What happened to her after her mother died? he wondered. What had changed her from a normal, outgoing, gregarious child who had friends and went to parties to a young woman who could spend weeks sleeping?
Now, she was clinging to him in a way that he’d never seen
or felt in another person. Yes, she was frightened, and, yes, she had every reason to be, but there was something more to the way she clung to him. It was as though she needed him.
Maybe wanting to get away from his hometown was one of the reasons Mike had moved to New York, that and wanting to go to a place where he wasn’t “one of the Taggerts” but a person in his own right. A place where he could be an individual, not part of the pack.
Smiling, Mike stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. When you grew up in a family as large as his, feeling that you were needed was not something you experienced very often. Early in life you found out that if you didn’t do something, there were others to do it. If you didn’t feed the horses, someone else would. If someone was upset there were at least a dozen people to offer comfort. As far as he could remember, no one had ever said, “Only Mike can do this job,” or “I need Mike and no one else.” Even in school girls had been as content to have one of his brothers as to have him. It didn’t seem to make any difference to them.
But Samantha needed him, he thought, trying to pull her closer. She didn’t need his money; she didn’t need his body; she needed him.
He clutched her to him. Before he’d met her, when he thought of her living in his house, he’d thought of her as an obligation, a burden, actually, rather like a permanent blind date. Then, for a while, his only objective had been to get her into bed, and she’d rather forcefully told him she wasn’t interested—forcefully, hell, he thought, she had been snide and nasty and downright insulting. He had lost interest in her for a while, letting her stay in her room and sleep. He’d allowed her to do whatever she wanted. Then Daphne had made him realize that Samantha wasn’t just sleeping.
Mike put his hand over her ear. She was so small and so alone and maybe it was his vanity, but he felt as though he’d saved her life twice, once when he’d kept her from “sleeping forever” as Daphne called it and tonight when he’d had to break down a door to get to her. Tomorrow he’d have the windows measured for steel grills, grills to keep her safe.
“You’re going to be safe, baby,” he whispered. “I’ll keep you safe.” And I’ll make you laugh, he thought. And I’ll make you stop moving away from me when I reach out to touch you.
It was a while before Samantha could stop shaking, before she could breathe enough to think. Opening her eyes, she looked out the bedroom door. Down the hall, she could see the hole in the apartment door, the hole Mike had had to make to reach through the door to unlock it.
“How…?” she whispered, wincing at the pain in her throat. She was clinging to him, holding him as tightly as possible, as he was holding her. She didn’t want to think about her fear, fear that was making her quiver.
“I heard you,” Mike said. “I heard the thumps on the wall and I knew something was wrong. I thought maybe you’d fallen or hurt yourself. I didn’t think—” He wasn’t going to tell her what he’d felt when he’d seen the bastard trying to kill her. Now he marveled that he hadn’t killed the man on sight, but his number one priority had been to get back to Sam, to make sure that she was all right, and he hadn’t wanted to waste even a second pummeling the guy.
“Just be still,” he said softly. “Blair will be here in a few minutes. I want her to look at you and make sure you’re all right.”
“A cousin?” Samantha managed to choke out, pulling her head back to smile up at him.
Mike didn’t return her smile. Now that his immediate fear for her was under control, he could think. When he’d seen the man hanging over Sam, he hadn’t given any thought as to why the man was there or why he was trying to kill her. Mike’s only concern had been to save Sam, but now he wondered why the robber had been trying to kill her. Why couldn’t he have taken what he wanted from her jewelry box or whatever without trying to commit murder?
“Sam?”
She moved her head against his chest. A few minutes ago she had been fighting for her life and now she’d never felt so safe.
“Did the man say anything to you? Did he call you by name or say anything to you?”
She shook her head no. Vaguely, she remembered the man saying something, but she didn’t want to remember what it was. Right now she wanted to forget everything that had happened.
Her answer seemed to please him because she could feel Mike relax against her when she told him no. When he put his hands on the side of her face and looked at her, she smiled at him and he smiled back.
“I wouldn’t like for anything to happen to you, Sammy-girl,” he said, kissing her on the forehead as he put her head back down on his chest.
A moment later the doorbell rang, and Mike gently laid her back against the pillows as he ran down the stairs. Soon a pretty young woman carrying a medical bag came into the room, then professionally, expertly, she examined Samantha’s throat. As she did so, she talked to Mike who stood behind her, wearing only his very small cotton underwear, seemingly unconcerned at being nearly nude before two women.
“What happened?” Blair asked as she ran her fingers along the back of Samantha’s neck.
“Some creep came in through the window,” Mike answered. “Maybe Sam woke up and caught him rifling her jewelry box, I don’t know.”
Samantha shook her head. “I was…asleep,” she said, frowning because it hurt to talk.
Mike didn’t like to hear that, but maybe Samantha had moved or turned over, something to give the creep a reason to try to kill her. He didn’t want to think that the man was a new serial killer. The Town House Murderer, maybe. Looking at the windows, he thought of what type of grills he’d order for them, but then he saw Sam’s suitcase on the floor and knew that there was no reason for grills: She was going to leave in the morning.
Blair finished her examination. “I think you’ll be fine. Just rest and don’t talk. I’ll give you a sedative so you can sleep tonight.”
Nodding, Samantha took the pills the doctor gave her and drank from the cup that Mike held to her lips. Then her eyes widened as Mike scooped her up, blankets and all, and started down the hall with her.
“You spend tonight downstairs where I can watch over you,” he said, and Samantha gave him no argument. She doubted that any sedative in the world would make her sleep comfortably tonight, knowing she’d lie awake imagining every shadow to be a man or men who wanted to kill her.
Downstairs, Mike put her in his bed, tucking her in as though she were a child, then went off with his pretty cousin and Samantha could hear them talking softly. Sam closed her eyes, feeling drowsy.