Bringing Delaney Home

by Lee Kilraine

  Bringing Delaney Home

  A Cates Brothers Book

  By Lee Kilraine

  LYRICAL SHINE

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Teaser chapter

  Copyright Page

  To my mom, the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. You taught me anything is possible. I miss your wisdom and your laughter, but count my blessings every day for winning the mom lottery.

  To the women and men who protect our freedom and those who love and support them.

  Acknowledgments

  To my editor, Esi Sogah, for your enthusiasm, insight and guidance. Thank you.

  To my agent, Laura Bradford, for your willingness to take a chance on me and Delaney, even though we both needed a bit of work. Thank you.

  To all at Lyrical Press and Kensington Publishing whose talents and hard work helped make this debut author’s dreams come true. Thank you.

  To my friends, family and critique partners who read and re-read various drafts. My thanks to Karen, Terri, Steph, Allie, Dani and Heath-erly Bell. Your time and feedback were invaluable.

  Special thanks to my friend and CP, Jenn Hoopes. You know what you saved the world from. It’s an honor and a joy to take this writing journey alongside you. You, my friend, are awesome sauce.

  To Fletcher, Allie, Dani and Kent. Thanks for letting me color outside the lines on this mama gig. You bring me joy. Now go find your own Happily Ever Afters, you knuckleheads.

  And to Peter, the love of my life. For everything.

  Chapter One

  When he’d woken up today, Quinn Cates had not had “kidnap his best friend’s sister” on his to-do list.

  Greer said kidnap was too strong a word, but when he asked what she expected him to do if Delaney refused to come with him, she responded, “You’re a big guy. Just put her over your shoulder and carry her out.”

  “Greer, that’s kidnapping in any cop’s book, which, go figure, my police department frowns on.”

  “She’s in trouble, Quinn. I know it.” Greer ran a shaking hand through her hair. “Her doctor called me today to see if Delaney was with me. He said she’s lost ten pounds in the last two months and hasn’t shown up for physical therapy in over three weeks.”

  Reaching out, Quinn steadied Greer’s hands in his. “Hey, I’ve talked to a lot of accident victims. Depression is not unusual during the aftermath.” He used his official cop voice, hoping to talk her down from her kidnapping plan. Hell, any plan that had him in close proximity to Delaney was a dangerous one. Wasn’t that why he had instigated the “Delaney-free” conversation rule with Greer five years ago? In order to get over Delaney, he’d had to go cold turkey.

  “Quinn, I just got off the phone with her. She sounded like she’d been drinking—”

  “Christ, does she have access to serious meds?”

  “Could Willy Wonka get his hands on some chocolate? They’re like Tic Tac candies in her life. She’s been on heavy narcotics for eight months.”

  “Well, hell.” Quinn pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the survival instinct telling him “no” was the only sane answer. This was his best friend asking for help, and if Delaney was in trouble . . . “Okay, I’ll go check on her, even bring Delaney home if necessary, but, unless it’s worst case, I still can’t carry her out against her will.”

  “Then use your dimples and that famous Cates charm.”

  “Right. Because that worked so well before.”

  “Good point. Tell her you arrested me and I need her to post bail.”

  “Nobody would fall for that.”

  Greer nodded. “You’re right. You’d never arrest me.”

  “I’d arrest your sweet ass in a heartbeat.” Quinn grinned at Greer’s you-wouldn’t-dare expression. “But I’d bail you out . . . after you had few hours to cool off.”

  “One time when we were in the third grade, you made me really mad. Delaney helped me write a list of sixty-eight ways to torture you.” Greer cocked a warning eyebrow in his direction. “I still have the list.”

  “I’ve known you since kindergarten and I’m just now finding out you and your sister are crazy?”

  “No, you’ve known it the whole time. It’s another thing you’re in denial about.” Greer turned all business now that he had signed on to her plan. She slapped an airline ticket to Washington, D.C. in his hand. “You can drive her back in her Jeep. Thank you, Quinn. I know this is the last thing you want to do, but—”

  “Yeah, yeah. It’s Delaney.”

  “I really appreciate this. If my backup at work hadn’t gone into labor last night, I’d go,” she said, giving him a tight hug. “I owe you one.”

  “I get it. Unhand me, woman. I’ve got a flight to catch.”

  Washington, D.C. streaked by at forty-five miles an hour. Quinn stared out the window, not seeing any of it. Greer’s plan was simple enough. Sure, he’d been stuck on Delaney in high school, but that was years ago. He’d moved on.

  The taxi pulled up at the curb, and for a split second, he wanted it to keep driving. He had no problem helping out a friend. His problem was his gut was telling him it could get complicated. He didn’t do complicated. Not anymore. “It’s only as complicated as you make it.”

  “It’s not that complicated,” the taxi driver said. “The fare’s twenty-seven dollars. Tell ya what, gimme an even thirty. See? No math. Not complicated at all.”

