by A. E. Neal
"He's clean," the man announced as the other held Quinn tightly against his chest, using the opportunity to get under both Will and Jaysen's skin.
He fondled her breasts as she cringed and struggled to break free from his grip.
"What's this, sweetheart?" he breathed into her ear as he pulled the knife she had hidden in the waistband of her panties.
He tossed it to the floor next to Will's gun, then shoved her to her knees. Quinn winced in pain as she hit the concrete and the shorter man had to hold Will back from lunging at him.
"Are you alright?" he mouthed to her.
Quinn nodded and the man's grip around her neck grew tighter, causing tears to form in the corners of her eyes.
"I can see why you'd choose this little cherry blossom," he said to Jaysen, who was bound and gagged, swaying back and forth on his knees in the center of the warehouse.
"Enough Biggs, let her go!" Franco shouted.
Biggs released his grip on Quinn and pushed her forward so her palms slapped hard against the floor.
Again, Will lunged forward, but Biggs and the shorter man held him still. Franco walked over to Quinn and grazed her cheek with the back of his hand, then gripped her arm, pulling her to her feet. Tears streamed down Quinn's face as Franco pulled her towards Will.
"Did you bring me everything I asked for?"
Remembering he promised to protect her and seeing the pain in Quinn's eyes almost brought Will to his knees.
"Yes. Two million, unmarked, just as you asked."
Biggs took the case from Will, opened it for Franco, who thumbed through the cash before nodding.
"We still have a little problem, I'm afraid," Franco said turning to Quinn again. "My boss still wants her and I'm afraid this case of money just isn't enough to keep her alive, my friend."
"Bullshit!" Will shouted. "We agreed on two million, no more, no less. Now stop with the games and let them both go."
"Oh, so you think you have the upper hand now, do you?" Franco chuckled as a greedy smirk crossed his face. "Somehow son, I seriously doubt that."
Quinn realized at that moment, neither of them would get out of the warehouse alive and in a desperate attempt to better their situation, she spoke up. "Let them go and take me instead. I don't know who your boss is or what he wants from me, but I don't want anyone to get hurt. Please," she pleaded.
A low, guttural laugh tore from Franco's lips.
"Quite the predicament, gentlemen. Seems our little cherry blossom over here wants to be the heroine."
"Take your damn money, Franco and let her go!" Will spat.
Within seconds, Biggs used the butt of his handgun to silence Will by crushing it against his cheekbone as Quinn was forced to watch the entire scene take place.
Will swayed on his feet, trying to remain conscience, it wasn't his first rodeo and he'd received much worse in combat.
"Another word from you and I'll shoot them both," Franco said to Quinn, holding her upright with her hands behind her back.
She wondered why Will hadn't tried to fight back, knowing he could take on every single man in the room.
She eyed him warily and he winked. Quinn knew he was only playing their game and in a desperate attempt to cause a diversion, she fell to the ground and sobbed.
"Please. Please, don't hurt him anymore," she cried. "I'll do anything."
Franco and the shorter man were at her side and that was the moment, she knew she had them right where she wanted them. She sobbed harder and louder as the men knelt down beside her.
Her diversion worked. Will was able to free his hands, reached around Biggs' neck and twisted, leaving him in a crumpled mess on the ground. He quickly grabbed his gun and the knife, shooting the man beside Quinn in the head, then tossed the knife, striking Franco in the chest. Will whipped around and pulled the trigger just in time to catch the other armed man behind Jaysen, right between the eyes.
Knowing they didn't have much time to get out of the warehouse, Quinn swallowed hard and pulled herself to her feet. Her stomach was in knots and all she wanted to do was vomit, but as her adrenaline kicked in, she grabbed the briefcase and forced herself towards Will who was untying Jaysen.
"We have to hurry. They had to have heard those gunshots," Will said as he pulled Jaysen, who was still sedated, to his feet.
