Testing the Limits

by Kira Sinclair

  But seeing the toll it had on her, he wanted to protect her from everything that could potentially hurt her, even if the harm was self-inflicted. But that wasn’t always possible.

  “We need to leave,” he finally said.

  “I know. But I want to wait a little while longer.” Tipping her head back, Quinn buried the crown of her head in his stomach, her gaze finding his. “In case she has nightmares.”

  She didn’t have to explain. The memory of her own nightmare rose up between them, full of the ghosts she’d have to battle over and over again because they never quite went away.

  Jace’s chest tightened—for her and for the girl. He hated that either of them had to live with such sad, frightening memories.

  But while he was worrying about what caused their nightmares, apparently Quinn was concentrating on how her last nightmare, that single moment of vulnerability, had finally brought them together.

  Suddenly the space between them was heavy with a familiar heat. He could feel her awareness and need like a caress across his overly sensitized skin.

  But now wasn’t the time or place.

  Pulling back, he said, “All right. But we can’t stay long. I want to leave before it gets dark.”

  She nodded, reaching up to grasp his hand where it curved across her shoulder. Picking it up, she brought it to her mouth, pressing a kiss to the center of his palm.

  “Have I told you what an amazing man you are?”

  Jace shook his head. “You’re the amazing one.” They both gazed at Ana curled up on the bed not far away.

  “I should have stopped it,” she whispered, anguish filling the words. “I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t think it was this bad. I thought they didn’t get along, you know—new man who wasn’t her father stepping in to take some control. That’s not easy in the best of circumstances, but add a teenager struggling to find her independence to the mix and it almost always leads to clashing wills.”

  Jace felt moisture hit his fingers and roll between them.

  Crouching beside her, he urged her to look at him. Her deep, dark eyes were luminous with tears, full of regret and the kind of guilt he recognized because he’d been carrying it around for too long.

  “I had no idea the guy was raping her. Last night wasn’t the first time. But it was the first time he let his friends have a turn.”

  “Sonofabitch,” Jace breathed. His fists clenched, shaking with the driving need to hurt something—someone.

  “Yep. Her mom had to go out of town for a few days. Sick aunt. Ana was planning on staying with a friend. She went home to pick up a few things while she thought the house was empty. It wasn’t. He was there waiting for her.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I know,” she sighed, but Jace didn’t believe her. She was paying lip service to what she was supposed to say. He recognized that, too, having done enough of it himself since Michael died.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Yeah.”

  Jace’s grasp on her chin tightened. Her gaze flew to his, wide and haunted. “You didn’t hurt her, Quinn. You put your own life in danger to be here. You’re the one who saved her. You were there when she needed someone. And you’ll be there every step of the way as she deals with the aftermath. You can’t always stop bad things from happening. The only thing you can do is be there to help when they do.”

  She swallowed, her eyes swimming with tears. He could see the swell of the emotion she’d been holding back all day because Ana had needed her to be strong. But Quinn didn’t need to be strong anymore. He was here now, able to take some of the weight off her shoulders, even if he’d never be able to convince her to give it up altogether.

  Not that he’d want to. Because asking her to do that would be asking her to change who she was.

  And he loved who she was.

  Picking her up, he settled back into her chair. Her body curled into a tight ball, knees next to his ribs, hands clenched in his shirt and face buried in his neck.

  She cried quietly. Even in the midst of her own emotional storm, she didn’t want to disturb Ana’s few moments of relief. Her hot tears soaked his shirt, and his hands rubbed up and down her trembling back.

  All he wanted to do was make it better, but there was no way he could fix this.

  The realization left him restless and only increased the apprehension he’d been fighting for the past several hours.

  * * *

  IT WAS DARK by the time they left. Quinn was exhausted—emotionally and physically. But Ana was going to be okay, because Quinn wouldn’t let anything else happen.

  They were in the process of finding her a safe place to stay, connecting her with a support group and getting her long-term help. Quinn had sat at her side when she’d made the call to her mother—who was now on her way home to be with Ana.

  It was a relief to realize Ana would have that support, as well. Her mother had honestly had no idea what had been going on.

  Keeping Quinn in the shelter of his body, Jace ushered them through the lot. He waited until she was settled before closing the passenger-side door and rounding the hood.

  Jeez, she was tired. Physically and emotionally drained. And the thought of going home, putting on comfy clothes and curling up beside Jace was the best thing she’d ever heard of.

  Maybe she dozed off or just zoned out. She’d never be quite certain. But one moment she was sitting in the quiet cab of the truck, the next the door was squealing open and a gun was pointed straight at her forehead.

  “Move over.” Warren’s wild gaze bored into her across the barrel.

