Wounded Heroes Boxed Set

by Judith Arnold

  He bolted to his feet. "I can't just sit by while she suffers. While she wonders where he'll strike next. She's scared half to death for her boy."

  The detective rubbed the back of his head, then massaged the bridge of his nose. "She staying there, where it happened?"

  "No, we’ve got her and her son at my brother’s loft on Prince Street."

  "I can put a man on her, but only one. We're shorthanded." His mouth twisted. "Story of my life."

  "I hear that. Always plenty of bad guys and never enough white hats."

  "Yep." Colello glanced up at him. "You gonna hang around?"

  Quinn studied the cop. "I’m thinking about taking her out of town."

  "Best thing that could happen, you ask me. You know as well as I do that the odds aren’t good that we catch him before he does something else—and this time, you might not be there to stop him."

  "I didn't stop him soon enough this time," Quinn said grimly.

  "She's alive. That's something."

  "She's fragile as hell."

  "All the more reason to get her out of here."

  His mind was made up. "I'll be in touch." He headed for the door to the squad room.

  "Watch your back, Marshall," Colello called out. "You know he’s coming after you next."

  ***

  "QUINN!" GRANT RACED toward the door, hurtling himself into Quinn’s legs, hugging hard.

  Feeling calmer now that he’d been away for a while, Quinn stooped down and lifted the boy, tossing him lightly into the air. Grant giggled, then wrapped his arms tightly around Quinn’s neck.

  "I’m glad you’re back." Sobering, he whispered, "Mom’s asleep. I think she’s been crying."

  Quinn hugged the boy and wished he had the power to dispel Grant's worries. "Well, sometimes crying is a good thing to do."

  Grant pulled back, surprise and shock on his face. "That’s not what Jeremy says. He says only sissies cry."

  "Shows what Jeremy knows. Sometimes crying can wash you clean on the inside."

  "Bet you never cried. "

  "Then you’d lose your bet. Come on, let’s see what Josh’s got going in the kitchen. It’s smelling pretty good."

  When he set Grant on the floor and straightened, he saw her standing in the doorway. Grant was right. Her eyes showed the ravaging trail of recent tears. She stood like a young gazelle, poised to run.

  "Grant, could you go see what you can do to help Josh?"

  "Okay, Quinn." He stopped and turned, almost whispering. "If you want, I won’t tell Josh that you cried once."

  Quinn spared him a quick, smiling glance. "Good idea. Josh might not be tough enough to handle it."

  Grant giggled, giving Quinn a high five before he raced to the kitchen.

  Quinn approached Lorie. "Hey, there…" He brushed her hair back, framing her face with both hands.

  "Hey," she replied and leaned into him.

  Gratefully he drew her in and pressed a kiss to her hair, bundling her close. They leaned together, each absorbing comfort from the new bond forged in the crucible of pain. Quinn rested his cheek on her head, sliding it slowly back and forth across the sweet-smelling silk of her hair, pondering once again what Josh had revealed. Understanding that his brother posed no impediment to making this woman his opened a portal to choices Quinn burned to seize. They were bound by a night passed in battling emotions so raw, rivers so dark, lacerations so deep that Quinn knew he’d never be free of the cords binding his soul to hers. Yet despite this kinship deeper than blood, he could not allow himself to tether her sweetness to the darkness inside him.

  His heart ached to think of the day he’d finally have to send her away. He wouldn’t do it until she no longer needed him.

  But that day would come.

  They were opposites in all ways: she was sunshine, he was shadow; sophistication vs. solitude; a life of glamour and fame in the world’s most competitive city contrasted with a man most comfortable buried in the back of beyond.

  But he didn’t have to let her go yet.

  He exhaled and stepped back, maintaining one arm around her shoulder. "Let’s go see what the master chef is up to." He smiled.

  To his great relief, she smiled back. A tiny smile, perhaps, but one he'd fight legions to garner.

  ***

  "MOM, LOOK, JOSH made those biscuits you always love!" Grant watched her eagerly, and Quinn noted the quick, bright smile she pasted on for him.

  "He did?"

