“Naomi? Are you awake?”
Sam. He was the one who had awakened her.
“Naomi? If you don’t answer me in the next three seconds, I'm taking you back to the hospital.”
He would too. Sam always carried through on his threats. “Yeah, I'm awake.” She forced open her heavy eyes in case he needed further proof.
“It’s time for me to check you out.” Sam leaned over her and shone a light in her eyes. She flinched a little, but it didn’t bother her as much as it had when the doctor had done it at the hospital. “Your eyes are looking a little clearer. How are you feeling?”
“Better, my head hurts, a lot, but it feels clearer.”
He raised a hopeful eyebrow. “Does that mean you . . .?”
“No. I still don’t remember anything.” She hated that, it made her feel so out of control, and she made sure to always be in control of everything that happened in her life. Obsessing over it wasn't going to help though. She had to let it go. Let her mind relax. It had just been through a major trauma, and the doctors had told her that her memories of before the shooting might never come back. But if they didn’t, how would she know who was killing people to get to her? She still couldn’t believe that was real. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe she had just imagined the whole thing.
“You didn’t imagine it, Naomi. The man who’s been threatening you killed to get to you,” he said, correctly reading her thoughts in her expression.
That meant that Nicole Carmichael really was dead. A little boy would now grow up without a mother, and it was all her fault. She should have said something about the letters. Only she honestly hadn’t given them much credence. That mistake could cost people she cared about their lives. Unless she gave herself up. Sam had said that the man who killed Nicole claimed that if she turned herself over to him, he would stop killing innocent people.
As Sam picked up her wrist to check her pulse, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. The world made a slow revolution around her. Her stomach turned with it, but not like before, she no longer felt like every little movement was going to make her throw up.
“What are you doing?” he asked sharply.
“Sitting up,” she replied even though it was obvious.
“You need more rest.”
“I’m feeling better. I want to sit for a while, I'm uncomfortable lying down.” She must have gotten bruises when the bullet had knocked her down because she was tender all over. “What time is it?”
“Half-past eight.”
“Clara and Aggie are going to be here soon. They’ll worry less if I'm awake and alert.”
Sam frowned at her. “They're going to worry more if you push yourself too hard too soon and end up collapsing.”
“I won't. I truly am feeling better since I slept.”
“I'm not sure your sisters coming here is the best idea.”
“What? Why?”
“Because someone wants to hurt you and before they do that they want to hurt as many people around you as they can,” he reminded her. “The killer is a threat to everyone around you, Naomi, including your sisters.”
She hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps her head wasn't as clear as she’d thought. She was usually an expert at taking note of every conceivable outcome in every conceivable situation, yet that hadn't occurred to her. “Do you really think he’d hurt my sisters?”
Sam was still crouched beside the sofa. His dark brown eyes met hers and held them as though in a physical grip. “You're his end game, you're the one he really wants, but who knows what he’ll do before he comes for you.”
Or she thought to herself before she went to him. She couldn’t allow more people to die in her place. That left her with two options. Figure out who he was before anyone else got hurt, or give herself up.
“We can't rule anything out. After tonight, I think it’s best if your sisters keep their distance until we get this situation under control. Until we do, I am your new shadow. We go everywhere together. You don’t leave my sight for any reason.”
Naomi could feel herself bristle at that. She reluctantly conceded that in her present condition she needed a bodyguard, at least until her head healed. But that didn’t mean that it had to be Sam. She didn’t want him as her protector. It wasn't the first time they had found themselves in these positions. Sam watching over her stirred up feelings in her that she didn’t have the energy nor the inclination to sort out. She wasn't in the market for a boyfriend, yet she found herself longing for one when she was around Sam. A specific one. A tall, lean, strong, dark-haired one. A Sam one.
“I think it might be best to move you. Put you someplace where he can't find you …”
“Don’t do that, Sam. I'm not one of your typical clients, and I'm not an object, so don’t treat me like either. I'm staying here. In my home.” Naomi knew that Sam was a take-charge guy. He liked giving orders a lot more than he liked following them. He was smart, and he knew what he was doing. He had spent years in the military before deciding to start his own private security firm. But she knew what she was doing too, and she knew what was best for herself. And right now, remaining in her home was what was best for her.
“For now,” Sam agreed, in a tone that made it clear that if he felt like her home became compromised at any point, he would whisk her away regardless of how she felt about it.