Daring Deception

by Barbara Freethy

  "Unfortunately, yes. But I am going to rip it down the next time I'm there. That room was never really me. Maybe the posters were, but not the furniture or the décor or the pink carpet. That was my mom's vision, and I didn't fight against it. I only stayed there last night because I hadn't set up a hotel room yet, and my mom was determined to have me back in my bedroom for a night." She paused, thinking about how the people who loved her always thought they knew what was best for her. "You know what really gets to me, Quinn?"

  He gave her a wary look. "I sense we're going back to our past now."

  "We are. You made a lot of decisions on my behalf, and it bugs the hell out of me. Even if I can acknowledge that I wasn't in a place where you could easily talk to me, that I couldn't have made it up that mountain, or that you couldn't wait any longer to go after Donovan, I still think it was wrong to leave me out of the decisions."

  "If you can acknowledge all those things, then was it really wrong?" he challenged. "What do you think you would have said if I'd told you what I was going to do. Would you have even been able to hear me through the pain? Would hearing Donovan say he was sorry have made anything that much better for you?"

  She frowned, hating that he was right. She had been fragile back then. She'd been weak and shattered. She hadn't been thinking with a clear head, but she was still angry about it. "Maybe you had good reasons, but you still took the decisions away from me, and I'd already lost a lot." She got to her feet, feeling riled up once more. "I'm going downstairs. I have my gun. If there are any problems, let me know."

  "I will."

  "Will you? Or will that be another decision you make on your own?" she asked sarcastically.

  He gave her an even look. "I'm done making unilateral decisions."

  "Good. You know what's ironic? You dislike my father so much, but you both did bad things in the name of protecting me. He doesn't know what's best for me and neither do you. I'm the only one who gets to make that call. Don't forget that again."

  "I won't. But please don't compare me to your father."

  "Then don't act like him."

  With that, she moved down the stairs and into the cabin. She threw herself on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, her brain and her body humming with emotion.

  She tried to hang on to the anger as long as she could, but other emotions were coming into play. Quinn had finally been honest with her. It had taken a long time, but it had happened. Maybe she needed to be honest with herself. She had been in a bad place when most of his decisions had been made. And she didn't like to admit or remember how weak and out of control she'd felt. But he was right. She was looking at his decisions from ten years later, and he'd made those choices at a very different time; an emotional, painful, and confusing time.

  He wanted her to forgive him.

  She didn't know if she could get there.

  Because it wasn't just anger that held her back. The real problem was that she was still attracted to him, and that bothered her on so many levels.

  How could she still want him after what he'd done, the way he'd left, all of it? How could she like him even a little?

  The answer was staring her in the face—love.

  She'd thought that love had died with her baby. Maybe it hadn't.

  But she couldn't go back down that road. She couldn't trust him again. Because if she was wrong for a second time, she didn't think she could survive it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Quinn didn't sleep much, and when dawn rose over the water Saturday morning, he was already making coffee and looking out at the horizon, not sure what to expect of a new day. They certainly couldn't stay out on the ocean, as much as he might want to. Although, he had to admit this was one of those days when land was actually beckoning. There was too much going on, and they needed to get back into action.

  As he sipped his coffee, his thoughts turned once more to Caitlyn and their conversation the night before. There had been moments when it had felt good between them, like the old days, when they could smile with familiarity, laugh at a shared memory, but then the pain and the bitterness had come back.

  It had hurt when she'd compared him to her father. However, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that she had a point. He had made decisions he thought would protect her, not taking into consideration what she might want. But if he had to do it over, he couldn't see himself doing anything differently. She might not remember it as clearly as he did, but her anger toward him had been a factor in his decision to leave. He wasn't making her happy. His presence just hurt her. Every time she saw him, she felt worse.

  Maybe that would have changed if he'd stuck it out. But he hadn't done that. He'd left, and he'd sought revenge on a man who had once been his best friend in the world. Whether Donovan had deliberately gone over that cliff, or he'd forced him to make that terrible choice still wasn't clear in his mind. It might never be clear. But it was done. He couldn't change the past, and neither could she.

  They could only go forward.

  He wished to God he'd gotten more information before Donovan had slipped off that mountain. But they were where they were. They had some clues. They just didn't know how they went together. The gas attack at Alancor might provide new clues, and it fit the profile of an eco-terrorist. What didn't fit the profile was the attack on him and Caitlyn outside Wyatt's house. That had felt more personal, more specific. But that also implied that someone from the past was involved in the current events.

  He turned his head as Caitlyn came up on deck with a coffee mug in her hand. Despite the early hour, she looked ready to face the day, her face shiny and clean, her hair damp from a shower.

  "You found the coffee," he said.

  "Like the bacon, the smell of coffee lured me out of the cabin. You know all my weaknesses." She cleared her throat. "So, Quinn…"

  He tensed at the nervous look in her eyes. "Yes?"

  "I'd like to start over."

  He was relieved to hear that. He hadn't been sure what to expect after the way things had ended between them. And the last thing he'd wanted her to do was to kick him out of her life now. At the very least, he wanted to help her get to the truth. "I'd like to do that, too."

