by L B Wyatt
“Hey, Luke!” he had yelled.
Quinn had cursed under his breath and removed his hands from Veronica’s body. The man shouted again, a name that sounded like Luke but not quite, and at the time Veronica could barely hear over the thumping of the music in the background.
Quinn had offered her an apologetic smile as he said, “Wait here for a minute, okay? Don’t you dare go anywhere.” He had kissed her hard and quick on the mouth and then turned. He took the man roughly by the arm and escorted him out of sight.
Veronica had waited until her curiosity got the best of her. She wandered around the edge of a row of heating and cooling units in time to see Quinn shouting in the man’s face. The guy looked like a scolded dog and was nodding vigorously. When he turned to walk away with his head down, Quinn grabbed the man’s shoulders and launched him off the roof to his death.
“I never looked at you the same after that. Especially after I mentioned it to your director and nothing happened. I knew something didn’t add up,” she admitted, pulling herself out of the past and back to the very uncertain present.
“I noticed how you changed.” He nodded, his face turning grim. “I messed up that day. I never dreamed your moral compass would steer you so far away from me. I wasn’t sure you even had one until then.”
Veronica glared at him, but stayed perfectly still as he moved a couple of steps closer.
“It’s been hell keeping tabs on you ever since you turned your back on me,” he muttered. “It was easier when you trusted me.”
It was Veronica’s turn to laugh bitterly this time. “Trust you?” she echoed with a sardonic grin. “I’ve never trusted you, Murphy. You were just fun. A distraction, if you will.” She shrugged. Her heart was hammering hard as his steps became quicker, filling the gap between them before she could formulate an escape plan. She kept her eyes keenly on that blade and didn’t dare flinch as he drew it out, placing it under her shirt. She could feel the tip pressing into her belly button, but she held her breath and didn’t make a move.
“Was it just business the whole time?” she inquired trying to sound coy instead of terrified. She watched his mouth turn slightly upward to form a wicked grin.
“Not always.”
“You were following me from the day we met, weren’t you,” she realized.
“Best job I’ve ever had. And the most fun.” He moved his weapon, snagging the material of her tank top and dragging the blade upward, tearing her top as if it were a sheet of paper. Her heart was pounding so fast she could hear it loud inside her ears. The ease at which that knife sliced through her top unnerved her.
“Who are you working for?” she demanded bravely. If she was going to die, she might as well know who he spoke so harshly of before. She was dying to know who this friendly foe could be.
But he didn’t answer her burning question. He just grinned as if he knew how thirsty she was for the information and nothing pleased him more than to keep it from her.
“Do you know how hard it’s been on me to hold back this whole time?” he whispered, his tone changing. He was outright smiling now. “How many nights I watched you sleeping and could have easily taken your life right then and there?”
He took his free hand and ran it up the side of her now bare stomach, all the way up to cup her breast. Veronica shivered violently in disgust, knowing she couldn’t do a thing to take his hands off her.
“Boss wouldn’t have any part of that. No,” he muttered, his smile fading, his eyes glazing over for a moment as he stared hard at her throat. “You were always valued over everything else. Everyone else.” His voice was hard as stone even as his thumb moved mindlessly over her flesh—back and forth, back and forth.
Veronica was perfectly still even though her body screamed in protest. She didn’t want him touching her. She didn’t want him breathing. But she would have to be extra careful because Quinn was no ordinary opponent. And for the first time in her career, she knew this was a fight she could not win. There had been so many times she had entered into situations with the hope of coming out the victor, but not this one. Not even close.
Quinn Murphy was going to kill her.
Chapter Thirty-One
Veronica was nothing if not true to her word. And as she’d stated before, she wasn’t going to go down easy. She’d make it hard on Quinn Murphy if she had to die trying—which was looking more and more probable at the moment.
Her breath staggered as he reached around and grabbed a fist full of her hair, forcing her head back so that her neck was exposed. She refused to make a sound as he put his lips on her throat and kissed his way up to her ear. All the while, the blade of the Bowie was flat against her chest as a warning. As a sign that he was in control.
“You’re right, V,” he breathed into her ear. “You are making this hard on me.” He pressed his body closer to hers and she stood like a statue as his mouth descended on hers. He kissed her fervently and she knew why. In his mind this was a kiss goodbye, but she didn’t return it. The blade being so close to her heart was all-consuming in her mind. She felt his grip loosen a little on her hair and she decided it was now or never.
She took the bottle of wine still firmly in her grip and slung it across the back of his head. Much to her disappointment, the damn thing didn’t even break. Red wine splattered across the kitchen area and the floor. He staggered back half a step, but it was all she needed. Veronica swung again, harder than before and this time when she caught him in the temple, the bottle broke and he hit the floor.
She made a beeline for the bedroom. Under normal circumstances, she would have had a gun stowed away in the kitchen somewhere, but she wasn’t in her apartment. She fled to the dresser where her weapon awaited, but Veronica barely had time to reach for it when Quinn tackled her to the floor.
