At least she knew the killer wasn’t watching her. That was a relief. And Sam had a chance to tell her the truth. He might come in and tell her he met with three men he obviously knew and had a little chat with them. What were the chances?
Minutes crept by, but it seemed like hours. Stella imagined all sorts of things, including the three men murdering Sam and hauling his body away with them. She had no idea how they got onto her property or how they were leaving without either Sonny or Patrick Sorsey, the other security guard, knowing. Still, she was grateful neither guard had confronted those three men. She had the feeling they were lethal.
Bailey’s head went up alertly. The dog went to the door of her bedroom and stood right at the entrance, looking into the hall. She glanced at her device and saw the back keypad had been unlocked. Her fingers tightened around the grip of her gun. No one had murdered Sam—yet.
He came into her space looking coolly confident and, as always, composed, calm and completely relaxed, as if he’d been on a midnight stroll. His dark eyes moved over her face, drifted lower, took in her body and then her hand on her weapon before coming back up to meet her eyes. Bailey nudged him and he automatically scratched the dog’s ears, never once taking his gaze from hers.
Stella waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. She should have known he wouldn’t. Sam was all about silence. He’d never been big on talking. He didn’t give himself away. Usually, the silence had been companionable between them. Not this time. The tension stretched until it could have been cut with a knife.
Sam shook his head and then sank into the chair across from the bed, reaching for the water he’d left on the small table there. “You going to put the gun away or use it, Stella?”
The little note of male amusement annoyed her enough that she deliberated on the benefits of putting a bullet in the wall right next to his ear, but she knew he wouldn’t even flinch.
“I’m still considering.”
He swallowed water, his gaze never leaving hers. He didn’t look in the least worried, but then he never did. He remained silent, not offering her anything, not even an explanation.
Stella went over his every action— or rather inaction— as he’d stood under the trees with the three intruders. He hadn’t seemed bothered by them until the older man had gestured toward her house. That was when the subtle change had come over him. It hadn’t been just her that knew it; the others had as well.
She studied Sam. There was so much there she didn’t know. She’d never asked. She’d taken him on faith and he’d never once let her down. She’d been shaken tonight because she’d had a nightmare and they’d been sorting it out when they both knew someone had come on the property— someone was watching. Sam still hadn’t let her down. He hadn’t done anything to change her opinion of him.
She didn’t ask him what had happened out there because she was afraid he might lie to her. He wasn’t her mother. He wasn’t her father. He wasn’t the friends in school abandoning her the moment they found out who she was. He was Sam.
Stella unloaded the gun and locked it in the safe. “I really did feel like nearly clipping you for that stinking superior male sense of humor you have.”
“I’m well aware you have a bit of a temper, Stella.”
The dark eyes glinted with humor, catching the light off the lake. She didn’t get to see that very often and the sight gave her a ridiculous melty feeling in the pit of her stomach. She rolled her eyes.
Again, there was a silence. Her silence. He was going to make her ask. She didn’t know if she had the courage. She couldn’t bear it if he lied to her. If he let her down. His silence was normal. He didn’t tell anyone— including her— his business. He would consider those men his business.
She gathered the sheet between her fingers, looking down at it, twisting it back and forth, telling herself she needed to know now, before it was too late. Another part of her whispered she was being silly, Sam didn’t tell lies. More than likely, he wouldn’t answer if he didn’t want her to know something, but he wouldn’t lie.
“Woman.” He sounded exasperated.
“Man.”
“Spit it the hell out.”
She lifted her lashes and looked him directly in the eyes again. “Who was out there?” She could feel her heart pounding too hard. Too fast.
“I’ve been contemplating whether it’s a good idea for you to know or not.”
She blinked. She hadn’t expected that answer. He’d already been considering telling her. That was something. And no, he wasn’t going to lie to her. Relief swept over her. She had trust issues, big ones. Him. Her friends. She needed to get past them.