by Sharon Sala
Nick grinned.
“And you wore that crown so much I started calling you Queenie, and that was the only name I called you after that.”
Lara’s teasing manner shifted. The story was too touching to tease about.
“Oh, Nick, that was such a special thing to do for her.”
Nick shrugged it off.
“Yes, that’s me, Saint Nick himself.”
Quinn grinned. One of the things she was learning to love most about Nick was his sense of humor.
And then Juana asked Nick the same question.
“So, Nicholas, what is your strongest memory of her when you were in that foster family together?”
Nick’s smile disappeared as he grasped Quinn’s hand and held it.
“When I thought she was going to die.”
Quinn gasped.
“When was this? I don’t remember that.”
And suddenly everyone at the table was silent. Everyone was waiting for Nick’s story, especially Quinn.
Nick was absently running a finger over the knuckles of her right hand. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was seeing, as well as telling, the story.
“You came home from school sick one day, and by evening your fever was so high you were burning up and talking out of your head. I told our foster parents you were sick, and they said it was just the flu and you’d feel better tomorrow.”
Quinn’s heart was racing. She remembered what he was talking about now, but she’d never known how it had affected him.
“Was she better the next morning?” Juana asked.
“No. She got worse. I was afraid to go to school, but they made me, and when I came home that evening, they thought she was sleeping, but she was unconscious. I raised hell, and when they realized her condition, they took her to the hospital. She was in there three days, and I thought she was dying and they wouldn’t take me to see her. All of us kids were worried about her.”
Tears were welling in Lara’s eyes.
“This is so awful. I never realized that foster families were so careless with the children in their care.”
“Not all of them are. There are wonderful families out there—great homes. Just not the one we were in...” Nick glanced at Quinn, but she wouldn’t look at him, and he knew she was remembering the man who killed and then revived her.
“So, what happened then?” Juana asked.
“Yes, what happened then?” Quinn asked. “I only remember being sick. I didn’t know you’d saved my life.”
Nick tried to make light of it and tweaked her nose.
“Well, as you can imagine, by then I didn’t trust our foster parents, so when you came home from the hospital, I waited until everyone went to sleep at night, and then I took my pillow and blanket and slept on the floor by your bed every night for a week. I wanted to make sure you didn’t die...like my parents.”
“Oh, my God,” Juana cried and got up from the table and hugged the both of them. “I am sorry. I am so sorry we didn’t take you with us then. I didn’t know there was such a bond between you two. Nick asked about you, but I didn’t know. I didn’t understand.”
Quinn felt those arms around her neck and Juana’s tears on her face and felt so overwhelmed she couldn’t bring herself to speak.
It was Nick who took the tears out of the conversation.
“Well, if you had, we would have grown up brother and sister, and right now I’m really glad we’re not kin,” he drawled, then leaned in and kissed her full on the mouth to make the point.
It was the perfect way to end what had become a tragic story.
“Too many sad stories!” Tonio announced. “I am ready for dessert now!”
“Dessert! After that wonderful dinner? What did you make?” Nick asked.
“Dinner wasn’t anything...enchiladas, some beans and rice. And you know what dessert I make when you are coming to dinner!”
Nick patted Quinn’s leg.
“You’re going to love this. It’s my favorite.”
“What is it?” she asked.
And everyone at the table yelled...
“Tres leches cake.”
Quinn grinned.
“It’s my favorite cake, too.”
Nick threw up his hands.
“See? Meant to be. I’m in this for the long haul now, for sure.”
“Then maybe Juana will show me how to make it one day,” Quinn said.
“Yes, yes, she will show you,” Tonio said. “But for now, can we please just eat it?”
Juana went to the kitchen to get the cake. The dessert dishes were already on the sideboard behind the dining table, and Nick got up and set them on the table as Santino and Lara cleared the dinner plates.
“I can help,” Quinn said.
“You are a guest this time,” Tonio said. “Next time, you wash the dishes.”
Quinn grinned.
“It’s a deal.”
The next two hours passed in more laughter, and it was nearing midnight before everyone finally left.
Nick drove away from his aunt and uncle’s home, out of the quiet neighborhood and then later down the strip beneath flashing neon lights, until he turned into his neighborhood.
All the way there, he kept thinking—the last piece of the puzzle in his life had just fallen into place. The woman asleep in the seat beside him was not only his forever love, but—if he got his way—she would be his partner, the mother of his children, the woman he wanted to grow old with. Tonight, life just got perfect.
* * *
The next morning Nick woke up to an empty bed and the scent of fresh coffee brewing. He stretched lazily, thinking of the way they’d made love last night, and dreading the day he had to go back to work and leave her on her own all day. He guessed she would be job hunting when she was able, though, and let that worry go.
