She tiptoed toward the kitchen entrance. Just then she heard the door that connected the garage to the laundry room open and shut. The handle on the laundry room door started to turn. She needed something, anything to surprise them with and give her a head start. She looked around frantically.
There. On the counter. The cookie tin she’d used last night to heat up a baguette. She grabbed it just as the door opened. She swung it sideways at her would-be assailant, striking him in the arm before he wrestled the pan away from her.
“Ow. Shit! What’d you do that for?”
Reif stared at her. The initial panic in his eyes now turned to anger. He tossed the pan on the counter.
“S-sorry about that. I thought you were—someone else.”
He wrapped his fingers around her upper arms and shook her. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Ow. Let go of me. What is your problem?”
“What is my problem? What is my problem?” He released her but stayed in her personal space. “You, Q. You are my problem. You’re supposed to stay inside unless I’m with you. I came home early and you weren’t here. You weren’t anywhere. And if you weren’t here that meant something had happened to you. Which meant I hadn’t kept you safe, I hadn’t kept my promise to Tony. I…Jesus!”
He turned away from her and leaned on the counter with both hands. He dropped his head as he fought for control.
“I’m sorry.”
He turned and stared at her. “You’re sorry? You’re killing me. Where were you?”
This was a make-or-break moment. She’d been under someone’s thumb her entire life. Her father. Her brother. The FBI. They’d all essentially told her the same thing. Do exactly what we say. It was for her own good, to protect and keep her safe.
She knew her father and her brother had her best interests at heart, but the bottom line was, this was her life. No one else’s. If she couldn’t make Reif understand that much, then this, whatever it was between them, was no good. She’d have to let it go when her stay here was over. Even if everything inside her wanted to stay with him.
She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. “I was at work.”
His jaw dropped. “Work? You have a job?”
“Yes.”
“You never told me.”
She’d been careful to hide the evidence of her job. Showering after each shift so she didn’t smell like pizza. Burying any takeout containers in the bottom of the garbage can so Reif would never see them. Squirreling away her tips in her secret hiding place with the rest of her cash.
“You’d only tell me I couldn’t do it.”
Reif was clearly flummoxed. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. He closed it. Opened it again.
Then he started to laugh. He stared at her as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. What he was hearing. He kept laughing like he couldn’t stop. He was laughing so hard his face turned red.
Quinn frowned. She set her purse down and went to the fridge for a bottle of water, keeping an eye on Reif as his laughter wound down. His face was red and he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. He put up both hands as if he was surrendering.
“I give up. Honest to God, I give up.” He turned and went into the living room. The TV came on. Soon she heard the unmistakable voices of the ESPN pundits.
Quinn went to her room. Could it possibly be that easy? Was Reif not going to make a big deal out of her working? Was he not going to forbid her to go out without him? Why was he home so early anyway?
She decided to stick to her routine, showering then sitting down with her laptop and her research to work on her thesis.
A couple of hours later, Reif tapped on her door and stuck his head in when she answered. “You hungry?”
She eyed him warily, but he seemed like his normal self. Not like he was mad at her. “Yes.”
“Come on, then. I’ve got it all set up.”
She followed him downstairs and out to the pool deck. He’d set the table and lit a fat candle. A bottle of wine was breathing and there were two bowls of salad and a loaf of crusty bread.
They took their places. Reif poured the wine. He started to eat. Quinn stared at her salad. He’d sliced grilled chicken on top of a mixture of greens, cold pasta, chopped hardboiled eggs and shredded cheese. It looked delicious. He tore a hunk of bread off the loaf and offered it to her. She took it, but she couldn’t eat. She couldn’t stop waiting for him to berate her and tell her he was done with her, or that he was sending her back to Florida.
She took a tiny sip of wine and picked up her fork. Then she set it down. Reif was attacking his food like he hadn’t eaten all day and absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had occurred to upset his appetite.
“Not in the mood for salad?” he asked. He gestured at her bowl. “It’s pretty good. I put that poppy seed dressing you like on it. What?”
“Aren’t we going to talk about it?” Quinn didn’t like that her voice was shaking a little.
“What’s the point? I said I give up and I meant it.”
“What is it you’re giving up on? Me?”
Reif dropped his fork and sat back. He picked up his wineglass and took a healthy sip. “I’m not your keeper, Quinn. You’re not a prisoner here. Maybe that’s what Tony wanted or expected, but hey, it’s not like I can call him up and ask him what I’m supposed to do. He sent you here but he never said I had to keep you locked up twenty-four/seven. If things were that serious he’d have told me. I assumed you’d know enough to keep a low profile, to not take risks, but apparently you don’t. And I’m not a babysitter.”
Quinn straightened and stared at Reif. “Okay, here we go.”
“Quinn, what do you want from me?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a simple question.”
“I want you to keep me safe.”
“You want me to protect you while you do whatever you want?”
“Yes.”
