The Deadly Series Boxed Set

by Jaycee Clark

  They maneuvered through the late morning traffic.

  Look, I know I haven’t done much more than cry and lay in bed, but—”

  “You almost fucking died!” he yelled and then took a deep breath, fisting and flexing his hands on the steering wheel.

  She didn’t say anything. For several moments silence weighed between them, but he wasn’t going to speak until he was in better control. He was always in control. Or he used to always be in control, at least of his own emotions anyway.

  “What were you supposed to do? Jerk out the IVs and search through Albuquerque in your hospital gown until you finished what they started and put yourself in a damned grave?” he said softly and quietly.

  She didn’t answer him.

  He looked over at her and took another deep breath. “I apologize for yelling, that doesn’t help anything and was uncalled for. Please, stop blaming yourself, Ella, for not doing more.”

  “I can’t do that, Quin. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that,” she admitted quietly.

  He took another deep breath, not having a clue what to say to her. Nothing came to mind. Nothing. They’d just keep going around in circles.

  As they pulled back into the parking lot of the hotel, he thought about valet parking, but he didn’t want to have to wait on them if he needed the car. Besides, no one in their crew had used the valet service thus far. Too many times the car was needed. And his brothers were like him. If they wanted something, they didn’t want to have to ask for it, let alone wait for it. It wasn’t like this was a huge hotel with a multilevel parking garage. It had one lot out front and to the side around the pueblo-style boutique hotel. He found a slot and pulled in near the back of the lot.

  He realized the parking lot was nearly full and probably had been when they left, he’d just been too preoccupied to notice.

  She’d leaned to the side, rested her head against the window. “Do you think she’s okay, Quin?”

  He’d tried like hell not to think of his daughter all morning. He’d been better at it after the doctor’s appointment. He’d focused on traffic and on the surroundings.

  He sighed and shook his head. Did he think she was okay? How the hell did he know that? He was scared, like he’d never been before, like he hadn’t allowed himself to even contemplate. But he didn’t tell her that, couldn’t tell her that.

  He reached again for her hands, which she had fisted in her lap. “She’ll be fine. If you think about it, someone who would or could pay that much money for her must have wanted a baby very badly, Ella. They’d be able to see to her comfort and make sure she’s not sick, that she needs for nothing.”

  “She’s my daughter. Your daughter. She should be with us!” She hit her chest with her fist. “Ours! And someone else is . . . someone else is . . .”

  He bit down. “I know, Ella. I know. But I can’t think that way. I have to look at it as though she’s just taking a break from us with people who will take care of her, and look after her. I can’t think about what might be happening or I’ll go nuts.”

  She closed her eyes, swallowed, and nodded even as a tear rolled down her cheek. He brushed it aside. “We. Are. Going. To. Get. Her. Back.”

  Her eyes met his. “How can you be so sure? So certain?” she whispered.

  “I refuse to let it be any other way.” He opened his door and walked around the car to help her out. His phone rang just as he shut her door. Ian. “What?”

  “You back yet? Mom and Pops are here and Rori is about to head back. I didn’t want to leave until you guys were back. Safely.”

  He shook his head. How his brother could make him feel like a kid so easily was beyond him. “Yeah, Dad, we’re back. Did we break curfew?”

  “You left Johnno here. The bad guys are still out there. They tried to kill your wife. You do realize . . .”

  The rest of Ian’s words were lost. Quinlan saw a man approaching with his hand in the pocket of his jacket. Dark shades hid his eyes but Quin sensed he was watching them. The hair stood up along the back of his neck.

  He shifted the phone to his other ear with the hand that also held his cane and pulled Ella closer with his other hand, changing their course to walk between two cars. Why, he had no idea other than just a feeling.

  “Hello?” Ian said in his ear.

  He ignored him. When they’d rounded the front of the cars, he glanced back and the man was gone. Huh.

