In Too Deep: Station Seventeen Book 3

by Kimberly Kincaid

  Quinn whispered, “But not you?”

  He lifted one shoulder halfway before letting it drop. “Not really. They were both sad, so the distance worked for them, but I wasn’t just sad. I was angry. I thought my father was selfish to leave us. A coward who took the easy way out while the rest of us were left to figure out the hard parts. Sometimes, on the really hard days, I’m still angry,” he said quietly. “But my mother was the love of his life, and we were such a happy family. I guess losing her just broke him. I don’t really know. Then Hayley got sick and lost her hearing, and suddenly, there were bigger things to worry over than not having parents. So I did the only thing I could do.”

  Quinn recognized the look in his eyes like an old friend. Of course. “You took care of your family.”

  “I threw myself into doing everything I could for my grandmother and my sister,” Luke agreed. “I took extra jobs after school to help pay Hayley’s medical bills. I learned sign language right along with her once we realized she wasn’t a candidate for hearing aids or surgery. I figured out how to make plans and fix things. Don’t get me wrong—there were a lot of rough moments. But eventually, we had a bunch of good ones, too. I still take care of them both the best I can.”

  “That’s why you pick up all those extra shifts, isn’t it?” Quinn asked, realization sinking through her like a stone in still water. “And why you don’t hang out with everyone at Seventeen in your spare time?”

  He hesitated. “That’s part of it.”

  “What’s the other part?”

  Another hesitation, this one longer. “I’m, ah. Not so good at letting people in.”

  His voice played back in her head from only a few minutes ago. You drown yourself in taking care of other people so you don’t focus on the fact that who you really need to be taking care of is you…I know because I do it every damn day…

  “Getting close to people means you might lose them, and that scares you,” she said, the last piece to the puzzle falling into place with a startling snap. The way he’d always stayed one step outside of things at the fire house, how he subtly shifted the spotlight of each conversation off of himself, the calm, cool way he managed the emotions from the same situation that had threatened to upend her completely—God, all of it made so much sense.

  Luke hadn’t been building distance. He’d been building armor.

  And now he was taking it off to show her what was underneath.

  “Yeah. I just…” His voice caught, and Quinn’s heart along with it. “I remember how much losing them hurt, you know? How scared I felt. How lost.”

  “Oh, Luke.” Her chest ached, but she firmed up her words. She wasn’t foolish enough to think she could take away the pain of him losing his parents. But she could be here for him now. “Of course you felt scared and lost. You lost your mom and dad too early, and you loved them very much.”

  “I did. I still do.” He released an unstable exhale, and she didn’t think. Just grabbed his hand and squeezed.

  He squeezed back, holding her fingers tight as he continued. “I guess I just thought if I took care of other people but didn’t let them get too close, I’d be able to keep myself from ever feeling like that again.”

  For a minute, Quinn sat there in the sunset shadows of her bedroom, trying to find the balance between her racing heart and her spinning thoughts. But Luke had trusted her with the truth. The least she could do was return the favor.

  “I’m scared to lose the people I care about, too. But you’re funny, and smart, and probably the kindest person I’ve ever met. You deserve to share that. You deserve to be cared for, too.”

  “We’re kind of a matched set, huh?” he asked, and the irony of it made Quinn laugh.

  “I’ll tell you what. I promise to lean on you when I need help if you can promise me something in return.”

  Luke’s dark brows went up. “And what’s that?”

  She moved forward to put her forehead on his, stealing a kiss from his lips before she said what was in her heart. “You’ll let me help you, too. Ten years is a long time not to let anybody take care of you. I’m not saying you have to share everything, all the time,” she added, because while she wanted to be there for Luke whenever he needed her, she wasn’t about to force her way in. “But we’re partners. We’re supposed to hold each other up.”

  “We are partners,” he said, brushing a return kiss over her mouth.

  Quinn’s breath hitched, and God, she would never get enough of this man. “So does that mean we have a deal?”

  Luke pulled her close, his smile growing as he kissed her more deeply.

