Start Me Up

by Victoria Dahl

  Well, the mystery was solved then, but not the right mystery. She couldn’t imagine this had anything to do with what had happened to her dad a decade before. “How long has this talk been going around?”

  He shrugged. “I heard about it a few months ago, because Peter Anton and I were dating the same woman.” Chris winked at her. “She liked me better.”

  “Congratulations. And since we’re being honest here…”

  He took a drink and raised his eyebrows for her to continue.

  “Do you have any idea who’s been trying to intimidate me into selling?”

  With a wet cough, he set the water down. “Intimidate you? How?”

  Lori raised her broken hand.

  “Good God, are you kidding me? Somebody did that to you?”

  Shrugging in response, she let him believe the worst in the hopes that he would reveal something. But Chris shook his head hard.

  “No way. I don’t know anyone who’d be involved in that sort of thing. I mean, some of these guys are hard-asses, but there are always other deals to be made. Your land isn’t worth that kind of trouble.”

  “Yeah,” she muttered. “I guess not. Thanks, Chris.”

  “You should talk to the cops,” he called as she walked out.

  And he was absolutely right. Time to turn this over to Ben completely. The more she found out, the less she could see how any of this had to do with her father’s attack. First, there was only a chance that the vandalism had anything to do with the pass. And even if it did, the idea that the same proposal had been floated ten years before and inspired someone to hurt her father was even more far-fetched.

  The truth was that her father’s attack had probably been random. Dark night, cheap bar…not much of a mystery. And her vandal? Hell, it could be any one of the half-dozen people who had outstanding bills with the garage. It could be bored teenagers. It could be that shitty mechanic, James Webster.

  For a few days there it had seemed almost a relief that she would be able to lay all her troubles at the feet of some nefarious stranger. Her father’s years of suffering, his death, her stagnant, stunted life, even her financial problems. But life was complicated. People were rarely felled by one grand blow of fate, rather they bled out slowly from hundreds of small, careless cuts. Just as she was bleeding now. It was slow and painless enough that you could ignore it for just the amount of time it took to become fatal.

  “Bastards,” she muttered to no one. She switched off the radio and drove back to Tumble Creek in silence.

  “SHE’S HERE,” Ben said, relieving the burning worry that had taken over Quinn’s body.

  “Where?” Quinn barked into the phone.

  “She just pulled up to the police station. She’s coming in now and looks fine.”

  “I’ll be right there.” He snapped his phone shut and walked out the door.

  Quinn had spent a full hour going mad. After the night spent talking with Ben, finally getting the truth about what was going on, he’d tossed and turned all night. The little surprise he’d found on the kitchen table hadn’t helped his stress. The Anton/Bliss file from his home. And now that he knew about the riverfront land, he understood her strange interest in his business associates. Maybe even her interest in him altogether. After all, this affair hadn’t started until after Ben had begun the investigation.

  It seemed there was a very good chance that Lori had been using him for more than just sex. For some reason, though it had felt fine to be used for his body, the idea of being used for information hurt like hell.

  So he’d had a long night and had been running on very little sleep when he’d awoken to find Lori missing. Well…not “missing” according to Ben and his idiotically strict standards. Ben had maintained that Lori had simply gotten into her truck and gone somewhere, but Quinn hadn’t liked that at all.

  What if she was investigating dangerous people? What if she was disoriented from the blow to her head and driving aimlessly on back roads? What if she’d taken too many painkillers and driven into the river?

  Quinn had wanted Ben to at least have his men on the lookout for her as he refused to mount a full-on search. They’d argued about it, but it hardly mattered now. Quinn was jogging across Main Street, headed right past the back of Lori’s purple truck.

  She was safe. She was alive.

  He was going to kill her.

  Ben was speaking when Quinn pushed through the door. “You should not have done that,” he told Lori in a stern voice.

  Quinn reached her just as she was shrugging. “What did you do?” he demanded as he wrapped his arms around her. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine!” she protested.

