Justice For Abby

by Cate Beauman

  Abby came down in yoga pants and a long-sleeved cotton top, her wet hair in a ponytail.

  “Just in time.” He added boiling water to her mug and handed over her cup.

  “Mmm.” She wrapped her hands around the dark red crockery. “Warm. Thanks.”

  “It’s the least I can do for our resident obstetrician.”

  Leaning against the counter, she grinned. “I still can’t believe we helped birth a calf.”

  “You’re a regular old farmer in the dell.”

  She rewarded him with another smile. “You’re the farmer in the dell. How did you know Mama needed help?”

  He shrugged, walking to the table, taking a seat, hoping she would follow. “I’ve been birthing calves for as long as I can remember. My dad started Timmy and me in on the action when we were pretty young.”

  She pulled out the chair next to his. “He taught you well.”

  “Yeah, I guess he did.” He sipped his tea, not wanting to talk about his father.

  “You don’t mention him much. You have his chin.”

  He held her gaze in the shadowy light, subconsciously brushing at his jaw. “We didn’t see eye to eye on much of anything.”

  Sympathy filled her eyes. “That must’ve been hard.”

  “It wasn’t always easy.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. This wasn’t something he talked about—ever.

  “I’m sure he’s proud of you.”

  He chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”

  She paused with her mug halfway to her mouth. “Of course he is. How could he not be?”

  He crossed his ankles and leaned back in his chair. “My father stopped being proud of me a long time ago. Five generations of Quinn men were cops and farmers in this town, including him. He fully expected Tim and me to follow in his footsteps. I had every intention of doing so until I got my own ideas.”

  “What changed?”

  “I was thirteen and fell in love.”

  She frowned. “Oh.”

  “With Denver, Colorado.”

  “Oh,” she said again.

  He smiled. “My best friend, Nathaniel, brought me along on his family’s summer vacation, and changed my life. My parents took me to Lincoln a couple of times as a kid, but other than that I’d never left Parker. I piled into the Sturgis’s minivan, staring out at cornfields and wheat for hours—the only scenery I’d ever known, then out of nowhere we’re in Denver, surrounded by massive buildings and noise and traffic.” He chuckled, still remembering the awe of his first city experience. “I spent seven days and six nights visiting museums and fancy restaurants, sleeping in hotels, taking everything in. I can’t remember ever being more fascinated.” Until Abigail walked into his life. He looked at her, smiling again. “From then on I didn’t want the farm or this moth-eaten town. I still wanted to be a cop, but somewhere important. I told my dad that when I got home, and it pissed him off. Things went south from there.”

  “Your dreams weren’t your father’s.”

  He shook his head. “He assured me I would change my mind, but I didn’t. By the time I was fourteen I was more determined than ever to leave. We never had much to say after that. I did my part around here, but we rubbed each other wrong all the damn time. It got to the point where we almost came to blows on a regular basis, so I busted my ass in school, graduated a year early, and got the hell out of here.”

  “Driven.” She swallowed more tea.

  “Desperate, I think, to prove him wrong. He always accused me of being greedy, of wanting too much, but that wasn’t it. I just wanted—”

  “Something different,” Abby finished, taking his hand.

  “Yes.” He squeezed her fingers, relieved that she understood. Shelby never did, or Tim. Mom tried to. “Exactly.”

  “So you became a cop?”

  “In Omaha for a year after college, then I applied for the U.S. Marshals and got in. They shipped me off to LA where I did witness relocation for three years, then they sent me to Manhattan to work Fugitive Task Force. I met my friends Gavin, Shane, and Andy there. Andy’s ICE—Immigration and Customs Enforcement, but the different organizations team up on Task Force a lot. We all roomed together and worked on the same cases for the two years I stayed. One night we had an apprehension go wrong and Gavin got shot in the back.” He clenched his jaw. “He’s paralyzed from the waist down.”

  “That’s terrible. I’m sorry.”