Reif sighed. “I’m trying. But I have my own life too. It’s not like you’d want to come to work with me every day. Office meetings and corporate presentations. You’d be begging to go back to Florida in an hour.”
She gave him a tremulous smile. “I know.”
“So, tell me about your job.”
Quinn picked up her fork. Between bites she told him, making sure to include the fact that she used her first name only, took a different route there and back every day and was paid in tips. “I had to get out of the house,” she added. “Otherwise I’d go crazy being cooped up here.”
“How do you think I felt when I came home and couldn’t find you?”
“I said I was sorry. Why were you home so early anyway? You’re never home before six.”
“I had a conference call planned that had to be rescheduled and found my afternoon free. Thought I’d see if you wanted to go sailing. Figured you were going crazy being cooped up here.”
Quinn smiled. At least he knew it wasn’t easy being under lockdown.
“I would have loved to go sailing.”
Reif didn’t respond, seeming to mull things over. He pushed the remainder of his meal away.
“So you’re okay with this?” she asked.
“No. But I don’t feel it’s my place to be okay with it. You’re an adult, Quinn. It’s your life and your choices. You don’t need my approval or anyone else’s to do what you want to do. But what I don’t think you see is how your family will be affected if something happens to you.”
“What I don’t think you see is that no one is really ever safe. I could get hit by a car or fall down the stairs… Why would you think they’ll blame you for something you can’t control?”
“I don’t know if they’ll blame me or not. That’s not the point. I only know I’ll blame myself if something happens to you if I could have prevented it.
But I know I can’t stop you from doing things, even if I wish you wouldn’t. We’re going to have to find a compromise.”
Reif excused himself and went inside. Quinn stayed where she was thinking about what he’d said.
When she went to her room later she found a gift bag on her bed. She moved aside layers of tissue paper and lifted out a plush white cat. Bubba had a few pounds on this one, but it was soft and squishy and she hugged it to her, for a moment feeling more at home than ever.
Reif. Damn him. He listened to her. He understood her. And that scared the hell out of her.
* * * * *
The next day Reif came home with another package. Quinn was on the sofa with the TV pitched low and tuned to CNN while she read through more research notes for her thesis.
He held the package up. “I’ve got something for you.”
Quinn narrowed her eyes, suspicious of any shopping bag that came from a boutique she didn’t recognize. “Another present?”
“It’s a surprise. Close your eyes.”
“I don’t like surprises.”
“Really? But you said you liked the kitten.”
“I did. I do. But—”
“Weren’t you surprised to find it?”
“Yes, but—”
“So you do like surprises.”
“Yes, but.” She eyed the bag in his hand once more. “I don’t trust you.”
Reif clutched at his chest. “You wound me.” He turned away. “Okay. Never mind then.”
Exasperating man. “Fine. I trust you. I’m closing my eyes. But if this is some juvenile trick where I end up covered in silly string, you’ll live to regret it.”
She sensed him moving close to her. “Keep them closed. Give me your hand.”
She did so. “You’re not getting down on one knee are you?”
“I’m down on both knees actually. I want to be sure I do this right.”
She felt the brush of his hand, heard and felt something snap around her wrist. She opened her eyes and stared at the thick black band. She turned her wrist over to see the face of what looked like some sort of complicated watch. Reif got to his feet.
“What is this?”
“It’s a tracking bracelet.”
“It’s ugly.”
“Sorry. They don’t come in hot pink leopard print.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Too bad.”
“Take it off.”
Reif grinned. “Not happening.”
“Then I’ll take it off.” She started fooling with the clasp.
“Good luck with that.”
There was no obvious way to unclasp the band that Quinn could see. Except for a tiny hole that looked like it required a special tool to access.
She threw Reif an accusing look. “I knew I couldn’t trust you.”
He sent her back one of unconcern. “The feeling is mutual. So this is our compromise.”
“Your compromise, you mean.”
“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. They use these for patients with Alzheimer’s to keep them from wandering off. Bail bondsmen like them too.”
“What about what we talked about last night? You’re not my keeper. I’m not your prisoner. I get to make my own choices and have my freedom.”
“You do. Go wherever you want. Do whatever you want. All this does is allow me to monitor your movements. That’s it.”
Quinn stared at the bracelet. “I could just tell Tony about everything. About us.”
“You’re going to go back on your word and blackmail me again? Let me explain how that will work. You tell him about us, and I’ll tell him about the risks you’ve taken since you’ve been here. You’ll be back in Florida before I hang up the phone. Besides, I’ve been thinking I should come clean with Tony anyway. A lie of omission is still a lie and I’m never going to feel good about that. You do whatever you want.”
“I could leave, you know. I don’t have to stay here.”
He made a sweeping gesture toward the front door. “You’re free to go. It’s not like I won’t know where you are.” When Quinn didn’t move he picked up the bracelet’s packaging and left for the kitchen.
“I hate you,” Quinn mumbled at his back.