  “What happened? Where did you go?”

  Lori let him hug her but didn’t exactly respond. “Calm down. Everything’s fine. I just went to see Chris Tipton.”

  The developer’s name brought Quinn’s brain back to reality. “I see.” He dropped his arms and stepped back. “Did you steal any of his files while you were there?”

  Lori’s head snapped back as if he’d hit her. Her mouth worked as if she would speak, but she didn’t say a word. The response triggered a wave of guilt that tugged at his heart, but Quinn ignored it. “You should have at least hidden it,” he muttered.

  “I’m sorry. I really am.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  She shrugged and looked at the floor. “I thought maybe you already knew.”

  Quinn drew in a deep, deep breath, pretty sure he was about to start yelling, but Ben stepped between them, hands up.

  “You two can hash this out later. Lori, I need to know what happened with Chris.” He jerked his head toward his office and Lori headed for it. She walked away without one glance back.

  Quinn hadn’t even noticed the other people milling around the station, but there they were, eyeing him as if he were a stranger. And he was now. A stranger in his own hometown, and apparently a stranger to the woman he was sleeping with.

  Odd that this casual, meaningless affair was driving a dull stake through his chest. Determined to escape the creeping feeling that his heart was suffering catastrophic damage, Quinn headed for Ben’s office.

  “It’s the pass,” Lori was saying as he walked in and closed the door behind him.

  Ben glanced up at him, then back to Lori. When she didn’t protest Quinn’s presence, Ben relaxed back into his chair. “What about the pass?”

  “There’s talk that it might be maintained through the winter. The state is looking at the numbers.”

  “What?” Ben’s chair screeched when he sat forward. Shock turned his face to stone. “Year-round?”

  Quinn leaned hard against the closed door, the logic of it hitting him like a gust of wind.

  Ben rubbed his face. “You’re kidding me. Right?”

  “No. It’s nothing definite yet, but there’s enough of a chance of it going forward that people are interested in my land.”

  Shock melting back to anger, Quinn clenched his fists. “So someone is trying to pressure you into selling before anyone finds out that your land is valuable.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I talked to Chris Tipton, and I honestly don’t think he’s involved. He didn’t think anyone else would stoop that low, either.” She looked over her shoulder. “They’re your friends. Do you think Peter Anton or Harry Bliss or one of the other developers would trash my garage?”

  Would they? He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m perfectly willing to beat the truth out of them. At the very least, they tried to fuck you over.”

  Lori smiled, and the sight of it set off an echo of pleasure inside his chest. He hadn’t seen her smile in days. “Thank you,” she said. “But I’m ready to give this all over to Ben—”

  “Oh, thanks,” Ben chimed in sarcastically.

  “I can’t deal with this anymore. It’s too much. I’ve got to sell that land, and I’ve got to do it quickly. If you can figure this out, Ben, I’ll be free to cash in with
out worrying I’m selling to a criminal.”

  He nodded, then quizzed Lori on which developers she’d been looking into, taking the time to chew her out for not keeping him in the loop.

  “You checked out James Webster?” Lori asked without enthusiasm.

  “Yeah,” Ben answered in the same flat tone. “He’s got an alibi. I’m still tracking it down, but it’s pretty solid.”

  While Ben was busy writing in his notebook and Quinn was trying to rub the tension from his neck, Lori let her head fall back and stared at the ceiling. “The land deal is obviously not a decade-old issue,” she said.

  Ben sighed and set down the pen. “No, I don’t think so. I’ll check it out, just in case, but it seems unlikely. I did track down Hector Dillon, by the way.”

  The name meant nothing to Quinn, but Lori perked up. “And?”

  “He’d moved on to Arizona. He had a record there. But he died two years ago.”

  “Oh. But you think he could have had something to do with my dad?”

  “It’s possible. I don’t know.”

  Lori slumped back into the seat. “Ben, I honestly don’t think my dad’s attack had anything to do with the land. I think it was random.”