As furious as Quinn was with Jaysen, she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and never let him go, but they needed to get out before the other guards came looking for them.
With an arm around Jaysen, Will and Quinn carried him to a side door near the back of the warehouse. Just as Will kicked the door open, the front rolling door opened and the other armed gunmen sprinted towards them.
The driver in the black SUV was waiting for them outside the door, but as gun shots rang out, Will let go of Jaysen, resting all of his weight on Quinn. She struggled to open the car door and begged Jaysen to snap out of it.
"Quinn?" he slurred, his head lolling from side to side.
"Damn it. Help me!" she shouted at the driver.
The driver hurried to her side and helped Jaysen into the backseat.
"Will!" Quinn screamed. "Lets go!"
"We're leaving with or without him," the driver said. "I didn't sign up for this shit."
Quinn reached into the briefcase, pulled out a bundle of cash and tossed it over the seat. "That should make it worth your while," she snapped.
Suddenly, Will appeared at the doorway and lunged for the passenger door, the gunmen still gaining on him.
Once Will was inside the SUV, the driver sped forward, narrowly missing a few bullets and drove as fast as he could.
Chapter 36
They arrived back at the hotel and although Will insisted they catch the next flight back to Denver, Jaysen was in no shape to fly, let alone stand on his own. Whatever sedative they had given him, made him nauseous and sick.
"I'll take care of him. You go get some rest," Quinn told Will as she placed a damp towel over his forehead.
"Lock the door..." he began, but stopped when he realized he didn't need to give her orders anymore. "You did good tonight."
"Thanks, Will. So did you," Quinn said as she rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"Now go get some sleep. We'll see you at o-five-hundred," she teased.
Will laughed and closed the door behind him.
Between Jaysen getting sick and the adrenaline rush that was finally wearing off, Quinn was exhausted. She tried laying next to him on the bed, but every time she closed her eyes, the scenes in the warehouse played over and over again in her head. How she wished she could just dream about the beach instead of dead bodies, blood, and gunfire.
After an hour of sleeplessness, she padded into the main room and opened the mini fridge. She grabbed two bottles of vodka, some 7-Up and a glass. She didn't bother with any ice, instead she poured herself a drink, curled up on the couch and turned the TV on.
Mindless reruns were the perfect way to take her mind off all that had happened that night and for once in the past twenty-four hours, she actually started to relax.
* * *
Startled by the constant rapping on the front door, Quinn jumped up from the couch, holding her head to keep herself from passing out. She didn't remember drinking that much, but as she glanced at the coffee table littered with empty bottles, she recalled having five or six drinks.
"One second!" she shouted at the door as she put on a pair of jeans and a bra.
The banging on the door continued which wasn't helping the throbbing in her temples at all.
As per Will's instructions, she peered through the peep hole first before unlocking the door.
"Can I help you?" she asked the police officer standing in the hallway.
"Molly Quinn?"
"Yes, but what's this all about? My head is killing me," she groaned.
"May I come in?" he asked.
"Sur
e. I guess," she replied, holding the door open for the officer.
"I'm officer Sexton with LAPD. I'd like to ask you some questions about your whereabouts last night."
"Okay...but do you mind if I make some coffee first?"
"That's fine."
"Would you like a cup?" she asked politely.
"No, thank you."
Quinn stuffed the pre-measured pouch into the coffee maker, added water and turned it on.
"So what do you want to know?" she asked cautiously.
"First, do you know the whereabouts of Trenton Valentine?"
"No. I haven't seen him in years. Why?"
"Do you have any idea where we can find William Croft or Jaysen Beckett?"
"Um, Jaysen's asleep in the bedroom and I saw Will just before I went to bed last night, around ten-thirty or so. Seriously, what's going on?"
"Do you mind if we have a word with Mr. Beckett?"
"Sure, whatever," Quinn said, waving her hand towards the bedroom door, then grabbing a mug from the cabinet just as the coffee had finished brewing.
