to chat.
Which meant he was following up on a lead of some kind. Investigating every angle. Just like always.
“You might say I’m here on a call.”
Sliding his hands in his pockets, he continued to peruse her, an odd glint to his eyes. Sadness?
What? She didn’t look recovered enough to him?
The thought left her wanting to march him straight upstairs to her third-floor office, show him her walls and furniture and big mahogany desk. The drawers of patient files, proof of her success, and the awards that were hanging on the walls of the private bathroom attached to her suite. They were there so she would see them several times a day to remind her who she was. And so only she would see them. She wanted to instill a sense of comfort in her clients. Not intimidate them. Not to spill her ego over onto others.
“I’m here to see you, Bloom. Is there someplace we can go?”
Bloom. She liked the inflection he put on her name. Liked that he’d finally used it. Honoring her request.
Liked the fleeting sense of power that it gave her. But knew it for what it was. A change from her past when he’d insisted that he wasn’t comfortable using her first name. That he needed the distance of formality between them.
Because she’d looked horrible with a broken jaw, drug-blurred eyes and black-and-blue skin?
He’d seen her later, too. Physically healed and pretty enough to turn heads...
“Bloom? Is there someplace we can go?”
She didn’t move. Inside or out. “Why do you need to see me?”
The part of her life where she had a detective in it was done. Forever. No more trouble with the law. Of any kind. She’d promised herself. Never again.
“I just... Is there someplace we can go to talk?”
They could go back up to her office. But she didn’t want him there anymore. Her car? No better.
She took him to a bench out in the yard behind the building. It was in a garden. With several benches. And a winding walkway with trees for shade. She chose to sit in the sun.
“What’s going on?”
Even as she asked the question, she had a flash of the news headline she’d seen less than an hour before.
Trevor Banyon.
Had the jerk said something untoward about her? Released some confidential information pertaining to her case? Were his files being turned over as part of the investigation against him? Was there something incriminating to her reputation there? Something that would embarrass her professionally?
“I assume you’ve heard about Trevor Banyon...”
She started to breathe again. Relaxed against the seat. That was it then. Something from her case was going to be exposed.
She wouldn’t wish for it. But didn’t care all that much, either. In her new life she kept no secrets. So there was nothing to hold over her. And thus, nothing to fear.
Not that he’d know that. The Bloom Freelander he’d known had been afraid of her own shadow. When she was even aware of it following her around.
“I just saw something this morning,” she said, looking him over again, glad to have a few minutes with him now that she knew she had nothing to worry about. He was there as a courtesy. She got that now. And liked him all the more for it. It was so like him to follow up. “Something about him running illegal guns on the side?”
Sam Larson nodded. That flop of blond hair coming down on his forehead. The man had to be nearing forty, but you wouldn’t know it by his hairline.
Maybe the lines at the edges of his mouth gave a hint of experience...
“Do you think he’ll go to jail?” she asked now, trying to keep her mind on topic—something that usually came naturally to her these days. “Locked up with all those people he put away...” She didn’t wish it on him.
The man had done her a great service—putting Ken behind bars. He’d fought hard for her.
“That’s what I’m here to talk to you about.”
“What does Trevor Banyon going to jail have to do with me? Do they need me to testify on his behalf? To talk about the good he’s done? The lives he’s saved? Because while I don’t condone anything to do with illegal arms, he really did help save my life...and I’m sure many others. Are they thinking that if they have enough mitigating circumstances he’ll just get probation?”
She had no idea how serious the charges were against the man because she’d closed the app without reading the article.
It was about that time, when her voice dropped off and nothing else filled the silence, that Bloom realized part of the reason she’d been rambling so much. He was letting her. His long silences almost begging her to ramble.
“What’s going on?” Was he in trouble? Did he have something to do with Banyon’s side career?
She’d never have thought so. Couldn’t believe it.
Maybe Banyon had something on him?
He was clearly having difficulty saying whatever it was he’d come to say...
Just like that she switched from a previously needy woman with her earthly savior to psychiatrist mode. Wanting to help him as he’d helped her. Whatever he needed...
“Sam...” she used his first name, though he’d never invited her to do so. “What’s going on? Can I help?”
He was there for a reason.
When he shook his head, her heart sank. Please, God, don’t let this man have done something bad enough to put him in jail. A world without him in it, Santa Raquel without him out there keeping it safe...
The idea left her bereft.
His expression cleared. “Yes, you can help.” He seemed to have fought some internal battle and...won?
“Okay.” She smiled. Couldn’t seem to stop smiling at him. Wanted to put her hand on his knee where it rested close to hers. Or on the hand he had resting on it. “What can I do?”
“I need you to do me a favor.”
“Sure. Fine. What?” This was Sam Larson. He’d saved her life. She owed him far more than she’d ever be able to repay.
“I need you to pack up whatever keepsakes and possessions you most value, along with clothes and personal items, and be ready for me to pick you up late tomorrow afternoon.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. Didn’t know her mouth was hanging open until she felt the dryness on her tongue.
“You’re abducting me?” They were the first words that came to her mind. He was in that much trouble?
“Of