  “It sucked pretty bad, but he’s doing all right.” He shrugged even as the memories of his friend bleeding and lying on the dingy floor flooded his mind. “Gavin was pretty touch and go for awhile, so Shane, Andy, and I took turns staying at the hospital. I was walking to the ICU a couple days after Gavin’s accident when I got a call from Tim. Dad had just died of a massive heart attack down at the station.” He blew out a long, slow breath, remembering the frantic conversation as if it happened yesterday.

  She clutched his hand in both of hers, pressing his palm to her cheek. “I’m so sorry, Jerrod.”

  He closed his eyes, clenching his free hand at his side, accepting the comfort she offered, which no one else had. He opened his eyes, staring into hers. “Me too. We never did patch things up. Maybe we never would have.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I had to try to make it right the only way I knew how. I quit the Marshalls after his funeral. I came home and picked up a badge here in Parker. I met up with Shelby again and tried to make a life.”

  She removed her hands from his and sipped her tea.

  He studied her as she stared at her drink, realizing that this was the perfect opportunity to make her understand. “We had a thing in high school for a while—off and on my sophomore and junior year. We picked things up when I got back, which we never should have. Shelby and I don’t work. We never did. I was raw and miserable, maybe a little self-destructive.” He shook his head. “I’m still not sure what I was thinking. Long story short, I felt trapped in this town, in a crappy relationship, so I put in for the job with Ethan, and got it. I loved LA and wanted to go back. I tried to be what dad wanted. I tried to be what Shelby wanted. In the end, it was never enough.”

  “It’s a shame they didn’t want you to be who you are. You’re pretty great, Mr. Quinn.”

  He gave her a small smile, soothed by the compassion in her eyes. “Has anyone ever told you you’re pretty damn amazing?”

  “Mirror Abby tells me so all the time.”

  He frowned. “Mirror Abby?”

  “You know, that gorgeous chick who stares back at me whenever I walk by mirrors or windows.” She gave him a teasing wink.

  He chuckled as she grinned, realizing they had weathered the storm. “You ready to call it a night?”

  “In a minute.” She leaned in. “I have gossip.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Oh, goodie.”

  “I haven’t been able to tell anyone.”

  “Not even Timmy?”

  She shook her head. “Not even Timmy.”

  The idea of her confiding only in him lifted his spirits considerably. “Okay, spill it.”

  She scooted her chair closer. “I think Caleb has the hots for your mother.”

  His brow shot up. “Who the hell’s Caleb?”

  “You know, the milk guy? The one who comes to pick up the supply?”

  “Caleb Conroy?” He didn’t know how he felt about anyone having the “hots” for his mother. “He’s been friends with my family for…forever.”

  “He’s very sweet. I can’t tell if Mary’s interested or not. I think they should go out on a date.” She wiggled her brows.

  “I don’t know.”

  “She’s wonderful, Jerrod. She should be happy.”

  “I want her to be happy. My father wasn’t an easy man. They loved each other I guess, but…”

  “It’s weird,” she finished.

  “Yeah.”

  She nodded her understanding as she swiped stray strands of hair behind her ear.

  He frowned
as he noticed the red marks on her upper palm. “Whoa, what’s this?” He took her hand, examining. “Those are some blisters, champ. I don’t know how I missed these before.”

  “Uncle Jimmy says I need to toughen up my city hands.”

  “Uncle Jimmy needs to take it easy.” He gently slid his thumb over the raw wounds. “I like your city hands. They’re soft.”

  She tried to pull away as they held each other’s gaze. “I think a callous or two builds character.”

  He let her go. “Looks like you’re well on your way.”

  “I can take it. I’m having so much fun here—all of these new experiences.”

  “How are things going in the studio?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Clay is definitely not my medium, but I’m determined to create something that doesn’t look like Olivia made it.”

  He laughed. “We have a few weeks for you to master your craft.”

  “Exactly.” She stood with her empty mug. “And I will.”