  Grant’s hair bounced with his enthusiastic nodding.

  "We’re almost ready here, sport, so hurry with that silverware," Josh spoke with his back to them, stirring something at the stove, mouth-watering aromas curling in the air.

  Grant set the last place, then looked up for Lorie’s approval. "Did I get it right, Mom?"

  She touched his hair as she murmured, "You sure did, sweetie pie."

  Quinn saw the relief on Grant’s face just as he noted the napkins askew, the silverware a little crooked but all there. Pretty damn good for five, he thought. Quinn wasn’t sure that he’d even known what silverware was required at that age, much less where to put it. He’d been too busy dogging his father’s footsteps outside.

  Grant leaned into her side. Quinn softened at the tender look on her face, relishing the feel of her pressing into his chest. He looked up, to see Josh watching the three of them. He felt a flush creep over his cheeks, sure that Josh could see longing written all over his face.

  He pulled out Lorie’s chair for her. As he moved to the place next to her at the round table, he queried Grant, "So what did you see at the zoo today?"

  The boy glanced over at Josh, whose face crinkled in a huge grin. They both started laughing. Grant turned to Quinn, eyes dancing, as he related the antics of the polar bears.

  "And then we went to the planetarium!" His eyes wide, he continued, "And Josh told me that those stars in the Sky Theater were nothing compared to the stars overhead at your canyon!" As though he couldn’t conceive of it, he leaned closer to Quinn, forehead ruffled. "Is that true, Quinn?"

  "Hey, sport, would I kid you?" Josh laughed as Grant rolled his eyes and giggled.

  Quinn glanced over to see Lorie staring off into the corner, haunted look back full-force as she thought herself unobserved.

  He quickly turned his attention to Grant, hoping the child wouldn’t notice. "Josh’s not kidding. You can see thousands more stars than here."

  "Wow! I wish I could see that." He glanced at his mother. "Mom, do you think—"

  Quinn’s heart tore to see the much-too-adult look sweep over Grant’s face. He might be young, but he saw a lot. Too much. A kid shouldn’t have to deal with that much sorrow so young.

  Lorie stirred, artificial smile quickly in place. "What, honey?"

  "Do you think we could ever go to Quinn’s place in Texas? I sure would like to see his horse and all those stars."

  "Biscuits ready—make way for hot food," Josh called out. "Oh—Lorie, Marie called over here. She wanted to know if you’re still going to the Emmys."

  "Of course I am. She probably wants one more fitting. "

  "What?" Quinn thundered. "How long until then, three days?"

  Lorie's eyes flashed. "I have to be there."

  He glared back. "People get awards all the time without being present."

  "Well, I don’t accept awards long distance. It’s rude, and there’s no reason for me not to be there."

  "No reason! Do you remember the piranhas waiting outside your building? Multiply that several times and just imagine being hounded by them." He drew no satisfaction from seeing her flinch, but the very idea was ridiculous.

  The star returned. "I will not hide from the press." Only her eyes betrayed her lack of conviction.

  "They’ve already been to the police station and read the report, you can bet on that. You want everyone who sees you to be imagining that scene? You want to give a play-by-play?" She recoiled as though he’d struck her. He didn’t like bludgeonin
g her with reality, but it would be easier on her than what she would have to endure if she persisted in this stubbornness.

  "Quinn—" Josh countered.

  "Stay out of it, Josh," Quinn snapped. A small whimper from Grant made him feel even worse, but she couldn’t be allowed to persist in the madness. She couldn’t subject herself to this; she wasn’t ready.

  Lorie rose from her chair, visibly trembling. "I can’t let him take my life away from me. I’m going back to work Monday, and I will be at the awards ceremony Tuesday night. I thought you would understand." With a grace befitting a queen, she turned and left the room, her food still untouched.

  Josh spoke to Grant, "Say, sport, could you give us a minute here? Let me fix you a tray and you can go watch Ice Age."

  Grant’s distress was hard to watch. Quinn summoned him over. "It’ll be okay, Grant. You go on now, and I’ll join you in a little bit, all right?"

