Lucky Like Us

chapter Twenty-Nine

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SAM TURNED HER over to the aide outside her room and they rode the elevator down to the lobby. Before they left the hospital, he stopped everyone and bent down next to her.

“Can you walk out to the car with your crutches?”

“Yes.” A brand new midnight-blue Suburban sat parked out front. “Nice car. Is it yours, or the FBI’s?”

“It’s yours.”

“What? No.”

“Yes, it is, Ellie Girl. Your mother and I got it for you. Yours was severely damaged and we thought you might want a new one after what happened.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she tried to blink them away. “Thank you. It’s wonderful. What about my other car?”

“We had it towed away. Not to worry. We took care of everything.”

“Thank you. I don’t know what else to say.” She had worried about going home and seeing the car all smashed up and remembering what happened. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with it.

Sam took both her hands and helped her out of the wheelchair and placed the crutches under her arms to support her. Her fingers tingled after he’d touched her and her heart fluttered with awareness, but she tucked it away for later. Sam’s guard mode rubbed off on her. She scanned the faces in the hospital entrance, her nerves kicked in and the fear came back. Sam noticed the subtle shift in her mood and stepped in front of her, looking at every person around them. He angled his head to glance at her behind him and she gave him a half-hearted smile. Because she wanted to, she ran a hand over his shoulder to reassure him—and herself—that everything was fine.

“Let’s go.”

“I’ll walk out first, you stay right behind me,” he ordered. “Both agents will remain right beside you. Go straight to the car and get in the back seat. John will sit beside you, and Mark will follow us in the other car.”

“Okay.”

She convinced her parents she was in good hands. They said their goodbyes and left first. Sam made her wait until they cleared the cars waiting out front, then they made their way outside. He timed the exit perfectly. Only one other couple waited out front with their newborn as Grandma placed multiple flower vases in the back of their SUV. The new father placed the infant car seat in back and helped his wife into the car. Not even the family escaped Sam’s intense scrutiny. He watched everything at once. His diligence in protecting her went a long way to tamping down her building fear.

Everything went according to plan, and they got into the car together. Sam had to help her into the high seat while John stood guard beside them. On the drive home, her anxiety heightened. When they turned onto her street, sick with worry, her stomach churned. Sam pulled up in front of her house and turned off the car. The other agent, Mark, went inside first and made sure everything was as it should be and no one else was inside. He poked his head out her front door and gave Sam an all-clear wave.

“I’ll get out first. Get out after John. Go straight into the house. Ready?”

Fingers clamped together, her palms wet and held tightly in her lap, she stared out the window seeing Sam lying in the street, the car bearing down on them. She hated thinking about it, seeing the replay in her mind. Her throat closed when she imagined the man’s grip around her throat. Fear made her heart thunder in her chest.

“Elizabeth.”

She gasped, her vision cleared, and Sam turned toward her in the front seat. “What? Yeah. Get out of the car behind John and go straight in. I got it. John, please take the crutches out first. That way I won’t fall on my face.”

“No problem. Stay behind me. Sam will walk behind you.”

“I got it. Let’s just go.”

Her heart continued to pound, and she could barely take a breath. She seriously considered she might have an anxiety attack over getting out of the car and going into her own house. She stared out the window once more, down the street to where the dark SUV had been parked. No such car today, everything appeared as it should.

Sam got out before she followed John out the door and headed inside. She stepped into her living area and immediately backed up again and ran right into Sam. He put his hands on her arms to steady her.

“Ouch!”

He instantly let go of her injured arm. “Oh, God, sweetheart, I’m sorry. What’s wrong? Why are you backing up?”

“Something’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” He scanned the room looking for any threat or sign something was out of place. “Mark checked the place. No one is here. You’re safe.”

“I’m telling you, something is wrong. I can feel it.” She tried to back up more, but Sam was a wall behind her. His breath blew through her hair. Because the other two agents stared at them, he didn’t put his hands on her, but stayed close. The heat of his body comforted her, but didn’t erase the strange feeling stealing her good sense and making her panic.

“Is something out of place? Patrick has been staying here. He left this morning because you’re coming home. I know the flowers are half dead, but he wanted you to see how much everyone cares about you.”

“It’s not that.”

Her kitchen was at the far back of the huge open space, a Decadence cake box sat on the counter. Everything appeared the same, but something was still . . . off. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Her heart raced and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. All three men watched her. She was acting ridiculous, but the creepy feeling coursed through her. Maybe after all that had happened, she was looking for something to be wrong.

