Part 12 (2/2)

”About six weeks. They were delivered once a week, every Wednesday.”

”Uh, they arrived a day early this week,” Detective Adams said, as if making an observation.

Sam glanced over at Blade. The card had been pa.s.sed around and now he was reading it. She could feel the anger raging in him. It was hard to believe his rage was directed toward her a.s.sailant and not her.

”So why didn't you contact the police when the flowers started coming?”

She s.h.i.+fted her gaze from Blade back to Detective Adams, who was watching her closely. ”I saw no reason to.”

”And why not?”

She frowned. The man was asking a lot of questions and she had to remind herself that he was merely doing his job. She met his inquisitive gaze. ”Because I thought I knew who was sending them.”

”And who did you think was sending them?”

”Really, Detective Adams,” she said, giving him an exasperated look. ”Do you need to know all that?”

”If you want me to help you stay alive.”

”Yes, but-”

”I'm the one she thought was sending her the flowers,” Blade said, in a voice that was deep and controlled.

Sam glanced over at him, as did everyone else in the room, including Detective Adams. He studied Blade and it was easy to tell he was sizing him up, seeing him in a whole new light. Now as a possible suspect.

”But you didn't send them?” the detective asked, his penetrating stare trained directly on Blade.

Blade stared right back. His eyes were just as unwavering. ”No, I didn't send them.”

”And you have no idea who did?”

”No,” he stated firmly.

Detective Adams nodded before glancing back at Sam. ”Do you have any reason not to believe him?”

Sam looked at Blade and studied his features, got caught up in the eyes staring back at her. Although he'd come, he was still mad. He hadn't gotten over the stunt she'd pulled last night. And in a way she probably had hurt him. Probably not emotionally, but for most men their ego was just as real as any living thing. It could easily get bruised. And then there was male pride that could be just as easily wounded. She had pretty much trampled on both. She had tried to play him the way he'd played others. Sooner or later he would try getting back at her, she had no doubt of that. But he wouldn't try it this way. He wouldn't stoop that low.

”Ms. Di Meglio?”

She blinked and looked back at Detective Adams. ”Yes?”

”I asked if you had any reason not to believe Mr. Madaris.” He smiled, remembering there were three of them in the room, and added, ”Blade Madaris.”

She shook her head. ”No, there's no reason not to believe him.” She then chuckled and said, ”He might think he wants to wring my neck about now, but he would never intentionally hurt me.”

”And you know that for sure?”

She pulled in a deep breath, refusing to acknowledge Blade's presence, and responded to the detective's question. ”Yes, I know that for certain.”

The muscles in Blade's neck knotted, and it had taken all he had not to hit something after reading the card that had come with the flowers. Who in the h.e.l.l had sent it to her? Evidently it was the same person who'd been sending her the other flowers for six weeks. A secret admirer, so she'd thought. She had been d.a.m.n wrong about that. And she had been wrong in a.s.suming it had been him.

Detective Adams was still asking her some routine questions. She was answering them, but already Blade's mind was focused on what she wasn't telling the officer. As far as he was concerned, there were a number of men who could have put her at the top of their s.h.i.+t list, if what she'd claimed last night was true. She was a player hater who took pride in seeking revenge. In his book that wasn't a reason to want to b.u.mp her off, but there were a lot of people walking around who were not playing with a full deck.

Detective Adams stood and closed his writing pad. ”I plan to contact the florist. I know you said the flowers were ordered over the Internet. Still, there's a way for us to track a credit-card payment.”

”So what should she do now?” Mac asked.

”Watch her back,” the detective replied quickly. ”I know you already have a security team set up here and that's good. You might want them to make sure no one gets through unless they have appointments, and I suggest that you don't work late for a while. Leave when everyone else leaves, and if you do work late have one of the security guards walk you to your car. And you might want to-”

”Hold up. Time out,” Blade interrupted. ”There may be a lunatic on the loose, trying to kill her and for now it's going to be business as usual?”

Detective Adams turned to Blade. ”Basically yes, since she refuses to have us make a big deal out of it. We can't get fingerprints off the card, since practically everyone's hand has been on it.”

Detective Adams then turned to Sam. ”Where do you live?”

”Windsor Park.”

It was obvious from his expression that he was familiar with the complex and impressed. ”That's a good place to live. It's a gated community, almost like a fortress. I don't know the last time anyone from the police department had to respond to a crime there. They have an excellent security system set up. The president would be safe there without the Secret Service, they're that good.”

”Yes, but she isn't in that gated community twenty-four hours a day,” Peyton said. ”She will be pretty secure here and at home, but what about the distance in between?”

Detective Adams shrugged his shoulders. ”If she doesn't want police protection, I suggest she hire a bodyguard.”

Moments after Detective Adams left, everyone in Sam's office sat around staring at the vase of flowers on her desk. How could something so beautiful carry such an ugly message?

Still, the flowers were pretty, a mix of fresh roses, sunflowers, lilies, daisy poms and other varieties Sam couldn't name, and all beautifully arranged inside a green gla.s.s vase. There was nothing about the flowers that would indicate the person who'd sent them was devious rather than thoughtful.

Sam checked her watch and then pushed back from her desk to stand. She didn't want to look at the flowers any longer. ”I'm going out to grab some lunch,” she said.

Five pairs of eyes s.h.i.+fted to her and stared. She put her arms across her chest. ”Don't any of you even think it.”

”And what do you think we're thinking?” Luke asked.

She lifted her chin. ”That one of you, possibly all of you, intend to be my shadow.”

”And you have a problem with that?” Blade asked.

Sam's gaze slowly moved to him. He was glaring at her and she glared right back. She couldn't help the cynical smile that touched her lips. ”What's in this for you, Blade? We're not exactly bosom buddies. In fact, the last time we talked we decided that we don't even like each other, especially after last night.”

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