  He got to his feet, taking their mugs to the sink, rinsing them and setting them in the dishwasher.

  She moved to the counter, leaning against it. “This was fun.”

  “Yeah.”

  She yawned. “I guess I should head to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Tonight had turned out exactly the way he’d hoped, but he didn’t want her to go yet. “Good night.”

  “Night.” She turned to walk away.

  “Oh, hey, thanks for the help in the barn,” he said, stalling for more time.

  She turned back. “You’re welcome.”

  He walked to where she stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We’ll have to tell Uncle Jimmy you’ve officially been indoctrinated into the world of calf delivery.”

  She chuckled. “I can’t wait to share the story. You’re a great teacher.”

  “Thanks.”

  The room fell silent.

  Abby cleared her throat. “Well, I guess—”

  “I’ve missed this,” he blurted out.

  “What?”

  “Spending time with you.” He rocked back on his heels, suddenly uncomfortable now that his confession was out. “You’ve been hard to track down the last few days.”

  She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

  He took another step closer. “There’s nothing going on between me and Shelby, Abigail. I know she comes by a lot, but what we had has come and gone.”

  She took a step back, her eyes weary. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Why was he? It was better that she thought what she did, but he couldn’t stand the idea of Shelby getting in the way of what he wanted most. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want you getting the wrong impression.”

  “I don’t have any impressions one way or the other. I’m going to bed.” She turned to leave.

  “Abby.” He snagged her wrist, turning her back to face him, knowing he should let her go. “Wait.”

  She swallowed as he held her gaze. “What?”

  “I don’t—I don’t know.” He moved closer, sliding his thumb along the soft skin of her inner arm, fighting to remember the rules—his rules.

  She pressed her hand to his chest, pushing him away, then curled her fingers into his shirt, closing the last of the distance between them as her breath trembled from her lips. “Jerrod, what—”

  “I don’t know, Abigail,” he whispered, only certain that he needed her as he cradled her face, capturing her lips with fevered pressure.

  She whimpered as she gripped the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He took her deeper, his tongue diving, enticing hers into a frenzied dance, groaning as her sweet flavor and throaty purrs tempted him to take more. She slid her palms along his back as his fingers wandered into her hair, tugging at the elastic, sending a cascade of cold, damp locks to her shoulders. He tilted her chin up, pressing moist, searing kisses along her neck as her hands found their way beneath his shirt, clutching, teasing, trailing up his stomach and over his pecs.

  “Jerrod. Jerrod,” she panted, gripping his hips, staring at him with slumberous, desire-filled eyes, moaning as he walked her backwards, reaching into her pants, clutching her ass in skimpy panties, kneading, pressing her to the wall, finally touching her the way he’d longed to for months. He nibbled at her soft, full lips, tugging with his teeth and plundering, starving for another taste of her, certain he would never get enough.

  She unfastened his snap, gasping for air as their lips parted and met once more. He lifted her shirt, unclasping her bra, reveling in the feel of hot, smooth skin as he cupped her breasts. She moaned again, arching, urging him on as headlights cut across the windows, sending him crashing back to reality. He blinked, coming to his senses at the sound of the truck door slamming.

  “Come upstairs,” she whispered out of breath, clinging to him.

  What in the hell was he doing? “Abby,” he shuddered out, resting his forehead against hers. “Abigail, I can’t do this.” He held her face, looking her in the eyes. “I can’t,” he said desperately, reminding himself more than her that this could never and should never have happened.

  Her breathing slowed as they continued to hold each other’s gaze, her eyes full of questions.

  “Abby, I just can’t.” But he wanted nothing more than to take her to his bed. He stared at her cheeks pink with passion and her lips swollen from his hungry mouth. “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded, averting her gaze, pulling away, and went upstairs.

  He listened to her hurried steps, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Damn it!” He’d started that and ended it in a supremely bastard-like way. Why didn’t he let her walk away when she’d tried? What was he going to do about this want for the woman he couldn’t have?

