Obviously, I didn’t tell Paula this.
Instead I said, “Thanks, sweetie. Sleep well and we’ll talk later.”
“Gotcha,” Paula replied then, “Can’t wait for you to be home, babe. Hear all your stories. Look at your pictures. And just have you home.”
I totally loved my girl Paula.
And she was totally going to freak when she heard my stories and saw my pictures because, the last few days on Crete, more than once I’d asked a passerby to take one of Sam and me. I had at least a dozen.
And all of them were awesome.
We said our good-byes and rung off, I looked at the time on the display of my cell and calculated it.
Sam was either taking a shower or going to arrive back at the room imminently to do so. Therefore, instead of talking to him about something as important as my future home while kids were squealing doing cannonballs in the pool or bunches of people were squealing while doing water sports in the Mediterranean, the cool, quiet confines of our room was a better place to have the conversation.
I got up, tied my sarong around my bikini bottoms, gathered my stuff then hoofed it up to our room.
The hotel was built into the side of a steep hill. It was also exclusive. This was partly because it wasn’t so much rooms as pretty, white-walled, terracotta tile-roofed, little bungalows dotting the hill with meandering paths between. There were some which had two rooms in the unit. But Sam and mine didn’t. When we checked in, he upgraded my reservation so our room wasn’t a room with bathroom and balcony attached to someone else’s room with bathroom and balcony. It was a room with a lounge, bedroom, bathroom and veranda that was all ours.
It was also awesome.
But it was close to the top, private and a heck of a climb.
Sam ran it on the days he ran.
I did not. Ever.
I made it to the top, pleased with myself that I was only breathing kind of heavy rather than wheezing (like the first time I took the trek). In the cool, shadowed, covered entryway, I shoved my sunglasses back on my head and was putting my key in the lock when the door was flung open.
My body jolted in surprise then it went solid when, before I could get my wits about me, Sam’s long fingers curled on my upper arm and he yanked me into our room.
Not gently.
Not rough in an “I’m gonna pick you up, throw you on the bed and ravish you” way.
No.
He just yanked me into the room.
Then he slammed the door, pulled my kickass, wood handled, straw beach bag out of my hand and tossed it on the couch.
I blinked at the couch then automatically started backing up when Sam’s big body was suddenly in my space and advancing.
My head jerked to him and I saw he had his phone to his ear. He was sweaty, in workout clothes and he had a face like thunder.
I stopped breathing.
With his furious eyes locked to mine, Sam stopped advancing but I didn’t stop retreating. I went back five more steps until I ran into a chair.
That was when I stopped.
But, even moving, I didn’t… no, couldn’t tear my eyes from the fury in his.
And vaguely I realized that he’d not only yanked me roughly into the room, he’d also made it so he was between me and the door, a big, powerfully built obstacle I had no prayer of breaching.
My heart stopped beating.
What was happening?
“Yeah,” he bit off into his phone. “No comment. I don’t comment on that shit. You know I don’t ever comment on that shit.” Pause then his eyes went from sweltering to scorching, “I’ll talk to her.”
Oh God.
What was happening?
“Right. Later.” He clipped then flipped his phone shut.
My body involuntarily jumped when he flipped his phone shut but Sam didn’t speak, move or take his burning eyes from me.
With difficulty, I pulled in breath and forced out, “Sam –”
He cut me off with a harsh, “You forget to share somethin’ with me?”
I stared at him, my mind reeling, trying to catch a thought.
The answer was, yes. We’d known each other a week and a half. There were probably a lot of things I had not yet shared with him. I just didn’t know which one he was referring to or how, or for that matter why, some mysterious person on the phone was sharing unknown things about me.
“I –” I began hesitantly.
Sam interrupted me again and when he did, his voice wasn’t harsh, it was abrasive.
“Like, say, that piece of shit you married and the piece of shit he was bangin’ callin’ a hit on you?”
Oh God!
How did he find out about that?
And further, how did I forget to tell him that?
“They didn’t get that far,” I whispered then jumped and moved back, taking the chair with me as I watched his body move with uncontrolled rage, his arm cut through the air on a vicious sidearm slice and his phone went flying into the cushions of the couch with such strength it rebounded right out and clattered to the tiled floor.
Then he turned back to me.
“You got five million dollars outta that gig for whatever reason that motherfucker took out a policy on himself while he was plannin’ on whackin’ you. That’s why you’re here, that’s why you were in Como, that’s why you’re dressin’ like a fuckin’ socialite and spendin’ five hundred dollars on a fuckin’ robe, for fuck’s sake.”
My breath was now coming quickly just as my heart was beating fast, too fast, dangerous fast and, stupidly, my mind took that moment to remind me that I really, really shouldn’t have bought that robe with Luci.
“How do you know all this?” I asked quietly, my voice trembling.
“Tilda?” he shot back and my heart started beating faster. I didn’t answer but the answer must have been on my face because he continued. “Yeah,” he ground out. “She posted that shit somewhere, who the fuck knows where, but it spread like that shit always fuckin’ spreads and it went where it always fuckin’ goes and my agent got a call from a reporter that they were breakin’ the story that I was on vacation with an ex-administrative assistant, current millionaire who came into her new fortune because her husband, who took a shotgun blast to the head, was plotting to make her dead and his alternate piece of ass was currently out on bond, awaiting trial for conspiracy to commit murder and they wanted to know if you or me wanted to make a comment.”
