Grabbing the arm of a person she’d just met probably wasn’t the most polite thing Quinn had ever done, but it had been a reflex. She’d grown so accustomed to being kept a secret, that someone knowing who she was, stunned her enough that she felt light-headed.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to put fingernail marks on your arm.” Quinn dropped her hand, shook her head, and looked out at the ocean. “How’d you know?”
“My brother Naughton told me you paid him a visit.”
“Did he tell you anything else?”
“That you’re my older brother Kade’s daughter.”
“Daughter—that’s an interesting word choice,” she said, and then apologized for being so bitchy.
“It’s okay. Tell me what you know about Kade.”
“Other than his name is on my birth certificate, not much.”
“What are you doing right now?”
“Running back to the house, and then not much of anything.”
“There’s a letter I want to show you.”
“Is it from Kade?”
“I think so. I mean, he sent me one, but I have another one that I think belongs to you. I got it on Christmas.”
Now Quinn was confused. “Um, I’d need to shower.” And to check in with your father to figure out how I can arrange to spend time with you when he’s my current bodyguard. “What did you have in mind?”
Ainsley wrote an address on a piece of paper. “We aren’t far from here. We’re staying at Cris’ sister’s house, about a block up from the beach.”
Quinn looked back at Cris who was sitting on a rock, patiently waiting for Ainsley to finish her conversation.
It made her think of Mercer, who she missed more than she could bear, but now even more than that.
“You can walk if you want, or drive, depending on how far the place is where you’re staying.”
“It’s just on the other side of the park,” Quinn said, wondering if she should tell her she’d walk when, more than likely, Laird would figure out a way to drop her off.
“Give me an hour?” Quinn said. “Unless you want to get together later.”
“An hour is perfect,” Ainsley said as she walked away with her boyfriend. “See you soon!”
Quinn looked around the beach, but didn’t see Laird anywhere. He was probably waiting until Ainsley was gone before he approached her.
They’d made an agreement that he wouldn’t hover when she went for a run, but would stay close enough to see her if she needed him. She guessed it didn’t work the other way around, because she needed him now, and she had no idea where he was hiding.
She ran back to the house, looking over her shoulder every few feet, but there was still no sign of him. She unlocked the door, went inside, and found a note from him on the counter.
Max is on your detail today. Let him know if you need anything. —L
That was odd. He hadn’t said anything to her about it before she left on her run. Maybe he’d seen her talking with Ainsley, called Max, and then came back to the house to leave the note. It was the only logical explanation she could come up with.
She showered, changed, and was getting ready to leave when she remembered she hadn’t checked in with Max, and Laird’s note didn’t tell her how to go about doing so.
She went outside and saw the black SUV parked across the road, and waved.
“Hi, Max,” she said, trying to remember if she’d met him before. He looked vaguely familiar.
“Miss Sullivan, where would you like to go?”
“Um, it’s Hess. I haven’t gone by Sullivan since…anyway, it’s Hess. And I’m going here.” She handed him the piece of paper.
Max got out and opened the back passenger door for her.
“Oh, that’s okay. I get car sick. I’ll just sit up front. It isn’t very far.”
“Mr. Sharp left explicit instructions as to how you should be transported. In the back, on the floor.”
“Surely this isn’t necessary. That was when I—”
Quinn saw his hand come up and the white cloth that was about to cover her nose and mouth, and then everything went black.
—:—
The flight from Moscow to Los Angeles had taken close to thirteen hours, and Mercer still had another hour to go before he even landed in San Luis Obispo, followed by an hour to get to the house in Cambria.
He’d been trying to reach either Quinn or Laird since the plane landed, but both phones were going straight to voicemail. If he hadn’t been on a commercial flight, he’d pull out his laptop and track them. That would have to wait until he was off the plane and seated somewhere private.
His excitement over seeing Quinn in just a couple of hours was tempered by the devastating disappointment he, along with Paps and Razor, had felt when they arrived at the location where their source said the Russians held captives, only to find their contact dead in a pool of blood, and no other sign of anyone in the building.
They all agreed Mercer should head back while Paps and Razor stayed on and continued to search for clues about Doc and Leech.
Now, twenty-four hours later, he was so close he could practically feel Quinn next to him, yet at the same time, he still felt six thousand miles away.
He tried again to reach Laird and her, and when he couldn’t, called Max. When his phone went to voicemail too, Mercer started to panic.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
“Sorcha, this is Eighty-eight,” he said when she answered.
“Oh, Mercer. Yes, what can I do for you?”
“I need your help.”
“What?” she asked, in her usual matter-of-fact tone of voice.
“I need you to ask Maddox or Naughton to contact their father. If they are unable to reach him, tell them that he was going down to the beach to look at a house he was thinking of investing in.”