He began to think of all the ways he could safeguard her welfare even when he wasn’t around until this mess with Baba was over. After a quick shower and shave, he headed for the kitchen in a pair of bike shorts and a tank top. He needed to clean the pool and check the chlorine level, but not until after breakfast.
When he walked into the kitchen barefoot and saw Quinn at the counter in a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a T-shirt, making toast in her bare feet, he grinned.
“Two peas in a pod,” he said.
“What?” Quinn asked as she turned, and then she saw what he was wearing and got the joke. “Oh, this is priceless.”
“Good morning, my love,” he said softly and planted a quick kiss on her lips. “Sorry I slept in.”
“I attributed it to an overdose of tres leches cake and let you sleep.”
He laughed and patted his belly.
“I’ll work that off a little later in the pool. Now what can I do to help?”
“I was waiting for you before I made eggs. Do you want them scrambled or fried?”
“Scrambled sounds good,” he said.
She got a bowl of eggs out of the refrigerator and set them on the counter, then turned on the skillet, added butter and began cracking eggs into another bowl to scramble while she waited for the pan to get hot.
Nick got out the butter and jam and poured himself a cup of coffee while Quinn dumped the beaten eggs into the hot skillet and started to stir. He pulled down two plates and laid them near the stove, but as he watched her work, his thoughts returned to how he’d keep her safe.
“Hey, Quinn. Do you have a cell phone?”
“Yes. Everyone has a cell phone,” she said.
“I’ve never seen you use it.”
“It’s out on the Harley. I really only carry it for convenience’s sake because there’s no one I know who would call me. There’s not even anyone I know who has the
number.”
“Does it have a tracking app on it? You know...the kind where, if you lose it and activate the app, it will take you to the phone?”
“No. It’s basically what some people call a burner phone. I don’t use one often enough to warrant a contract with any phone company.”
“Good grief,” Nick said beneath his breath.
“I heard that,” Quinn said.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” she said. “And don’t pretend you are.”
“Not sorry,” he called out.
“That’s better,” she said, finishing off the eggs and serving them onto the plates Nick had set out.
Nick arched an eyebrow. She was a smart-ass for sure, and that, plus the wild, crazy way they made love, pretty much sealed the deal for him. But he wasn’t done with her yet.
“I have an extra phone with that app. If I asked you pretty please, would you carry that phone instead of your own?”
“Why?” she asked, frowning.
“Why not?” he fired back.
“Okay, but that’s not an answer,” she said and stood her ground.
He sighed. “Until Baba is arrested and imprisoned, I am not going to feel you are safe.”
“What does a tracking app have to do with keeping me safe? If he finds me, he’s not going to kidnap me. He’s going to point a gun and pull the trigger.”
Nick froze. It was obvious by the way it came out that she’d already thought about it—accepted it.
“Then what’s your plan?” he asked.
“If I’m in this house alone, I’ll get my gun.”
“You have a gun?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know you had a gun.” He wondered what other secrets he still might not know about her.
“I suppose now you want to see it,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Breakfast will get cold.”
“I have a microwave,” he muttered.
“Whatever,” she said and turned off the stove and headed for the garage with Nick at her heels.
She ran her hands beneath the seat of her Harley, and all of a sudden the front of the seat rose up, revealing a hidden compartment beneath it. She pulled out a 9 mm Beretta.
“Ammo in there, too,” she said and laid it in his hands.
“Get it,” Nick said, while looking at the handgun. It was one of the lighter Beretta models.
She took out two full magazines of ammo and pushed the seat back down.
“I never knew the seats raised up like that,” he said.
“It came like this when I bought it.”
“I’ll feel better knowing you have this gun in the house somewhere, okay?” Nick said. “It’s not going to be much use to you hidden out here. I assume you know how to use it?”
“I’m as good with the gun as I am on the Harley, and I’ll use your fancy phone with the tracking app, and we’ll both be happy. How’s that?” she asked.
“Works for me,” he said. “Eggs now.”
She grinned. He was going to be a fun guy to spend the rest of her life with.
They sat down to eat and, after a rough start to the day, enjoyed breakfast and the chitchat that came with it.
About an hour after they had eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, Nick’s cell phone rang. Quinn was in his bathroom gathering up towels to take to the washer, but when she came back into his room he was still on the phone, listening intently to whoever was on the other line, but his expression told her that his conversation was about her.
When he cursed and wiped his hand over his face, as if in disbelief, her legs gave way. She staggered backward and sat down on the lid of the commode with the wet towels clutched against her chest and her gaze fixed on him. When the call ended, he dropped the phone back in his pocket and stood, looking down, almost as if he’d forgotten she was there.
“Nick?”
He jumped at the sound of her voice and then ran toward her.
