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He half-smiled at her indignant tone. “Are we talking about the budgie that tried to shit all over you in Max’s office?”
“That’s her. Otherwise known as one Dr. Francis. Ex-colleague to one Max Carter, and would-be supplier to Harry Maxwell.”
“But no relation to Emma Pierce?” he guessed.
“Unfortunately, no. She’s not our serial killer, just a would-be drug mogul who hasn’t taken the time to see the bigger picture. She is working with someone who I suspect might be Rose, though it wasn’t confirmed. But I’m going to take great delight in throwing Dr. Francis’s well-manicured butt in prison, I can tell you.”
He grinned. “I almost feel sorry for Dr. Francis.”
Her grin briefly echoed his. “Sure you do.” Then she hesitated, her smile fading as her gaze searched his. “I’m sorry to hear about your sister.”
An ache cut through his heart. An ache he’d been trying so hard to ignore. “How did you find out about it?”
It came out more abruptly than he’d intended, and she raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You weren’t answering your phone, so I called Michaels to see what was going on. He told me.”
“Why were you calling in the first place?”
“You asked me to report in, remember?” She leaned back on her hands and studied him for a moment. “Why the third degree?”
He thrust a hand through his hair. He hadn’t meant to be so brusque, but he didn’t want the whole world knowing about his sister’s death, either. Not until the Stern clan had time to deal with her loss, time to say goodbye. “Sorry. I guess I’m not ready to talk freely about her murder just yet.”
“Especially with me, I suppose.”
Her words were a whisper he barely caught, and her expression suggested a loneliness as deep as anything he’d ever experienced. He half reached out to comfort her, but then he dropped his hand. This was what he wanted, he reminded himself fiercely. And more than ever, he wanted her to remain safe.
Silence reigned as they waited for th
e ambulance to arrive. He itched to get back to searching for his sister’s killer, but he wasn’t enough of a bastard to simply walk away from Sam before she’d received medical attention.
After a few minutes, she ran a hand across her bloody chin and asked, “How did you find me?”
He shrugged. “The locals took note of Francis’s car as it sped away from your building. We traced her here.”
“Really?” There was disbelief in her face and in her voice. “Then how did you know which building I was in?”
“It was the only one left standing. I took a chance.”
Her gaze searched his face. “Why are you lying to me?”
“I’m not.” A siren finally sounded in the distance. He glanced past her, watching the red and blue lights of the ambulance draw close. “The ambulance is here.”
“I want to go home, not to the hospital.”
“Your home’s been bombed, remember?” He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.
She jerked away from his touch, expression annoyed as she glared up at him. “I don’t care.”
“Okay. But let the doctor examine you first.”
“Fine.” She crossed her arms and stared at him mutinously.
He knew her silence would last only until they were alone. Then she’d want answers—answers he had no intention of giving.
The ambulance officers trotted across the grounds, medical bags in hand. Sam bore their ministrations in silence, though he could feel her annoyance, a wave of heat that washed past his mind. Having opened the link to find her, he could now feel her emotions as easily as he breathed. Touching her thoughts was only a matter of reaching out…but he had no intention of playing with that sort of fire. He’d shared such a link with Andrea. Once was more than enough.
“There’s severe bruising around the hip and torso area, but otherwise, you seem okay,” the ambulance officer said. “You might want to go to the hospital as a precautionary measure—”
“No, I’m fine, really.” Sam flashed Gabriel an I-told-you-so look. “I’ll just go home and rest.”