Oh.
My.
God!
Ohmigod!
I couldn’t… this wasn’t… I couldn’t wrap my head around this. Any of it.
I never thought I’d ever be asked for a comment on anything.
And…
Ohmigod!
If this stuff was spreading and someone was going to write an article about us, my friends and family would find out!
“None of my friends or family knows about us,” I blurted.
“Who the fuck cares?” Sam roared and I pushed back, feeling chair, I scurried around it and kept retreating until I hit the wall of windows that faced the sea and only then did I realize I was shaking from head-to-toe.
Sam’s eyes never left me but they were working as was the muscle jumping in his cheek, his jaw hard, his fury filling the room.
Then he said in a carefully restrained voice that even sounded like it took effort to achieve, “Pissed at you, Kia, seriously fuckin’ pissed but I’m not gonna hurt you.”
I didn’t reply.
“How could you keep this from me?” he changed the subject to ask.
I kept quiet and kept shaking and kept my eyes glued to him.
Sam went back to the other subject and reminded me, “I’m not him.”
I nodded but kept quiet, shaking and my eyes didn’t move.
Sam held my gaze.
Then he started talking again.
“You know me, you knew me before you met me, you gotta know that nearly everyone I fuck is laid out for the world
to see. Most of the time, they aren’t interesting except, say, when one of them has a murdered husband who was plotting with his side bitch to whack her and she comes out a millionaire. Now that shit’s gonna be all over the fuckin’ place and you fuckin’ internet stalked me, sweetheart, you knew it would and you did not give me the head’s up.”
“I –” I began but he cut me off again.
“Regardless of this media shit, it’s kinda important to know the woman I’m bangin’ has a hit out on her.”
I was beginning not to like the way he was talking to me, especially how he was referring to me.
Like.
At all.
Including the fact he called me “sweetheart” only when he was pissed at me.
“It didn’t get that far,” I repeated.
“You’re wrong,” he fired back and my heart and breath stopped again just as I felt my lips part. “Your friend Ozzie?” he asked, I nodded and he went on. “Keepin’ you protected and when I say that, he was doin’ it in more ways than givin’ you peace of mind by not sharin’ that the hit was called, it was paid for and once done, there is no way to get in touch with whoever the fuck they hired in order to call it off.”
My hands clenched into fists as pure fear saturated my system.
Sam kept sharing.
“He’s had a man on you for months all the while tryin’ to track down whoever got the call. His hope was, they heard your ex was dead and his woman was facing conspiracy charges and he’d figure he got an easy payday, know you were protected and back off. His worry was, he wouldn’t hear or wouldn’t care and would carry out the job regardless. Until they track that motherfucker down, they can have no clue. He’s been in fits since you’ve been gone, thinkin’ that guy’s after you here, which he could be.”
This couldn’t be true.
“That’s crazy,” I whispered.
“It sure the fuck is. It’s also the fuckin’ truth,” Sam returned.
“How do you know this?”
“My agent set one of his assistants on it. They called Boothe County Sheriff Department. To say Barney Oswald was relieved to hear you’d hooked up with me is a serious fuckin’ understatement. Peace of mind for him. For me, I got a woman with a hit on her, I had no clue and now I have significantly limited intel and no fuckin’ weapon.”
I couldn’t believe this.
This was unbelievable.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam asked again.
“I –” I started again.
“I can’t fuckin’ believe you didn’t fuckin’ tell me,” Sam growled and I snapped.
Just like that.
I snapped.
I didn’t remember the last time I snapped. It had been years since it was safe for me to snap.
But that didn’t mean, right then, with Sam, I didn’t snap.
I sure the heck did.
“If you’d shut up a minute and let me talk maybe you’d get an answer to one of your questions!” I shouted and when I did, Sam’s face turned to stone and his eyes turned to granite.
Okay, he was pissed. Maybe he had a right to be.
But I had a hit out on me!
And he wouldn’t let me fucking talk!
“I didn’t know this,” I told him.
“Sweetheart, five million dollars says differently. Oswald’s deputy shared that you called the fuckin’ thing in,” Sam retorted.