She wasn’t expecting him to get up so quickly. She thought (or maybe it was just a flicker of hope) that the blow might have rendered him unconscious. No such luck and she felt every bit of the weight of his muscled arms and torso as he landed on her. Veronica didn’t mean to make any noises, but as she was sandwiched between Quinn and the floor, a cry of pain escaped her. She struggled beneath him, but there was no way she was going to free herself. To her surprise, he lifted himself off just enough to force her over onto her back and then he pinned her beneath him again. His head was bleeding and Veronica turned her face away as a few drops of blood fell on her cheek.
She was writhing, but her body went still when he pressed the blade to her neck. It wasn’t flat against her skin either, the edge was there ready to cut and she didn’t even dare swallow.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
Veronica didn’t want to obey, but she feared any more pressure on the knife and her skin would split open. So she reluctantly turned her head with her eyes wide open and stared up into his face.
“I like you like this, Veronica,” he breathed.
“Like what?” she croaked, her hand moving to cover the wrist that wielded that deadly blade. She knew it was probably as mistake, but her survival instincts wouldn’t be denied.
“Obedient.”
“Why don’t you just do it, you sick bastard?” she growled at him.
He moved the blade down and Veronica felt it cut her flesh. Her blood flowed hot over her throat and down her chest. She whimpered as the pain seared all the way down to her toes.
“Not yet, baby. I’m having way too much fun.”
He bent to kiss her again and Veronica couldn’t. She turned her head and managed to wedge her knee between them, but there was no escape. Veronica decided if she was going to die, she might as well claw his eyes out before the knife penetrated her lungs. She reached with both hands and scratched at his face. He let out a stream of curse words and reared back. He couldn’t take hold of both her hands while still holding the blade, so he hit her with everything he had.
Veronica felt something crack inside her face and her entire world began to spin. Her body went limp as sh
e tried to recover. She felt the relief of pressure as he took his weight off her and she drew a deep breath into her lungs. Her relief was short-lived though, and as he stood up, he grabbed her hair and dragged her back into the living area. She cried out again as pain exploded through her skull, but she was too weak and disoriented to fight.
The next thing she knew, he slung her hard and Veronica landed near the overturned coffee table. Her senses were already starting to come back alive, which surprised the hell out of her. She had never been hit so hard. Not in all her days of training for Arc or any other sticky situation thereafter. As the ringing in her ears subsided, she forced herself to focus and then she clearly heard him rattling around in her refrigerator. He was probably looking for a beer, she realized with some disgust and a little disbelief. How very arrogant, though why she thought he would behave any differently was beyond her.
She drew in a deep breath and with it a little strength. She had landed on her stomach and as she lifted herself up, she could see blood everywhere. She was still bleeding from the cut on her throat and collar bone. She ignored the scorching pain as she heard Quinn’s footsteps approaching her. She wasn’t expecting him to kick her, but he did. It was a low blow, but an effective one. She let out another cry and landed in the rubble of the mess she’d made before he arrived.
“Come on, Veronica. You’re disappointing me,” Quinn whined. “I was expecting more than this from you.”
So she gave it to him. Before he could step in and do any more damage she grabbed the broken leg of the table and launched it at the side of his knee, just at the bend where the hit could be felt most intensely. She was pleased when she heard something crack, and the shock of her attack allowed her the opportunity to get one more swing in. Quinn staggered before he dropped back, not fully falling, but involuntarily kneeling in front of her.
Veronica felt like he’d knocked the air out of her lungs when he’d kicked her and she was still struggling to recuperate. But her anger was fresh and she had to strike while she could. Still holding the broken table leg, she promptly rammed it square into his face. He fell back that time and she rejoiced at the fact she’d managed to get a man of Quinn’s stature all the way to the floor.
But her victory didn’t last. Before she could fully stand and gather her breath to reach for his weapon, Quinn was back up and he had her by the throat with one hand. He dragged her to the wall, slamming her into it hard and lifting her off her feet.
She reached up in a futile effort to pry his fingers from her neck as her head already started to feel dizzy from lack of oxygen. Looking down into his bloody, battered face she saw a crazed look behind his eyes. A feral, blood-thirsty gleam in those nearly black eyes now and she knew this was the end. He might have had high hopes of torturing her before finishing her off, but Veronica had obviously pressed the wrong button. He was going to kill her now. The Bowie was long enough it would slice clean through her stomach, into her spine and maybe even into the wall behind her, pinning her off the ground in a gruesome death.
She closed her eyes, refusing to have Quinn Murphy’s deranged expression as the last thing she ever saw. Alarmingly, there was no flash of her sister or her father. No fond memories that replayed behind her closed lids. The only person she thought of before knowing she was going to die in the next moment was Arc.
Veronica felt ashamed of herself. For more than just one reason.
Everything had been so carefully planned, she thought. She really had hoped that she would win this battle. But with her shit storm of a life, she should have known better. What the hell was she doing hoping for anything? Where had that ever gotten her?
Oh, right. Pinned to a damn wall at the mercy of a psychopath. She braced herself for the pain.
