by Dylan Madrid
It’s a warning. Don’t go down there. Wait for the police to get here.
He wrapped his fingers through the rounded loop and pulled hard.
The cellar door lifted.
Down below there was only darkness.
But he heard something—a muffled sound.
A voice.
Someone in desperate need of help.
“Hello?” he shouted into the vastness. His voice reverberated, bouncing off the unseen bottom of the cellar, and echoed back to him. He felt as if the word had touched his cheek as it whizzed by and disappeared into the walls of the kitchen.
But then he realized it was probably just a ghost, escaping from the cellar.
Mr. Bremington…Everett…if you’re still here, help me.
Quintin stood and placed a foot on the first wooden step, leading down. He had no idea what was waiting for him in the cellar—what discovery he was about to make—he just knew there was no turning back now.
He took a breath and submerged.
There were only twelve steps. Quintin counted each one. He reached the bottom and saw her, squinting from the thin pool of light spilling down from the kitchen above.
Mallory Evans was tied to a steel chair. Her face was battered and swollen. Her mouth was stuffed with a dirty rag.
Their eyes met.
“Oh my God.”
Quintin rushed to her. He pulled the gag out of her mouth. She coughed and then spat on the cement floor.
“You have to get us out of here, Mr. Pearson,” she said. “She has my gun.”
“Where is she?” Quintin asked.
“I don’t know. There are tunnels everywhere down here. A huge labyrinth. She left me to die.”
Quintin worked fast trying to untie the detective’s hands and feet. He struggled with some of the knots. “I need something to cut these ropes with,” he said. “Do you have anything?”
“If I did I would’ve used it to kill that bitch,” she said.
“I need to go back to the kitchen…I can look for a knife.”
“No,” said Mallory. “You can’t leave me down here. Please. There are rats. And God knows what else.”
“I can’t get these knots undone.”
“Keep trying.”
“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “The police will be here any moment.”
They heard the voice coming from somewhere in the darkness. “Then I guess we don’t have very much time,” Regina said.
Quintin reached into his back pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He pushed a button and the screen lit up, illuminating the immediate space around him and Mallory. He moved the phone until the light found Regina, revealing her standing in the arched entryway to a narrow tunnel not much taller than her. In her hand, she was holding a gun. It was pointed in their direction.
Quintin moved the phone again, circling. He realized Mallory was right. There were tunnels branching off in almost every direction. The shape was like a wheel and they were stuck in the middle of it. Each tunnel was like a spoke, leading off to dark passages that snaked beneath the house.
An entire intricate system.
Escape routes.
Or the perfect way for an assassin to crash a party.
“Regina, what have you done?” Quintin asked.
“The same thing anyone else in my position would do,” she answered. “I’m not about to let some idiot detective ruin my plan. I have a strategy, Quintin. I’m going to win.”
“I know that,” he said, hoping she believed him. “But killing more people won’t help you reach your goal, Regina.”
“Bullshit!” she snapped. “It’s the only way.”
“Sweet God,” Mallory said. “She’s going to shoot us.”
The moment happened so fast.
Within the sliver of seconds before Regina pulled the trigger and fired the gun, Quintin heard footsteps on the cellar stairs. At first, he thought it was the police, arriving just in time to save them from a crazed Regina. But then he realized it was Reed.
In one fast gesture, Reed shoved Quintin out of the path of Regina’s bullet. Quintin hit the concrete hard, landing with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs, leaving him unable to scream when he realized the bullet meant for him had ripped through Reed’s body, splattering his blood all over him and Mallory.
Reed was down, dropping and falling at Mallory’s feet. He crumpled into a motionless heap.
Quintin felt a mixture of rage and sorrow surge through his veins. He wanted to tear Regina apart with his bare hands. He wanted her to pay.
“You fucking bitch!” he yelled, his voice rising and smashing around the walls of the cellar before tumbling down a tunnel.
Quintin reached for Reed. He touched his face. He moved his mouth down to Reed’s lips.
He’s still breathing. He’s still alive. Thank you, God.
Another voice spoke, cutting through the darkness. “Quintin?”
He knew the voice. He knew the man it belonged to. He had loved him for more than two years. He had missed him terribly for the last five months. He had been haunted by him in his dreams.
Quintin fumbled with his phone, almost dropping it. His hand trembled as he shone the light from the phone in the direction of the voice.
It was him.
Quintin tried to stand but he was weak, overwhelmed by the moment—the incredible weight of it. The magnitude.
“Kevin?” he said. Quentin’s voice cracked with the pain he had felt since the sudden disappearance. The loneliness. The unanswered questions. The rage. “Kevin!”
Regina stepped forward. Quintin turned in the direction of the sound her high heels made on the cement. “Grayson,” she said, “why is he calling you Kevin?”
No.
He found the strength to stand. He knew he had to.
“You’re Grayson Miller?” he said. “That’s who you are? You’re not Kevin Mayberry?”
“No,” he answered. “I never was.”