  Paranoia probably wasn’t a healthy thing. Probably. Could be a reporter.

  He looked around, but the wall of pickup trucks and SUVs all but blocked him. Why did he park way the hell over there? He should have dropped her at the front door and—

  The man stepped out from between two of the pickups.

  “Ella Ferguson?” the man asked.

  She stepped to the side of Quin. “Yes?”

  The man smoothly lifted a gun. So fast. Too fast. Time slowed in some weird way to Quin, as it always did when things went wrong.

  Quinlan shoved Ella away and swung the cane at the man in a clockwise spin, catching the gunman’s right hand, hoping to bring the gun toward him, not toward her. “Run, Ella!”

  Two shots pinged and fire blazed across his arm. He twisted the cane the other way as the man tried to leave. To hell with that. Quin took two running steps, pain screaming up his left leg, and brought his cane around in a hard sideswipe, catching the guy in the head. It was like striking the ground on a great golf swing, vibrations echoing up the cane into his arm. The man stumbled, tumbling down. He fell, his head smacking against the edge of the next pickup’s metal grille guard.

  The gunman crumpled before the truck, and its alarm now screamed in the lot.

  “Quinlan?” he heard.

  He whirled. “I told you to run! Damn it, Ella. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  She held the gun and the look on her face was one he’d never seen before. No fear showed across her face and he’d seen it plenty in the last few days. There wasn’t terror or even anxiety. He saw a cold finality in her eyes that he didn’t like.

  “I told you they’d have to kill me. I know too much. They tried in the hospital. I heard about that,” she said softly, as if talking about the fact the sun was shining too brightly.

  “Babe. Give me the gun.”

  He heard shouts and running feet. Quinlan only focused on her.

  “He could have killed you!” This time there was more heat to her voice.

  He opened his mouth to tell her he was fine.

  “Then your family really would hate me!”

  It was ludicrous. He could have laughed. “Honey, they love you. Come on. Hand me the gun.”

  She shook her head and walked toward him, pointing the gun at the man prone on the ground. “No. No. He could know something. He could tell us where she is,” she said, her voice shaking.

  He glanced away from her and saw his brother sprinting toward them, a gun in his hand, John Brasher and the fed bringing up the rear.

  “Quin!” Ian yelled.

  “Over here!” He still watched her. “Babe, give me the gun.”

  Again she shook her head. “No. No. I want to ask him where our daughter is. He was going to kill me, wasn’t he?”

  Ian burst around the edge of one of the vehicles, and he noticed the other two flanked them on either side.

  “You two okay?” Ian asked, his gun down near his leg as he walked toward them, slowing down, his eyes still scanning the area.

  “Ella,” Quin told her, stepping closer to her. “Put the gun down. He can’t answer you right now, he’s unconscious.”

  “He’ll wake up.”

  He heard Ian snort to the side of him. “I knew I liked her.”

  “If you hurt him, it won’t make you feel any better,” he finally said.

  “And hitting him with your cane made you what? Sad?”

  No, actually, it felt really damned good. He just had a problem watching her with the gun. He didn’t like guns even though
he’d become damned proficient with them in the last year, and he was an excellent marksman.

  “Babe, please. We’ll let Ian ask him all the questions. He’s great at getting information out of people, even if they don’t want to give it.”

  She cocked a brow down toward Ian. “Really?”

  Ian sighed. “Normally, yes. And in this case, I just might enjoy it, however, he’s dead.”

  “What?” Quinlan asked, whirling around.

  Ian squatted beside the body. “He’s dead or nearly there. Either your cane or his head connecting to the metal edge of this grille guard.” He looked up and nodded to Sabino. “You might want to see who the man is and notify the authorities here.” There wasn’t any blood that Quin could see, though the man’s face was now pale, blue veins spider-webbed from his temple.

  He’d killed a man.

  He’d killed someone.

  Ian glanced up and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t. Sometimes it’s either them or you. Though this time it wasn’t you. It was her.” He jerked his head toward Ella.