“I’m sorry. Here, let me help,” he said, reaching for towels.
She dropped them in a pile at her feet and grabbed his shirt with both hands.
“Fuck the towels. What was that call about?”
He blinked. So much for keeping her out of this one.
“It was Billy Daniels. You remember—”
“Yes, I remember Daniels. He ate my pancakes. Was he calling to ask for the recipe?”
The sarcasm in her voice was a shade sharper than the fear in her eyes.
“He was calling about a new case.”
She took a deep breath.
“Don’t make me get this out of you one question at a time. I need to know if that phone call had anything to do with me.”
He didn’t hesitate. “It’s not clear yet, but it might.”
She bent down and picked up the wet towels.
“I’m listening. You can talk while we walk.”
And so he did.
“They found a dead man in the penthouse of Lucky Joe’s Casino. He’d been murdered.”
“That’s Baba’s place, right?” she asked and dumped the towels into the washer.
“Yes, but it wasn’t Baba they found. It was a man who called himself Stewart. It seems he showed up at the casino a few days ago and basically stepped in to take control of Baba’s empire. Either Baba appointed him in charge in his absence, or else...he knew Baba was gone and took advantage of the situation.”
“Do they know who killed this guy?” she asked.
“No, all of the security cameras in the penthouse were destroyed, and the discs and backups are gone. And according to the guards on that floor, no one went in or out except Stewart.”
“What do the cops think happened?” she asked.
Nick sighed.
“The way he was murdered...it was bizarre. This was no random killing. Nothing was stolen, from what they can tell. Nothing’s missing except the security discs.”
“What do you mean the murder was bizarre?” Quinn asked.
“Someone stabbed a hunting knife into the top of the guy’s head.”
Nick saw a muscle jump at the side of her jaw, but she didn’t say anything except “pass me the detergent,” so he did.
Quinn felt like someone had just cut off her legs. She felt trapped and scared to death, and at the same time angry this was happening.
“Okay. Why don’t you go get that cell phone and show me how to work it,” she said.
Nick turned on one heel, moving through the house in long, angry strides. Like Quinn, he was pissed this was happening. Whether Baba had done this or sent someone to do the deed for him, it was all the same. What mattered was that Anton Baba was cleaning house, and Quinn was one of the people who could put him behind bars—which meant she was on his list.
He came back with the phone, sat down in the kitchen and showed her how to keep it turned on when she was gone.
“Okay, I’ve got it,” she said and put it in her back pocket, then stood up.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To switch the laundry,” she replied and walked out of the kitchen.
Nick was sick to his stomach with worry, and yet she could just carry on and finish the laundry? She either had nerves of steel or she was faking it better than anyone he knew. He got up and followed, only to hear her throwing up in the back bathroom. As much as he wanted to stay and comfort her, instinct told him to back off and let her deal with this her way.
Later that day, he got a phone call from Agent Gleason checking on Quinn, which pissed Nick off.
“We already know about the murder in the penthouse. Is this your way of checking to see if the killer had already hit here, too?”
Gleason
sighed. That thought had been in his head, and he hated being so obvious, but he was still going to defend himself.
“Of course not,” he said.
“Do you know if Anton Baba is in Vegas?” Nick asked.
“We have no reports and no sightings of him,” Gleason said.
“You had to know after Paco Cruz sent that text for you that it would be an invitation for Baba to come out from wherever he was hiding.”
“Of course,” Gleason said. “We’ve had agents at the borders ever since his disappearance.”
“Do you even know if he ever left the state?” Nick asked.
“We think he went down to his place in Mexico.”
“And does anyone know if he’s still there?” Nick asked.
Gleason shifted nervously in his chair.
“The estate is empty, and a plane was seen taking off from that location yesterday morning.”
“Where is that plane now?”
“I don’t know. But Baba has a plane, and it’s in the hangar,” Gleason said.
“Was it in the hangar yesterday morning?”
Gleason cleared his throat.
“I don’t like being grilled as if I answer to you, Saldano. I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“Works both ways,” Nick said and hung up.
Gleason was stunned that the cop had just hung up on him and immediately called back.
Nick answered, but didn’t speak.
“We did not have anyone on stakeout at the airport,” Gleason muttered.
“Great job you guys are doing. So, to answer your question, Quinn O’Meara is not okay. She’s scared out of her mind, and right now I don’t feel much better. Is Paco Cruz still behind bars?”
When Gleason began to stutter, Nick tensed. As it would happen, he’d been right to be concerned.
“Uh, about that,” Gleason said. “We didn’t get the paperwork filed in time. He bonded out before we could—”
Shock went through Nick so fast he had to sit down.
“You aren’t serious?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m afraid—”
Nick was shouting now, having moved past being courteous to realizing he was dealing with idiots.