“Tell me the address.”
Mercer rattled off the house number and name of the street, hoping Sorcha could handle this.
“Goodbye, Mercer,” she said.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Call me as soon as you hear something.” He heard her mumble something he didn’t understand, but somehow knew meant “stupid.” He didn’t care. She could call him any name she wanted to as long as she sent her sons looking for their father.
Five minutes later she called back. “They’re on their way, but you have other operatives on the ground here, Mercer. Did you not know this? I’ve engaged them to look not only there but the house in Harmony as well as Happy Valley. Where else should I send them?”
In the time she took to do all of that, Mercer had only begun putting the same plan together. He could only attribute his sluggish reaction time to his extreme worry and lack of sleep.
“Is it my Quinn?” she said quietly, her accent more pronounced and her demeanor so drastically different from the take-charge woman who’d been barking at him moments ago.
“I can’t locate either of them. Or Max.”
The sound she made could only be described as complete anguish.
“You dinnae find my Kade either.”
“No, Sorcha, but Paps and Razor are still looking.”
He heard the announcement that his flight was boarding. “I’ll call you back as soon as I land in San Luis Obispo.”
“Aye,” she said and disconnected the call.
An hour later, he powered on his phone as the plane taxied in. There was one message from Sorcha, telling him to call back as soon as he landed.
“We tracked both Laird and Max to Tablas Creek,” she told him. “I’ve told the boys to hold off until you give the word.”
“Which boys, Sorcha?” God, were Maddox and Naughton involved in this now?
“Your boys, I canna keep track of all the names. Never mind that. What do you want them to do?”
Mercer thought for less than a second when he heard the phone jostle.
“Eighty-eight, this is Welsh. I’m here with Sorcha, and waiting for your o
rders.”
He raced the bike over the back roads from the airfield to Tablas Creek. He knew the layout of the place from going in when Calder’s brother had abducted Bradley St. John.
He pulled off the road where he’d arranged to meet Welsh. Seconds later he arrived, and gave him the rundown of what the team had found.
“From what we’ve been able to piece together, Max brought Skipper here, but once he arrived, his tracking terminated.”
“He wanted us to know he was here,” mumbled Mercer. “Just in case.” Maybe Max-the-idiot wasn’t as clueless as they’d assumed he was.
“Affirmative, sir.”
“What else?” he asked while he changed into the tactical gear Welsh had brought for him.
“We have a portable ZBV that detected four people inside the building. Only one is active.”
“Can you tell if the other three are alive.”
“Affirmative on two of the three.”
Which meant one of the three was dead.
“Radio, sir,” Welsh said, handing him the earpiece.
It would take him approximately four minutes to get from where he was to the building where Quinn was being held. This wouldn’t go down like it had with Calder’s brother. This time the person holding her, Laird, and Max, knew he was coming—and one of those three was already dead.
Mercer crept closer to the building and decided to go in one of the side doors. “Welsh, wait at the back until I give the word.”
“Roger, sir.”
He’d entered the building on the side he knew was filled with barrels, and made his way through them.
“Eighty-eight, I know you’re here,” he heard a voice call out. “I have your precious with me.”
“You won’t hurt her, Calder. You know who she is.”
“She’s nothing to me,” he yelled.
“You knew the minute you saw her.” Mercer kept his voice steady, making his way around the walls the barrels formed until he could see both Calder and Quinn.
She was gagged, her hands bound behind her. From where he was, he couldn’t get a clean shot without risking her life, so he circled back and went in a different way.
From there he could see Laird, about ten feet from where Calder held Quinn. He was slumped over in the chair he was tied to, but breathing. Another body, which Mercer assumed was Max, was just inside the front door of the building; he’d been shot in the back several times.
“You have until the count of five to come out, or I’ll kill her before I kill Burns. You come out, and I’ll change the order.”
“She’s your daughter, your own flesh and blood, Rory. You can’t kill her.”
“She’s nothing to me,” he yelled again.
“What do you want, Calder?”
“Don’t play games. You know what I want.”
Mercer had a clear line of vision and a clean shot. Right before he pulled the trigger, Calder turned in his direction. The gun he held in his right hand was aimed directly at him, while the barrel of the one he held in his left was against Quinn’s temple.
“I want the files, and I know you have them.”
“I don’t have them. We couldn’t find them.” Mercer changed his angle and fixed his sight on Calder.
“Give me the fucking files, or I’ll kill her.”
“I don’t have them. We couldn’t find them, just like you couldn’t.”
Mercer leveled his gun and aimed, not sure whether the shot was clean enough. Who would get the shot off first? It was too close. She was too close.
In the split second it took him to decide, another shot rang out.