Suddenly everything went quiet and Veronica heard the soft click of a gun being cocked. Her eyes snapped open about the time Quinn’s grip went lax and he begrudgingly released her. She dropped back to her feet, coughing and dragging in the sweet savory air she’d been denied. It both hurt and felt amazing as her lungs inflated with oxygen.
As she tried to collect herself, she could hear someone reading Quinn his rights and the gentle, reassuring clank of handcuffs—sweet, sweet music to her ears.
She felt hands on her shoulders and fought at them for a split second until she realized it was another officer trying to help her stand up straight.
“What the hell took you so long?” she demanded hoarsely. “I called you ten minutes ago.” Actually, it felt like ten hours ago since she stood in that kitchenette and pressed the send button on her rescue text to Merritt while Quinn had been distracted. But who was counting when you were fighting for your life?
The officer didn’t respond to her question and instead looked over his shoulder with visible relief as Merritt walked in through the door.
“Four minutes and forty seven seconds ago, actually. Apparently, it feels a lot longer when you’re getting your ass kicked,” Merritt stated.
“You knew?” Quinn snarled at her.
Veronica pushed the officer off her and leaned back into the wall, pulling her shirt closed to cover herself. She felt a rush of relief and appreciation when Merritt took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. There was a sense of gratitude followed by a much stronger emotion for her partner in that moment. She took in a ragged breath and glanced up at him, afraid to let her eyes linger too long and take the chance he might actually see what she was feeling. But there was a look that passed between the two—her expression offered him a thousand thank-yous she couldn’t verbalize and his was a warm and receptive you’re welcome.
Turning her eyes off the trusting watch of her partner, Veronica dared to look upon Quinn as he struggled against the officer cuffing him.
“Of course I knew,” she spat. But it was another round of dumb luck for her, just like her chance meeting with Parker. Veronica had a long conversation with Brooke about a certain dream where Veronica ended up staked to a hotel wall by an enormous knife. But she wasn’t going to tell Murphy that.
No way. That would be cheating.
Quinn looked even more murderous toward her now if that were possible. Two officers finished with his restraints and promptly directed him out. Veronica was so very glad. She wasn’t sure she could handle looking at his face any longer. She was utterly and completely wrecked. She heard the medics asking her questions, but she just nodded. She wasn’t sure how she got on the couch or what they were doing to the cut on her throat.
“Veronica.”
Merritt’s voice drew her from the depths.
“Yeah?”
“You’re face is busted all to hell,” he cringed.
“Hmph, I hadn’t noticed,” she snipped.
“You should get some X-rays,” the medic recommended. “Might be something fractured.”
“I’ll get the X-rays, but I’m not staying another night in that hospital.” As she said the words, pain coursed through her side and she guarded it with a wry expression.
“We’ll let the docs decide that,” the medic countered.
She glanced up at Merritt and he smiled and rolled his eyes at her.
“Think you’ll need that couch to sleep on now?” he offered.
Veronica looked around at the mess she’d created and she suddenly felt so weary she couldn’t hold her head up. She dropped her neck slightly and sighed. “Maybe,” she finally relented. She was too sore and too tired of running to care anymore.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Three broken ribs and a hairline fractured cheekbone later, Veronica did have to stay longer in that God-forsaken hospital. She had required a small surgery to repair her face which didn’t help with the swelling and she looked like hell. There was a small incision at the edge of her hairline and several stitches down her throat and through her collarbone. It was going to leave a nasty scar, but that was the least of her worries.
She had spent the night at Merritt’s after her hospital stay and he’d dr
iven her to the station the next day. She looked terrible and felt about the same. She was sitting in his car with a manila envelope clutched in her hands. She was staring down at it through bruised eyes. This was one of the closest calls she’d ever had and that scared her a little. She had let Quinn get too close and it had nearly cost her her life.
“You okay?” Merritt asked softly.
She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m good. You?” She looked over at him to see his face twisted in anguish.
“Actually, I’ve been better. I heard through the grapevine who my new partner is going to be.”
“That bad?” she presumed, her mind imagining about a dozen different people she wouldn’t want to be paired up with.
“It’s Reeves,” he whispered as if saying the name might make the detective magically appear.
Veronica couldn’t help it, she laughed despite the pain. Reeves was about as hardcore as one could get. She never laughed or smiled and never had any other expression but sour. She was stocky, her wardrobe consisted of drab gray or stone black, and her hair was always pinned back so tight it stretched her face thin, which might be the very reason she never smiled. She was definitely a beast.
“And you thought you had it bad with me,” she smirked and then tried to sober as she spoke again. “I’m so sorry, Merritt. From the bottom of my heart.” But even as she said it, Veronica laughed softly once more. For some reason the image of Reeves smacking Merritt over the back of the hand with a ruler flashed through her mind causing her smile to linger.
With her courage renewed, she opened the car door. It took a greater effort to get out of the vehicle than she wanted it to. She refused Merritt’s hand as he held it out to help her step up on the curb. Her battle with Quinn was a lot like a car accident—the soreness seemed to get worse a few days later.