“I wasn’t done,” I hissed, Sam’s jaw flexed and I kept going. “Pardon me, Sam, but I think you’re forgetting that things have been a little crazy for me and not just the last two weeks but the last,” I leaned in, “seven years of my life. Then my husband gets half his head blown off by a guy I liked. Milo is cool. And now Milo is incarcerated because Cooter and Vanessa are assholes. At the same time I found out Cooter cheated on me and now I can guess it was probably repeatedly. I’m twenty-eight and I have no clue who I am. I just sold my house and I’m in a bidding war that’s out of hand for that unit so soon I’ll have nowhere to live. I quit my job so I have nothing to do. I came on vacation to sort my head and decide what to do with my life then I met you and that wasn’t exactly your everyday, run of the mill girl meets boy situation but girl meets famous, rich hot guy who she’s had a faraway crush on for years and suddenly finds herself sleeping with. I didn’t exactly forget but I also didn’t exactly remember. I wasn’t keeping it from you. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t get around to it. But, you know, it’s been a lot nicer since leaving Italy to focus on the pool and beach and Greek music and dancing and good food and hot sex and not on the fact my dead husband and his girlfriend wanted me dead. So forgive me for not coming clean and telling you the minute I met you like I told you about Cooter being killed. I’ve been freaked out, unsure and pretty stinking scared because I like this, a lot, you and me. This is something I never thought I’d have and, my apologies to the Sam Cooper who means a great deal to me but it’s partly about the fact that I’m suddenly sleeping with Sampson Cooper when that’s an unheard of reality after years of fantasy but it’s also about the fact that I was in a shitty, rotten marriage that was hell from the minute I woke to the minute I went to sleep and now I have something the exact opposite and I don’t know how to cope! So, if I didn’t share that my husband wanted me dead while all that was going on, I’m sorry. A thousand apologies. Now, too late, but by the way, Sam, my husband was more of a piece of shit than you can comprehend because he wanted me dead and fully intended to do something about it but the good news is, he left me his pension, he inexplicably took a five million dollar life insurance policy out on himself and he left me that and he left me his dog who might be yappy but I love her. Now you can consider yourself fully briefed.”
I ended this diatribe with deep sarcasm and, chest rising and falling rapidly, I ended it glaring at him.
Sam held my eyes and kept his jaw clenched. He did this a long time.
Too long.
Long enough for me to think of a couple of other things I wanted to say.
So I said them.
“And just an FYI, sweetheart, you mentioned when we fight it’s about learning what buttons you shouldn’t push and which places to avoid. So, like you say, straight up, I don’t like it that you call me ‘sweetheart’ only when you’re pissed at me and I do not like to be referred to as ‘the woman you’re banging’. If those are deal breakers for you then I’ll move to a different room and maybe I’ll luck out and run into another commando who’ll take me to bed and keep me safe while Ozzie searches for the man who’s out there maybe or maybe not planning to off me.”
The minute I stopped speaking, Sam growled, “You lost it.”
“I have not lost it,” I snapped.
“No, baby, I mean, you had the high ground and you lost it by not shuttin’ your trap and instead throwin’ out there that you’d find another commando to fuck. That was low and it was not cool.”
“Ah,” I threw my hands up, “I see. So you can mouth off and say things I don’t like but I can’t?”
“No, not shit like that.”
“Right.” I crossed my arms on my chest. “I get it, Sam. Stuff you say bothers me, it isn’t as important as stuff I say that might bother you. Do I have that right?”
“You’ve had two lovers, him and me. He gave you nothin’ for as long as you had him in your bed. You do not get nothin’ from me. I get to show you that, I get to give you that and not even my first when I was sixteen was my first to give that to. It means somethin’ to me that when my mouth or my cock or my fingers are between your legs and I know what your face looks like, I know what you’re feelin’, I know I’m the only man who ever gave that to you and that’s all for me, that means somethin’ to me, Kia. And you throwin’ out you’d spread your legs for someone else and take that from me, that isn’t just ‘stuff that bothers me’. It’s a fuckuva lot more.”
It was my turn for my jaw to clench and it did this because I was grindin
g my teeth together and I was doing that because I realized, belatedly, I’d stepped over the line.
“We fight, we fight but we do not fight dirty,” Sam tossed at me.
I held his eyes and kept my mouth shut, now because I was clenching my teeth, trying hard not to cry.
Sam crossed his arms on his chest but said quietly, “Come here.”
“No.”
Yep. That’s what I said.
No.
His brows went up.
I explained.
“I need space. I need some time alone to come to the terms with the fact that my life is in danger. I need to figure out what my next move is. And I need some time to deal with this scene.”
“What you need is to let go of that emotion you’re holdin’ back and what I need is for you to give it to me.”
God! I hated it when he figured me out.
I shook my head and said, “No, Sam.”
He studied me.
Then, I watched the tension flow from his body and, his voice back to velvet, he ordered gently, “Honey, come here.”
I held his eyes.
Then I twisted my neck to look out the window to our veranda and beyond, to the startling blue of the Mediterranean Sea. My body followed my neck, I turned my back to Sam and rested my forehead against the cool glass, staring at one of many extraordinary visions Cooter and Vanessa’s evil plans gave to me but I couldn’t think, whatever. Not anymore.
It wasn’t over.
They actually hired a hit man to murder me.
And Ozzie knew.
And he thought I was too fragile so he didn’t tell me.
God.
On the things in life that sucked scale, this was seriously at the top of the list and would be for anybody.
Not surprisingly, on that thought, Sam was done with giving me space and I felt him fit the front of his body to the back of mine as his arms closed around me.
“They actually put a hit on me,” I whispered when he did.
“No beach, no pool and we’re not hittin’ that island today,” Sam said quietly. “I gotta shower then make some calls then we’ll talk about what’s next.”
I stared at the view. Then I sighed.
Then I said, “Whatever.”
“Room service. You don’t open the door and, in about two seconds, I want you away from this window.”