“No!” he screamed. He flew from between the barrels, watching in disbelief as Calder fell to the floor instead of Quinn.
He cut through the rope binding her hands and called out to Welsh. “Get your ass out here and help me.” He’d think about why the man hadn’t waited for his word later, but right now he could only thank God he hadn’t.
“Oh my God, Mercer,” Quinn cried when he removed the gag from her mouth.
“I’m here, precious,” he said, holding her trembling body close to his while he shouted out again for Welsh.
He kissed her lips, her cheeks, her eyes, her nose. “I was so scared,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, Mercer.”
Quinn turned her gaze from him to the man walking toward them.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Eighty-eight,” he heard a familiar voice say as the man in full tactical gear approached. “She never was his daughter. She’s always been mine.”
Doc cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand. “Hello, Quinn,” he said, as Mercer let her go, and her father took her in his arms.
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Also by Heather Slade
BUTLER RANCH
Available Now!
Book One: The Promise
Book Two: The Truce
Book Three: The Secret
Book Four: The Gift
Coming Soon!
Book Six: The Return
COWBOYS OF CRESTED BUTTE
Available Now!
Book One: Fall for Me
Book Two: Dance with Me
Book Three: Kiss Me Cowboy
Book Four: Stay with Me
Book Five: Win Me Over
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Book Six: Sing to Me
Two New Series Coming Soon!
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LOS CABALLEROS
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Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next
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The Return
Want more from Heather Slade?
Keep reading for a short excerpt from
Fall for Me
the first book in
the Cowboys of Crested Butte Series.
The Return
He’d been waiting over twenty years to be close enough to kill the man who had ripped to shreds the life of a woman Kade had loved. Finally, he was able to avenge the horrors she’d faced the day Rory Calder raped and left her for dead. He’d almost killed him then, but Leech Hess, the woman’s father, had stopped him. He wondered now if Leech regretted that Kade didn’t get the shot off as much as he did.
As he walked out from the shadows, he came face to face with a different woman. The last time he talked to her in person, she’d been a little girl. Between then and now, he’d only watched her from afar, although there hadn’t been a single day he didn’t think about her, worried about her, and prayed he did right by her.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Eighty-eight,” Kade said to the man with whom he’d entrusted her safety, Mercer Bryant. “She never was his daughter. She’s always been mine.”
Kade walked over and cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand. “Hello, Quinn,” he said.
Mercer let her go, and Kade held her in his arms for the first time in fourteen years.
“Hi,” she murmured, burying her face in his shoulder. “I remember you,” she whispered.
“I’m so happy you do.”
“Are you really my father?”
He understood why she asked. When he’d crept in the back door of the building where she was being held with a gun to her head, Kade had overheard Mercer tell Calder, the man threatening to kill her, that he wouldn’t do it, because Quinn was his flesh and blood. Moments later, Kade had contradicted that by saying she was his daughter.
“Welcome home, son,” said his father, who Mercer had untied
and helped to his feet. Kade let go of Quinn and walked over to embrace his da.
He took a step back and looked him over. “What did Calder do to you?” Kade asked.
“Knocked me out with something. I don’t remember much,” his father answered.
Laird Butler, retired CIA agent, code name Burns, had always been his oldest son’s hero—today more than ever. At seventy years old, he was still as fit and strong as men half his age.
“We should get Burns and Quinn checked out,” suggested Mercer.
“Good idea, Eighty-eight.” Kade looked over to the other side of the building where a man lay face down in a pool of blood. “Who’s that?”
“Max Lista,” Mercer answered. “Our hire, but evidently working with Calder in some capacity.”
Later, Kade would discuss the breach with him and their two other partners in K19 Solutions, Paps and Razor. He looked at Quinn, who stood with Mercer’s arm around her shoulders. She was studying him, curiosity etching lines in her face.
“You’re safe now,” he said, walking closer to her. Kade knew she was waiting for an answer to her question about whether he was her father or not, and soon he’d give it to her. But not here, not surrounded by death and evil. “Let’s get you out of here,” he said instead. “I’ll have Mercer take you to see my ma,” he added. “Da, you go with them.”
While Kade was a trained physician’s assistant, he had fallout to deal with here, and wouldn’t feel comfortable examining either Quinn or his father in this setting.
The operatives the K19 team had lined up as backup were making their way into the building and removing all traces of evidence of what had gone down in the last hour. They’d need a sweep and clean crew in here as soon as possible too.
“Should we take that one, Doc?” the man who had introduced himself as Welsh asked, pointing at Max Lista’s body.
Kade nodded.
“I’ll gather the family,” said Laird.
“Not today, Da.” Kade motioned in Quinn’s direction. “I need some time.”
The Truth Page 26