Officer Sexton knocked lightly on the door, causing it to swing open. He stepped into the bedroom cautiously and returned moments later with a perplexed look on his face.
"Mr. Beckett isn't in there. It doesn't look as if anyone has been in that room at all, but I did find this. Care to explain?" Sexton said as he handed Quinn a folded piece of paper.
Quinn took the note as she set her cup on the counter and decided to do some searching of her own. Sexton was right, Jaysen was no where to be found. His bag, clothes, and toothbrush were gone.
She unfolded the note in her hand and sat at the edge of the bed.
Quinn,
I will never be able to express how sorry I am for putting you in danger. I hope one day you'll be able to forgive me. Will and I have an urgent matter to take care of and I didn't want to wake you. When you're ready, there will be a car available to take you to the airport, just let the concierge know. I'll be in touch.
-Jaysen
Quinn folded the note and tucked it in the back pocket of her jeans.
"Would you mind if I have a look at that?" Sexton asked as he approached Quinn.
"It's just my travel details. Jaysen made arrangements for a car to take me to the airport. Nothing else," she lied.
"Then you won't mind if I have a look then."
Quinn knew he had no right to ask without presenting a warrant first. "I see no reason to show it to you. I already told you what it said and technically, since all you're doing is looking for Jaysen and Will, I don't see how my travel itinerary is any of your business."
"Fair enough, Miss Quinn. Although, if I find any reason to suspect you might be keeping anything from me that could be detrimental to this case, I will get a warrant for that note and everything in this room. Understood?"
Quinn nodded and returned to the living room. "I know you don't believe anything I say, but Jaysen was here last night. He had a horrible case of food poisoning and I took care of him until he fell asleep."
"Was this before or after your party?" he asked, eyeing the coffee table.
"Before. Why does it matter? I told you he was here last night. I don't know where he is now, okay?" she snapped.
"No need to raise your voice, Miss Quinn. I just need some answers. Please have a seat."
Quinn sat at the edge of the couch and listened as Officer Sexton began.
"Mr. Valentine was found dead early this morning in his home."
"What? No, that can't be right. Are you sure it wasn't just one of his band mates or a groupie or something?" Quinn struggled to keep it together as tears began to stream down her cheeks.
"I'm so sorry, but Trenton Valentine is dead. We're investigating his death as the evidence comes in, but as it stands now, we believe he was murdered."
"Murdered? By who? I mean, I know he made a lot of enemies over the years, but he was a genuine guy. He'd never do anything to jeopardize his career." Sexton scribbled notes as Quinn spoke. "I can't believe this is happening...you think Jaysen and Will had something to do with it, don't you?"
"Well, that's what we're trying to find out. Would you mind coming down to the station? I have a few other questions I'd like to ask you."
"I guess. Can I make a quick call first?"
"Sure. I'll wait for you in the hallway."
As soon as Sexton was out of the hotel room, Quinn panicked. She dialed Will's room number and waited as it rang.
"Pick up. Come on, pick up."
"Front desk, Angela speaking."
"Hi Angela, can you tell me if the man in room 1021 checked out already?"
"Yes ma'am, he checked out early this morning and asked that we not disturb your room until you were ready to check out."
"Did he leave with someone?"
"I don't believe so, but I wasn't working this morning. Would you like me to call the manager who was on duty?"
"No, no. It's okay, thanks," Quinn said before hanging up the phone.
She dialed Jaysen's number, but it immediately went to voicemail.
"Jaysen, it's me. I don't know what the hell is going on, but the cops are here, asking me questions about you and Will and I have no idea why. They want to question me at the station, so I don't know how you'll reach me." Frustrated, she slammed the phone down, grabbed her purse and opened the door.
"I'm ready to go," she said.
"Wonderful, my squad car is parked out front. Right this way," he said motioning Quinn to walk beside him.
Once she and Sexton reached the lobby, there was an all out army of paparazzi outside the main entrance.
