“I’m aware,” Sam said, driving sedately through her neighborhood with the windshield wipers softly smoothing away rain. “If it helps, I’m sorry about this entire situation.”
“Oddly enough, that does not help,” she muttered, looking outside for anybody. If she saw a person, she’d shove open the door and scream. As usual, the entire subdivision was quiet at this hour with most urban professionals long since asleep. Okay. She often dug into the minds of criminals and witnesses for Homeland Security, and she could draw on her skills now. “Sam? Is that your real name?”
“Yes.” He drove her silver Arteon out of the neighborhood and headed for the interstate.
She took a deep breath. “It’s a nice name. Family name?”
He angled his head to look up at the rolling clouds. “I don’t think so. It’s just a name, and my mother seemed to like it.”
Anticipation licked through Honor. “Your mother? Is she still alive?”
“Yes.” Sam accelerated and then increased the windshield wipers’ speed in response. “She’s very much alive.”
“Mine isn’t,” Honor said. If she could get him to see her as a person, she might stand a chance. “I lost both of my parents when I turned twenty, and I don’t suppose I’ve been the same since.” The world flew by outside.
Sam glanced her way. “I’m sorry about that. How did they pass?”
Pass. Oh, that was such a bland word for the horrific reality. “They were murdered by a serial killer.”
Sam jerked and looked at her again. “Seriously?”
She nodded. “Yes. A monster named Jack Forester murdered several couples over a two-year time frame. He broke into our home, killed them both, and then ate all of the food in the fridge. He got into a shootout with the police but survived and is spending the rest of his life in prison.” She’d never gotten the answers she’d wanted from him, although he probably couldn’t have given them. Killers often didn’t have a good “why.”
“I’m sorry about that, Honor.” Sam sighed, and his massive chest moved with the sound. “Is that why you became a profiler?”
She almost smiled. “I’m not a profiler. I’m a psychologist, and DHS asked for help with a case two years ago. I helped. They’ve called me in several times since as a consultant, but I’m not an expert on the criminal mind. It just seems that I, well, read people well?”
“It’s more than that and you know it, but we don’t have to discuss your gifts if you don’t want.” His voice remained gentle and calm.
She was getting through to him. Good. Exposing her pain was difficult, but she’d do what she had to in order to survive this. All she needed was an opening to get free. “Sometimes I wonder why them. They were good people. Mom taught second grade, and my dad taught world history and was the high school football coach. They were…everything.” Her chest hurt.
Sam sped up to pass a couple of logging trucks. “I really am sorry. We lost our father when we were young, and it was difficult.” His hands were imposing on the steering wheel.
They were getting somewhere. “We?”
He paused. “I have two brothers.”
Good. She had him talking about important things. Did he love his brothers? Hate them? Was he indifferent? She couldn’t get a full read on him the way she normally did. What did that mean? Was he a true sociopath? Psychopath? She forced a smile. “I can tell, just from meeting you, that you’re the oldest.” He was definitely a take-charge person, even if he was criminally insane.
His cheek creased. “Nope. I’m the middle one.”
Her eyebrows rose. He was the middle child? She would’ve bet anything against that. “You’re not typical,” she murmured.
He shrugged. “We might be. My older brother is type A and a natural leader, whether he likes it or not. My younger brother is on the wild side and takes risks I’d advise against. I’m the steady one.”
Her mouth gaped open.
He must’ve caught her expression, because he burst out laughing. It was brief but a deep and intriguing sound. “Keep in mind that you haven’t met them.”
She never would, either. If they really existed. She centered herself and partially turned to face him, fully studying him. His body was relaxed, without any micro expressions that might show he was lying. Or think he was lying. The guy might live in a totally different world inside his head, and she couldn’t forget that. Regardless of his deep laugh, muscled body, and out-of-this-world good looks. Why did bad boys have to look so sexy? The question was, just how bad was he? She tried to tap into his mind with her mental fingers, to read his brain wave patterns, but he kept her out. He had impressive shields. “Why do you blow things up?”
“I don’t,” he said, his focus returning to the traffic on the rainy road.
Shoot. She’d pushed too fast. “Tell me about your brothers.”
“I already did. Do you have siblings?” He reached over and turned on the defogger for the front window.
“No. I always wished I did,” she admitted, sliding back into personal matters. He wasn’t ready to talk about whatever was happening. “What’s it like?”
Sam rested his left arm on his door and drove with one hand, apparently relaxing even more. “It’s the best and the worst. We’ve had to protect each other, and with that comes stress and responsibility. Our enemies are everywhere.”
Her skin prickled. Was he paranoid? Delusional? “Do the enemies have anything to do with the explosions?”
“I assume so,” Sam said, switching lanes.
She kept an eye on their route. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe.” He finally exited the interstate and drove down a long ramp to a stoplight at the bottom. A set of outlet malls were silent to the left, while to the right, there were gas stations, fast-food joints, and a grocery store.
It was now or never. In the smoothest motion she could manage, Honor unclipped her belt, shoved her door open, and sprung out of the car.
Chapter Six
Sam hadn’t expected the action. Honor hit the wet gravel and rolled onto the grass, coming up fast to turn and run.
Damn it. He jumped through her open door, tucked his head, and somersaulted to his feet. He ran after her, fury catching him around the throat.
The woman could run. She dodged and wove, making it to the arterial street before he caught her. He manacled one arm around her waist and slung her over his shoulder in a smooth move, turning and running full bore back to the vehicle at the stoplight. No cars were behind him yet, which was why he’d chosen this exit from the interstate.