by Debby Conrad
It was as if she’d never heard him. “I can’t believe my father would do such a thing.”
“Well, believe it,” Davenport said. “And believe me, I wasn’t the first guy he paid off.”
Bailey blinked, her mouth falling open. “But why would he do something so horrible?”
“Maybe he knew these guys were all assholes,” Quinn said, defending Doyle. His eyes cut a path toward Davenport. “It’s obvious this one is. And your dad probably didn’t want to see you hurt by any of them.”
Looking up at Quinn with tear filled eyes, she said, “You knew about this. Didn’t you?”
“Bailey, this isn’t the time to talk about this. In case you forgot, this jerk has a gun pointed at us.”
“You’re trying to change the subject.”
Rolling his eyes, Quinn said, “Yes, I am.”
“That’s enough, you two,” Davenport said. “Now, somebody’s got my diamonds, and I want them back.”
“What the hell is going on here!” Doyle shouted from the doorway.
Davenport pivoted in the direction of Doyle’s voice. Quinn was about to lunge for the gun when Davenport spun around, moving back at the same time. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned.
Quinn raised his hands out in front of him, shrugging in mock resignation. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.” Inside, his spirits sank lower, all sparks of hope quickly extinguished. He wanted to save Bailey from this jerk. If Davenport hurt her, Quinn would never forgive himself.
“What are you doing here, Davenport?” Doyle asked.
“So, you do know Stanley?” Bailey asked her father.
“I, uh . . .” Doyle paused, looking to Quinn for sympathy. Quinn simply shrugged, thinking ‘You’re on your own, pal’.
“Dad, how could you?” Bailey soared to her feet, moving toward her father. “Don’t you realize how humiliating this is?”
“Sit down, Bailey,” Davenport ordered, moving the gun in her direction.
It was all the time Quinn needed to make his move. Lunging forward, he managed to knock the gun out of Davenport’s hand. Then, both he and Davenport dove for it. The next thing he remembered was hearing the gun go off right before something crashed into his skull, knocking him out.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It felt as if someone had dropped an anvil on his head. When Quinn came to he saw Loretta and Davenport being carted away in handcuffs by two men who looked identical to the ones he’d seen driving the black sedan through his parking lot a few days ago.
He closed his eyes again, then opened them quickly. “Bailey,” he cried out, needing to be sure she was safe.
“I’m right here,” she said, smiling down at him. He was on the kitchen floor, his head cradled in her lap. The rest of Bailey’s family were scattered about the kitchen, worried looks on their faces as they stared at him. He also recognized the stocky man with black curly hair. Agent Tanelli from the FBI.
“What happened?” Quinn asked.
“Well,” Bailey said, “after Loretta hit you with the wine bottle, Agent Tanelli and two other agents came flying through the door. They arrested Stanley and Loretta.”
“I heard a gunshot.”
Bailey looked up. “I need to have my ceiling repaired.”
“How are you feeling, pal?” Agent Tanelli asked.
Pal? A few days ago, the man had treated him like he was some kind of lunatic. Now they were pals? “How did you know . . .” He tried to lift his head, but it still throbbed.
“We’ve been watching you and Ms. Maguire. I figured no one could have come up with a cockamamie story like the one you two told me.” He grinned. “Unless it was true.”
Quinn sighed with relief.
“But we still haven’t got a clue as to what happened to those diamonds.” Agent Tanelli scratched his head.
Quinn’s eyes shot to Dillon. “I think I have an idea.”
The boy flushed miserably. Quinn remembered the first night Dillon had been inside the Davenport house. He’d been bitten by the piranha. That night Quinn had noticed a plastic treasure chest in the aquarium, but tonight the chest had been missing. When he’d seen all the water around the tank earlier, it was obvious someone had been searching for something in there. Something extremely valuable, apparently. “Dillon,” Quinn said softly, “Do you want to show Agent Tanelli where the treasure chest is?”
Dillon looked up at his father. “I wasn’t trying to steal it, Dad. Honest. I just wanted to borrow it for a little while. Me and Patrick were playing pirates.”
Patrick’s eyes grew huge. “It was his idea,” he said, pointing at his brother.
Mark spoke up. “It’s okay, boys. Dillon, let’s go find your hidden treasure.”
“I still need a statement from you,” Agent Tanelli said to Quinn. “But since you don’t look like you’re in any condition to talk much right now, I can wait until morning. By the way, how’s your head? You need me to call an ambulance or anything?”
“Nah. I’m getting kind of used to being brutalized.”
He looked up at Bailey who smiled sheepishly at him. She ran her fingers soothingly across his face and jaw, occasionally planting kisses on his forehead. “Poor baby,” she whispered. If she was going to treat him like this every time he got hurt, hell he could probably take a daily beating.
“What about those thugs I told you about?” Quinn asked. Tomorrow was Saturday, and they were expecting to get the diamonds on Saturday.
“All been taken care of. We’ve already picked them up, and Leo Barnes as well.”