“But I fell in love with you,” Quintin said, fighting back the hot rush of tears stirring within. Moments they’d shared flashed in Quintin’s mind like a kaleidoscope of sweet memories. “We had a life together…a beautiful life.”
“A beautiful lie is more like it,” Mallory said from the steel chair she was still bound to.
“I guess you fell in love with a killer,” Regina said, sounding strangely amused.
“So did you,” Grayson replied. He raised his arm. The sound of another gunshot ripped through the cellar.
Regina fell silent then.
Quintin knew without asking, without shifting the light over to her that Regina was dead.
“Mission accomplished,” Grayson said, sounding quite smug.
“I don’t understand,” Quintin said.
“You never will.”
“How could you do this?”
“We weren’t supposed to fall in love, Quintin. It wasn’t part of the plan.”
“There was a plan? Who was a part of it?”
“Only me. I left to protect you. I didn’t want you involved in this.”
“Well, I am, Kevin…Grayson…whatever the fuck your name is.”
“The assassination of the ambassador was planned before you even got to London. I got wind of it. I knew the agency would be hired to prevent it from happening. We were the good guys.”
“Apparently people change,” said Quintin.
“He doesn’t look good,” Mallory said, her eyes fixed on Reed’s body. “He needs help, Quintin.”
“Help is on the way,” he promised.
“Only it wasn’t me who was supposed to pull the trigger,” Grayson explained. “I intervened. I killed the man who was originally hired by Regina to the job.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Because doing the right thing was getting me nowhere. I went to Everett Bremington. I made him an offer that I knew he wouldn’t refuse. I figured if she wanted him dead, he probably wanted her knocked off
as well. And as you can see, I was right. I’d kill his wife for him for a large sum of money. He agreed. And I knew he would.”
“And her?”
“I charged her double,” he said. “And she said it was worth every cent. Idiots never even knew it. They never saw it coming. Hell, I even used the same gun on both of them.”
“Look at what you’ve become,” said Quintin. “Clearly you’re not the man I thought you were.”
“I befriended you because of who you worked for.”
“Howard Burke?”
“My former boss. I asked him to introduce us.”
“You seduced me.”
“But I never used you, Quintin. I want you to know that. My feelings were genuine.”
“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
“It’s your forgiveness I really want,” he said.
“No,” said Quintin. “That’s something you’ll never have.”
Grayson hesitated for a second or two before he spoke again. “I don’t want to kill you, Quintin,” he said, “but I have to. There is no other choice.”
He’s not lying. I’m dead.
Quintin held his breath. Waited.
There was a final shot. But it didn’t come from Grayson’s gun.
Quintin exhaled. Tears of relief filled his eyes.
“I’m sorry, bello,” Luca said, stepping out of the shadows and into the fading pool of light generating from the phone in Quintin’s shaking hand. “I should have been here sooner.”
The Love
“I don’t know many people who would take a bullet for someone else,” Mallory Evans said. She reached for her cappuccino and brought the white cup to her mouth. The sidewalks around the outdoor café were still damp from the summer rain. The sky above was trying its best to clear, but the gray clouds were being persistent.
“I haven’t been to see him yet,” Quintin confessed.
Mallory shot him a look. “For goodness’ sake, why? What are you afraid of?”
Quintin shrugged and reached for his cup of coffee. “Nothing…anymore.”
“After what we’ve been through, that’s not surprising.”
He stared at her from across the table, noticing how much younger and prettier she looked with her hair down. Mallory Evans was a beautiful woman.
“I hear you got a promotion,” he said. “Congratulations.”
“Much to the chagrin of the men I work with,” she said, grinning. “Now the lousy bastards have no choice…they have to take me seriously.”
“You’re very good at what you do, Detective Inspector Evans.”
She leaned in. “Please call me Mallory,” she said. “I feel like we’re family now, Quintin. We’re connected by a shared experience. For the rest of our lives.”
“We almost didn’t make it out,” he said. “It was a close call.”
“But we did,” she said. “That has to count for something. We’re still here. So…now what are you going to do?”
Quintin let out a long sigh. “I think I’m ready to fall in love,” he said.
“One look at you and anyone can see you already have,” she told him. “You’re so smitten it’s ridiculous.”
Quintin lowered his eyes, defeated. “Is it that obvious?”
“You and I are more alike than you think,” she said. “It’s difficult for us to hide our true feelings. No matter how hard we try to deny it, we’re ruled by our hearts.”
“Sometimes I wish I weren’t.”
“But then you wouldn’t be you,” she said.
“You’re right. I’d be a lonely, shy man working at a magazine with nothing to do on a Friday night.”
“You make it sound like you’re facing a tough decision,” she said. “In my mind, there’s no competition between the two. You know who I’d choose.”
“Reed Ashton?” Quintin asked, hoping for a sign or advice or for the contemplations that had been plaguing him to finally stop and go away. He wanted clarity.