"They've been camped outside since the news broke this morning," Sexton offered.
"I don't understand." Confusion washed over Quinn. Why would the paparazzi be outside her hotel? She hadn't see or talked to Trenton in seven years, she thought to herself.
"Just ignore them. I'll get you safely to my car."
Sexton opened the door as flash bulbs went off in every direction, the sound of cameras clicking echoed in Quinn's head and the questions they were shouting at her made her want to scream.
"Molly! Molly! Did Trent commit suicide because you wouldn't get back together with him?"
"Sources say you had a late night hook-up with Trent last night, can you confirm that?"
"Molly, is it true Trent was a sex addict?"
"Were you jealous of his new girlfriend? Is that why you killed him?"
The questions continued even after Quinn was safely in the back of Sexton's police cruiser. The horrible things they were saying about Trent and accusing her of, made it harder than ever to keep her tears at bay. She couldn't believe Trenton was dead and the paparazzi thought she had something to do with it.
As Sexton sped away from the hoard, she buried her face in her palms and cried. "Why would they say those things? I don't understand," she sobbed and curled up against the plastic lined seat.
Chapter 37
Once they reached the police station, Sexton led Quinn through the building and into a back room.
"It'll be quieter in here. It tends to get a little crazy out there. Can I get you some water?" he asked.
"No, thank you."
"Okay. I'll be back in a few minutes." Sexton retreated into the hallway, closing the heavy door behind him.
A couple of minutes later, the door opened, but instead of Sexton, a familiar face greeted her.
"Nick? Wait. What are you doing here? How did you know I was here? What's going on?" Quinn rattled off questions as Nick took the seat across from her.
She was equally confused and excited to see him, she had to stop herself from leaping over the table to hug him.
He pulled out a small leather wallet, one she'd seen a thousand times before on TV. He slid it across the table without a word and she picked up the badge, holding it in her hand in disbelief.
"You work for the FBI?" she asked, still confused as to what she was looking at. But th
ere is was, clear as day, a picture of Nick, but his name read something entirely different. "You lied to me," Quinn snapped.
"I wouldn't be too quick to judge, Molly," his voice was rough and it cut through her like razor wire.
"I had my reasons for changing my name, but you...you lied. Everything I know about you is one big fat fucking lie. I can't believe I trusted you!"
"Calm down and let me explain. Please. I owe you that much."
Quinn crossed her arms over her chest as her heart pounded furiously underneath.
"Fine. Talk," she snapped.
He held his hand out to her, but she refused to look at it or him. "Special Agent, Cole Davenport also known as Nick Davenport. Nice to meet you Molly Quinn, also known as Quinn Langley."
"Please don't call me Molly. That's not my name," she corrected him.
"Fine. Quinn it is." Cole set a file at least an inch thick on the table and opened it slowly. "Is it alright for me to ask you a few questions, Quinn?"
"That depends on what they are and whether or not I need to call my lawyer."
"Just routine investigation questions, but by all means, if you feel like you need to have your lawyer present, you can use my phone to call," he said as he slid his phone across the table.
"I don't have a lawyer," she said as she shoved his phone back at him. "But if I feel like my rights are being violated even a tiny bit. I'm outta here. Got it?"
"Fair enough. Technically, I can't hold you anyway unless I believe there is a reason to do so."
"What do you want to know Special Agent, Liar?"
"You can start by telling me where you were last night?"
"That's easy. I had a meeting with a new client, Shane Dougherty, from five-thirty until about seven. Then I went up to my room, watched a movie, drank a little too much and fell asleep," she lied, knowing he could see right through her.
"Why don't you do me a favor and tell me why you and Will Croft were seen getting into a black SUV outside the hotel around seven o'clock last night? And then again around ten-thirty, but this time you were with Mr. Croft and Mr. Beckett. Witnesses tell me it looked like Mr. Beckett had too much to drink. So, what's the real story, Quinn?"