Quinn felt a wave of relief rush through him. Bailey was safe. Meeting her eyes, he smiled, and then panic struck him. What the hell was he going to do about her? Until he settled things at the bar, nothing, he decided, which she probably wouldn’t like. But that didn’t matter. Because as fickle as she was, she’d probably be over him in a few days anyway. But she’d be under his skin for a long, long time.
* * * * * * * * * *
Selling the bar had been the hardest thing in life he’d ever had to do, Quinn thought. But a few weeks ago Gwen Peterson had brought him an offer he couldn’t refuse. By accepting the offer, he’d be out of debt and he’d have some change to spare. The closing was scheduled for tomorrow, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.
As he looked around, he reminisced about the first time he’d laid eyes on the place. It was called the Peninsula Bar and Grill at the time. It had been so run down, he’d sometimes thought he would never be able to make a go of it. But the price had been right, and with a little elbow grease and some smarts, he’d finally brought it around. All that hard work, and he had nothing to show for it. He was thirty-four years old, and the only good thing in his life at the moment was an aging Italian motorcycle. He’d even lost Bailey. More to the point, he’d practically run her out of his life. She’d offered again to help with his financial situation, but he’d refused her, telling her he didn’t need, or want, her help. She’d finally taken the hint and left him alone. That was nearly four weeks ago, and he’d been miserable ever since. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he was too stubborn and pigheaded to admit it.
But he’d told her he couldn’t take her money. And that he couldn’t offer her any kind of life when he had no idea which direction he was headed. She’d said she understood. She hadn’t even tried to change his mind. The least she could have done was cry, but she hadn’t even done that. She’d simply smiled and said ‘Have a nice life’. That was his line, for chrissakes.
Pouring himself a drink, he took a swallow, enjoying the burn against his throat. Did he like feeling sorry for himself, or what? The truth was he was more upset about losing Bailey than this damn bar. It was only a bar. A thing. And with hard work and determination he’d own another one some day. But there would never be another Bailey. Finishing his drink, he locked up the place for the night and headed up the stairs to his apartment. After tonight, the apartment would no longer belong to h
im either.
* * * * * * * * * *
Quinn showed up at Gwen Peterson’s office the next morning at nine sharp. He wanted to get the closing over with and put the whole mess behind him. He was surprised when the new owner didn’t show, just the attorney who represented him. Quinn was told the buyer wanted the sale to be confidential, and therefore everything would be handled by the attorney. Fine with him. As long as he got his money, what did he care if some recluse bought the place? Quinn scribbled his name on the appropriate documents, took his check and left ten minutes later. It was over.
* * * * * * * * * *
On her hands and knees, Bailey had just finished arranging the last of the stained glass pieces on a shelf when the door to her shop opened. Hearing the bell, she got to her feet excitedly, and brushed the dust from her knees. She wasn’t officially open for business yet, but she certainly wouldn’t complain if she already had an interested customer.
Her enthusiasm was short lived when she looked into Quinn’s eyes staring back at her. She hadn’t expected him. Once she was settled, she’d planned to call and ask him to stop by sometime to see her shop, but she’d never dreamed he’d come by on his own.
“Hi,” she said, folding her hands behind her so he wouldn’t see that they were trembling. It had been several weeks since she’d last seen him, last made love with him.
“Hi.” Scanning the room, he said, “This is nice. When do you open?”
“Monday,” she said.
He nodded. “Well, you’ve certainly done a great job. I’m sure you’ll do well.”
“I hope so.” Relaxing her hands, she asked, “Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, thanks. I just stopped by to see how you were doing. I saw Gwen this morning, and she told me about your . . .” He swept a hand around the room.
“Oh. Well, it was nice of you to stop by.” She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. “I was going to call you once everything was done. Just to see if you wanted to stop in to take a look,” she added before he could jump to any conclusions that she was chasing him.
He smiled, stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets, and her heart melted. “Is that the only reason you were going to call?” he asked.
She swallowed hard and tried to focus on something other than his penetrating eyes. “Well, I was also going to tell you that Kaitlyn and Mark sold their house in Chicago. They’ll be moving back to Erie in a few weeks. Mark got his old job back. Isn’t that wonderful?” Leaning against the sales counter, she licked her lips and rushed on. “And Mom and Dad are settled in their new house. In fact, Mom is going to work for me a couple afternoons a week.”
“That’s great. It sounds like everybody got want they wanted. Including you.”
What was that supposed to mean? she wondered. “I suppose so,” she agreed, determining he must mean the shop.
Taking a step in her direction, he said, “So, are you engaged yet?”
She blinked. “What? No, of course not. Who would I be engaged to? I’m not even dating anyone.”
“That never seemed to stop you before,” he said, taking another step closer.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean, you were engaged to me, and we’d never dated.”
“Oh, that,” she said, smiling and waving a hand to dismiss his comment. Bringing her hands to her hair, she pushed it away from her face. “It’s warm in here.”
“Is it?” He came to stand directly in front of her. Lifting her chin, he asked, “So, you don’t have any marriage prospects at the moment?”
“No-oo,” she stuttered.
“That’s good.” He studied her for a long while, then dropped her chin and stepped back. “Well, I should be going.” He turned around and made to leave.
“Wait!” She couldn’t believe it. Of all the nerve. “You’re just going to leave?”