  That look of madness, more than anything, had her stomach clenching with dread.

  Without taking her gaze from him, she began to inch sideways across the bench seat.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he growled, his eyes flicking quickly away and out the windshield.

  Quinn followed his gaze straight to Jace, who stood immobilized on the other side of the hood.

  His hand hovered beside his hip. Quinn knew his gun was tucked there, but apparently Warren did, as well.

  “Before you can pull it she’ll be dead.”

  A rough hand tightened around her upper arm, anchoring her in place. She felt the imprint of each finger on her skin. But that didn’t matter.

  Not when she could see the panic, guilt and crystal-clear agony in Jace’s eyes.

  He was going to blame himself for this, too.

  Regret twisted deep inside her. Not for herself, but for him.

  “He’s going to walk over here and hand you the keys. If either of you try anything I’m going to put a bullet in your side. It won’t be enough to kill you, at least, not right away. That way you’ll be conscious when I put another one through his skull.”

  A fine tremor invaded her hands. Quinn balled them tight to hide the reaction.

  “Do you understand?”

  She gave him a short, jerky nod and listened as he yelled basically the same warning out to Jace.

  His clear blue eyes flared with frustration and impotent rage. She watched it flood his face, red just beneath tanned skin. His jaw clamped tight.

  She could tell he was trying to find an angle that would get her out of this. But even she realized there wasn’t one. At least not one that didn’t end up with one of them bleeding from a bullet hole.

  But she knew Jace and if there was a way to save her by sacrificing himself he’d do
it.

  Snagging his gaze through the windshield, she slowly shook her head. This wasn’t the time for action. And even if he didn’t want to admit it, he realized the truth in what she was telling him.

  With deliberate steps, Jace walked up to the edge of the open driver’s-side window. When he held the keys out in front of him, she let her fingers brush across his. The heat that was always there when they touched blasted up her arm.

  It was comforting. Just the surge of energy she needed to keep her calm.

  “I’ll get you out of this,” he murmured. The promise behind his words steadied her.

  Jace would do everything in his power to help her.

  “As long as she does what I want, she’ll be fine. Now, back away. I want you inside the building before we leave.”

  Jace hesitated.

  “The longer we sit here, Mr. Hyland, the itchier my trigger finger gets. I might accidentally shoot her knee or shoulder.”

  With a growl of pure frustration, Jace began moving away. Quinn watched him, at first through the windshield and then through the rearview mirror.

  Beside her, Warren turned in his seat but managed to keep the gun trained straight on her chest. “Ms. Keller, start the engine. And take me to my wife.”

  Easing out of the parking space, she headed to the edge of the lot and the street. She had a decision to make—which direction.

  She had several things going for her. There was no doubt in her head that Jace was already on the phone with the police, reporting his stolen truck and her kidnapping. It wouldn’t be long before the cavalry arrived.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t think they were going to be much help. In fact, they might do more damage.

  “I won’t hesitate to shoot you, Ms. Keller, so let’s be smart.”

  Quinn turned her head to look at the man currently holding her at gunpoint. She hadn’t seen him in several days. And it was clear that time hadn’t been kind.

  The man who’d walked into their office looking for his wife had been expensively dressed, confident in his power and certain he could talk his way into what he wanted.

  The man sitting beside her was disheveled, his perfectly cut hair now bright with the sheen of grease. His clothes were wrinkled and frankly, he needed a shower.

  But all of that was nothing to Quinn.

  What sent a spike of pure fear through her was the maniacal gleam in his eyes.

  He was unhinged. Something had clearly snapped.

  If the cops screamed in, surrounding this truck, she didn’t think she would make it out. The crazed man beside her would just shoot them both.

  And she really didn’t want to die this way.

  One thing was certain, though—she’d let him shoot her before leading him to Caroline. But maybe those weren’t her only two options.

  On her side was the fact that Warren had no idea where the safe house was located so she could string him along for a few minutes at least. A few minutes for him to make a mistake. And for her to think.

  Although maybe that wasn’t the best thing. Thoughts of her family flashed through her mind. She’d always wanted a better relationship with her sister, but had never really pushed for it. If she had it to do over again, she’d try harder.

  Her parents. Losing them the way she had...it was hard. Especially being the only one to survive the accident. Quinn’s hands began to tremble on the wheel so she gripped it harder.

  They’d loved her so much. Been the kind of people who would have given their last dollar if someone really needed it. She’d grown up knowing she wanted to be like them, grateful for the example they’d set for her.

  Jace. Her vision blurred. Quinn tried to force the reaction away—she needed to be able to see.

  Honestly, he was the one regret she had. Not that they’d found each other, but that they’d both fought it for two years. Needlessly denied themselves that time together.