“I don’t know. It’s something. I don’t know. Never mind. You said no one is here, so I’m sure it’s fine. It’s fine,” she repeated, wondering if her nerves could take this.

“Elizabeth, I know you’re scared and uneasy about being here after what happened. You’ll settle down once you’ve gotten accustomed to being home again. Mark and John will watch the outside of the building. You won’t see them, but they’ll be out there just the same. I’ll stay here with you. Wherever you go, I go. Tyler will be in and out too. We’re all here to protect you.”

“I know. I’m being stupid. John, Mark, I’m sorry. You guys can do whatever you need to do. You’re welcome to come in and raid the fridge and coffee pot whenever you want.”

“They won’t make their presence known, Elizabeth. They aren’t hanging out with us. We want to protect you, but also make it seem like this guy can come after you, so we can catch him. You do understand that, right?”

“Yes. I’m tired. I’m not thinking clearly. Please, feel free to go to Decadence and have all the free coffee and food you’d like. I’ll call the shop and tell them. I’m sure you know it’s not far from here.” She hobbled toward the kitchen. Maybe she’d whip something up and she’d feel better. She always felt better when cooking.

“Okay. Thanks, Elizabeth,” John said. “And remember, if you see us in the shop when you’re there or outside, pretend you don’t know us. We’re keeping watch over you.” He and Mark left after that to take up their posts outside.

“They’ll search the area around the building and make sure no one is watching the place. They’ll also check out the neighboring abandoned warehouses to make sure they’re empty,” Sam explained to satisfy her doubts and fears.

She made it into her kitchen and leaned the crutches up against the counter. Maybe she’d make Sam and herself some lunch. Then she’d take a nap. Sam spoke with the agents and closed and locked the front door. He pulled the curtains shut, which made the room darker, but the second story windows kept the place fairly well lit.

Sliding the bakery box closer, she opened the lid and gasped. Someone had carved the word BITCH into the chocolate icing. She stood frozen, eyes locked on the ominous cake. Finally regaining some of her composure, she looked up toward Sam, who had turned on the big screen TV in the living area. He was about to sit on the couch and watch a ball game when she called out to him, “Sam, did you get this cake?”

Her voice shook with fear, making him turn to her. She never took her eyes off the cake, like it might somehow attack her if she looked away.

“I asked Patrick to pick it up this morning from your shop. You were giving me a hard time about us eating the cake on Sunday, so I thought you might like a welcome home cake. Why?” he asked concerned.

“I really prefer it when you call me sweetheart to this,” she indicated the cake.

Sam came over and slammed his hands down on the counter. “Shit! Someone’s been here.”

And then it dawned on her. “Sam, have you seen the Muffin Man?”

He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Who is the Muffin Man?”

Any other time, she’d have teased and asked, “Do you know the Muffin Man?” But this wasn’t the time and she couldn’t joke when she felt like she was standing in someone’s crosshairs.

“My cat is missing. He always comes out to see me when I get home.”

“Maybe Patrick let him out this morning when he left?”

“He doesn’t go out, except . . . maybe he’s on the roof. I have a sitting area up there and he likes to come up with me. Maybe Patrick had his coffee on the roof this morning and the Muffin Man got locked out. Patrick can sometimes forget about him because he doesn’t like him.”

“Patrick doesn’t like your cat?”

“The cat doesn’t like Patrick, or anyone for that matter. He only likes me.”

“Who doesn’t like you, sweetheart?” He gave her a smile and hoped she’d forget about the cake for a minute. “I’ll go upstairs and see if he’s up there. Maybe he’s curled up on your bed or something.”

“He hasn’t seen me in weeks. He’d come down. He always comes when I get home. Something is terribly wrong. I know it.” Her hands shook, and her stomach felt like a river swirled around inside.

Sam’s warm hands cupped her face. “We’ll find him. I’ll go upstairs and check. You check the rooms down here. Maybe he’s hiding because of all the strangers.”

The kiss he planted on her forehead allowed her to exhale and breathe again. With a soft push from him, she started toward the spare room.

“Take your crutches, sweetheart.”

“I can walk a little. My leg gets sore quickly, but the therapist said to keep using it to get the strength back. I’m fine.”

Sam went upstairs and checked the first door leading into the master bathroom. He never went in, but closed the door and headed down the open landing. He paused in front of her bedroom. With his hand on his gun, he opened the door and went into the room. Elizabeth waited for him to come out. He did a minute later, and made his way up the set of stairs at the end of the landing and through the hatch, more like a large skylight, which opened up onto the roof. He disappeared, and she checked the downstairs spare room where Patrick had slept.