  "There's a lot to think about going forward, and I don't want to get bogged down in the past."

  "I feel the same way. So, what's the plan for today?"

  "I was thinking that the only reason someone shot at us yesterday was because we made them nervous," she said, a defiant gleam in her eyes. "Today, we double down. We give people a reason to think we know something."

  "You want a lure."

  "Yes."

  "And you want it to be me."

  She met his gaze. "I didn't say that."

  "You didn't have to. I'm in."

  "It could be dangerous."

  "I missed getting shot by about an inch; I think we've moved past playing it safe. What do you have in mind?"

  "I want to start rattling cages. We could begin with Justin, see if his story matches his brother's, not only about the alibi, but also about Yosemite."

  "We could plant the Yosemite question with some of the others," he said slowly. "Maybe Vitaly or Vinnie, we haven't spoken to them yet. What if we suggested that Wyatt might have killed Donovan? That would get some attention."

  "That's a twist. It would be a good way to build discord, but we might be putting Wyatt in danger."

  "That's true. On the other hand, we were shot outside his house, so maybe that's not a bad thing."

  "I doubt he had time to call anyone to come after us."

  "I went to the bar first, and they told me he was at home. Maybe they warned him I was on the way."

  "That's possible, but he sure looked surprised to see you."

  "We might have been reading his chill attitude wrong, Caitlyn."

  She nodded. "Okay. Then we'll sow discord everywhere we go today, with everyone we speak to, and see if anyone breaks."

  "I like it. But they haven't bro
ken in all these years. Why would they break now?"

  "Because we can hit them from all sides. You're the ghost who might know more than they think. And I'm an FBI agent with a lot of resources at my fingertips."

  "Sounds like we're going to be unbeatable," he said with a smile.

  "I can be overconfident," she admitted.

  "Don't back down. I like your confidence."

  "And I like that you're willing to go on a possible suicide mission with me."

  "I'm more than willing," he said, meeting her gaze. "But let's try to avoid the suicide part. We've already paid enough."

  "It's someone else's turn," she agreed. "Now, I'm going to make waffles."

  "I'll take us back to shore."

  "Deal. I feel like I should give you a high five."

  He raised his hand, but instead of tapping it, he grabbed her fingers and pulled her in for a hug.

  She hugged him back, then pulled away with a flustered smile. "Do you want me to bring your waffles up here?"

  "That would be great."

  "Butter and syrup?"

  "You know the way I like it, and I'm not just talking about waffles."

  "I know we just agreed to live dangerously today, but not that kind of danger…and don't ask me what I mean, because you know exactly what I'm talking about, Quinn."

  He did know. He just couldn't agree, but she was already gone, so he didn't have to tell her that they weren't on the same page at all.

  He might be willing to risk everything to hold her in his arms one more time and not just for a quick hug. He wanted to be with her again. He missed the way they'd been, so perfectly in tune with each other. It had never been like that with anyone else. But it wouldn't be the same with her, either. They had too much history, too much pain. That said, he still wanted her…and he didn't know what to do about that.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Caitlyn felt energized as they drove back to San Francisco after making a quick stop at Quinn's house so he could grab a change of clothes and Donovan's duffel bag. She'd taken a quick look at the notebook, her stomach churning when she'd seen the snakes. But there wasn't really anything else of note besides the photos. And while those had taken her back in time, they hadn't given her any new information. She'd have to find that elsewhere.

  It was a beautiful day in the city, and as she drove across the Golden Gate Bridge, she felt like she was moving toward some answers. She didn't know where they would come from, and maybe she was being too optimistic, but she was going to hang on to the hopeful feeling as long as she could.

  "You look determined," Quinn commented as she drove through the toll booths and headed toward the Presidio.

  "I feel determined," she said, flinging him a quick look. "It's a new day, a new start."

  "The optimistic girl is back. No one can keep her down for long."

  "There was a time when I stayed down way too long. That won't happen again."

  He met her smile with one of his own, and her stomach did a little somersault as she turned her attention back to the road. She had a feeling some of her good mood was directly related to Quinn. He'd opened up to her last night. He'd told her his secret, and while it had been difficult to hear, she felt like a load had slipped off her shoulders.

  It wasn't just that he'd been honest; it was also what he'd been honest about. He'd gone after Donovan for her, for Isabella. All this time, she'd thought he'd just run away from her and the tragedy…everything, really. But he'd had a better reason than she'd imagined. He'd tried to get justice, revenge, whatever anyone wanted to call it, and she could relate in a way that no one else could.

  Quinn hadn't let his past relationship with Donovan sway him from his mission to get the truth. He'd put her and their baby ahead of all that.

  She warned herself not to get too carried away. He had still left her while she was in pain. He had stayed away and out of sight for ten years. And he could have shared the truth with her a long time ago. But they were moving on. Donovan's grand plan was going down, and whoever had jumped in to copy him or make his plan their own would be caught and punished.

  Her phone buzzed with an incoming text, and she glanced down at the console. It was from Kevin. She slowed down, then pulled over to the side of the road to read the text.