  “Yeah. We have a deal.”

  23

  Quinn sat in front of RFD’s headquarters with her chest full of butterflies. More accurately, they might be giant moths, or even possibly an entire colony of full-grown bats.

  Not that it mattered. Even if she was harboring every last species of Wild Kingdom under her shirt, neither Dallas Garrity nor Captain Bridges was going to let her bail on this damned appointment.

  “You okay?” Detective Maxwell asked from the spot where he sat beside her in the driver’s seat of his unmarked police car. He’d been at the helm of the cloak and dagger mission to get her from her apartment to her appointment with Garrity, slipping into her building disguised as a delivery man and sneaking her out through the complex’s parking garage. The precautions were for Quinn’s safety, she knew. But God, she’d be one happy-as-hell camper when she didn’t have to stealth her way out of her own freaking house for fear of being watched, followed, or worse.

  Breathe, girl. Breathe. “A little jittery, but I’ll be alright,” she said. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to humor me by giving me the case update again to help kill some of these nerves?”

  The rough, gruff detective had never struck her as a particularly chatty guy. But thankfully, he took one for the team, nodding in the affirmative even though Hollister had given both her and Luke a thorough rundown less than two hours ago during their morning check-in.

  “All of last night’s patrols were quiet,” Maxwell said. “No one fitting Ice’s description has been spotted anywhere near your apartment, or Luke’s. Seventeen finished A-shift without incident, and Luke’s family’s house is secure for when they return later today. There’s no sign of increased or overt threat to any of you.”

  The good news bolstered Quinn’s calm, but she also knew that was exactly why he’d led with it. The rest wasn’t as promising. “Has Cherise turned up yet?”

  The corners of Maxwell’s mouth hinted at a frown. “No, but we’re still looking as carefully as we can without tipping Ice off. It’s not unusual for junkies to disappear for a day or two from time to time, though. It’s possible she just went on a bender and she’s crashed out somewhere.”

  A fact Quinn knew all too well from being called to resuscitate those who had crossed the limit of what their bodies could handle. God, she hoped the intelligence unit found the woman soon, and not just for the selfish reason that it might lead them closer to Ice. “And Dixon?”

  “Still not talking,” Maxwell said through his teeth. Isabella and Hollister had grabbed the guy off a street corner not long after they’d gone looking for him yesterday. But for as easy as he’d been to find, he was proving just as difficult to crack, having apparently spoken only the words “fuck” and “you” at various intervals before being thrown into city lockup for the night.

  The detective continued. “We’ll take another run at him today, though, after he’s been formally charged for the robbery/assault. He’s likely to change his tune once we tell him our crime scene unit found his prints in the kitchen at Three Brothers, the stolen bank bag in the bottom of his closet, and traces of Carmen’s blood on the pair of jeans next to it. With her testimony, plus the surveillance video Capelli dug up that puts him a block from the place at the time of the incident? Even Dixon’s attorney will be advising him to cooperate.”

  “So for now it’s just sit
and wait?” God, they were quickly becoming Quinn’s least favorite words in the English language.

  “For you,” Maxwell said, giving up the closest thing he had to a smile. “But Garza and I are onto a couple of really solid leads with the Vipers’ rival gang. We’re getting closer to figuring out what Ice is up to, and once we do, there won’t be anywhere that asshole can hide. Don’t worry. We’ll get him.”

  Quinn nodded and managed to smile back. They might not have Ice in custody, but they were closer than they had been. The intelligence unit had been smart and careful from Day One. She had to believe they’d break this case, because it was that or lose her marbles.

  “Thanks, Shawn. I really appreciate it.”

  “Believe me, Copeland. Nailing this guy for kidnapping you two will be my freaking pleasure.”

  His dark eyes glinted with enough intensity to remind Quinn never to piss him off (ever), and she turned her energy toward tackling the next mountain in front of her. “Well, I guess we’d better go in before Garrity comes out to get me.”