  Chills danced over his skin as he realized he’d almost lost her. Again.

  He reached over and gently took the gun away from her and passed it off to John. Then he jerked her against him, breathing again the scent of his shampoo in her hair.

  “I’m okay,” she said, patting his back. “I’m okay, Quinlan.”

  “I can’t lose you. I can’t lose you again,” he said, pulling back and kissing her, then wrapping her tightly in his arms again. “I can’t.”

  “You didn’t. You won’t.”

  He didn’t know which of them was shaking, him or her, and he didn’t care.

  “You’re both all right?” Sabino asked them.

  He pulled back and held her at arms’ length. “Are you okay? The bullet didn’t hit you?”

  “How many rounds did he get off?” Ian asked. “I heard two on the phone when you yelled at Ella to run.”

  He thought back. “Yeah, two. One grazed my arm.”

  “What?” Ella asked, looking at his arm. “Oh my God! Quinlan, you’re bleeding!”

  “I’m fine,” he told her. Ian had already stood and took his arm from Ella. “I’m fine. Both of you. Would you stop fussing.” He jerked his arm away from the both of them.

  “You need the hospital,” Ella said, taking his arm again and carefully looking at the cut in his jacket from the bullet.

  “I told you, it just grazed my arm, it’s no big deal.” Okay, that was a stupid-as-hell statement. They’d been shot at and hurt, but he didn’t want her worrying. “You’re the one we need to take back. The doctor said you don’t need any added stress other than what you’re already going through. Your body’s had too much of a shock lately. You need to take it easy.”

  “I’m not the one who was shot,” she answered back, not liking that he’d told her she needed the doctor again. He took a deep breath.

  Ian stepped closer to him and led him a few steps away. Quinlan noticed that Johnno stepped closer to Ella as soon as he’d stepped away.

  “You’re going to the hospital to make sure she’s okay and that you are okay because your daughter needs the both of you.” Ian stepped closer. “Don’t make me make you.”

  “I should have hit you with my cane.” The idea had often appealed to him when it came to this particular overbearing brother. “I said I was fine.”

  “Probably you are, but you need stitches either way. And if you don’t go there now, Mom will make you, as she’s up in the suite now anyway. Worrying. Again. About you.”

  Hell.

  “Why is it no one remembers I’m an adult?”

  “’Cause you’ll always be the baby of the family, kid.”

  He flipped his brother off, then stepped closer to Ella and pulled her into his arms again.

  Sabino looked at John Brasher. “You drive them. I’ll stay and smooth things over with the locals here. Though I’m sure they’ll want your statements as soon as they can get them.” Sirens sounded. “Go on, get them out of here.”

  “And this damned time,” Ian told his friend, “please remember you carry the gun and my brother does not.”

  “He doesn’t need a gun, he has his cane,” Ella said. “I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry.”

  She was too pale again. He brushed his finger over her soft cheek. For her he’d go. He hated hospitals as much as she probably did.

  “Fine. Let’s go so we can get back. Otherwise the others will gang up on us and haul us to the ER whether we want to go or not.”

  “Your family is . . .”

  “A pain in the ass most of the time.”

  “Maybe, but it’s wonderful too. You have people who care.”

  “We, babe. We have people who care. Now I have someone to help me battle them all back. They can be like zombies sometimes. They’re always just . . . there.”

  She giggled, putting her arm around his waist, and he leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said softly, following John to the SUV parked at the back of the lot.

  “You know, the hotel has valet parking,” John told him as he helped Ella into the backseat.

  “Just drive,” he told him, getting in and pulling her into the crook of his good arm. His leg was hurting like a bitch. He was just glad it wasn’t one of the times the muscle cramped or his leg gave out. He’d been able to save her.

  They wanted her dead.