  Did Quinn have the right to kneel down next to her and take her hand? She clearly didn’t want him involved in her life in any meaningful way, but he couldn’t just let her sit there alone, talking about her dad’s skull being bashed in. He pulled the second chair close to her and took her hand in his as he sat. She didn’t pull away. In fact, her fingers curled into his as she closed her eyes.

  “I don’t know,” Ben muttered. “It just doesn’t feel random to me. Something’s off.”

  Lori shrugged, the gesture weary. “It was the middle of the night at a biker bar. What better place to find trouble?”

  Ben said, “Yeah,” but the frustration in that word came through loud and clear. He wasn’t buying it and there was nothing he could do. Quinn understood, because he felt the exact same way. He’d do anything to help her, but what the hell could he offer? Aside from beating some business associates to a pulp.

  “I could wear a wire,” he blurted. “I could wear a wire and ask Peter Anton what he knows.” His offer raised Ben’s eyebrows, but more importantly, it drew another smile from Lori.

  “That’s sweet,” she said, as if he’d offered her a bouquet of flowers.

  “Well,” Ben murmured dryly, “if it comes to that, I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

  There wasn’t much left to discuss. Five minutes later, Lori and Quinn were walking out of the station, awkwardness like another person wedged between them. He got in her truck without asking permission, and they drove the short distance to Lori’s house in silence. His shoulders were burning with tension by the time he stepped through her front door, but he bit his tongue and let her go about her business.

  Lori checked her messages and went to the bathroom. Then she got a glass of water and took a pain pill before pulling a paper-wrapped package from the freezer and putting it in the fridge to thaw. Quinn just watched, leaning against the back of the couch.

  Finally, she rolled her shoulders and turned to face him. “Okay,” she said and took a deep breath.

  “You thought I might be involved in all this?”

  Lori shook her head. A curl fell over her forehead, resting there for only a moment before she pushed it back. “No. I didn’t think so, not really. It seemed like a possibility, once I realized you worked with Anton/Bliss, but I know you’re not that kind of person.”

  “And you?”

  “Me?” she finally breathed. “Am I that kind of person?”

  His throat tightened as he waited for her answer. Had his body just been a perk? An added little bonus in her quest to solve a mystery? If so, he’d been even more meaningless to her than he’d thought.

  “It occurred to me that maybe you’d know something,” she said, “but…after we were already dating. Not before. If that…if that makes a difference.”

  It did. God, it did, but he was too relieved to make his mouth work.

  “I’m sorry, Quinn.” Lori blinked rapidly. “I felt like I couldn’t tell you. But I knew what I was doing was wrong. When I used you to get close to Peter Anton and when I stole that file. I was just desperate…”

  “If you’d trusted me and told me about it, I could have found out about the pass long ago.”

  “Yeah,” she murmured. “But those people are part of your work, Quinn. And your work means everything to you. What we had was just…it was just sex.”

  What we had, she’d said. Hell, he’d gotten used to the “just sex” part of it, but now it was past tense? Boy, he was inching down the ladder of pride, wasn’t he? At first he’d cringed at being dismissed as a sexual machine, and now he was praying she’d use him for a few more days.

  “Ben agrees that you shouldn’t be alone at least until he’s interviewed each of the developers. I’d like to stay. Here. Or you can come to my place.”

  It wasn’t a good sign when Lori looked at the floor. It was an even worse sign when she shook her head. “I think I’ll stay with Molly. Everything’s too confusing right now.”

  She was right, of course. It was confusing. He was still pissed at her, and hurt, and now was not the time to talk about the future. And neither of them were in the mood for sexual fantasy. His work here was done, and Lori didn’t need him anymore. So why did he feel desperate to stay?

  But he hadn’t sunk to begging yet. That was something. “All right. I’ll help you get your stuff together.”

  It didn’t take long. The garage was already closed up. Lori only packed one bag. It seemed that mere seconds had passed and suddenly Quinn was standing next to the open window of her truck, saying farewell.