  “Lead the way,” Maxwell said. “I’ve got your back, and I’ll be here to take you home when you’re done.”

  Getting out of the unmarked Dodge Charger, Quinn scanned the busy city street in front of her. Maxwell did the same, of course, and he was the one with all the firepower, but staying alert never hurt a girl.

  She blew out a sigh before making her way up to the building’s double doors, then through the lobby and over the well-polished linoleum until she reached the glass and wood door marked Dallas Garrity, Licensed Psychological Associate. Her chest thumped its displeasure at the prospect of being back under the department microscope, but she managed a polite enough smile for the receptionist, then another for Dallas himself as he led her back to his office.

  “I’m glad to see you again,” he said, letting her choose her seat (same as last time) before choosing his own across from her (not shockingly, also the same as last time). “I heard you had a busy day on shift yesterday. Do you want to talk about it?”

  Unease prowled through her rib cage. “It sounds like you already heard what happened.”

  “I saw the report from your captain,” Dallas said, but the agreement was as much as Quinn was going to get. “What I’d really like is to hear your version of events. As long as you’re willing to share it.”

  She sat back in her comfortably cushioned chair. If she wanted to get out of another session, she was going to have to throw him a bone, and the truth was, he really did seem nice enough. Now that Quinn looked at him closely, she supposed Addison wasn’t entirely wrong. Dallas was kind of good-looking in an objective way, with that slightly tousled blond hair and that cleft in his chin that was just defined enough to make him handsome without throwing him over the top into GQ-ville. Plus, the look on his face right now was genuine, as if he really did want to hear what she had to say. She might not want to go skipping down memory lane all tra-la-la, but would it really be that bad to tell him about yesterday’s call?

  Quinn lifted one shoulder, although the move felt just a touch stiff. “Seventeen was called to the scene of a restaurant fire that turned out to be a robbery/assault.”

  “How did you feel about being back on ambo?”

  “Pretty good,” she answered honestly. “I mean, there’s always a little adrenaline when that all-call goes off, you know? But otherwise, I was happy to be back at work, and definitely happy to be helping someone.”

  Dallas smiled, his pen pausing over the legal pad on his knee. “I remember the adrenaline.”

  Ah, right, he’d been a firefighter. Judging by the eight by ten photo of him and his squad-mates that hung on the wall below his diplomas, it hadn’t been too terribly long ago, either.

  His smile faded a bit. “So once you got to the scene of the restaurant fire, what happened then?”

  “Oh. Ah, Luke and I took care of the woman who had been attacked.”

  Quinn’s gut jabbed at the memory of Carmen’s injuries and the fact that the man who had engineered that assault had been the same man who’d promised to murder everyone Quinn loved.

  Easy. Breathe. “She was pretty banged up,” Quinn said, clearing her throat. “But she’ll be okay.”

  Dallas nodded slowly. “That’s not what made the call tough for you, though,” he led, and Quinn’s breath grew suddenly heavy and thick.

  “No.” She tried to wait out the silence he gave her to keep going, but God, he was really fucking patient. “Um, Ice was…there. In the crowd, watching. I saw him.”

  “Ice is the man who threatened you when you were kidnapped.”

  Dallas delivered the words as carefully as anyone could, yet still, they stuck into Quinn like a thousand razor-sharp needles. Talking with Luke about the kidnapping was one thing—he’d been there. He understood. But looking all vulnerable and weak in front of Dallas, when he potentially held her job in his hands? That fell square under the heading of danger, Will Robinson!

  Quinn’s heart—traitorous thing—beat even faster in her chest. “Why did you refuse to clear me unless I came back to talk to you again?”

  Dallas’s pause marked his surprise at her question even though his expression didn’t. “I thought you might have some more things you needed to say about your kidnapping.”

  “I was there when it happened. Honestly, what’s the point of rehashing all the details?” Quinn asked. It wasn’t as if she could change any of them, from last week or from yesterday, and she damn sure couldn’t make them less frightening whenever her memories snuck up on her.

