Silent Surrender

And maybe Adrianne would be the next volunteer for a hearing implant.

Right now, Sarah simply wanted to go home and lie down. The twinge of a headache wore at her, as did a slight ringing in her ears. Exhaustion crept up on her, too, from her sleepless night. For hours she’d lain awake, waiting for the voices, hoping they wouldn’t come, then hoping they would so she’d know Denise Harley was still alive.

So she’d have good news to tell Adam Black.

ADAM HAD BEEN pacing on Sarah’s front stoop for thirty minutes. He’d finally convinced himself to leave when he saw her walking down the sidewalk. She looked pale and tired, but she was alive and safe. He breathed a sigh of relief. Worry had dogged him all afternoon. At the same time, anger made him want to shake her.

Her steps faltered momentarily when she spotted him, then she raised her chin and strode toward him. He shoved his hands in his pockets, resisting the urge to touch her. She looked so damn vulnerable and sexy that his groin tightened. The soft fabric of her dress clung to her subtle curves and that long dark hair was blowing in the breeze, giving him a glimpse of the sultry line of her neck. Once again that magnetic draw between them heated up. He wanted to hold her, just once. To hear her voice.

But he wouldn’t.

She faced him with raised brows as if to ask why he’d come.

“We have to talk.”

She nodded curtly, unlocked her door and started to step inside, but he pressed a gentle hand on her back to still her and stepped inside first. He glanced around, his breath easing out when he found everything in order.

She frowned at him, as if she had no idea why he’d go into her apartment first. But old habits were hard to break, and his cop instincts made him suspicious. And cautious.

She led him to the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee. But he didn’t want coffee. He wanted answers.

He slapped the paper on the table. “What’s this all about?”

She startled at the sound of his sharp voice and glanced at the table. But her face paled when she read the headline.

She didn’t know about the article?

Her gaze rose to his, shadows haunting her eyes as she toyed with the necklace again. He wondered what significance the locket had, whether she had pictures inside?

He crossed his arms, determined not to be distracted by her vulnerability or the sizzle of attraction between them.

“Did you talk to that scumbag?” Adam asked.

She shook her head no. Then with trembling fingers, she picked up the paper and began to read.

SARAH COULDN’T believe this was happening.

Baring It All— Hearing Things?

Dear heavens.

She scanned the article, her stomach growing queasy. The reporter had lied to her—he didn’t work for the Savannah Times. He worked for a sleazy tabloid. And he’d printed her life story in the paper for everyone to read. She twisted the chain around her neck, thinking of the picture of her mother inside. Once it had held a photo of her father, as well.

But she’d taken it out when she’d learned the truth about him.

How had the reporter gotten this story? And why dredge up things that had happened twenty years ago?

Her mind raced back to the police station. He must have seen the note she’d written to the detectives. Had they shown it to him?

No, Detective Black obviously hadn’t. She skimmed the last paragraph and her legs buckled. Robey Burgess made her sound like a lunatic. Sol would be furious. Shaken, she sank into the chair and met Adam’s gaze.

Obviously, he thought she’d sold her story just to see her name in the headlines.

“Did you give him the story?”

She shook her head again and mouthed the word no.

The detective moved toward her. He surprised her by reaching out with one big thumb and slowly wiping a tear from her cheek. “Did you talk to him at all?”

She inhaled sharply, fighting the strong need to hold on to him. “He followed me to the car after I left the police station, but I told him to leave me alone,” she wrote on a piece of paper.

“That was the reason you raced out of the parking lot?”

She nodded and started to scribble an explanation, but her hands were shaking so badly she dropped the pen and it rolled across the floor.

He sat down beside her, then shocked her by pulling her hands into his larger ones. His touch felt amazingly gentle. His dark eyes watched her, caressing her with a kind of tenderness she hadn’t expected, causing a slow ache to burn in her belly. How long had it been since a man had touched her? Had looked at her in any way except pity?

How long had it been since a man had wanted her?

But what would a strong, tough man like Adam Black see in a woman like her?

“I have to warn you, Sarah,” he said in a low voice. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, but if you did hear something about my sister, the fact that the story was printed could put you in danger.”

“LOOK, SOL, I didn’t talk to the reporter. In fact I refused to,” Sarah signed in frustration. As if the meeting with Adam hadn’t left her rattled enough, Sol had arrived on her doorstep the moment Adam had driven away. She couldn’t believe she’d actually mistaken the detective’s concern for her, his interest in the information she had, as interest in her personally. She was a fool. He’d told her to be careful, to call if she remembered anything else. Then he’d left her place like a man on a foxhunt, and for some odd reason, she’d felt very alone.

“Sarah?”

Sol’s voice pulled her back to the moment. “He followed me and talked to someone at the police department,” she signed, not wanting to tell him about the note, “or maybe he eavesdropped.”

“I’m suing the little bastard! He’ll never work in this goddamn city again!”

Sarah’s hands released the death grip she held on her coffee cup to sign, “I’m sorry, Sol. I really am.”

He paced the length of her den, pausing to look at her mother’s photo. “I promised Charles I’d take care of you when you were christened. Part of that is keeping his name out of the paper. I hate the way the country crucified him back then. All that Cutter’s Crossing garbage.”

“So do I. And I certainly don’t want all that history dragged up again.”

“It looks as if this sleazeball intended to do just that. I’ve already got a call in to my lawyer.” He tunneled his hands through his thinning hair, pacing across the room. “Just think what this negative publicity might mean for the research center, Sarah. Arnold Hughes and I are just now getting CIRP off the ground. Catcall’s not even filled to capacity, and we still have a lot of space on Whistlestop to fill. I intend to make CIRP the research mecca of the world.”

Sarah signed, “I said I was sorry, Sol. Besides the article made me look crazy—it didn’t reflect badly on the center.”

Sol took her by the shoulders. “Promise me you won’t talk to any reporters or the police again. This mess has to die down, Sarah.”

Sarah tensed in his tight grip.

He frowned, then released her and gathered his jacket. “I have to meet Hughes. We’re having a press conference to deal with this situation before it snowballs out of control.”

Sarah bit her lip, thinking about Detective Black and his sister.