  Grant nodded, tears shimmering at the corners. Quinn gave him a hug. Grant’s return squeeze took the edge off Quinn’s anger.

  "Go on now," he urged. With one more watery glance, Grant left the room. Josh followed him with the tray and was back in seconds.

  Quinn leveled a glare at his brother, whose own face mirrored mingled compassion and anger. "You’ve got to stop her, Josh. Maybe she’ll listen to you. She can’t be forced to live through that again for the sake of someone’s circulation figures or TV ratings. They’ll eat her alive."

  "I understand how you feel, but—"

  "You can’t possibly understand how I feel!" Quinn roared, slapping one hand down on the table. The sound echoed like a shot.

  Quinn dropped his head, running the fingers of one hand through his hair, then clasping both hands behind his neck. He exhaled in a gust. "Look, I know her career’s important to her. She’s damn good at it. But she’s been through hell, and I just don’t want anyone to hurt her anymore." He stared off into the distance, lost in images of her spread on the table, the glint of the knife as the bastard bared her silken skin—

  His hands flexed as he imagined them squeezing the life out of that sick sonofabitch.

  He jolted at the touch of Josh’s hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see his brother’s love and frustration warring on his face.

  "I don’t want her hurt either, Quinn, but she’s worked hard for that award. It’s a big honor to even be nominated, and I really think she has a hell of a chance to win." Josh’s voice softened. "Don’t you think that the pleasure of being there to accept the award is worth some risk? God knows, she deserves to have something good happen to her."

  Quinn fell silent for a moment, thinking over his brother’s words, struggling to keep his fears for her at bay. "Can you get me in there? I need to be there, in case…" He cleared his throat and looked away.

  "I’ll find a way," Josh vowed.

  Quinn rose and clapped his hand on his brother’s shoulder. "Thank you."

  Then he left the room to see what he could do for one scared little boy.

  Chapter Eleven

  * * *

  MAKEUP ARTIST LOLA Masters stepped back to admire her work. "Sometimes I'm so good I frighten myself."

  Lorie roused herself to thank the woman. "You didn't have much to work with this time."

  "Well, don't get me wrong—you could pack for a week in those bags beneath your eyes—but you give me a lot to work with even on the worst days."

  Lorie managed a smile. "You're kind."

  "I'm not. What I am is worried. We all are."

  "I'll be fine." She had to be. Tonight was a big night.

  Once it would have been important to her to look her best.

  Once.

  Before.

  Lorie shook off maudlin thoughts.

  "Sugar, you’re going to have to be still. This hairdo is completely unforgiving." Hairdresser Max’s tone was more gentle, less churlish than usual.

  Word had spread quickly through cast and crew, she knew. Ben had taped the show around her yesterday and today, telling her some cock-and-bull story about needing to spend time on another plotline. She hadn’t wanted to admit her relief at not having to face anyone yet.

  But tonight, she had to face millions. Had to look her best, to be the image of glamour for which she was known. Her audience waited, rooting for her to win.

  She wished she cared.

  "Lorie?" The sound of Quinn’s voice brought her eyes up to the mirror when he stepped into the room. "You okay?"

  She nodded slowly as she goggled. The sight of him stole her breath.

  Behind her, she could hear Max murmuring, "Sugar, if you don’t want him, I’d sure like a shot. I know we don't play for the same team but, Lord have mercy, he is magnificent."

  Lorie blinked twice to see if she was imagining things. Quinn Marshall in a tux was almost too much man to handle.

  He prowled the room, restless energy barely in check. His dark hair was bound with a simple black band, yet he almost looked more untamed than with it loose. His broad shoulders filled out the tux like it was custom-made, and she was reminded that though he might not care about clothes, he wore them very, very well.

  An elegant savage. A graceful barbarian.

  Lorie shivered. For the first time in longer than she could remember, desire she’d thought shriveled and gone forever blossomed within her.

  An odd contrast he induced. She felt safer, knowing he was near, yet she tingled with an enticing sense of danger. He’d been so kind and gentle, so careful of her since it happened, that she’d almost forgotten that her initial sense of him had been that of a man one step removed from the edge of civilization.