  "What does it say?" Quinn asked.

  She read aloud. "'We need to talk. Can you meet me by the carousel at Golden Gate Park at eleven?'"

  "That's twenty minutes from now. It feels like an odd request," he said, concern in his gaze.

  "I agree, but I need to hear what he has to say." She texted back that she'd meet him there, then pulled back into traffic.

  "It could be a setup," Quinn suggested. "Someone did take a shot at us yesterday."

  "It's a Saturday morning and there will be dozens of people by that carousel. It wouldn't be a great place for an ambush." She glanced over at him, knowing he wouldn't like her next thought. "I should do this alone, Quinn."

  "No way, babe. We're rattling cages together."

  She couldn't stop her heart from squeezing just a little when he called her babe. It had been a long time since that endearment had slipped from his lips. She pushed that thought away, focusing on the situation at hand. "Kevin works for my father, and we grew up together. I have the inside track with him. I'd rather have you wait a short distance away. You can keep an eye on things, watch my back."

  He frowned. "I guess I could do that."

  "Thank you."

  "For what?"

  "Letting me make my own decision. This is my world, Quinn. I know what I'm doing."

  "I just don't want you to get hurt."

  "I'm going to try to avoid that." As a smile played around his lips, she said, "What are you grinning about?"

  "I was thinking about Isabella yesterday, and I could see her in my head. She would have looked just like you, and I'm sure she would have had your stubborn determination."

  "You were thinking about her?" she asked, surprised and touched.

  "I haven't been able to stop since you told me her name. She came to life for me. Isabella, the prettiest baby of them all."

  She loved hearing the sound of their baby's name on his lips. Every time he said it, it touched her heart. "Do you like the name?"

  "So much," he said, meeting her gaze. "How did you come up with it?"

  "It's the name of a favorite character in a book I read when I was a child. Isabella was this courageous young girl, who got lost in the woods after a plane crash. She climbed mountains and crossed rivers, fought off wild animals, and made friends with people who could get her home. When she finally arrived, she was so happy. There was light all around her, and she felt an enormous rush of love. She was happier than she'd ever been. I liked thinking about my little girl finding her way home, being surrounded by light. It probably sounds silly."

  "It sounds amazing," he said, a husky note in his voice. "I think Isabella would have been a lot like you."

  "And you, Quinn. I imagined her with your dark hair and incredible blue eyes. I thought about her falling in love with the sea, going diving with you, searching for starfish in the tidal pools, wading through the surf." She shook her head. "We are getting way off track."

  "Or we're getting back on track," he countered.

  "There's no more track for us," she said, needing to believe that was true. She couldn't let herself go down that road again. "We're just working together to bring a terrorist down. Then we go our separate ways. You have your life and I have mine. It's never a good idea to try to recapture the past. It just doesn't work. You agree, don't you?"

  "Sure," Quinn said, giving nothing away by his tone.

  Despite his reply, it didn't feel like an agreement.

  "Thanks for telling me the story," he added. "I forgot how much books influenced your life."

  "I know I sound like a poor little rich girl, but books were my best friends for a long time."

  "They were mine, too. I think Isabella would
have been a big reader like you."

  "And she probably would have enjoyed school, one of those annoying kids, who has to sit in the front row and get good grades all the time, like you," she teased.

  "I did not sit in the front row, but I did get good grades. One thing I can say for sure—she would not have been good at softball."

  She laughed. "Your arm was worse than mine. You actually hit the umpire that time we played."

  "He got in the way." He paused. "We definitely would not have paid for piano lessons for her."

  She laughed. "Probably not."

  It felt strange to be smiling and talking about Isabella, but it also felt good. No one in her life talked about her little girl, ever. But as much as she was enjoying a break in all the pain and worry, she needed to get her focus back fast.

  Kevin was finally willing to talk, and she had more than a few questions for him.

  When they got to Golden Gate Park, she managed to find a spot in a parking lot not too far from the carousel. She didn't actually mind the walk. It was a nice day, and as she'd predicted, the park was teeming with people enjoying the good weather and the open space.

  Golden Gate Park was huge, running at least fifteen city blocks. In addition to the carousel, there were other park attractions, including two museums and a spectacular flower garden. There were also children's playgrounds, tennis courts, basketball courts, and plenty of barbecue and picnic spaces.

  The carousel was quite near to one of the kids' playgrounds. She paused by a bench next to the play structure. "Why don't you wait for me here?"

  "Are you sure I shouldn't stick with you? I feel like splitting up isn't a good idea."

  "We'll be twenty yards apart. I need to talk to Kevin on my own."

  "All right. I'll be watching you."

  She walked to the carousel, her gaze scanning the area for Kevin. She waited for five minutes, hoping Kevin hadn't decided to bail. She could see Quinn across the way. He'd left the bench, which was occupied now by a mom with a stroller and two little kids. Quinn had moved under a tall tree, his hands in his pockets, his gaze focused on her. He really was a handsome man, she thought idly, even with his brilliant blue eyes covered by his sunglasses. His brown hair sparkled in the sunlight and his body…