  Quinn looked at the taxi driver as if seeing him for the first time. “Thanks for the ride,” he said, handing over the thirty dollars before climbing out of the cab. He looked up at the third-floor windows of Delaney’s apartment building. So, don’t make it complicated. You moved on years ago. Go in. Help. Get out. Simple. He walked over to the building’s entrance, punched in the entry code Greer had given him, and took the stairs up rather than wait for the elevator.

  “Delaney?” Quinn called out as he opened the door to Delaney’s apartment. At first glance, the apartment looked vacant. But the key Greer had given him worked, so it had to be Delaney’s place. Metal blinds, lowered over a single window to block the light, dimmed the small living room. A few broken slats created spaces for the setting sun to force its way through. Dust motes floated in slow motion in the narrow sun rays.

  A love seat, wingback chair, and coffee table, all various shades of brown, took up most of the space. There were no pictures on the walls, no knickknacks on the table or pillows on the couch. Beyond the living room, a bright fluorescent light shone behind a pass-
through window. The apartment was quiet except for the hum of the light. He knew he needed to pull it together when the thought Don’t go toward the light flashed through his mind.

  Greer’s a worrier. Delaney’s probably fine. When was she not fine, even with everything she’d had to deal with growing up, right? Keep it simple. Assess. Help. Get out.

  “Delaney?” He walked toward the light until he stood in the kitchen doorway—where he found Delaney. She was sitting on the chipped and yellowed linoleum floor with her back against a kitchen cabinet. She wore a grey T-shirt and dark grey baggy sweatpants with the tips of neon-green running shoes peeking out. Huh. Kind of hard to assess the weight loss Greer had mentioned when she was wearing clothes that looked like Shaq could borrow them. She had scraped her honey-blond hair into a messy-looking bun and stabbed a silver teaspoon through it. Her face seemed to be all sharp cheekbones and big golden-brown eyes. Her delicate nose was red and running. The perfect ivory skin etched in his memory was today a mess of patchy blotches and tear tracks.

  “Delaney, it’s Quinn Cates. Your sister Greer sent me.”

  “Greer? You’re not Greer. Greer has much prettier hair. And you’re very . . .” Delaney tilted her head all the way back, looking up the long length of him until her head hit the cabinet behind her. “Ouch. . . big. What are you, about twelve feet tall?”

  “Delaney, what are you doing?” Quinn stepped into the kitchen and did a quick visual inventory for pills and alcohol.

  “I’m trying to stop the pain.”

  Stepping around a collection of wineglasses and coffee cups on the floor, Quinn crouched next to her. He grabbed the prescription bottle beside her hip while trying to lift her face to check her pupils, but she batted his hand away.

  “Delaney, these are . . . prescription vitamins? Is this what you took?” After he noted the bottle was full, his eyes did a quick scan of the countertops and small pine kitchen table for any more prescription bottles.

  “Because, you know, I hurt. I still hurt so bad and it seems like it’s been forever.”

  “Delaney!” Quinn reached out and turned her face to look into his. “Delaney Lyons, did you take any pain pills? Any narcotics?”

  “Oh, hell, no. Those things mess you up. I stopped taking those weeks ago.” She tried to bat his hand away again.

  Her pupils looked normal. “Is that all you took?”

  “Nope. I had some wine.” She looked at the floor around her and counted the number of wineglasses. “It appears I’ve had six, six glasses of wine. Whoa. I sound like The Count.” Hiccup.

  “Are you sure, Delaney?” The wineglasses were lined up in a row, as if she’d poured them all and then drunk her way down the line.

  “No. Lemme count again. One, two—” She stopped counting to massage her left leg above the knee. Clenching her jaw tight, she released a low moan and looked up at the ceiling. “God, if it would just stop for an hour . . . five minutes even . . .” Delaney looked back at Quinn. “Is five freaking minutes too long to ask?”

  Quinn looked at Delaney, very pale but still beautiful, and watched pain, anger, and then finally sadness chase each other across her face.

  She looked back down at the floor with a sigh. “Oh my, look at all the coffee cups. I remember. I drank the coffee to stop the spinning.”

  “The spinning?”

  “Yeah. Side effect of my no-pain method.”

  “Gotcha. How are the spinning and the pain right now?”

  “Oh, well, not bad ’cause I stopped the spinning with doughnuts.” She grabbed a doughnut out of the box on the floor. Breaking it in half, she reached up and pulled the spoon out of her bun and started eating the jelly from the center of the doughnut.

  “And the pain?”

  Delaney looked back up. “No. No matter what I do—I can’t stop the pain,” she whispered. Hiccup.

  “What about the vitamins?”

  “That’s for the osteoporosis and scurvy.” Delaney’s eyes teared up quickly as a sob rolled up from her chest. “Only now I don’t need as much anymore.”