  Not a domesticated man.

  A dangerous, seductive man.

  Quinn came to stand beside her, fixing her in the mirror with his gaze. He reached as if to stroke her hair, and Max’s screech startled them both.

  "Touch and you die, I don’t care how gorgeous you are!"

  Lorie came out of her trance of admiration and rose from the chair, answering Quinn’s grin with her own.

  Heavens, it felt nice to smile.

  She touched one finger to his lips. "I’ll be ready in just a minute."

  After she departed, Quinn stood there, feeling the imprint of her finger’s warmth. He could swear he’d seen desire in her eyes. He closed his eyes, savoring for a second the buzz of his own.

  "You did a good thing, saving her, man," Max spoke from behind him. "She doesn’t deserve to have to fear this pervert. She wouldn’t hurt a fly."

  I didn't save her soon enough . Quinn turned back to the man. "Seen anyone suspicious around here? Anyone out of place?"

  Max shook his head. "Pretty much the same people, day in and day out."

  "I could always use another set of eyes."

  "She’s never been anything but good to me. No star treatment, no temper tantrums. She’s very serious about her work, absolutely professional." He glanced in the direction she'd gone. "She’s special. Sure, I’ll keep an eye out."

  "Thanks."

  "You worried about her tonight?"

  "She has no business being here."

  "No way would she miss this. She's earned it. If she doesn't win, there's no justice."

  Quinn sighed. "I still don't like it, but I’ll be right there, every minute."

  "Good. "Max nodded. "You take care of our princess."

  "Count on it."

  He paced the hallway outside her dressing room, waiting. He hadn’t been eager to bring her here, but Josh’s bachelor pad was a lousy place for her to get ready. He could tell that she dreaded coming to the studio much less than returning to her apartment, which was her other choice. She’d made the point that she’d be back at work the next day and had to face it sometime. He could see the lingering effects of knowing that the stalker had been in her dressing room at least twice before. She’d been jumpy as they arrived at the building and seemed relieved when he insisted upon checking her dressing room before she entered.

 
This thing about her going back to work really bothered him. He wasn’t asking her to give up her career. Even if he’d had the right, he wouldn’t have done that. All he wanted was for her to get away for a while, so she could recover from her ordeal. Though he could swear she wanted to go home to Texas with him, she was proving remarkably stubborn about leaving, while frantic that he leave and take Grant.

  Quinn was not leaving without her.

  Tonight was a compromise. He would stay close. He’d arranged for extra security at the ceremonies. Josh had cleared it for him to sit at their table, but couldn’t get agreement that Quinn be allowed backstage.

  Quinn had news for them. If she won, when she left the stage, he’d be right there. Let anyone try to stop him. It was far too easy for strangers to melt into the crowded backstage jumble. No security guard was going to care as much as he did. No way was he taking a chance on the madman being back there to grab her.

  Just then, he heard her door opening and looked up from the floor where he’d been staring. Her friend Marie left first, smiling at him, then Lorie emerged.

  Quinn was struck speechless.

  Body-hugging black skimmed over her curves, parting just above her ankles in front and curving downward to form a small train behind her. Her ivory shoulders bared, a wide band of black satin spanned her breasts and back, wrapping her upper arms and dipping to show tantalizing cleavage. A red sash circled her slender waist, and her bare arms ended in a pair of short black gloves that emphasized her pale, translucent skin. A cameo on a black satin ribbon graced the swanlike column of her neck.

  With her blonde hair artfully arranged in tumbling curls, the overall effect was sweet, sleek—and sexy as hell. He wanted to cherish her and ravish her, all in one breath.

  He’d never been more aware of the chasm between his reality and hers. This was so removed from his world, it wasn’t funny. But she was perfectly at home.

  Aware that she waited for his reaction, he tried to speak. "Sweet mercy," he croaked. "I thought you were beautiful before, but…"

  His reward for his incoherent ramblings was a thousand-watt smile. She walked closer and trailed one finger lightly down his lapel. "You’re pretty gorgeous yourself, Quinn. You should wear a tux more often."