe him.

  Jake sat on the couch next to Amalinaú making small talk, glancing occasionally out the sliding-glass door. He had a side view of Sam and he could tell by her face that it wasn’t going well.

  “Pictures help?”

  He realized Amalinaú had asked him a question. He gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry. I didn’t catch what you said.”

  She smiled and tilted her head toward the pair outside. “Don’t worry. She’ll be all right.”

  Jake nodded. He certainly hoped so. Problem was, this meeting with her father was a minor event compared to the hot water she was in. His mind kept turning over the facts. The photos she had were only a tiny piece of a much larger puzzle. Until he figured out the rest of it, the pictures were next to worthless.

  Fletcher and Rover were doing a strange tango back and forth across the floor. Each time Rover’s forked tongue snaked out toward the curious dog, Fletcher took a step backward.

  “They like each other,” Amalinaú said.

  Jake nodded. “They just don’t trust each other yet.”

  “Trust takes time.”

  Her brown eyes watched him too closely. He didn’t like it one bit. And he wondered if all this talk of trust had some other meaning.

  The glass door slid open and Sam came in, followed by her father. Her eyes were red-rimmed, tearstains streaking her cheeks. They stared at each other for a long moment and he wanted to say something to ease the pain in her eyes. “You okay?”

  “Yes.” She gave him a halfhearted smile before looking past him to Amalinaú.

  “Could I use your bathroom?”

  Amahnaú stood and went to Sam’s side, wrapping her arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Of course. And I think you could use a cup of herbal tea.”

  The two women left the room, leaving Jake to face Sam’s father. He felt like he was on trial—or worse, meeting his girl-friend’s parents for the first time. Only Sam wouldn’t appreciate him calling her his “girlfriend.”

  He stood and stretched his hand out to the older man, resisting the urge to wipe his palms on his jeans first. “I’m Jake Cavanaugh, Mr Martin.”

  “Call me Sammy,” he said, gripping Jake’s hand.

  “Sammy,” Jake agreed. He glanced over his shoulder toward the other end of the house. “Did you two—Did you work everything out?”

  Sammy’s gaze trailed past Jake. “I don’t know. I don’t think I can fix twenty years of loss in twenty minutes.”

  Jake tended to agree, but never having dealt with this type situation, he decided to keep his mouth shut ‘It meant a lot to her, seeing you.”

  Sammy nodded, meeting Jake’s gaze. “Maybe you’d like to tell me what kind of trouble she’s in.”

  At a loss, Jake shrugged. “It’s...complicated. I’d explain it to you, but I don’t have all the answers myself.”

  Sammy nodded slowly, faded blond hair dipping over his forehead. “All right. Then maybe you can answer another question for me.”

  “I can try.”

  “Who are you to Samantha?”

  Jake would have preferred to tell him the whole sordid story, what little he knew, rather than attempt an answer to that loaded question. “We’re friends,” he offered, hoping that would be the end of it

  “Good friends?”

  Jake sighed. “You could say that.”

  “Well, now, I’d rather hear you say it, Jake. Amy tells me you’re a cop and Samantha’s in some kind of trouble. So I’m asking you how long you’ve known my daughter and where your interests he.” Sammy Martin was a lot like his daughter—tenacious as a bulldog and determined as all get-out.

  “I haven’t known your daughter long,” Jake said. “But I can promise you that her welfare and well-being are my top priorities.”

  That much, at least, was true. It startled him to realize just how much he cared about Sam. She wasn’t just another victim anymore, and he wasn’t quite sure when things had changed. Certainly, before last night.

  Making love to Sam had been heaven on earth, but it hadn’t made him care for her. He’d cared about her before they’d ever gotten into bed. He didn’t want to have these feelings about her, didn’t want to let her too close, but there it was. She’d gotten under his skin, and he wasn’t so sure he minded.

  Sammy Martin smiled then—a relaxed, easygoing smile that reminded Jake of Sam’s childhood description. It saddened him that these two had lost so much. “Well, you take good care of her. She’s my daughter.”

  Jake wanted to ask him where he’d been for all those years; why he hadn’t taken care of his daughter himself. But just then, the two women came back into the room. Sam cradled a teacup in her hands and he was relieved to see that she looked better. The redness had faded from around her eyes, and her face had been washed clean. She looked both vulnerable and strong at the same time.

  “Everything all right?” Amalinaú asked, her eyes shifting between the two men. Jake imagined they looked like they were in a standoff and he stepped back from Sammy.

  “Everything’s fine, Amy. You feeling better, Sam?”

  At her father’s question, Sam’s eyes flew to his face. She nodded, then glanced at Jake. “I need—We need to go soon. Right, Jake?”

  Her voice still sounded raw and Jake ached to hold her. But he knew she wouldn’t welcome him. Not after this morning. It was better this way. He needed to keep his distance. “Right.”

  “So soon?” Amalinaú and Sammy exchanged glances and Jake could feel the tension in the room. He was suddenly very thankful for his close-knit family.

  Sam surprised Jake by answering. “We have to get that film to the authorities.”

  Seeing the pained expression on Sammy Martin’s face, Jake added, “But as soon as it’s taken care of, we will be back.”

  He hadn’t meant to say “we.” He’d meant to say Sam would be back. Dammit, he was getting himself in deeper than he wanted to be, making promises he couldn’t keep. She didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, he reminded himself_ They would part company at the earliest possible moment and he would be happy about it.

  Sam passed her cup to Amalinaú and slowly approached her father. Her voice was low but steady. “I don’t know you. There was a time when I hated you.”

  At that, Sammy looked like he’d been punched. “I know.”

  “Please,” Sam sa
id, holding her hands up, “let me finish. I don’t know what happened between you and Mom, but you shouldn’t have left me. You shouldn’t have just left me like that.”

  Her voice broke and she paused, regaining her composure. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive you or if I can ever love you. But if you want, maybe I could come back sometime. We could get to know each other.”

  There were tears in Sammy’s eyes. Hell, there were tears in Jake’s eyes. He deliberately turned his attention to Fletcher, who had stretched out on the cool tile beside the lizard. They made an odd pair, those two. Then again, the same could be said for Sam and him.

  He roused Fletcher and led him toward the front door, trying not to intrude any more than he already had on Sam’s newfound family

  “Wait,” Sammy called to him. “I’d like to speak to you privately .”

  Jake groaned inwardly, hoping Sam’s father didn’t intend to give him the birds-and-the-bees lecture. Graciously, Amalinaú crossed the room and took Fletcher’s leash from him. “Why don’t Samantha and I go outside?”

  Sam followed without a word. The emotional impact of this meeting had taken its toll and she looked exhausted.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” Jake said.

  After the women left, Sammy said, “Wait here for a second.” At that, he disappeared into the cluttered office Amalinaú had shown him the day before. Jake heard him rummaging around and hoped it wouldn’t take all day to find whatever it was he was hunting for.

  Sammy returned, carrying a battered shoe box and an envelope. He crossed the room and handed both to Jake. The box was heavy. At Jake’s puzzled expression. he explained, “This is for Samantha. She’s not ready yet, but when she is, would you give it to her?”

  Jake looked down at the box. A piece of paper was taped to the top bearing the faded name Samantha Ann Martin. “ “What is it?”

  “Letters. Her mother always sent them back. Or moved. I lost track of them for good when Samantha was about eighteen When I got her letter a few weeks ago, I wrote this one.”

  Jake sighed. He didn’t want to be the one responsible for handing this piece of news over to Sam. “She should hear this from you.”