He turned and grinned at her. “No you don’t.”
“Yes I do!”
“Aww. But I love you!” He disappeared into the kitchen chuckling.
Quinn contemplated her tracking bracelet. It was, without a doubt, the ugliest accessory she’d ever seen. The last place she wanted it was on her wrist. She didn’t want anyone to see it, so she supposed it was a good thing that the cooler LA climate meant she mostly wore long sleeves when she was outside or at work. Maybe she could do something to it with glitter and a glue gun…
Still, to be saddled with this device twenty-four/seven? To have Reif be able to track her every move? She didn’t like that one bit. Even her dad had never gone that far, though probably only because nobody had put the idea in his head. But what were her alternatives? Reif obviously was one step ahead of her. Whatever she threatened, he seemed to have an answer for.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t make him pay for this trick. Already she had the spark of an idea.
Chapter Thirteen
Days later Quinn and Reif had reached an uneasy truce, tiptoeing carefully around one another. Quinn despised the tracking bracelet around her wrist. She understood Reif wanted to protect her. She wanted him to, as long as he allowed her to do exactly as she pleased. But this? This was some messed up controlling shit. What was next, a shock collar?
As compromises went, she supposed it wasn’t so bad. He hadn’t forbidden her to leave the house without him. He hadn’t insisted she give up her job. But it was the principal of the thing that irked her. And his understanding behavior only increased her irritation.
Every day she checked the phone Tony had sent with her, just in case. She stared at the envelope she was supposed to give to Reif when she arrived and asked herself if this was the day she’d hand it over. Then she’d shove both of them back in the padded manila envelope and push it to the back of the drawer.
Her morning runs and the amount of time she spent alone each day gave her lots of time to think. Memories of Julio haunted her. He had been more than just her co-worker. He had been her secret friend, one of many little rebellions she’d made against her family—little because those were the only kind she could get away with.
Julio had happily been part of her mini adventures. At her insistence he’d even taught her Spanish swear words and how to smoke weed. He was just a kid and he’d been in that garage with her and he’d died because of her.
Wearing the camera and reporting to the task force had seemed thrilling but harmless. Like the time she’d tandem skydived, an outing that Tony and her dad still knew nothing about. But this time she hadn’t landed safely. And Julio had died.
God, she was pathetic. If she’d stood up to her father and Tony before, if they’d let her have a life—no, if she’d taken charge of her life before now, she and Julio wouldn’t even have been in that garage.
When she looked at it like that, she resented her father and brother. But more than that, she loathed herself for not having a backbone to stand up to them. She thought of all the impulses she’d squelched, the invitations she’d been forced to turn down, the natural spontaneity she’d buried.
The moment she’d realized her life might be cut short, she’d decided no one was going to tell her how to live again. It was her life, dammit. Hers to risk. Hers to make choices with, and to live with the consequences.
Reif’s need to keep her safe and her need for freedom had run smack into each other and the bracelet was where they collided.
Earlier this Saturday morning they’d quietly gone about the business of having breakfa
st. Reif had buried his nose in the sports section of the LA Times while Quinn pretended her bowl of granola fascinated her. She’d escaped and gone upstairs to dress for the beach, without a word of her plans to Reif.
One of the cooks at Antonia’s had invited her and she’d said yes. Nick Reynolds was in his third year at Santa Rosa University, a business major. He was the kind of guy who made friends out of just about everyone he met. In that context he was hard to resist, so when he’d made a general invitation to everybody at Antonia’s yesterday to join him at the beach, she’d accepted, telling him she’d need a ride.
“No problem. I’ll pick you up around ten. Just tell me where.”
“I’ll meet you here, if that’s okay.”
Nick had looked curious about that but he hadn’t asked why.
Now all she had to do was edge past Reif and get out of the house without making a scene. There shouldn’t be a scene, she reminded herself as she glanced at the bracelet. He’d know exactly where she was the entire time.
She put on her swimsuit, although she had no intention of swimming. The water off the coast of California was not like the water off the Gulf of Mexico or even that of the Miami shore. The waves were bigger, the water colder. Even with the sun out, the climate was cooler. Quinn doubted it would be warm enough today to even get her toes wet. Over the swimsuit she pulled on a tank top and a hoodie and her favorite jeans. She slid her feet into flip-flops then packed a bag with a towel, sunscreen, and a few other items.
She had fifteen minutes to walk to Antonia’s so her timing should be perfect. She wasn’t sure what the protocol was now. Was she supposed to tell Reif she was leaving and where she was going? Could she just walk out and let him track her if he felt like it?
What a childish situation she’d created for herself. She was supposed to be an adult. So was he. She’d be honest with him, at least in this instance, and let the chips fall where they may.
He was still reading the paper although he’d moved on to the lifestyle section and had refilled his coffee cup.
“I’m going to the beach.”
He set the newspaper aside. “What beach?”
Fantasy Man Page 10