Quinn pivoted around to face her. “Any reason I shouldn’t?”
“Yes!” Had she actually said that? Yes, she had.
Raising his brows, he stuffed his hands back in his pockets and waited for her to explain.
Oh, what the heck! What did she have to lose? “Can I ask you a hypothetical question?”
He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
Gaining courage by the second, she plunged on. “Let’s say you were in love with a woman. Not just in love with her, but desperately in love with her.” She licked her lips again. Quinn seemed interested in her hypothesis so far. “And let’s say she had money. Lots of money.”
“I’m listening,” he said, rocking back on his heels.
Twisting her fingers together, she said, “Would you let that stop you from asking her to marry you?”
“I might. If I was a fool.”
“Are you? A fool?” she clarified.
“I’ve been known to behave pretty foolishly, yes.”
She smiled at his admission. “What if this woman you loved, desperately loved,” she corrected, “was also in love with you? And what if she’d lied to you, and kept secrets from you? Only because she felt she had good reasons, of course.”
“Of course,” he said, lifting his eyes skyward as if he were contemplating her words. “I suppose I could forgive her, if I really loved her . . . desperately.”
“Do you?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Quinn closed the distance between them and took her in his arms. “Fool that I am, yes, I love her. Desperately.”
Hypnotized by his words and his touch, Bailey melted against him. “Oh, God, Quinn. I love you so much.”
Looking into her eyes, he said, “I believe you mentioned that once or twice before.”
She punched him in the chest. “Darn you, and your foolish pride. Why did you make me suffer all these weeks?”
Instead of answering, his mouth covered hers hungrily. She drank in the sweetness of his kiss, feeling it singing through her veins. Finally, he broke away, leaving her lips burning in the aftermath of his fiery possession. Crushing her to him, he kissed her hair and forehead. “Bailey, I love you, honey, but I have nothing to offer you. I have no home, and no job. As of today the bar is no longer mine. But in spite of all that, I couldn’t lose you too.”
“I know about the bar,” she said, pushing him away. She stepped behind the sales counter and reached for an envelope.
“Gwen told you?”
“Yes.” Handing him the envelope, she said, “Here. This is an early wedding present.”
“Wedding . . . present,” he said, nearly choking over the words.
“Yes. When two people love each other as desperately as we do, they usually get married.” Her heart thudded precariously in her chest, and her mouth felt as if she’d swallowed a cotton ball. “I don’t care that you don’t have a house. And as far as the bar is concerned, I bought it.”
“You what!”
Bailey raised a hand and rushed around the counter. “Quinn, before you say anything, just swallow your pride for a minute and listen. I couldn’t stand by and watch you lose something you’d worked so hard for. I love you. And if you really love me, you’ll accept my gift.”
He was so quiet for a minute, she could hear him breathing. He passed the envelope from one hand to the other, staring at it without opening it. “I don’t know what to say. I have nothing to give you. What kind of wedding present could top something like this?” he asked, clutching the envelope to his chest.
Bailey took a deep cleansing breath and released it slowly. “You’ve already given me the best wedding present a husband could give a wife.”
Narrowing his eyes in disbelief, he asked, “I have?”
“Yes,” she said, her smile broadening.
Shrugging, he said, “Would you mind sharing the secret with me?”
“Not at all.” She felt blissfully happy and fully alive, when she took his hand and placed it against her belly. “You gave me a child.”
Quinn froze for a moment, staring down at her. Then, his face br
oke out into a huge grin, his eyes running down the length of her. “If you’re lying to me, Bailey, so help me God, I will take you over my knee and--”
Laughing, she said, “I’m not lying. I swear. We’re going to have a baby.”
Pulling her toward him, he hugged her, dancing and swaying back and forth. “Oh, God, Bailey. I’m so damn happy, I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, you could start with asking me to marry you.”
Throwing his head back, he roared with laughter, then looked seriously into her eyes. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she said, jumping up and down, and kissing his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“Yeah, so did I. So did I.”
EPILOGUE
Their hands were joined together as they stared into each other’s eyes. Quinn looked at Bailey with adoration, respect and love. She was so beautiful, dressed in the white, long, flowing gown. She was the mother of his child, and in a few minutes she would also be his wife. He couldn’t stop smiling at her. He’d never been so happy in his life.
Her hands were trembling in his, and she’d licked her lips so many times he was surprised blisters hadn’t formed on her gorgeous mouth. He gave her hands a reassuring squeeze, and winked at her seductively, not that his own hands weren’t shaking too.
The priest cleared his throat, apparently trying to get their attention. “Do you, Bailey, take thee Zedidiah to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold . . . to love and to cherish . . . in sickness and in health . . . until death do you part?”
When Bailey didn’t answer, Quinn gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Honey?” he whispered. “Father Mike asked you a question.”
“Your name is Zedidiah?” she finally asked, blinking in astonishment. “You never told me that.”
“What difference does it make?” he asked softly, glancing around at the church full of guests.
The priest raised his eyebrows at Quinn as if to say ‘Is she serious?’
“I just wish you would have told me, that’s all,” she said.