  This was going to kill him. He took so much responsibility onto his shoulders—responsibility that wasn’t necessarily his to carry. She knew him, and no matter what anyone else told him, he’d see this as a failure. His failure.

  He was supposed to protect her and he hadn’t been successful. At least in his own eyes.

  He hadn’t learned the lesson life had forced on her at such a young age. There is no such thing as control. There were forces out there, bigger than any one person, throwing people together and tearing them apart.

  Random things happened and there was nothing you could do. No one could plan for every possibility.

  Quinn closed her eyes. A major intersection came into view ahead of them. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Warren’s leg bouncing up and down as if he couldn’t keep it still. He kept watching her, the laser focus of his stare sending a chill racing down her spine.

  She didn’t have much time.

  There was a concrete retaining wall coming up on the right. It was low, but high enough.

  The plan didn’t so much form as pop into her head fully realized. Maybe because she’d been thinking about her parents’ accident.

  A hundred yards ahead, she saw the first brush of the gray brick. Her hands gripped tighter around the wheel, straining to hold course.

  Panic seized her. Her nightmare burst full force, past overlaying present in a sickening memory that left her panting. Sweat beaded along her hairline. Her brain screamed at her not to do it, but calm resolve pushed the warning away.

  The sound of metal crunching. Her mother’s scream—her own name—cut off before it was finished. That damn horn that just wouldn’t stop. Darkness. Loneliness. Fear.

  Those memories had haunted her for years. But today, instead of leaving her weak, they made her strong.

  When the edge of the wall was only ten yards away, Quinn checked to make sure there was no one else around her who could get caught up in the disaster she was about to unleash.

  Five yards away. Quinn took a deep breath, held it, and jerked the wheel hard, slamming the passenger side into cold concrete.

  Warren yelled. Quinn screwed her eyes shut, waiting for the bullet she’d expected to go flying, but it never came. That same screech of metal filled her head. The truck lurched and then somehow they were flying.

  That was not part of the plan.

  The truck twisted in the air, rolling once before landing on dirt and grass. It skidded, tearing up the ground beneath them. Quinn’s head smacked into something hard. Her chest slammed against the steering wheel before her belt and airbag propelled her backward into the seat.

  Her body felt as though it was being battered from the inside, organs, bone and muscle knocking against sinew, tendons and skin. Straining. Fighting against whatever held them in place. She almost wished they’d just snap and save her the unbelievable tension and pain.

  And then it was over. The sickening motion stopped and by some miracle she was still breathing.

  Blinking, it took several seconds for all the sounds to filter in. People yelling. The engine still racing. Her vision was blurry, everything overlaid with a watery film that seemed to come straight from the pounding pain in her head.

  Her thoughts were erratic, bouncing all over the place and settling nowhere. Her movements even worse. But she was obviously upside down, held in place by the belt across her hips and shoulder. The pressure was almost unbearable, constricting her lungs and making her panic.

  With a shaky hand she reached for the release. Her fingers slipped
across the button, somehow finding the strength to push hard.

  But she couldn’t make it let her go.

  Colors sparkled across her vision—blue, pink, yellow and green. The world swam in and out of focus. Her head hurt like hell. And she couldn’t get a full breath, making it all worse.

  Everything was sluggish, her brain, her body, her thoughts. She dragged her gaze through the car, registering the bent and broken console, until she lighted on Warren.

  His body was twisted and broken. Just like her parents’ had been. One arm hung limply above his head, bent at an angle that wasn’t natural. Blood soaked into the front of his wrinkled white dress shirt. More leaked slowly down his face, drip, drip, dripping onto the roof they were both suspended over.

  Oh, God, what had she done?

  Regret and guilt twisted inside her. Until, with a gasp, his eyes popped open

  He stared straight into her, completely cracked. All that was left was the crazed madman she’d gotten glimpses of over the past few days.

  Warren began to flail, his useless feet kicking out against the crumpled dash pinning them both in. The arm over his head swung back and forth, freely, as if all the ligaments and muscles had been stripped away and the only thing keeping it attached was his skin.

  Bile rose in the back of Quinn’s throat.

  He screamed, unintelligible words tumbling from his open mouth. Thank God he no longer held the gun, because in that moment she knew he would have shot her over and over again if he’d had the option.

  She needed to get out of here. Redoubling her efforts, Quinn finally managed to unbuckle her belt. But without the nylon straps taking her weight, gravity returned, crashing her to the ceiling of the truck with a force that left her squealing in pain.

  Her vision swam again, bursting to black before colors shot through again, mirroring the waves of pain assaulting her body.

  Reality and memory melded, Warren morphing from himself into her parents and then back.

  She was going to black out. No, she couldn’t. Not yet.