  Sighing, he bent down, picking up the hair tie both had forgotten about. He sniffed at the elastic, breathing in her scent, starting up the stairs as his mother let herself in. He and Abigail needed to talk. He needed to clear the air yet again. He stopped outside Abby’s mostly closed door, raising his hand to knock, but dropped it. What the hell was he supposed to say? If he tried to fix this now he would only make everything worse, especially when he wasn’t certain he would be able to walk away. Turning, he went into his own room instead. He had all night to lay awake and figure out how to repair his latest mistake.

  ~~~~

  “There is nothing here but furnishings.” Aleksey wandered from the dining area to the kitchen, systematically opening cupboards, glancing at glasses and plates, pots and pans and shut them. “There are no personal papers or photos. I only know this is her place because Victor says the computer tells him so.”

  “Bullshit. There must be something, some clue to tell us for sure,” Dimitri shouted.

  Aleksey pulled the phone from his ear as he wandered back to the bedrooms, stopping in the doorway of the room with brown bedding. “If this is her condo, she lives with a man. I’m looking at weights too big for a woman her size.”

  “See? This is useful. Open your eyes, Aleksey, and find more.”

  Aleksey grit his teeth, sick of Dimitri’s condescending tone. “My eyes see just fine while I search and you sit back in the safety of a hotel.”

  “Mind your tone,” Dimitri warned. “What have you found on her sister?”

  “Nothing.” He winced, knowing he wouldn’t live much longer if this continued to be his answer.

  “This is no good,” Dimitri’s voice vibrated with frustration. “The little bitch and her family did not just vanish. We must find her before it’s too late.”

  Aleksey went back to the room with blue and yellow bedding, sniffing at the hint of perfume lingering in the air. He walked to the closet, opening it, closing it, growing more frantic that the answers Dimitri wanted weren’t here. He moved to the empty desk he’d already searched, yanking the drawers free, sliding his hands along the top, catching the edge of a crumpled piece of paper, pulling it loose. He stared at the wrinkled sketch, smiling. “This is her place.”
<
br />   “What?”

  “This condo is hers.”

  “How do you know this for sure?”

  “I’ve found a drawing of the girl she liked to baby in Baltimore. The little mouse you liked to fuck.”

  Dimitri chuckled. “Which one?”

  “You ask me to remember names? The last one you and Victor took.”

  “Ah, that little mouse. We still have her. Track her down. We have lessons to teach.”

  “It will take a few days.” He put the drawers back. “I don’t know where they have taken her.”

  “A point is hard to make when one must wait,” Dimitri snapped.

  “I’ll work quickly.”

  “I look forward to seeing my little mouse. Perhaps little mouse will bring the bitch out of her hidey-hole.”

  He hoped for all their sakes Dimitri was right. “I’m sure this will work.”

  Dimitri hung up without another word.

  Aleksey looked at the sketch again, wiping at the sweat along his brow. Dimitri’s mouse just bought him more time. She would be on the chopping block now instead of him. He dialed Luka’s number, waiting.

  “What did you find?”

  “Good news. Victor is right; this is her place. We need to find Dimitri’s mouse he liked so much in Baltimore. She will lead us to the bitch.”

  “I will make calls and find her.”

  “Do it quickly. We must find them both before Dimitri kills us.” He hung up, covering his head with his dark hoodie as he walked down the hall and rearmed the security system, messing with the wires and chips until he knew they would never know he had been here. Glancing around one last time, he closed the door behind him, planning to make the most of his second chance.

  Chapter Twelve

  Abby stepped from the nesting house, closing the door behind her as she blew out a quick breath, shuddering as she absorbed the unforgiving cold. “Holy crap,” she muttered, clutching her coat to her throat, hunching against the strong winds as she hurried down the path with her basketful of eggs. Tim had assured her she would get used to the unbearable temperatures, but she wasn’t so sure. The wind alone chilled her bones, making outside chores a misery, but the animals needed attention no matter what the thermometer read.