  With tears running down her cheeks, Delaney dropped her doughnut and spoon into the box, reached out, and grabbed Quinn by the sleeve. She pulled him forward enough to rub her tears and runny nose on his sleeve. “When I was little, when Greer was born, I knew exactly what to do. Take care of Greer. Protect her.”

  “You did a good job.”

  “I had to. Then she grew up and didn’t need me, so I left and made a new life. I had a plan, but—” Delaney scrubbed her hands over her face and shook her head. “Funny how one second can change your life, you know? Boom. So now I want to be left alone. Why won’t Greer understand that?”

  “She’s worried about you.”

  “I told her I was fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.” Quinn watched the tears run silently down her face, realizing in all the years he’d known Delaney he’d never seen her cry before.

  “Of course I’m not fine. My life makes no sense anymore. And I’m tired of trying to make it make sense, you know? I just want to be left alone. That’s all.”

  “Delaney?”

  “Yes?” She sniffed and blinked tear-filled eyes up to his face.

  “It’s time to come home. Greer sent me to get you.” He used the bottom of his shirt to finish wiping her tears away.

  She looked up at him in confusion. “One of the many Cates brothers. In high school, you couldn’t sneeze without spraying a Cates brother. One of you was always at the principal’s office. Was that you? You look like the bad boy of the bunch.”

  Quinn quirked an eyebrow at her, wondering what game she was playing. She damn well knew who he was. “No, that was Tynan.”

  “The one who cheated off my chemistry tests?”

  “Tynan.”

  “The one who dated the student teacher?”

  “What? Seriously? Had to be Tynan.”

  She studied him, tilting her head different angles. “Hmmm, not Tynan, and not the super hot one, or that other one the girls nicknamed Mr. Darcy, and definitely not old what’s-his-name. That makes you the one who dated all those perky cheerleaders. Quinlan.” She poked him in the chest with her finger.

  “Guilty.” He stood up and took a step back, rubbing his chest where she’d poked him.

  “You don’t say. Of what?”

  “Nothing.” Guilty of being stupid if he let her touch get to him again. He’d gotten over her five years ago. He was not taking that road again.

  “Don’t poker up on me now. Go ahead and confess. It’s a few years too late, but . . . No? Fine. I’ll go first. I confess I’m pretty sure I made out with one of you Cates boys, but I’m not sure which one.”

  Quinn crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “How could you not be sure which one of us you made out with?”

  “Well, you all looked a lot alike. You know, tall, square jaw, and dark hair. You know what you needed? Name tags. If you Cates brothers had worn name tags, then I’d remember which one.”

  Quinn grunted. “I think I might be insulted.”

  “Why? Was it you?” She stared at his lips as if this would reveal the truth.

  “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “See, you don’t even know. I told you y’all needed name tags.”

  “I’d say you need some more coffee.”

  Delaney looked around the floor at all the wineglasses and coffee cups lined up. “Oh, good gravy, I know what I need more than coffee.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The bathroom. Help me up,” Delaney said. “No! Do. Not. Touch. The. Legs. Just grab my hands and pull.”

  Quinn gently pulled her up by her hands. He kept holding on to her while she swayed precariously.

  “Okey dokey. Step out of the way, Great Wall of China.” She looked up at him as she pushed against his chest. “Someone’s been working out.”

  He watched her limp and sway down the hallway, then followed after her looking for the bedroom
. The faster he could pack some clothes for her, the easier this might be. Her bedroom was practically bare. The dresser had clothes in only two of its six drawers. One drawer held bras, underwear, and socks. The other drawer held sweats. Four pair of dark grey sweatpants, six grey sweatshirts, and a stack of T-shirts. Huh.

  Opening the closet he found two suitcases on the floor and one pair of gym shoes. He grabbed the suitcases and laid them on the bed. He pulled the newer blue one forward, figuring if everything fit in it, he wouldn’t need to take the banged-up suitcase.

  “Don’t open that!” Delaney yelled from the doorway. She moved into the room to open the battered yellow suitcase but turned to squint at him suspiciously. “Wait. What are you doing?”

  “I’m helping you pack so I can take you home. Remember, Greer sent me to get you? She really needs you at home.”

  “She does?” Delaney looked up into Quinn’s face. “Why?”

  “Because,” he said, quickly reaching for the yellow suitcase to start packing while she was distracted.

  “Because? Clearly you weren’t the brother on the debate team.” She stood and hummed a few notes from the Sesame Street theme song, then stopped. “Why didn’t she mention it on the phone?”

  “You know Greer—she’s bad at asking for help.” Had he just said that? Hell, Greer had no problem asking for help. Help paint her kitchen, help fix her speeding ticket . . . help Delaney.

  “Okay. I can come down for a day or two to help Greer.”

  Quinn scooped up her sweats from the drawer and threw them into the case. He figured he’d hurry while Delaney was being cooperative. He reached in to grab her underthings out of the last drawer.

  “Gah! Take your hands off my panties,” she squeaked.

  “If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that,” Quinn said.

  “Get your hands out of my drawers.”