  You know this feeling you have right now? This fear of dying?

  “That’s a legitimate question,” Dallas said, the words finding a path past the anxiety beginning to build behind her breastbone. “The short answer is that some assault victims find it cathartic to talk about their attacks. It allows them to move forward and begin to heal.”

  I want you to remember this feeling…remember it…remember…I know who you are, Quinn Copeland…

  Her pulse rattled at her throat, defying her brain’s command to slow down. “Not me. Remembering won’t help.”

  Dallas’s sand-colored brows went up, and really, why did his smile have to be so kind? “To be fair, you haven’t tried it.”

  “Sometimes, I feel like I’m crazy,” Quinn blurted. Realizing just a beat too late that that was probably the last thing she wanted to say to the department-appointed psychologist in charge of keeping her cleared for work, she added, “I mean, not in the clinical sense. I’m functional, and I want to go to work and be with my friends. I just…it’s like a boomerang. Most of the time I feel like I’m fine. Like, really fine.”

  “That’s good.”

  Dallas seemed to mean it, and since Quinn couldn’t stop talking now without him writing something potentially damning on that legal pad of his, she continued.

  “But other times, like when I’m trying to fall asleep at night or if I’m by myself, the memories come back and I get so scared. I remember everything that happened and how I felt so helpless, and I can’t control the fear. It gets so big, I can’t move or breathe.”

  “Panic attacks can be a very normal side effect of post-traumatic stress, Quinn. They don’t mean you’re weak or helpless,” Dallas said.

  She frowned. “Well, they suck.”

  Dallas laughed, and at least that was a decent sign that he didn’t think she’d lost it entirely. “That they do. But there are ways of pinpointing specific triggers so you can try to head them off at the pass, and there are also methods of dealing with them if your anxiety starts to become overwhelming on a regular basis.”

  “Right. I know how to breathe into a paper bag and stuff like that,” she said. Not that it really worked when you were remembering in vivid detail the way a psycho gang leader had promised to murder you slowly.

  Dallas surprised her by shaking his head. “While medical options are valuable in a lot of cases, the methods I’m talking about here are a bit diffe
rent.”

  “Okay,” Quinn said, turning the word into enough of a question that he answered it.

  “Let’s try this. Is there anything that calms you? A word or a place or a memory that makes you feel safe?”

  “Yes. Luke—” She clamped down on her lip. But her relationship with Luke wasn’t against the rules, and what’s more, being around him really did calm her. “Sometimes, when I get shaky, Luke will put his hand on my back and remind me to breathe. That makes me feel safe.”

  If the personal reveal shocked him, Dallas didn’t show it. “Good,” he said. “Let’s start with that.”

  They talked for a while about when she felt most scared, and Quinn was surprised at how well a few of the tricks Dallas suggested actually worked to at least ease her fear a little. Others didn’t, but when he promised her that was okay, she believed him. Not having to hide how scared she was felt kind of comforting—not vulnerable like she’d thought it would—and by the time her session was almost up, she was glad (albeit grudgingly) he’d made her come back.

  Well, right up until he said, “I’ve noticed you don’t talk about your kidnapping in specific terms”, anyway.

  “Haven’t we been talking about it in specific terms for like, the last forty-five minutes?” Quinn asked, although her hackles had kicked right back into a defensive position.

  “Yes and no.” Dallas smiled that funny little smile that made Quinn like him despite the fact that she’d had to sit in his office twice in the span of seven days. “What I mean is, you’ve made some really nice progress today in recognizing what triggers your anxiety. But you’re very vague when you talk about what happened to you. You never use the words ‘kidnapping’ or ‘assault’. I’m not faulting you for that,” he added. “But it’s something I’ve noticed. And at some point, you’re going to have to address everything that happened to you if you really want to heal.”

  “I don’t…” The words stuck in Quinn’s throat, her inhale jamming right along with them, and damn it. Damn it! “I don’t know if I can do that today.” Or tomorrow. The day after that? Not looking so hot, either.