Secret Weapon Spouse - By B. J. Daniels Page 0,31
in her bag, but instead of her fingers closing around the gun, she felt the small can of pepper spray.
She brought it out, but the man moved too quickly. He released Johnson and launched himself at her, the hypodermic needle raised in the air.
She brought up the can of pepper spray, her finger fumbling for the button, as he grabbed for her. The spray caught him in the face. He let out of a howl of pain, now groping blindly for her.
She stepped out of his reach to grab up the overturned chair, swinging it at him with one hand. It caught him in the knees. He stumbled and almost fell, catching himself awkwardly as he tripped and banged into the wall.
He let out an oath and wiped frantically at his eyes with the sleeve of the surgical gown. His face was beet-red, his eyes running with tears, but his gaze found her.
Her hand was shaking as she groped in her bag, this time coming up with the gun. She leveled it at him, ready to fire.
He reached down and before she could fire, hurled the chair at her. She ducked but it caught her in the shoulder and knocked her back. She hit the floor hard, coming down on her butt, the gun still in her hand, though.
Not that it mattered.
The imposter doctor was gone. The door closing behind him.
She struggled to get up, her limbs like water, her shoulder aching. This was the second time she’d been hit in two days. She felt out of her league, in pain and frustrated.
Hurrying to the door, she looked out. The hallway was empty. The man was gone.
Turning she looked to the bed and Craig Johnson. He appeared scared as hell but alive.
“Are you all right?” she asked, realizing he hadn’t hit the call button for a nurse. Nor had he picked up the phone and called the police while she’d been trying to save his life or jumped in to help her. She felt a wave of anger wash through her as she moved to the bed.
Johnson was sitting up in the bed, rubbing his throat, color coming back into his face as he sucked in deep breaths.
She stepped to the call button, but he grabbed her hand before she could push it.
“I’m all right,” he said hoarsely.
“That man tried to kill you.”
Johnson gave her a look that said he knew that better than she did.
“Why would he want you dead?” she demanded.
“How should I know?”
“Because it has something to do with Sonya Botero’s abduction.”
Johnson shook his head. “It is a private matter.”
“We need to call the police.”
“No. It is my business alone.”
She didn’t believe him. “If this has something to do with Sonya Botero’s abduction—”
“It is gambling debts. What do you care anyway?” He was eyeing her with suspicion. “You are that wedding planner and yet you carry pepper spray and a gun?”
“Any woman who’s smart and lives and works in Miami does,” she shot back.
“Stay out of my business, wedding planner.”
“I just saved your life. I would think you would be more grateful.”
“It isn’t the first time someone has tried to kill me for the money I owe. Nor will it be the last time.”
“Sounds like a motive for kidnapping someone like Sonya Botero,” Samantha said.
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t want to get involved in this.”
“I got involved when I saved your life.”
“Your mistake,” Johnson said and closed his eyes. “Now get out of my room and if you call the police I will deny everything.”
“Yes,” she said tamping down the urge to shoot him herself. “You are very good at denying everything.”
He didn’t open his eyes. Nor did he respond. She checked to make sure she had her gun and her pepper spray. Her eyes were burning from what little she’d sprayed as she left the room, letting the door close behind her.
Out in the hall, she took deep breaths of air and let her watering eyes clear. Then carefully she opened the door to Johnson’s room a crack and listened.
Just as she’d suspected, he was on the phone.
“The bastards tried to kill me again!” he said, his whisper shrill. “Do something.” He slammed down the phone.
Samantha eased the door closed and walked down to the elevator. She was still a little wobbly on her feet, still shaken, her eyes still burning. Changing her mind, she headed for the outdoor terrace at the end of the hallway.
It wasn’t until she’d dialed Rachel’s cell that she noticed she