  “Call me if you need information about anyone,” he offered.

  Lori nodded.

  “Or if you want to talk. About the land or about your dad.”

  “Okay.”

  “Be careful. Stay with Molly.”

  “I will.”

  He stood there a moment longer, fantasizing once again of rescuing Lori Love. She’d turned out to be a damsel in distress after all, but not the innocent, helpless kind. No, she was a damsel of a different sort. The brave kind who fought and lied and stole and did really dirty things with the knight in shining armor. Just before she sent him on his way with a pat on the back. And that was that.

  Quinn stepped back and gave Lori Love a little wave. Her lavender truck pulled out of his life in a cloud of dust.

  He’d let her go. But only for a little while.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  AFTER FIFTEEN MINUTES of washing, Molly had finally reached the bottom of the stack of dishes in her sink. Lori dried the last plate, set it on the rack and wiped sweat from her forehead. “You really need a dishwasher,” she complained to Molly.

  “I told you, I use paper plates. But apparently you’re too fancy for that.”

  “Yeah,” Lori snorted. “That’s me. Anyway, it’s hard to cook a roast on a paper plate.”

  “Lori, look at me,” Molly ordered. “Stop cooking. I’ve found that’s the easiest way to avoid dirtying pots and pans. Not to mention utensils. And real silverware.” She grabbed a plastic spoon, pulled a carton of ice cream from the freezer, and dug in. “Mmm. It’s even more delicious eaten on a spoon you don’t have to wash.” She licked the spoon clean and dug right back in.

  “Remind me not to try the chocolate.”

  Molly growled, baring her teeth. “It’s all mine. Stay away from my precious!”

  Laughing, Lori turned back to wiping down the counter. She didn’t cook this often at home, but the past three days had been hard for her. She didn’t like staying at someone else’s house, taking up their space and privacy. She felt Molly deserved some home-cooked meals in exchange, at the very least.

  Harry Bliss was out of town and not returning Ben’s calls, and Ben insisted she not return home until Bliss showed up. Th
ough she loved spending time with Molly, Lori desperately wanted to be in her space, in her own home. Truthfully, she wanted to lie in bed for a few days and just think. And cry. And eat her very own carton of ice cream.

  “I’m going out,” she said as she passed Molly and went to slip on her tennis shoes.

  “You’d better tell me where, or Ben will have no choice but to spank me. That man is a hard taskmaster.”

  Lori snorted. “Good Lord, you’re not even subtle anymore. I don’t think you can call it a double entendre if the first entendre’s not even there.”

  “Sorry. This new book I’m reading is super naughty. I’m distracted.”

  She rolled her eyes and headed out the back door, but Molly cleared her throat.

  Lori stopped. “All right.” She sighed. “I’m going out to my dad’s land. It’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks, and I haven’t set foot on it all summer.”

  “Okay, but…” Molly’s voice sharpened with caution. “Just don’t go near it if you see any rich developers hiding in the bushes with nets. They’re not hunting deer. They’re after you, little girl.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She let the door close behind her as she muttered, “I’m more worried about bears.” Rich developers, after all, didn’t like to get mud on their Italian loafers.

  As she pulled out of Molly’s driveway, Lori rolled down her window and took a deep breath of air. It was cool and a bit humid, strange weather in the mountains. The air was usually bone-dry here, the sun like a brutal heat lamp on summer afternoons. But today clouds strolled languidly across the face of the sun, dulling its power, and the air was cool with moisture. It felt like the spring mornings when she used to go fishing with her dad.

  Over the past twenty-four hours, Lori had come to the slow realization that she’d never really mourned her father. He’d died gradually and she’d shifted her expectations over that time. Then one day, finally, he’d been gone, as natural as if he’d faded away in the sun.

  Right after his injury there had been shock and sorrow. That had been followed by hope and fear and adjustment and resignation and lots and lots of hard work. There’d been grief, too, both before and after he died, but only when she had time for it. And only when she’d let herself feel it.