Mallory lifted her cup again. She spoke before she took a sip. “Like I said…the man took a bullet for you.”
*
Quintin Pearson was standing at a crucial crossroads in his life.
During the two-hour train ride from London, he’d thought about two men. He’d tried his best to imagine what life would be like with each. He’d tried his best to compare them and then felt foolish for doing so because they were as opposite as two people could be.
Why is this decision so difficult for me?
He reflected back on all that he’d been through since meeting Luca Russo in a dark bedroom, the beautiful and seductive moments they’d shared at the cottage in Belgium. He thought back to the breakfast he’d shared with Reed Ashton in the rose garden, the surprising declaration of love that Reed made—the bullet the man had taken for him, saving Quintin’s life.
Where do I go from here?
The Paris train station was crowded. He stood motionless, allowing strangers to pass him by.
He didn’t know what to do.
Or do I?
Two weeks had passed since two more ghosts moved into the Bremington estate and took up permanent residence.
Regina Bremington and Grayson Miller had both been pronounced dead at the scene of the crime. Their sins were splashed across the front page of every newspaper. In many ways, Regina achieved her ultimate goal, even in death. Everyone around the world knew who she was: a blond femme fatale who allowed her own greed and ambition to change her good nature to evil.
Newly decorated hero Reed Ashton had been rushed to the hospital, where he underwent extensive surgery. The bullet was lodged dangerously close to his heart. But, as all of those who were following the story on the news had hoped, he not only pulled through but had already relocated to Barcelona, where he was about to start a new position as regional security officer at the American embassy within a matter of days. After a few days of rest and relaxation, of course.
I’m not giving up on you was how the letter began that Reed had written and sent to Quintin. It had arrived just yesterday, but Quintin had already memorized every word. You are everything I want in this world, in my life: truth, beauty, love. With you by my side, I would never again ask for anything more. If you desire the same, meet me in Barcelona. I am yours until the end of time.
Quintin knew Reed’s words were true. Not because the DSS man had taken a bullet for him, but because he’d known it since the first time they’d met in the lobby of the office building where the Pensioner Weekly was. From the very second they’d looked into each other’s eyes: the connection was undeniable.
But was that a good enough reason to run away to Barcelona?
Conflict stirred inside Quintin. He felt plagued, fatigued, worn down by the choice he knew he had to make.
Two men were in love with him. The question was: who did he love more?
He fished his cell phone out of a pocket in his computer bag.
Fiona Cassidy answered on the second ring. “Pensioner Weekly,” was her greeting.
“Have you figured out a way to get rid of Abigail yet?”
“That old bitch is still here,” Fiona said. “But I’m Irish. I’ve got ways that will scare her into early retirement.”
“Go easy on her,” he said. “She once saved a drowning child.”
“After she pushed him into the water when he wasn’t looking.”
“It’s good to hear your voice,” he said.
Quintin moved through the crowd of commuters and travelers and found an empty bench. From where he sat, he could see both platforms. The train to Rome. The train to Barcelona. Both would be departing within minutes of each other. There wasn’t much more time to decide.
“So,” Fiona said, as if she’d suddenly developed the ability to read his mind. “Which is it, love? Italy or Barcelona?”
Quintin paused a moment before answering, “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do,” she told him. “You’ve known al
l along.”
“I’m scared,” he confessed.
“Of those two? They’re both delicious, Quintin. I’d say you couldn’t go wrong no matter which way you go.”
“I know neither of them would ever hurt me.”
“Both blokes are crazy about you,” she said. “And why shouldn’t they be? You’re fabulous.”
“I’m afraid because of what happened with Kevin.” Quintin stopped and corrected himself. “Grayson Miller.”
“He was a maniac,” she said. “But it’s not entirely your fault. I’ve fallen in love with a lunatic or two myself. Never saw it coming until they let their crazy out. At least you don’t have to worry about him popping up somewhere like your favorite pub or Chinese restaurant. God, I hate that.”
“Stop,” he said. “You’re making me hungry.”
She laughed a little. “Get something to eat before you go.”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s going to be a long ride.”
“Enjoy every second of it, I say. I know I would.”
“I can’t believe everything that’s happened.”
“I know,” she said. “And in such a short time. Life is wicked like that. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I used to think you were dreadfully boring. You were like a spinster, just withering away at your desk day after tedious day.”
“You’re absolutely right,” he said. “I was.”
“But now…your life is much more exciting than mine.”
“That’s not true,” he said. “You’ve done things I’ve never even thought of.”
“Oh, you will,” she said. “Still…I want you to know, whatever you decide, I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Maybe I should’ve gone to the hospital to see him…at least once.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know what to say. I mean, how do you thank someone for saving your life?”
“Easy,” she said. “You get on a train to Barcelona.”
“But what about Italy?”
“Do you love him?” she asked.
Quintin closed his eyes and answered, “Yes. Very much.”
“Then there’s your answer,” she said.
“Yes, there it is,” he said. “I should go. The train will be leaving soon.”