  He pulled her tighter against him and swore they wouldn’t get the chance again. He’d hire another firm if his brother didn’t have another man to help guard Ella. He thought again of the sound of the man’s head hitting the truck, of his cane hitting the man.

  He shook the thought off, focusing instead on the fact if he hadn’t, she—they could both be dead.

  Quinlan wanted them. He wanted them all. For the fear he saw in her eyes, for stealing their child, for threatening and almost ending her life—twice.

  Someone would pay.

  Chapter 36

  Ella sat on the table in the ER waiting. Her hands still shook. They’d already cleaned the abrasions on her palms where she’d stumbled and fallen when Quinlan had pushed her out of the way of the hit man.

  She hadn’t even been paying attention. When they were walking toward the building, she’d been going over how she was going to introduce herself to his parents. How she was going to explain to them. Quinlan might not be worried about them, and all of them meeting, but she damned sure was.

  She’d been lost in thought, listening to Quin on the phone. Not once did she see the guy. Stupidly, she remembered what she’d been thinking of saying to his parents. “I love your son, it just took me a while to realize it.” She’d worried that sounded cheesy and stupid, but knew that saying, “I promise I’m not a gold-digging slut,” probably wouldn’t go over any better. “Sorry I was trying to be superwoman and save some other pregnant women, they took my child instead of someone else’s.”

  Then Quin had shoved her to the side and yelled at her to run. By the time she realized what was going on, the man was already on the ground. It happened so fast, blurring together, yet watching Quin take the guy out with his cane was very clear in her mind.

  The image of the man holding the gun toward Quin seared into her mind again and again.

  She wiped another tear away.

  Please, please keep them all safe.

  Another FBI agent had come in earlier and spoken to her, asking her to go over what she remembered three times and whether she knew the guy who held the gun on them. As if she was suddenly going to yell, “Oh, silly me. Of course, I saw him at McDonald’s the other day.”

  She was done with the FBI. Done with the cops. A couple of cops had been in there as well when the fed was taking her statement. Then the doctors had come in. Two other cops whispered to both the agent and the other cops and they all left. To talk to Quin? No one would tell her how the hell Quin was doing, and if the nurse who went to ask didn’t s
how up in a couple of minutes . . .

  To hell with waiting a couple of minutes. She slid off the table and walked around the edge of the curtain, not wanting to draw attention to herself.

  Which way to go? She peeked into a couple of rooms and around curtains. Finally she heard, “Where is my wife? If she’s okay then why won’t someone say that?”

  “She’s down in her own little curtained room waiting for them to say she’s okay and can go,” Mr. Brasher’s voice said.

  “So what the hell are you doing here then? What if some other idiot comes along and tries to kill her?” Quin bit out.

  “In the ER?” Mr. Brasher answered. “She’s got cops and feds around her.”

  She stepped into the room and saw Quin frowning from the bedside. “Actually they bailed on me, rather quickly too.”

  Mr. Brasher pushed away from the wall where he was leaning. “What? Where did they go? How long ago?”

  “They left. I don’t know. A few minutes ago. Maybe you can go find out,” she said and slid onto the bed beside Quinlan. The attendant wrapped white gauze around his bicep. She’d forgotten how sexy his arms were.

  How had she not noticed this before? Then again, she’d been so out of it the last few days, a herd of anything could have charged through their rooms and she might not have noticed.

  Carefully, she fingered the edge of the gauze and took a deep breath. He was hurt because of her, because, she knew, for him there simply was nothing else to do than try to save her. Idiot, stupid, loveable idiot. “So, what did they say?”

  “Ahh, it’s just a scratch, honey.”

  She snorted. “How long have you wanted to say that?”

  “I don’t know, forever, I guess. What man doesn’t want to say it to his girl?”

  His girl. She liked the sound of that.

  “What are you thinking? You’ve got a slightly shocked look to your face.”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. Your girl, huh?” She leaned into him and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close.

  “Mine and no one else’s. So what did you do to ditch the cops?”