The room was empty. She checked under the bed and went through the adjoining bathroom. She exited into her living area and went to her office.

Opening the door slowly, she searched inside and under her desk. He wasn’t there. Patrick knew better than to let the cat out, but maybe he had run out without Patrick seeing him. She unlocked and opened the back door and stepped out into the back alley where Patrick liked to park his car.

“Muffin Man,” she called to the cat and listened for his meow. “Here kitty kitty.”

Nothing. No soft meow. Not even a hiss of displeasure, telling her he was mad she’d been gone too long. Dejected, she turned to go back inside and stopped mid-step, frozen by the horrific bold letters carved into the paint on the door: I’LL GET YOU NEXT TIME.

A soft mewling drew her attention to the wood palette beside her garbage cans. Her little Muffin Man’s nose poked out of the crevice he’d wedged himself into between the wood and brick building. Her knees buckled and she sank to the ground. She reached out for him and he sprang forward, but landed hard on his chin when his front paw gave out. She grabbed him and pulled him to her chest, his front leg bent at an odd angle. She gave him a squeeze to keep him steady and he growled in pain. She buried her face in his neck and cried. This would never end, until they found the man responsible and put him away for the rest of his life.

Sam checked the upstairs and roof and found nothing. His devil friends stomped up his spine. Elizabeth was worried and looking to him to make things safe. Here, in her own home, she should feel safe, especially with three FBI agents watching her and the house. But someone had gotten past them and written a threatening message in the cake and her cat went missing. Not a good start to his assignment to protect her.

On his way down the stairs, the hairs on the back of his neck rose when he scanned the empty living space. The creepy feeling danced up his spine again.

“Elizabeth.” He called out to her, but didn’t hear anything. The back door stood open a crack, and he raced to it, hoping no one had come in and taken her. He flew through the door and stopped short when he found her on the ground crying, a ball of fur in her arms. At first, he thought she’d hurt herself, and then she looked up and behind him. He turned around and faced the ominous message.

“Shit.”

He grabbed an empty cardboard box from beside the recycling bin and kneeled down beside her. She gently laid her cat inside and gave him a soft pet on the head. Weak from pain and his injuries, the Muffin Man backed into the corner of the box and stared, his ears laid back in warning.

“I think he’s got a broken leg and rib.”

Her trembling voice tore at his heart. He wanted to rage at whoever had done this to her and the cat. Not only had this guy tried to kill her, but now he terrorized her with threats and cruelty to her beloved pet.

“We’ll get him to the pet hospital, sweetheart.”

“He’s going to pay for this,” she threatened, her eyes wide with fear, hurt, and a determination he admired.

Sam stood and pulled her up by her hands. He picked up the box and ignored the hissing cat. Her feet dragged from exhaustion. No matter what else was happening, he needed to take care of her.

He thought he’d lost her again and his heart nearly thundered right out of his chest. Holding her close with his arm around her waist to support her weight, he pulled the door open and took her inside.

She settled on a stool at the kitchen counter and he sat the box in front of her. She peered over the edge and spoke in a gentle reassuring tone to the cat, brushing her fingertips along his head between his ears.

At a loss for what to say, Sam kissed her on the temple twice before pulling out his cell phone and dialing John. “Get in here, we have a problem. Someone’s been in the house. They left a message in the cake and back door and hurt Elizabeth’s cat.” He hung up and stared down at Elizabeth’s bent head. Her shoulders slumped and her crooning voice grew weary. Unable to stand it any longer, he scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the kitchen.

“My cat,” she protested, her sad eyes pleading with him.

“I’ll take care of him after I take care of you.”

With her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her face buried in his neck, wet tears dampening his skin, he carried her upstairs to her bed and laid her on the soft cover. He pulled the blanket draped across the end of the bed over her and kissed her soft lips. He brushed the hair away from the side of her face and kept his hand against her head. With a sweep of his thumb, he wiped the tears from her too-pale cheek. The dark circles under her eyes worried him.

“You just got out of the hospital. You need to sleep, sweetheart.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he kissed the words away. “Please, I will protect you, even if it’s from yourself.”

Too tired to fight him, she settled into the pillow and mattress with an exhausted sigh.

Her eyes drooped closed and he watched her for a moment before he went downstairs to deal with the cake and cat. When he got his hands on the person responsible for this, they would wish they’d never hurt his Elizabeth.